Dead Faith
Pardon my mask
I will put you on pedestal to torment me,
because you were necessary
for my existence.
When I prepare finally my death wish
you can smile.
Your eyes are looking through my head,
I know,
you were hurt from my moon face.
I will wash your feet with my tears now.
Exhausted, nameless in a crowd
I was counting my see-through triumphs
all piled up as burned out bones.
To live without meaning is very painful.
Everything is abused for self gratification.
Over a black sky, against the mountains
the old silence becomes teeth of a dead faith.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ancestral Present
Pardon my mask
I will put you on pedestal to torment me,
because you were necessary
for my existence.
When I prepare finally my death wish
you can smile.
Your eyes are looking through my head,
I know,
you were hurt from my moon face.
I will wash your feet with my tears now.
Exhausted, nameless in a crowd
I was counting my see-through triumphs
all piled up as burned out bones.
To live without meaning is very painful.
Everything is abused for self gratification.
Over a black sky, against the mountains
the old silence becomes teeth of a dead faith.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All Over Your Face
When I see you, you smile as if everything is alright,
but I know your smile is just a mask for your hurt and sadness,
for the truth is written all over your face.
Behind your dark brown gleaming eyes I can see the tears you have cried.
It’s written all over your face.
I can even see behind your blush the anger wrinkles in your cheeks from you clinching your teeth. It’s written all over your face.
I can even see the hurt and disappointment you now carry in your soul.
It’s written all over your face.
I just want you to know my friend I’m there for you whenever you need a shoulder to cry on, an ear to vent in, and of course arms to hug you. I love and care for you and hope you can see that because it’s written all over my face.
The Right Mask
One night a poem came up to a poet
From now on, it said, you must wear a mask.
What kind of mask? asked the poet.
A rose mask, said the poem.
I've used it already, said the poet,
I've exhausted it.
Then wear the mask that's made out of
a nightingale's song, use that mask.
Oh, it's an old mask, said the poet,
it's all used up.
Nonsense, said the poem, it's the perfect mask,
still, try on the god mask,
now that mask illuminates heaven.
It's a tight mask, said the poet,
and the stars crawl about in it like ants.
Then try on the troubador's mask, or the singer's mask,
try on all the popular masks.
I have, said the poet, but they fit so easily.
The poem was getting impatient,
it stamped its feet like a child,
it screamed. Then try on your own face,
try the one mask that terrifies,
the mask only you could possibly use,
the mask only you could wear out.
The poet tore at his face til it bled,
this mask? he yelled, this mask?
Yes, said the poem, yes.
But the poet was tired of masks,
he had lived too long with them,
he snatched at the poem and stuck it in his face.
Its screams were muffled, it wept, it tried to be lyrical,
it wriggled into his eyes and mouth.
Next day his friends were afraid of him,
he looked so distorted.
Now it's the right mask, said the poem, the right mask.
It clung to him lovingly and never let go again.
poem by Brian Patten
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Lay Me Down
Lay Down
By MaKayla Straight
I lay my head down peacefully
Knowing that this is the last night I live
I close my eyes
And think about all the good things that has happened to me
I try to hide my tears
Though I do not know why I hide them
Nobody is around here to see
See that these are really happy tears
Happy because I know that I have lived my life the way I wanted too.
I was not in chains my whole life
I figured how to break the spell
I know I am not beautiful
I know I am not perfect
I know there is not much about me
I know
I know
I know
Lying in bed makes me realize it
Lying in bed makes me feel so truthful with myself
Lying in bed for the last night feels such a relief
Nobody would understand that this is by far the best night
Only because I know that my suffering is done.
I can finally smile and mean it
No more fake smiles
I lay down for the last time
I close my eyes and start counting backwards from one hundred
I get to fifty and my tears start to pour down my cheek.
I am so glad this is the last day
Last day forever
I continue to count.
I finally get to ten
I take a deep breath and close my eyes
Three
Two
One
I am finally at peace with myself and the world
I float on up to heaven
To be with all the ones I have lost in the past
I slowly go
With a smile upon my face
My mind and my soul are up in heaven
But my body is lying down on my bed
With a smile upon my face
Everybody will know that I have died Happy
poem by Makayla Straight
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We Wear the Mask
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,--
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be overwise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Mask of My Heart
As the cloud went to black
We lost our way back
As the sun set to night
No smiles of something bright
Lonely the moon bounced the starlight
When blood became cold as frostbite
Bleeding inside till black from red
Let the honesty fainted bed
They broke words of silent voices
Without harm with many chances
Never to see the truth
Nor then to face the truth
All remained invisible sight
Black blocked the white to face to light
Broken the heart of smiling face
When sense was gone no eyes to gaze
It turned into the silent noise
Black without smile and cheer but voice
Whispering tears dropped inside heart
It hurt it broke Mask of my heart
poem by Vidi Pudinkz
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Wishing Death
u've left me w nothing more
wishing death
i feel these hurts
they are my own
wishing death
i cry silent tears
they dnt come out down my face
they come out in anger
fear
silence
this desolate place i call my own.
i'm wishing death
it's calling my name
i shall never forget its lasting voice
the tears are finally coming
i've decided
wishing death
tht u will remember my face
red and angry
with silence all around
my eyes a glassy stare tht penetrates ur mind
makes u think
wishing death..
poem by Musicland Suicide
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My Fake Smile
I sit here with a smile on my face
I smile as I breath in deep
I smile as I close my eyes
And i smile all day long...
