Hands Of Enemy
With frugal memory you wanted
to tame the radical spine,
while fright was bending the thighs.
Was it a travesty of the graduated thumb?
The speed of the river had accelerated
in aching land. People gathered to collect
the alms daily. Violence was sending
the severed heads on the road.
What do you think of the failing effect
of tricks of politics? A deep tunnel
opens the wounds of centuries, of hate
and acrimony, the opacity of large lips.
Ultimately you suffer the words,
hairy sexuality and pungent darkness
of the breath of salt hills.I am
reverting back to count again.
poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes
I Love To Hate You
Im crazy flowing over with ideas
A thousand ways to woo a lover so sincere
Love and hate what a beautiful combination
Sending shivers up and down my spine
For every casanova that appears
My sense of hesitation disappears
Love and hate what a beautiful combination
Sending shivers up and down my spine
And the lovers that you sent for me
Didnt come with any satisfaction guarantee
So I return them to the sender
And the note attached will read
How I love to hate you
I love to hate you
I love to hate you
I love to hate you
Oh you really still expect me to believe
Every single letter I receive
Sorry you what a shameful situation
Sending shivers up and down my spine
Oh I like to read of murder mystery
I like to know the killer isnt me
Love and hate what a beautiful combination
Sending shivers make me quiver
Feel it sliver up and down my spine
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Over The Head, Below The Knees
You must not
Have a heart
Have nothing in your chest
To let it go for so long
That it goes over your head
You could fool anyone
With you pensive smile
And you could live in your lie
For only a while
And i can only take so much
(from not so far away)
And I admit this could be love
(but love can always wait)
But it goes over your head
What does she gave
Can you let go
Can you tell me
What I am aching to know
You could ruin any mood
just by saying whats on your mind
You could tame his body
Never tame his mind
And I can only take so much
(from now so far away)
And I admit this could be love
(but how long did you want to wait?)
But it goes over your head
What does she have
Can you let go
Can you tell me
What I am aching to know x2
What I am aching to know
If Im reaching you
You're not letting it show
Used up your space now
Theres no room to grow
To deep cant breath and
You cant find the end
Its right infront of you
But it goes over your head
What does she have
Can you let it go
Can you tell me
What I am aching to know x2
What I am aching to know
Can you tell me
What I am aching to know
You must not have a heart
Have nothing in your chest...
song performed by by New Found Glory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Entelechies
I hated that you hated me and did not hate you back.
I felt a hurt that crushed me deep...
And I did not fight that back.
My feelings aren't scientific...
Nor do I depend on analogies.
A stirring inside my brain connects.
And with my mind I have redefined how I see myself.
Sending entelechies to each cell,
No one suspects or can inspect...
Since this is done for effect.
I hated that you hated me and did not hate you back.
But something deep inside of me,
Is inside you paying you back!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The eye of silence
My eyes were ringed with darkness
And the dew of sadness
Blanketed my genes.
Your words of love
Were on the left angle of my lips.
I wanted you to be able
To continue this story of love,
But the chestnut leafs yellowed
So dramatically in autumn,
The wind really tortured itself
In the cold air
And the cold penetrated forever
The spine of my loneliness.
Only with you
I have seen the unseen
And I understood
The meaning of unmeaning.
Only you can make love
To have a deep sense.
You became my cherished memory,
My longing aches
Inside my wet polished stone,
Seemingly shining
In the wave of my life river.
My eyes of silence
Drip the tears of time
I still close them in deep moments
To feel my existence.
I open them again
Into another world.
I see the birds flying and I understand
That my spiritual flight must be
Upwardly sensed forever.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Give Into Hate
Violence surrounds me
Violence in society
Violence in our eyes
Violence in their cries
Violence it's our fate?
Violence, it's too late?
Violence, no escape?
Violence, give into hate?
Is it human nature to act like animals?
We're all guilty, we're all criminals
Selfish species headed for a self destruction
Violent product of moral corruption
Violence for love
Violence because of hate
Violence, revolution
Violence of the state
Violence, you will find
Violence, it grips your mind
Violence, it's too late?
