It Opens
An oriole gives
an edgy call
in the blaze of morning.
I am not fully awake,
sky is melting on window.
Death has company.
Zen, it did not connect me
with your god.
I am tired of pretentions.
Small was the wasp
in a cobweb of pain.
It floated a sign of conflict.
My thorn did not prick your petals
in vain. Dead leaves
started bleeding.
poem by Satish Verma
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Gnawed Through
A fat island burns
under a looming sun.
Bleeding rays will enter your eyes
to see the blundering world.
The gods were melting down
looking at the corpses of
faltering orchids, spread out
at the feet of a white blaze.
The oriole sheds the gold
and embraces a brown –
black cloud against
a dazzling green.
A dishevelled country rumbles
to get a street sense from
a meditating Buddha.
poem by Satish Verma
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Death is when....
Death is when my loved ones must depart
Death is a sharp pain in my heart
Death is this feeling of permanent sadness and pain
Death is when my loved ones have gone away
Death is the call to heaven or hell
Death is an eternal mansion or cell
Death is the lesson i need to learn about
Death is a loss, without a doubt
Death is this unhappy feeling i have
Death is pleasant on my behalf
Death is the day i end my life
Death is when i give up the fight
Death is happiness to the world around me
Death started when i gained my life
Death can be helped along with this knife
Death is where i shall go
Death is close, i kno
Death willl come fast
Death is vast
Death is what i see
Death lives inside of me
Death is joy to me
Death has come for me
Death is gonna take me
Death will stop my misery
Death loves my company
Death ends the pain
Death takes me on that train
Death is near
Death is finally here
Melting Pot
I met my girl
She was living in the melting pot
I touched her skin
It was greasy from the melting pot
Get yourself a weapon
Cause they slice you up in the melting pot
Well, I dont really have time to talk
But I wish you lots of luck in the melting pot
Chorus:
And in the end its always just some game
The heartbreak and laughter has all been in vain
Beat up and lied to
For your whole life
Kick you in the head
In the melting pot
The hewks live upstairs
Where the air is clean in the melting pot
They like to swoop down
And gnaw an your brain in the melting pot
Money, sex and power
Jerk you off in the backseat of the melting pot
Then they say I saw you last night
And you sure were looking sweet in the melting pot
Chorus:
And in the end its always just some game
The heartbreak and laughter has all been in vain
Beat up and lied to
For your whole life
Kick you in the head
In the melting pot
Theyd like to buy you off
If they possibly can in the melting pot
With temptation, dreams and persuasion
Thats what they got in the melting pot
Keep you bleeding, begging and snotty here
In the melting pot
Well, dont you dare laughting out loud
Theyll take away what you got
In the melting pot
Chorus:
And in the end its always just some game
The heartbreak and laughter has all been in vain
Beat up and lied to
For your whole life
Kick you in the head
In the melting pot
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Carefree
You don’t hear the word
much these days.
It floated into the mind
this morning in the middle
of a fit of glooms
call it grace if
you believe in grace
carefree
it comes without strings
like an escaping balloon
a blue balloon or
a thinks balloon
no documents to sign
no commitment
no promises, no-one to
forgive, not even
myself, not
even a solemn declaration
about giving up all other
all a bit easy, no wonder
it’s out of fashion
well you know what they
say, yesterday’s naff is
tomorrow’s edgy retro
so what
today I’m carefree
my blue balloon, you can
hardly see it against the
blue sky, looks as if
it wants to join it up there
wanna hold my balloon
before we let it go?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Morning Call
The silken thread of a cobweb
catches the first drops of morning dew.
They hang like a string of jewels
to sparkle in the first rays of the sun.
The fragrance of an awaking rose
whose scent wafts through the morning air,
as its petals unfurl one by one
to greet the morning sun.
The chorus of the morning birds
whose sweet song of praise,
rejoice the waking of a brand new day,
then alight to fly the freeways of the sky.
The sleepy head tucked in bed
listen for the alarm clock’s wake up call,
but when it sounds, they want to remain
where they are, missing the wonder of it all.
poem by David Harris
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The Light Through The Morning Window
THE LIGHT THROUGH THE MORNING WINDOW
The light through the morning window
The small leaves of the light green tree
The pale sky waiting behind everything
The night which is gone now.
All these failures one after the other,
Other names other destinies, greater than mine
The single singing I cannot hear
The great prophecies I will not realize.
Others who are more to me
Even than I am to myself.
The morning
The morning again
Words again
Trying to live again
A poem again perhaps.
