Incarnation
Trampling the borders, he started
losing his vibrations.
He was asking for the perpetual forgiveness
for his bandaged ego.
The new incarnation.
For the broken homes
he refused to admit his side of guilt
and jumped into the frozen lake
for nursing his hot blood.
The faithless star.
The world did not exist
in total freedom.
Let him sleep, sulking away,
under the sea of wounds
unlistening to the wailing winds.
Not for the seeds
not for the flowers,
the crowds were assembling for the essence
of the drifting truth.
Nobody knew the red hot destiny.
poem by Satish Verma
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Without Qualms
He resumed walking with the sun
propelled in river of fire of blunt red
and striking yellow to resonate with the pain of her,
who sleeps on the thighs of a temple tree.
The vibrations still follow the echo of forgiveness,
a shadow of palm rises on white wounds.
The snoring of blood letting winds break the
bones crisply, on the jealous shores.
Where was the need of sharp edges to slice
the heart? The words spilled on the table
like blood curdling bats. The candle light
turns black with a guilt.
Small gods are weeping inside the tear
scorched eyes. Somebody prays for the fallen
monuments of tongues and bullet killed bells
of tributes. Stars started hiding their faces.
poem by Satish Verma
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Freedom
Freedom from fear is the freedom
I claim for you my motherland!
Freedom from the burden of the ages, bending your head,
breaking your back, blinding your eyes to the beckoning
call of the future;
Freedom from the shackles of slumber wherewith
you fasten yourself in night's stillness,
mistrusting the star that speaks of truth's adventurous paths;
freedom from the anarchy of destiny
whole sails are weakly yielded to the blind uncertain winds,
and the helm to a hand ever rigid and cold as death.
Freedom from the insult of dwelling in a puppet's world,
where movements are started through brainless wires,
repeated through mindless habits,
where figures wait with patience and obedience for the
master of show,
to be stirred into a mimicry of life.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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A Spirit’s Tale
They brought back saddle
without the warrior.
Wrinkled eyes of a broken mother
frozen with tears, pick up the pieces of carpet
woven with blood.
Lotuses are disappearing
from the serene lake; migrated to seeds.
There are no visitors.
Who was losing the battle?
Have not you heard about militancy
and mutilated god? We gave him
our sons and daughters, still he was hungry.
The mankind celebrates the decline,
mourning hills,
dances with the bones of ancestors.
poem by Satish Verma
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Drifting Away
(orbison/dees)
Sadness slips into the room
On silent steps of sorrow
Stealing sleep and all my dreams
Where will we be tomorrow?
Lying with you, crying with you, drifting
Talking till dawn yet we go on, drifting
Dont understand where we began just drifting apart
Drifting apart feeling alone drifting away
We cant seem to work it out
Drifting from day to day
Wasnt it all about, drifting away
Drifting away, drifting away
Losing the feeling
And now the music of the song is almost gone
That we used to play
From sweet surrender from drifting away, drifting
Two lovers lost two rivers crossed, drifting
Two bridges burned, no lesson learned, drifting
Lonely together, hurting each other
Still we cant say that its over
Can we bring back yesterday?
Will we be forever, forever drifting away
Drifting, drifting away
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Something's Broken
I think something's broken
Then again nothing's smokin'
Or shakin' or chokin' like my ol' truck
But I think something's broken
And I think it's worth notin'
It started about the time
She got all packed up
Could be my ego, could be my pride
Could be my calm, cool, collected side
Might be my heart's comin' eye to eye
With the truth that she wasn't jokin'
I think something's broken
Cause I just been layin' 'round hopin'
That maybe any moment
I'll get on track
I think something's broken
All locked up or frozen cause I can't go forward
And I sure can't go back
Could be my ego, could be my pride
Could be my calm, cool, collected side
Might be my heart's comin' eye to eye
With the truth...
I think it's my heart, comin' eye to eye
With the truth, she wasn't jokin'
I know something's broken
Cause I just started smokin'
And shakin' and chokin'
Like my old truck
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Want
Everybody wants the truth
But everybody lies
Everybody wants some proof
But everybodys blind
So open up your eyes
I really dont know much of anything at all
But Ill admit were all the same
You ask forgiveness and you make the same mistakes
And Ill admit were all the same
I want to know
Do these words mean anything?
How can this life mean more than what it seems?
Everybody wants equality
But were all prejudice
Were all hypocrites
Everybody wants the world
But we have nothing
I really dont know much of anything at all
But Ill admit were all the same
You ask forgiveness and you make the same mistakes
And Ill admit were all the same
I want to know
Do these words mean anything?