The sky is dark
as the freezing winds
Seep into my cheeks and bones,
I sit here smiling silently cold and empty
I wait here frozen in time,
With my dreams torn apart
My heart encased in a tomb
I smile to mask my true emotions
The mask wear is so perfect
One needs tocome alot closer
To see the tears trickling down my eyes
Emotions swell inside
Walking on a broken path
I look up for the rainbow
Hoping one day i will get off this
Broken Path
And on to
A NEW ONE :)
poem by Anushka Arora
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When you came
You came.
And you hurt me.
And you abused me.
You raped me.
You came
You laughed at me
You made me do things
I didnt want to do.
You came
You made me feel.
What shit was like.
How hurt feels.
What pain feels like.
You came
And you opened my eyes.
To a world of pain
A world of hurt.
A world of abuse.
Then you left
But you havent left my head.
I remember it all.
I cant forget.
I cant forget your face of evil
You twisted vile look.
You shitty voice
And your vile disgusting smell.
You left me with the ruins
In ruins of what you did
In tatters and shreads.
You left me with
Alake of tears
Alife of torment
And emotional scars.
You left me
Laughter that was not mine
God how hate you
Your out of my life now
But your in my head.
In my past
and in my dreams
And nightmares.
Why wont you fuckoff
out of my head?
Please take the lauhter away
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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You Are Old Now....
...because others had it
you want it too,
you work to have it, work so hard,
connect, have a network
you push
you pull strings,
even at noon,
when the heat is
painful,
(deep within you you do not need it
you can live without it, you are different from all these
ambitious
selfish, power takers)
then, you finally get it
but then, when you prepare to go
dress yourself well, comb your hair,
put some smile in your face,
you finally face the truth that this thing is giving you harm
and never good
this arrogance, and
conceit,
and then, you surrender,
throw away
that which you have worked so hard for
you are old now,
and there is no more time left for you to be
real.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This Nothingness That Makes Us Full
the world grieves
for nothing
i work hard
to an extent there
are days which are so busy
that i have no time
to wash my face
or see myself in a mirror
plaque builds up inside my gums
my teeth feel like
a rugged rock
i sweat
i am humid
most of the times
i hurt myself pushing it much
like a dagger
to my own arm
and i know i get nothing
for all these
it is indeed an honor
when i finally get nothing back
with me
for it is the essence of
our existence
this nothingness that
shall make
us full
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fire
I'm a little girl as if a flower
My friends death
They gave me black sepals
I'm alone here, lonely
Seems like the sun had burned my way
The black cloud had tearing my body asunder
The thunderclap had trusted me from this world
The rainbow had been my death row pardon
The melody had sung around me
I realised what is in my ears are the jokes on me
I had flown with the black wings on my back to the purple sky
I realised what is in my mind are the blames on me
Your words hot as fire
My heart burned
Your attitude cold as ice
My heart frozen over
What makes you cool?
What makes you popular?
What makes you beautiful?
Just bullying in your head, arrogant
Will you care?
You, will let me alone
Will anybody care?
They, will coming to me
Finally,
Your words in my ears will be back to you
Your attitude in my mind will trusting you
You lost it all
poem by Taylor Downs
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Prescience
The new moon hung in the sky, the sun was low in the west,
And my betrothed and I in the churchyard paused to rest--
Happy maiden and lover, dreaming the old dream over:
The light winds wandered by, and robins chirped from the nest.
And lo! in the meadow sweet was the grave of a little child,
With a crumbling stone at the feet and the ivy running wild--
Tangled ivy and clover folding it over and over:
Close to my sweetheart's feet was the little mound up-piled.
Stricken with nameless fears, she shrank and clung to me,
And her eyes were filled with tears for a sorrow I did not see:
Lightly the winds were blowing, softly her tears were flowing--
Tears for the unknown years and a sorrow that was to be!
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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Glimpse of a Dead Moon
like the stolen moon
it just slipped away in existance
just as her smile
fell away from her face
they told her he was dead
no more lithium
she'll take her death bed
just as the moon dies
but in conflict
her smile, her body wont rise
from a forced crescent moon
to a deaths funeral tune
marching foward to her tomb
no longer the cold empty shell
from the moment he died to her
and her love and smile fell
from her apathetic face
stricken with a sickness named tears
every month the moon dies
but no longer will her body rise
her body is a glimpse of a dead moon
poem by Kathryn Garner
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The Crowd Roared
The crowd roared, the lion roared, another christian faced death,
And one was as hungry as the other for another's final breath.
No tears were shed as he lay dead, no thought, no regret, no sob.
And the slaves and the lion keeper went back to do their job.
The stake was set, the fire burned, the witch screamed for her god
And the crowd of flickering faces cursed the path she trod.