In a life of many days
In which each small day
Its own struggle
And each night
A night which ends
With morning light.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Case Of The Window Pain
an astute answer
discerning shrewd
would surely mention
this wit must be
personification
of a window pane
as for the window pain
perhaps the window is shamed
perhaps the window is dirty
as for the window pain
perhaps the glass is cracked
small large cracks streaked
as for the window pain
perhaps cricket ball punctured
victim of circle game holed
as for the window pain
perhaps the window is broken
glass shards bear crime witness
as for the window pain
perhaps window frame rots
an old window in house derelict
as for the window pain
perhaps the window witnesses
child abuse domestic scenes violent
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Marvin
Oh Marvin,
Seems so long
But I still remember you
I would have given everything
If I could have talked to you
For just one small moment
In the quiet of the day
You took my pain away
Oh Marvin
The one who wanted,
The one that could not stay
With a flash of illusion
Oh the big one that got away
Just one small moment
In the quiet of the day
You took my pain away
Oh Marvin
Oh Marvin
Oh how we miss you
Oh how we wish somehow
I could hold onto your wings
And fly away
Because the pain you knew
Was the pain I knew too
Misunderstood like the
thorn of a rose
Before the summer came,
Your beauty washed away
Like pretty petals in the wind and rain
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Mind Was Full Of Ideas This Morning
my mind is full of ideas this morning
while i am walking alone
on the grassy path of this mountainside
i am so tired. I take my rest sitting on a log
rotting under a tree.
i gaze on the ricefields just below this hill.
some white herons as usual fly low
some sparrows regroup themselves and
scatter in an instant like a confetti of dry leaves.
the sun comes out in glory
proclaiming though its reign on this corner
the gumamela flowers on the side of the hills bow down
and bloom again
i am amazed on the beginning of this beautiful day.
The butterflies flutter on the bushes of white petals
of these wild flowers. I see a nest with three small white eggs.
the sound of waters cascading on the creek.
some leaves are carried away. A fish jumps trying to catch
a low flying dragonfly. Some dew begins to lose their
glow on the bamboo leaves.The law of evaporation gets in.
Lost. I am so empty.The window of my heart is open.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Hunter's Mind
Awake, awake!
Awake to the morning bowl from last night's food;
Like the fling of a stone that puts the stars into flight.
What has the hunter in the hand?
Awake to the games of the Sultans,
Where the morning glory do call for the hunter;
Awake, awake!
Awake to the facts of life;
Cos', the hunter's gun is ready for action.
Oh no! ! The hunter's eye has caught the Sultans turret,
Like the noose of light to awake nature's call;
Who can satisfy the Sultans?
Like a little pool, so is the hunter's mind;
The hunter's gun is ready for action.
The only man who makes no mistake is,
The man who never does anything;
Awake, awake!
The Sultans turret is in trouble;
Like the noose of light to awake nature's call.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Winter at St Andrews
The city once again doth wear
Her wonted dress of winter's bride,
Her mantle woven of misty air,
With saffron sunlight faintly dyed.
She sits above the seething tide,
Of all her summer robes forlorn -
And dead is all her summer pride -
The leaves are off Queen Mary's Thorn.
All round, the landscape stretches bare,
The bleak fields lying far and wide,
Monotonous, with here and there
A lone tree on a lone hillside.
No more the land is glorified
With golden gleams of ripening corn,
Scarce is a cheerful hue descried -
The leaves are off Queen Mary's Thorn.
For me, I do not greatly care
Though leaves be dead, and mists abide.
To me the place is thrice as fair
In winter as in summer-tide:
With kindlier memories allied
Of pleasure past and pain o'erworn.
What care I, though the earth may hide
The leaves from off Queen Mary's Thorn?
Thus I unto my friend replied,
When, on a chill late autumn morn,
He pointed to the tree, and cried,
`The leaves are off Queen Mary's Thorn!'
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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The Thorn That Grows
The thorn that grows beside the rose
can let its prick be felt.
It also is a sharp reminder
of the pain that can be dealt
to the lover of beauty
that takes no care
to adore the rose
but not beware.
For all the beauty in the world
lies side by side with pain.
And all the glories of what you love
cannot always remain.
I do not languish myself with pity
nor do I live with pride.
But to live in fear of pain that comes
is to believe that beauty has died.
The thorn that grows protects the rose
as love protects the heart.
But if the thorn is missing
might not the rose depart?
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Before They Eat
If you want to know what's there,
Without a big stink...
Stay awake.
If you want to get it first,
And be the one who thinks...
Stay awake.
And,
You wont have to make believe.
If you want to know what's there,
Without a big stink...
Stay awake.
If you want to get it first,
And be the one who thinks...
Stay awake.
And,
You wont have to make believe.
Truth and Love and Harmony,
Seem to me to be free...
Of conflict and disease.
Of War and enemies.
I said it,
Truth and Love and Harmony,
Seem to me to be free...
Of conflict and disease.
Of War and enemies.
Nobody in their right mind,
Wants to meet and greet...
While bleeding.
Or want to fight right away,
Before they eat.
Nobody in their right mind,
Wants to meet and greet...
While bleeding.
Or want to fight right away,
Before they eat.
If you want to know what's there,
Without a big stink...
Stay awake.
If you want to get it first,
And be the one who thinks...
Stay awake.
And,
You wont have to make believe.
Truth and Love and Harmony,
Seem to me to be free...
Of conflict and disease.
Of War and enemies.
I said it,
Truth and Love and Harmony,
Seem to me to be free...
Of conflict and disease.
Of War and enemies.
Nobody in their right mind,
Wants to meet and greet...
While bleeding.