How can this life mean more than what it seems?
song performed by by Face To Face
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Requiem for losses
Silence must be the last song of sanity
As wishes and dreams often go missing
True hearts ride the crest tireless
Hard flights on sometimes broken wings
Some fly true, they carry their stories high
On fragile wings that have never known rest
Solo in essence, yet they lead from the borders
To horizons beyond, far ahead of time
They are the loaners to the winds of change
The pavers of those unfamiliar longings
Their presence linger as gentle reminders
Of places yet to be reached by the flock
Birds of passage, they have no true homes
They are seen by those who need them most
When their work is done, their plumage bloodied
Broken and scattered, they are always the hunted…
poem by Bindu Vijayan
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The Nursing Home
The Nursing Home
by James Alexandros Papastamos
I
Imprisoned by such hands of time
That rape, incest, and so infect
The body, mind, perhaps the soul
Of those whose crime was age…at best
II
Each wrinkle drew to map their world
When they were young, its mountains rose
But seas would drown in shallow pools
Of joy, reflection, guilt, remorse
III
Though age, itself, is not so bad
The windows come to those who’ve seen
The best of all and worse to come
May those who’ve aged live on…in dreams
IV
In nursing homes that foster such
poem by James Papastamos
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Her Truth
Your truth claims to be a reality
While her truth is the reality
Your truth is just another fallacy
While her truth states actuality
Your truth tries to call her an insurgent
Just another agent
Trying to spread hatred
When her truth really speaks for those you have murdered
For those you denied existence
After they fought for their freedom
Went to the streets to express their position
And you accused them of being destroyers
Ended their lives like they worth nothing
Your truth tried to oppress them
Suppress their voices
While her truth spoke for them
Went to the squares screaming for their liberty
Fighting for their authority
Your truth is only believed by those who shared your earnings
Those who sold their souls for the Benjamins
Used religion, race and lies to serve your purpose
While her truth refused to take it all
Her truth was so pure it refused to sell the martyrs blood
Your truth has become so little
So her truth rose above it and took over the scene
Your truth was caught out
Your truth was discovered
More and more are finding her truth
Seeing the Real Truth
And yours, of course, just wished it would have listened…
poem by Jacob Arden
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On What Constitutes Freedom
On what constitutes freedom we do not agree
For what is freedom to you is not freedom to me
That Countries should have borders you see as okay
But I look at that in a different way
In our thinking of freedom we have got it wrong
The Country we live in to us does not belong
The borders we create we have to defend
One reason that war in the World may not end,
You boast of your love of your National flag
To you something like that does seem well worth a brag
Suppose to each their own as some are known to say
We all look at things in a different way
Your idea of freedom is different to mine
But that you have your own opinions does suit me fine.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Drifting
Drifting, drifting, drifting away.
I got myself a mansion, then I gave it away.
It's not the world that's heavy, just the things that you save.
And I'm drifting, drifting away.
Drifting, drifting, drifting along.
I rid myself of worries, and the worries were gone.
I only run when I want to and I sleep like a dog.
I'm just drifting, drifting along.
The suitcoats say, "There is money to be made."
They get so damn excited, but I guess it's their way.
My road it may be lonely just because it's not paved.
It's good for drifting, drifting away.
The suitcoats say, "There is money to be made."
They get so damn excited, nothing gets in their way
My road it may be lonely just because it's not paved.
It's good for drifting, drifting away.
Drifting, drifting, drifting, uh huh.
I feel like going back there, but never for long.
I sometimes wonder if they know that I'm gone.
I'm just drifting, drifting along.
Drifting, drifting along. Drifting, drifting along.
Merry Christmas...
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Frozen Snow
heroin and homelessness,
broken relationships and guns.
cold nights, broken glass windows,
even Jesus got baptized
in a muddy river!
blood on the kitchen floor,
roaches crawl up the walls.
Agent Orange, and picket signs,
flags burning in the alleys.
babies never seen their daddy,
mothers working, minimum wage.
breaking into churches,
and sleeping at the altar,
dont turn back time, or stop the wind!
empty graves, orphaned parents.
the nursing home smells like death
seeds planted in summers past...
wait beneath the frozen snow!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Star
When I was a boy I searched the skies
For the truth, a star, and the worldly wise,
But ever the path of the brightest lay
On my neighbour’s roof, or another’s way.
So I chose a star and I called it ‘Dawn’
As the brightest light in a summer storm
And I charged it: ‘Lay out my future way
As bright as the path you trace today.’
But when I was older, learned and wise
I left the star in the drifting skies
And never a thought of the star was lent
While the truth, the star, and my faith was spent.
And when I was down, and worn, and thin,
I got to think what I might have been
And searched for the star in the drifting skies
And cried its name at the pale sunrise.
I’ve scanned and searched for a single star
Since the way of the world was far too far,
But all I get are the skies alight
Or a deep despair on a cloudy night!
5 July 1975
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Truth Will Not Multiply
Space has all the silent approval,
truth will not multiply.
Another funeral takes place
in the barren field of lies.
Fire burns the life’s hopes,
while town mourns the death.
Sunshine bakes the eyes
but truth will not multiply.
Desireless peak of thoughts
sets out the smoke,
towards our homes,
trampling the shame, guilt and hurts.
