Degenerating
The dead sea
and the naked soul.
You are not worthy
of forgiveness. The smell
of sweaty soles
tells it all.
You dust the window
to read the green moon
and turn off the forest
of dark faces.
It is critical time
to collect the body
after falling from gray
humor of beliefs.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Fragment
Moon of leaves,
Moon of the falling leaves,
To you I bring the slippers
of the sun.
That you may dance upon the
floor of sun,
My lady carries sun within her eyes.
Moon of the Unrevealed,
Moon of the gold-encrusted shield,
To you I bring the fragment
of my prayer.
Moon of the crinkled hair,
Tell me, will my lady yield
Eyes and mouth and breasts unsealed?
Will my lady yield?
Moon of the yellow streaked with red,
Moon that the sun would lead to bed,
Moon with the death's head
More than dead,
Why do you frighten the Goddess of Love,
Whose frail white fingers are moving above
The lover's white body lost in his love?
Moon, you are more than dead.
Moon of the ermine loist in the snow,
Moon of the frozen furbelow,
Moon of the nothingness here below,
Moon, you must go.
It is the Sun that tells you so-
Moon, you must go.
And I was dark beneath the moon,
And you were dark beneath the moon,
And we were dark beneath the moon.
Now I am gold beneath the sun,
Now you are gold beneath the sun,
Now we are gold beneath the Sun.
poem by Harry Crosby
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Skinny Sweaty Man
Flashin' lots of cash and spendin' lots-o-loot
he's sitting at the bar - then he's sittin' at the booth
across the dance floor he does scoot
he's the skinny sweaty man in the green suit
The caboose that could he goes toot toot
been known to gag and sometimes puke
a very good friend of granny goose
he's the skinny sweaty man in the green suit
Skinny sweaty man in the green suit
He's half man and half cartoon
but good buddy don't be confused
he's full blooded looney tune
he's the skinny sweaty man in the green suit
Face to face with the man in the moon
his family doctor is doctor seuss
if you catch him in your soup please don't shoot
he's the skinny sweaty man in the green suit
Skinny sweaty man in the green suit
He was new in town
a free wheelin' clown
a funny young duke
hangin' under the roof
of a place in time
united sound
he'll play a little guitar sing a few blues
he's the kind-a-guy that you can't refuse
despite the fact that he's no brute
he's the skinny sweaty man in the green suit
Strike the magic groove make him jerk and move
like an eight legged freak in snake skin boots
coming soon to a theatre near you
he's the skinny sweaty man in the green suit
song performed by by Red Hot Chili Peppers from The Uplift Mofo Party Plan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shades Of Grey
If you start here late no one will know what you did
No the streets are straight its the soul thats crooked
Ive been treated fine Ive been treated elegantly
But Im not one for bathing in the waters of plenty
East is east west is west
And bowery is screaming while delancey rests
Well Im south of the skating but Im north of the cash
I could sure use the money but Im ashamed to ask
The traffic has buried all of last nights rain
The words are all different but the accent is the same
The sun is white and the moon is gray
And the river is black blue and green
The young are young and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
Theres at least ten different strains of smoke in the air
And my prints are on them all to prove I was there
And I love the curses but Im not one for the trenches
And I do love the walking but thank God for the benches
Its hard to tell where green begins and the city gray stops
I guess the trees all bought their armor at second hand shops
My second had is working but the minute hand is broke again
I know time will pass but I dont know when
The sun is white and the moon is gray
And the river is black blue and green
The young are young and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
And there are no shades of gray in between
I know the great ones have been here but where I cant tell
Theres dreams here a plenty but theyre being withheld
And Im more impressed with the closed doors than the ones that are open
The whole place tells time by a tower clock thats broken
The pigeons are ravens and the gulls are vultures
And trash is art and cash is culture
The sun is white and the moon is gray
And the river is black blue and green
The young are young and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
There are no shades of gray in between
There are no shades of gray in between
song performed by by Eagle Eye Cherry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Longest Eclipse
Exacerbating,
falling in dust,
searching the dead truths
on pills of abandoned bodies of lies.