Or want to fight right away,
Before they eat.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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As You Feel The Pain At The Side Of Your Abdomen
i see what you are seeing, you are always telling me.
your fingers feel the pain. your eyes speak.
you take a little time. taking a look at the side of things.
you see some worms. a dead dog. a rat rotting on the road.
the rain has come for days. flood runs.
the sun comes. everything dries up.
the flowers wilt. this time you rise from your bed
to be alive for once.
you see ghosts. i see them too.
white ghosts floating on the window railings.
i call them clouds. outbursts of light.
the moon. and that stars.
denial. the images of denial come like some petals
of rain. red petals. orange leaves.
they come to you like naked children.
they grow to be men, naked men, these truths, they are like
the ten sculptures of david.
denial. you are talking of something else.
it is not pain. it is happiness. you like more of it.
yet the irony is, you are about to leave. the black car is waiting.
and they are ready with their dresses and flowers and prayers.
just as life has become beautiful
the end of the story comes. happy ending.
that is what you want. happy.
ending. sometimes, i feel so disgusted, why the young
useful and well-loved people always have to leave
there was no time enough to really meet them.
i am crying.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fade Away
Caught between the dusk and dawn
I numb myself to death yet I'm awake
I'm running out of alcohol
I shouldn't feel a thing yet all I feel is hate
I realise as the night goes by this is not the first time
This maddening pain keeps me awake I need to fade away all I feel is hate
I wish that I'd just fade away, fade away, fade away
I can't cope with all this hate, all this hate, all this hate
I'm so tired still awake, still awake, still awake
Finally I fade away, fade away, fade away
I pour another drink coz I can still think
And won't stop aching 'til I'm out of my head
That ticking clock is killing me
I wish that I was dead it wouldn't be too bad
I hope you're fine and well, I say
I wouldn't want it any other way
So please tell me how do you feel
Now tell me how's the league, tell me how's the league
I can tell I fade away, fade away, fade away
I'm stuck here just like yesterday, yesterday, yesterday
I miss those jam and pancake days you would shower and I would bade
It feels like I just fade away, fade away, fade away, away
I wish that I'd just...
song performed by by Quorthon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Build For Pain
DEATH IS WIND AND I BREATH IT IF SOMEONE FORCES ME 2 OR IF IM TIRED OF LIFE MYSELF.
PAIN + PAIN IS DEATH
MISERY + UNHAPPINESS IS SORROW
SORROW + PAIN IS TEARS
AND I SHED SO MANY FOR PEERS
THAT GOES DOWN THE PATH TO
WHEN DEATH THEY DODGE
TO WHERE SOME STRIKES WITH
VENGENCE AND LEAVE US DEAD IN THE
STREETS OF OUR HEARTS
DEATH SHED NO TEARS OF ITS OWN
BUT IF I HAVE TO HOLD MY BREATH TO KEEP
DEATH AWAY FROM ME I WONT BECAUSE
IM ALREADY BUILT FOR PAIN
poem by Used2Pain mopbfnl2d
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Tears are Two Small
Tears are too small a sign of grief,
My love, oh my sweet love!
A child will cry himself to sleep
As though his golden heart would break,
And yet will laugh himself awake
To see the morning cony leap.
Grief is too great to break a heart,
My sweet, though pain is there;
Too great for anything but death,
Blank madness underneath great seas,
Christ screaming from a million trees,
You, stark beneath a burial-cloth.
poem by Henry Treece
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My Silent Undoing
my silent undoing
my silent undoing
my silent undoing
my silent undoing
my wasp in a jar
protruding hips
and skull, and spine
ribcage cuts a clear outline
oh, oh
all roped up and pinching in
distorted and disfiguring
oh, oh
my silent undoing
my silent undoing
my wasp in a jar
no photographs around the back
emaciated, iron flat
oh, oh
dehydrated cutting bones
today i'm over 7 stone
oh, oh
my wasp in a jar
my wasp in a jar
my wasp in a jar
twinkle little star
my wasp in a jar.
song performed by by Queen Adreena
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Prison
I cried out for the pain of man,
I cried out for my bitter wrath
Against the hopeless life that ran
For ever in a circling path
From death to death since all began;
Till on a summer night
I lost my way in the pale starlight
And saw our planet, far and small,
Through endless depths of nothing fall
A lonely pin-prick spark of light,
Upon the wide, enfolding night,
With leagues on leagues of stars above it,
And powdered dust of stars below—
Dead things that neither hate nor love it
Not even their own loveliness can know,
Being but cosmic dust and dead.
And if some tears be shed,
Some evil God have power,
Some crown of sorrow sit
Upon a little world for a little hour—
Who shall remember? Who shall care for it?
poem by Clive Staples Lewis
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Give Me Some Poison To Live
Give me,
some poison to live
I had been dead
for many years.
I burn my hands on a flame,
blank space has started talking.
I am ill at ease –
My lips are not moving.
The pellets, the bullets, the steel –
nothing matters now.
Dirty games can go on,
I am going on bromides
to ejaculate the pain.
Sleep will not come in dark
nor the relief in white robes.
I will remain awake till eternity.
Give me,
some thorns to bleed.
Rose petals
are hurting now.
poem by Satish Verma
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