Violence, give into hate
song performed by by Unseen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Look Backward
There is no use going forward
Where we have nothing but hollow words
Only promises but with no more bright future
Even our existence is no more stable or sure
Where are we heading for?
Towards total peace or intermittent war!
Casualties to count more than war times!
One is compelled to think seriously sometimes
Thousands of people die on the name of ideology
It is worst crime than to destroy the ecology
How human mind can again be made fertile?
Fed with ideas that are in real sense worthwhile
Travel from one end of the universe to another
The storms of all kinds don’t seem to wither
Daily it plays havoc with our mental system
How long and relentlessly we go on thinking about them?
We will have to come back or return to nature
Original place from where we had learnt about future
To advance for the betterment of mankind
But today not a fraction of it is available to find
No a single soul wants to live under fear
We have spent ages to come so near
Today we wish to live without any fear
But destruction and uncertainty is seen everywhere
World doesn’t belong to us any more
It has become distinct possibility therefore
Who knows when world will return to normalcy?
Will it be made possible by way of diplomacy?
Free exchanges and tolerance is the key to peace
Now people to people contacts are almost not at ease
There prevails distrust and hatred for certain races
Let us not leave behind heritage with such traces
No one will benefit but people at large may suffer
We will have nothing on hand to enjoy and to offer
Why not at least on God’s name we try to adjust and co-exist
Without maintaining any kind of acrimony or giving the twist
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Good Old Powlett River
The good old Powlett river so very old in time
Has been sketched by famous artists and has inspired the bards to rhyme
From the hills above Kilcunda it flows downland to the sea
Centuries before the first Australians came down to the South Country,
The good old Powlett river will flow down forever more
From the hills above Kilcunda to the great Pacific shore
By the sandhills near saltwater where the surf waves one can hear
The good old Powlett river to my heart is ever dear,
Out of the sunshine by powlett river in the shadows of the trees
Centuries ago the first Australians danced their corroborees
The people like Nature's Seasons to life they come and go
But the good old Powlett river forever it will flow
From the hills above Kilcunda babbling on down to the sea
It will babble on forever century on century.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Hate It
i hate this stupid world
and the place i have in it
i hate this stupid house
and the life that its finished
i hate this computer
so ragged, so slow
i hate all the things
that i do not know
i hate the way words
can bring a person to their knees
i hate that hearts
break so easily
i hate that people die
when theyre oh so young in age
i hate it when my book
is oddly missing a page
i hate it when you cry
and won't tell me what's wrong
i hate the way people write random stuff
and sing it and call it a song
i hate that life sucks
and always will for me
i hate it that we can't
go on living happily
i hate it that i like you
when you so obviously don't like me back
i hate it when my parents
never cut me any slack
i hate it that im breaking
and nothing can fix the truth
i hate my wounds for healing
and not staying to give proof
i hate that i hate so many things
yet i don't regret a bit
i hate it that i don't always hate the days
when i feel like shit
poem by Something Changing
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back Down To Earth
(carly simon)
We jumped into a river on the moon
But the water was too cold
We tried to buy the morning star
But it was already sold
I wanted to make it big with you
But my plans must have been to bold too
And its back down to earth again
Back in my car and gone
Back on the road
Back on the road alone
You were my summer angel
Youre eyes how they shone
Just last night we were talking about
How much our love had grown
I wanted to prove how good it could be
But my plans will have to be postponed
cause its back down to earth again
Back in my car and gone
Back on the road
Back on the road alone
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Of Things Missed
So many, the people
With clear cold command
Of the language
And fully utilized by them
in daily discourse
And yet know little, or not…
Of the texture and design
In the weave of the words, and
Know or suffer not
A whit or hint of remorse
Of the richness of
The pleasures inherent
Tho' obviously to most,
not apparent
In the daily, depths
Of Deep discourse
The wealth of treasure
In daily words
By most is simply, sadly, missed
Yet in the majority not e'en noticed
For most…ignorance is bliss
poem by David Whalen
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Having The Flu And With Nothing Else To Do
I read a book about John Dos Passos and according to
the book once radical-communist
John ended up in the Hollywood Hills living off investments
and reading the
Wall Street Journal
this seems to happen all too often.