The dawn brings out
the trapped victims of transmigration
from capricum to capricon.
Then they commit a mass suicide
around hymns to seduce the
god with thousand smiles.
A flock of memories lands on the grey
body of moon for the last rites.
One by one they walk away,
the ironic actors of secular wake,
asking for forgiveness from abyss,
gazing at the eclipsed sun for the last time.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Condition Critical
Oh the tension's mounting
The pressure starts to show
All the men in haunting
Please don't let me go
(Don't go)
Try to free my body
(Don't go)
Try to strap me down
(Don't go)
These'll never break me
(Don't go)
Free wheel to look at me
Condition critical
I'm feeling physical
Condition critical
Now I'm really cynical
The bells they are ringing
Or is it in my head
My nerves numb understanding
I'm falling out of bed
(Don't go)
So call it paranoia
(Don't go)
I don't see it that way
(Let's go)
You say I adore ya
(Hell no)
We're gonna rock they way
Condition critical
I'm feeling physical
Condition critical
Now I'm really cynical
Ooh ooh
Whips and chains
Don't feel no pain
What's so wrong
I think I'm going out of my head
Over heels
I can't feel
No pain, only pleasure
Get me out
Take me home
Can't you see my condition
Woo-woo-woo
Condition
Condition
Condition critical, critical
Condition
Condition
Condition critical
Condition critical
I'm feeling physical
Condition critical
Now I'm really cynical
Condition critical
I'm feeling physical
Condition critical
Now I'm really cynical (Cynical)
Condition
Condition
Condition critical, critical
Condition
Condition
Condition critical, critical
Condition
Condition
Condition critical, critical
Condition
Condition
Condition critical, critical
Condition
Condition-aca
song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The magic forest
At the Bois de Boulogne lies magic
Magic that cannot be evitable
Magic that lures people into the evergreen forest
In the forest, soft earth is like a comfy bed
Meadows of grass are green sheets for the bed
If you happen to lie down on the bed
The sunlight hugs your body gently like a mother
Your eyes are heavy weights, unable to keep your eyes open
You fall into the sweetest dream as time goes by…
Night walked into the forest as day walked out of the forest
The pale moon is like a glass eye of a witch staring at you
The dark magic falls into the forest
Lusty monsters fill the magic forest
And the magic forest falls asleep…
Full Moon By My Window
full moon by my window
dark night as hair
light and warm her body
full moon by my window
i bathe in love
full moon by my window
i breathe happiness
full moon by my window
she is fast asleep in my arms
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am.... (Rotting Wood)
i am...
the old man smell of rotting wood,
the stagnant pool of water,
devoid of life!
the smell of young lust,
and the stink of love over years.
i am the children raised,
and the empty room.
i am the mistakes made,
and the chances long gone.
i am the moments of joy,
that no one can steal.
i am the prayer of the doubter,
the honesty of the naked moment.
i am the naked body of an old man,
where sparrows build nests!
i am the turn of the wheel,
the hum of the beat.
i am the hunger that races
through the darkness by moonlight.
i am the magic and the mystical,
the simple and the plain.
i am the hoot of the owl,
the stranger at the door.
i am the knowing without knowing;
i am dirty, and sweaty,
and covered with sap.
i am the words hidden,
in the growl and the howl....
i am the ghost, and the remembrance,
the touch that made you tremble.