But when night covered their sight they huddled round their hob
And were glad it hadn't been them who'd had to do the job.
The blade fell, the head rolled and madame murder committed,
And the crowd roared while another madame sat and knitted.
But the noise went dead when its terror bred a terror for the mob,
And none cheered too loud after that when madame did her job.
No lion roared, no fire burned, no blade flashed in the sun
But when the crowd breathed in the gas their death was as one.
Their flesh was mean when buried unseen 'neath a dark and rocky knob.
And at last a tear was shed when executioners did their job.
In court they sat their faces stone, their eyes had never known a sob
And one by one they stood and said: 'I was only doing my job.'
But the crowd saw through their law and hissed and spat and sputtered
When one person used those words another person suffered.
It's dawn again, that time again, the sun has made the day
And see again that fatal sight of wood and rope and clay.
The crowd sighed but never cried as the trapdoor life did rob
And the executioner went away well pleased with his job.
poem by Paul Anthony
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I Am Mirror
The function of the psychoanalyst.
Lead vocal: leo sayer
Suppose i were to tell you that the meaning of dreams
Is not all that it seems and the ultimate truth is a lie.
And you are just a puppet who can dance on a string.
Do you feel anything?
Would you laugh? would you care? would you cry?
But the meaning of life is a mystery, how can anyone disagree?
And the music is a symphony which we play in a minor key.
I am a mirror. i am a mirror. looking at me you see yourself
I am a mirror. i am a mirror. every face is someone else.
Look at me smile and you're the clown. and if i dance you turn around.
Look in my eyes and see your tears until the music disappears.
So if you are confused and don't know which way to go.
You will certainly know. from the moment we're living we die.
And if it's all a crazy game you don't want to play
Tell me what you can say.
It's a joke. it's the truth. it's a lie.
But the meaning of life is a mystery that we don't understand.
And the music is a rhapsody if you're happy the way that you are.
I am a mirror. i am a mirror. looking at me you see yourself
I am a mirror. i am a mirror. every face is someone else.
Look at me smile and you're the clown. and if i dance you turn around.
Look in my eyes and see your tears until the music disappears.
And the meaning of life is a mystery though we live it from day to day.
But the music of live should be harmony so that anyone here can play.
I am a mirror. i am a mirror. looking at me you see yourself
I am a mirror. i am a mirror. every face is someone else.
Look at me smile and you're the clown. and if i dance you turn around.
Look in my eyes and see your tears until the music disappears.
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bark At The Moon
Screams break the silence
Waking from the dead of night
Vengence is boiling
He's returned to kill the light
Then when he's found who he's looking for
Listen in awe and you'll hear him
Bark at the moon
Ha ha ha ha ha...
Years spent in torment
Buried in a nameless grave
Now he has risen
Miracles would have to save
Those that the beast is looking for
Listen in awe and you'll hear him
Bark at the moon
Hey yeah
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne from Bark At The Moon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Death of Silence
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When even the soundless creature
Leave an echo
When the quiet evening sky
Speaks more volume
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the darkness of night
Is calmed by the song of stars
When this cruel and frightening world
Is cheered by the joy of life
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the trees swaying their branches
Whispering the news from afar
When the stone awaken to tell the story
And no more secret remains hidden
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the wind fills the void
And noises the ears
When the sunshine touches the skin
And screams in eyes
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When you could taste the heart
Inside the food you eat
When you could understand
The meaning the breath that taken
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When smile is enough
To erase the rotten doubt
When love is abundant
To wash the bitter pain
Let's celebrate the day
The death of silence
When the soul finds its freedom
And not chained in the grief of body
When the call is passing
Through the memory and time
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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A Real Man
He thinks he looks great
When he acts like an extraordinary man
He seems like he never ever cares
Just because he has those two rough hands
He has extremely serious glance
The smile runs away of his face
He puts on his fake mask on face
To act the strong man
He thinks the real man never suffers
Never feels
never gets hurt
While his heart is filled with sorrows
He acts like he is the last super hero
For him the real gentleman never cries
While the tears are jailed inside his eyes
If those tears could ever shout out
They would beg him to let them out
O, Man don't you know that
The real man is the one who knows
the meaning of cry
Don't you know that the real man
is the one who has storms of feelings inside his heart
Because he believes the real ones always counts.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Sudden Movements
My father's head has become a mystery to him.
We finally have something in common.
When he moves his head his eyes
get big as roses filled
with the commotion of spring.
Not long ago he was a man
who had tomato soup for lunch
and dusted with the earnestness
of a gun fight. Now he's a man
who sits at the table trying to breathe
in tiny bites. When they told him
his spinal column is closing, I thought
of all the branches he's cut
with loppers and piled and burned
in the fall, the pinch of the blades
on the green and vital pulp. Surgeons
can fuse vertebrae, a welders art,
and scrape the ring through which
the soul-wires flow as a dentist
would clean your teeth.
And still it could happen, one turn
of his head toward a hummingbird,
wings keeping that brittle life
afloat, working hard against the fall,
and he might freeze in that pose
of astonishment, a man estranged
from the neck down, who can only share
with his body the silence
he's pawned on his children as love.