We were still indulging in useless talk
but truth will not multiply.
Virtue has a unique impulse
a drone in the ears.
Fog was waiting for the sky.
The planet empties a bucket of sorrow.
I will favour the faceless name,
but truth will not multiply.
poem by Satish Verma
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But Truth Will Not...
Space has all the silent approval,
truth will not multiply.
Another funeral takes place
in the barren field of lies.
Fire burns the life’s hopes,
while town mourns the death.
Sunshine bakes the eyes
but truth will not multiply.
Desireless peak of thoughts
sets out the smoke,
towards our homes,
trampling the shame, guilt and hurts.
We were still indulging in useless talk
but truth will not multiply.
Virtue has a unique impulse
a drone in the ears.
Fog was waiting for the sky.
The planet empties a bucket of sorrow.
I will favour the faceless name,
but truth will not multiply.
poem by Satish Verma
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There Is Always This
greed, that sometimes
rationalizes itself that it
does not exist, and yet
when you sleep at night
when the room is so silent
and it refuses to talk
and tell you the truth
you soon will discover it
to be a part of your being
and then you finally admit
that you belong to the
genealogy of the dragon
spitting fire and taking
territories and damaging
the humanity where you
once belong, this soliloquy
for instance is a manifestation
of greed's guilt,
tomorrow, another war
is done.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Seek freedom
What does the sun of man want
What does mankind want
Under the sun
Is it to eat all the food
In the world and have fun
So that nobody gets nothing to feed
Or destroy the righteous and his seed
May be gather more riches
And be superior
So that others become
Poor and inferior
Or gather all the women
In the world by your side
Is this the ultimate pride
What fore does mankind want
Apart from being free and happy
You need freedom to live your destiny
So do i need freedom
Everybody needs freedom
The rich man needs freedom
So do the poor man also need freedom
The king needs freedom
So do his subjects needs freedom
The master needs freedom
So do the servant needs freedom
Freedom belongs to the old man
As well is the young man
the human society without freedom
Is an evildom
Freedom is love for one another
Freedom is the ultimate power
poem by Matt Ancient
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Plant the Seeds
We, who feel the awakening tme
approaching on its own
must try to plant the seeds of truth
for those who've never known
that time is of the essence.
The earth will no longer wait
for fools who fail to wake up
before it is too late.
The seeds that must be planted
must grow within your being.
They must make you understand that
understanding your power is freeing.
No longer will you be made to think
that this is all there is.
You are a multi-dimensional power
with the ability to become a wiz
at creating anything you want.
Too long you've been kept in fear.
Nowhere else in this universe
does fear exist, only when you're here.
So you must look within and listen
for everything that's in you.
So one by one the seeds we plant
will show you how you grew.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Ghost And Me
The ghost and me
The ghost and me.
Are one and the same.
We don't exist.
We are never to be seen.
Everybody has washed their hand clean of...
A mistake that never happen.
A birth that was more like a regurgitation.
I didn't mean to do that.
Oh oh but you did.
The ghost and me
The ghost and me.
Are one and the same.
We don't exist.
We are never to be seen.
Now tell me
How hard is it to forgive
When one denies you everyday..?
Oh just disappear.
I wish you weren't here.
Those are the words I continuously hear.
The ghost and me
The ghost and me.
Are one and the same.
We don't exist.
We are never to be seen.
Voices marching to a beat.
Voices marching to an eventual defeat.
Running through a slaughter house just to fix a broken soul.
An what does it expose?
Is the blood real?
A talentless man with no cloths.
The ghost and me
The ghost and me.
Are one and the same.
We don't exist.
We are never to be seen.
I hate it.
It isn't fair.
But in this world of despair.
Tears will never heal these wounds.
For they're continuously felt each and everyday.
The pain will never go away.
It is here to stay.
The ghost and me
The ghost and me.
Are one and the same.
We don't exist.
We are never to be seen.
The ghost and me
The ghost and me.
Are one and the same.
We don't exist.
We are never to be seen.
No never again.
A march to the very end.
When I'm hanging from that rope
I want nothing from you.
It is what you gave me.
Suffering silence.
The stillness that is so quiet.
No one is here except...
The ghost and me
The ghost and me.
Are one and the same.
We don't exist.
We are never to be seen.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Victory Of Fall
One unthinkably hostile debate
started in a colosseum:
a path to kill the clemency.
A comatose truth was listening to lies.
They were pointingly arguing about
the nukes option to bring about the peace
and prosperity on the strife torn earth.
Total anihilation will initiate a new world.
Troubled times; the failure of sacramental thread
to tie the god. The king presides over
the sweaty palms which failed the swords.
Deprivation will breed the contempt for theater.
Horses were ready to disobey the order.
Shoes were thrown on altar.
The eyes were everywhere in the wounds, stained
with guilt, never to celebrate the victory.
poem by Satish Verma
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