i am the moan in your mirror,
the shadow dancing by your grave!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shades Of Gray
If you start here late, no one will know what you did
No, the streets are straight, it's the soul that's crooked
I've been treated fine,
I've been treated elegantly
But I'm not one for bathing in the waters of plenty
East is East,
West is West
And The Bowery is screaming while Delancey rests
Well, I'm south of the skating, but
I'm north of the cash
I could sure use the money but
I'm ashamed to ask
The traffic has buried all of last night's rain
The words are all different but the accent is the same
The sun is white, and the moon is gray
And the river is black, blue and green
The young are young, and the old are old
There are no shades of gray in between
There's at least ten different strains of smoke in the air
And my prints are on them all, to prove I was there
And I love the curses, but I'm not one for the trenches
Yes I do love the walking , but that God for the benches
It's hard to tell where green begins, and the city gray stops
I guess the trees all bought their armor at second hand shops
My second hand is working, but the minute hand broke again
I know time will pass, but I don't know when
The sun is white, and the moon is gray
And the river is black, blue and green
The young are young, and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
And there are no shades of gray in between
I know the great ones have been here, but where I can't tell
There's dreams here a plenty, but they're being witheld
And I'm more impressed with the closed doors
Than the ones that are open
The whole place tells time by a tower clock that's broken
The pigeons are ravens, and the gulls are vultures
And trash
song performed by by Eagle Eye Cherry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tired
she undresses herself
and lays naked
on her bed
her body is lighted
by the moon
she faces him
and he swallows
his promise
not to be promiscuous
this time
she is beautiful and
his body has no right
to deny
what is there.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Welcome To My Hell
Broken bones.
All alone.
Scream but nothing comes out.
Shouts falling on deaf ears.
They don't care, they don't care.
A soul filled despair.
Theirs a chill in air.
The end is near.
Your body just disappears.
Where did you go?
Nobody knows.
Dust upon your clothes.
Surrounded by absolute darkness.
Blood dripping from your head.
A fall into the deep.
A life so precious.
Yet it can be so meaningless.
So much yet you wanted to do, but their is no more time.
Lock and buried deep inside.
Making marks with your nails.
Cracking them one by one.
A body torn apart.
A arm ripped out of its socket.
Are you praying for your heavenly depart?
As you lye in wait of that which isn't coming.
What do you think about in your last moments?
Are you spiteful to the very end?
Are you one that cries?
Are you one too pray for forgiveness of all your sins?
Are you one that looks up to the sky?
Will the answers ever come?
Will this ever be done?
Is it all a dream?
So real, from touch, to taste, to smell.
Only sight is lost in the place you dwell.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black Woman
She’s native, naked, she’s native and naked
She takes me down and wipes my body
She holds me in her arms and warms my heart
She pushes into my mouth with the smell from future voices
She multitudes my soul into many magnificent beliefs
She never is betrayal to love
Ain’t no mountain fireplace gonna encounter her burnt scar
Ain’t tiptoe intense kiss gonna undress her lips
She has powers in dignity and her nights endure my feelings
with the moon or stars
She turned my life’s passions too beautifully for sleeping
whispering
Glory travels worthy in her lyric spirit
I am fragile in mine but she comes in galaxy memorised
Some outrageous reality remains in this society, but she comes
down plundering moves by radio hateness
She has been disappearing
She has been reappearing
She is the spice of earth and is the psalm’s tangled up in flesh matters
my embracements are mine
Branches are of a new thing now called gulls of agony
But she takes this over bridges
But she has private hurts and loves
Now my body speaking for everything she gave is spoken
But my robbed yearning became strangehood
But I praise her touch happenings in her stages.
She is my friend I sort of love her
But sick as me I believe in her returns.
poem by Lionel Fogarty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wait For The Bus!
you can read the grain
of timeworn faces,
much as the grain of the ancient oak.
and rivers exist somewhere,
behind tired eyes, universes beneath dirty nails.
no one gives much of a damn for old men,
that's why there are benches, stoops,
and worn out old chairs.
perhaps god is knitting, or discovering
another Einstein....
and just doesnt have time to collect the lost!
while women bury their dreams in flower pots,
and the young burn clocks to the moon.
dogs piss on blades of unmarked grass,
giving names to faces unseen.
as old men with erections and scars,
translate the forbidden tongues.