what hardly ever happens is
a man going from being a young conservative to becoming an
old wild-ass radical
however:
young conservatives always seem to become old
conservatives.
it's a kind of lifelong mental vapor-lock.
but when a young radical ends up an
old radical
the critics
and the conservatives
treat him as if he escaped from a mental
institution.
such is our politics and you can have it
all.
keep it.
sail it up your
ass.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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She Is Looking For The Simplicity Of You
she is looking for nothing but the simplicity
of the sea
the plain salt in water
you may even remove the bluish part of it
she is expecting nothing in the landscape
but only the grass on the hills
you may remove the house nearby
and the running brook
the moon at night need not even be there
the star can be dispensed with
you may only give her the darkness and the silence
of the grass and the hills
she is looking for nothing except that you
the one she loves must be there tonight
you may even dispense with the body
the hands and the face and the thighs
you may take them all away from her
she needs only the presence of your words
or even if you take the last word that you cannot give
you leave her the sigh unspoken by you
that will still suffice
she loves you and it is enough for her to last for another day
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ambered Amnesia 1651 Current Version
Selective memory pardons, covers,
when one road taken diverges from another.
When fingertips are offered and arms swallowed,
then only carbon dating shows through layers erosion hollowed.
Today's landmarks melt into tomorrow's watershed tears
as centuries stretch into aeons, identifies short-sold years.
Hollow-wallow tunnel vision discovers
it's difficult to cause/effect recover,
subjective objects shift perspectives subtle
as choices chance discarded options scuttle.
Points' questions filed fall by the board's abrasive emery.
What faith survives outside elective memory?
(16 November 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Aching of Old Age
THE ACHING OF OLD AGE
The aching of old age
Knows it will not go away
It is part of the life now
Aching is like breathing always here
Whether attended to or not
The aching of old age
Will not go away
It will accompany one all the way to the grave
Perhaps this is what it is ultimately for
To teach us that which we dreaded all these years
Has its most real meaning only in
Ending the aching forever.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A wishful touch...
A wishful touch, soft and tender.
Then a whisper, full of desire
A sudden gasp of sweet surrender
As passion fuels the fire
No words spoken between them
No promises to be kept
No lies being told tonight
No looking back - no regret
Longing to hold each other
Such precious little time
Both vowed to another
Being lonely their only crime
The softness of your lips, whole
As they slide over mine
Taste like honey to my soul
As they take me back in time
Oh, the fire of your touch
Like hot silk on your tender breasts
The passion I crave so much
As I taste the nectar of your kiss
A Slowly drumming melody in my heart
Your skin like a river of light
My moan of pleasure as you start
Ecstasy I'd never fight
A lovers tune dances up my spine
As the shadow of my embrace
Slides across your thighs
Ohhh sooo slowly the pace
Our hearts mingled in rapture
The torture of passion so sweet
The affection of a thousand years
As at least we meet
Tomorrow maybe bringing sorrow
A brief moment of shame
With the memory of this one night
A release from passion's flames.
poem by Deep Dark Soul Poet
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I Am A Patriot
And the river opens for the righteous (5 times)
Someday
I was walking with my brother
And he wondered whats on my mind
I said what I believe in my soul
Aint what I see with my eyes
And we cant turn our backs this time
I am a patriot
And I love my county
Because my country is all I know
I want to be with my family
The people who understand me
Ive got nowhere else to go
And the river opens for the righteous
And the river opens for the righteous
And the river opens for the righteous
Someday
And I was talking with my sister
She looked so fine
I said, baby, whats on your mind?
She said, I want to run like the lion
Released from the cages
Released from the rages
Burning in my heart tonight
And I aint no communist
And I aint no capitalist
And I aint no socialist
And I aint no imperialist
And I aint no democrat
And I aint no republican
I only know one party
And it is freedom
I am, I am, I am
I am a patriot
And I love my country
Because my county is all I know
And the river opens for the righteous
And the river opens for the righteous
And the river opens for the righteous
Someday
And the river opens for the righteous...
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leah
They defied the gods and earned their wrath.
Waters washed over their land
sinking it miles beneath the sea
to languish for centuries in myth and mystery.
Then emerged a mysterious woman
I found floundering near the shore.
She said her name was Leah
and claimed she was from a land
that sunk centuries ago
by the gods deep beneath the sea.
As the days progressed from the time,
I found her
this is the story she related to me.
My city is one of many
and my people are very old.
We learnt a long time ago
the key to immortality.
Ours is but a simple life
farming fish and seaweed
for our daily feed.
Over the centuries we learnt the secrets
all here seek to learn,
how to breath underwater
and above on this land.
It was while I was exploring
you found me near the shore.
We go out quite often
just to explore this world
to see if you have learnt
from the mistakes we made
when we defied the gods.
Sadly, from what we have seen
you make more than we,
but I fear that unlike us
you will never sink beneath the sea.
Instead, your cities will crumble
and you will be buried
beneath your city’s waste
when the buildings crumble to the ground
She then rose up and moved
away from my house back to the sea,
as I called out her name Leah
a wind came up from nowhere
carrying her name away from me.
Leah vanished back into the sea
leaving me with only mystery.
Was she from the fabled Atlantis?
Was she as old as she had implied.
What about the prediction for us,
did I dream it all
or was it an alternate reality?
These questions I cannot answer,
but each night I wander
alone along the beach
and shout her name Leah
only to have the wind
carry it away from me
to somewhere far out to sea.
7 September 2011
poem by David Harris
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Sinisterness
Sinisterness
By: Adam M. Snow
Lost in the vastness of our hearts,
do we stray from all living things,
and to all knowledge to whom imparts,
do we find ourselves once again.
To be a child, reborn and new,
and to witness all's bitter despair,
to see the sky once pure and blue,
and the people's bowing heads in prayer.
To be within a dream of reality and fate,
and wander through all endless depths.
To live in a world of dreary hate,
and be broken in frightful aspects.
Do we bind ourselves for one's flaw,
as we seek for a divine abode,
yet we suffer with these wounds of raw,
as we atone for our sins upon the road.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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Many Do Not Understand
Many just do not understand, about The God who owns the land,
That land that they call Palestine, renamed by the men in our time.
He’s a God, who hasn’t changed, even though the land’s renamed,
This land they say is occupied, by a peoples who must be denied,
An undeniable right to that land, promised to their father Abraham.
It was not Abraham, but God, who gave to them the land they trod,
A land that now aggressors claim, belongs to them in Allah’s name.
Hence today there is much dispute, on whom the land was given to,
In regard to the present occupation, of that tiny yet troubled nation.
Troubles that continue to escalate, fueled by people filled with hate.
The hate for that tiny nation, that God chose to reveal His Salvation,
Not just to one, but every land, a thought that they don’t understand,
For God came to save all the world, contrary to all these men herald.
All the world shall be saved by one; The Father’s Only Begotten Son,
Christ, who came for you and me, shall come to set His people free.
True understanding will not come, through the men they speak from,
But the violence will continue to rise, and all this to their own demise,
Setting the nations opposed to God, who will return with an Iron Rod,
To redeem His Chosen Nation Israel, according to God’s Eternal Will,
When God above ends all strife, sending forth Messiah, Jesus Christ.
(Copyright ©06/2007)
Inner Voices
traveling backward in dark to meet
my father I held the hands of my grandchild
in broken dawn of random spring to collect
the lost years of old house where we could not
meet and he sat feet resting on the thighs
in the valley of unwritten letters and thin
silence, you left before I knew my thumb
had your skin, climbed to despair I untied
the knot and had a fatal, pure wound, which
like a lantern still burns in the eyes of
my offsprings unabated, the seeds and salt
and bloodstained umbrella will cover the street
poem by Satish Verma
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