seeing the naked light inside shadows,
they fart scriptures, and wait for the bus!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Art of Humor
The parody, the comic
The irony, the slapstick
The comedy, the joke
There are many names of humor
A little flirt, a bit sway
A random bait, a strike catch
A prick of crack, a needed pain
So far we go just for humor
Because it is fun, because it is crazy
Because it is refreshing, because it brings laugh
Lightening the mood, building emotion
Always use humor in a good way
The situation, the mimic
The trap, the surprise
The movement, the style
Only human could understand humor
The witty question, the innocence answer
The spontaneous expression, the awaited performance
The dilemma, the mistake
Everything could turn into humor
To tease, to distract
To criticize, to attract
To break the ice, to open the gag
Don't take humor too serious
In critical condition, in awkward moment
In relaxing time, in happy hour
In strange fact, in life experience
Do you know that God also has a sense of humor?
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Soul has an extra mileage
Soul and body: who depends on who?
Soul and body: who adds values to who?
Whom do you regard: soul or body?
Who is the cause of your actions?
Does soul departs for body decays?
Does body decays for soul departs?
Soles alone are ghosts; bodies alone are corpses.
Soul and body together gain values.
Must soul have an extra mileage?
13.08.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Romance
MY Love dwelt in a Northern land.
A gray tower in a forest green
Was hers, and far on either hand
The long wash of the waves was seen,
And leagues on leagues of yellow sand,
The woven forest boughs between!
And through the silver Northern night
The sunset slowly died away,
And herds of strange deer, lily-white,
Stole forth among the branches gray;
About the coming of the light,
They fled like ghosts before the day!
I know not if the forest green
Still girdles round that castle gray;
I know not if the boughs between
The white deer vanish ere the day;
Above my Love the grass is green,
My heart is colder than the clay!
poem by Andrew Lang
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Spontaneous Electricity (The Wetness)
walking through the wetness,
rain falling softly.
the rhythm of the wipers,
the trees bow to the wind.
you and i, the sweat and the tears,
one hollow, the other echoes,
one fire, the other darkness kneeling,
identities merged, then torn apart...
ghostlike faces at the window,
children turn, and walk away.
the long silence deepens,
death waits just beyond and before.
mountains carved in forever skies,
crumble, ground to dust by time.
and no less we, dust to dust,
the great sweeper sweeps away our memory.
love was the answer, and sometimes not.
the cross and the thorns, the stolen moment.
now there's nothing left to talk about,
and nothing more to do or feel...
walking through the wetness,
i called the rain by your name!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mirror
Standing in front of the mirror,
The reflection tells me to look behind.
The focus of the mirror is myself,
And also what lies behind.
I can move to the left,
I can move to the right,
But to the mirror I am always within it's sight.
As are things past.
I look out a window,
It tells me to see what lies ahead.
In the window, I do not see myself.
I see others.
I see nature's beauty unfolding.
I know I am there,
But I am just merely a part of the surroundings.
To the mirror, it is all about me.
The mirror tells me to worry about how I look.
The window tells me to worry about how the world looks.
The eyes are the window to the soul.
Not the mirror.
The mirror deceives.
To the mirror, everything is backwards.
As I look into my own eyes.
My soul becomes filled with self.
As I look into the eyes of another.
My soul becomes filled with life.
While the mirror holds my reflection.
It is the window that holds the truth.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'd Like a Bit
I'd like a bit
Of your sweaty love,
Your gasping, groaning sweaty love.
Your body fits my body like a glove,
(Your gasping, groaning, sweaty love) .
I want it more than the stars above,
(Your gasping, groaning, sweaty love) .
You're soft and silken like a dove,
I want a bit
Of your sweaty love.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Dark Dark Moon......
Dark dark moon
Dark dark moon
No no no no no, don't show me your face...!
Dark dark moon
Dark dark moon
No no no no no, no my eyes won't turn...!
Dark dark moon
Dark dark moon
No no no no no, please don't talk to me...!
Dark dark moon
Dark dark moon
No no no no no, please please don't go away....!
poem by Rowving Smith
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