Leaves
Under lip’s shadow
dislocated in faint moonlight
we discussed the maligned communications
between fuming monologues
of desiccsatd life. Sorcery was not able to
knife the secrets of the park, branches
and trees of memory. The game continues
in jungle of lies, blessed by lines of murder:
a divided loyality to have the last laugh.
The nose-dive for inheritance inside the flesh
lays the bones bleached white to dye
them again in pink morale:
I reach where I never intended to travel.
There is no death to mourn now. Each maggot
was ready to enter the spine of image.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Knife
Slit and
Slither knife
Penetrate in phallic push
To perforate the pulse of tissues in the flesh
Slice a vein to drain the unsuspecting victim
E’er they bleed and plea
Their scream
Of death
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Dry and Thirsty Land
Parched and barren,
A dry and thirsty land
Filled with the haze of death
The forgotten bones of man
The tongue swells in the mouth
The sweat pours out his brow
Weary traveller falling down
Weary traveller dying now
The white bleached bones
The bones of those before
Lie about him spinning round
Bleached bones on the desert floor
His brown shrivelled skin
Turns black under the sun
He is lost and doomed
What is done is done
Thou are cruel, Dry thirsty land,
Slowly killing those who flee
Drying them from the inside
A miserable gutted tragedy
Weary traveller, there is rest
There is rest for you head
There is a place where you can rest
Where you can drink and be fed
Don’t push on any longer
For the dry thirsty land
Will eventually be stronger
Than thy inner man
Come to the one oasis
That inhabits this world
Find the well of water
From which life doth unfurl
Come thou weary and faint
Sojourners in a dry weary place
Come thou empty and dead
Come with all due haste
Come to the well
Strength and energy it gives
Come to the well
If you want to live
Come if you feel tired
Come if you need a refresh
Come if you need life
Come if you want energy afresh
A well for all who wish
A dry and thirsty land
Come thou faint
Come thou weary man
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Meat Is Murder
Heifer whines could be human cries
Closer comes the screaming knife
This beautiful creature must die
This beautiful creature must die
A death for no reason
And death for no reason is MURDER
And the flesh you so fancifully fry
Is not succulent, tasty or kind
It's death for no reason
And death for no reason is MURDER
And the calf that you carve with a smile
Is MURDER
And the turkey you festively slice
Is MURDER
Do you know how animals die ?
Kitchen aromas aren't very homely
It's not "comforting", cheery or kind
It's sizzling blood and the unholy stench
Of MURDER
It's not "natural", "normal" or kind
The flesh you so fancifully fry
The meat in your mouth
As you savour the flavour
Of MURDER
NO, NO, NO, IT'S MURDER
NO, NO, NO, IT'S MURDER
Oh ... and who hears when animals cry
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Meat Is Murder
Heifer whines could be human cries
Closer comes the screaming knife
This beautiful creature must die
This beautiful creature must die
A death for no reason
And death for no reason is murder
And the flesh you so fancifully fry
Is not succulent, tasty or kind
Its death for no reason
And death for no reason is murder
And the calf that you carve with a smile
Is murder
And the turkey you festively slice
Is murder
Do you know how animals die ?
Kitchen aromas arent very homely
Its not comforting, cheery or kind
Its sizzling blood and the unholy stench
Of murder
Its not natural, normal or kind
The flesh you so fancifully fry
The meat in your mouth
As you savour the flavour
Of murder
No, no, no, its murder
No, no, no, its murder
Oh ... and who hears when animals cry ?
song performed by by Smiths
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Heart Holds The Gold
Looking back upon my my life
as I enter this silver valley I can
trully be thankfull for each and
every avenue of travel that I
had the pleasure to take
Why is it when we reach a certain
platu in our lives, do we have a tendecy
to look back and play the remember when
game?
Taking stock and wanting to hold on each
and every memory our hearts were young
and blissfully we engaged our days and
evenings living life to the fullest
Growing up in pink and now grown up
in silver, but my heart holds the gold.....
poem by Bonnie Collins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am A Piece Of Broken Man
do you see me? what do you really see?
do you see this piece of broken man?
his spine bowed to the earth
because it has a huge burden on his back
his face with rugged lines, his jaw somehow dislocated,
the bones of his body unsymmetrical,
his flesh rotting, his skin unable to hold some parts of his
broken body, his nose does not smell the sweet perfume
of the good life, his tongue attuned to the bitterness of his past,
his lips crack with the present catastrophies,
it has not defined the kiss of life,
he cannot look up now to the bright skies
and marvel upon the wonders of creation,
the nature of green and red
the scent of peach and apples and roses
the taste of honey,
look at him, look at me, this piece of a broken man,
i am not your imagination
i am you. you must look at me again, stare at me.
give me your hand, so i can be warm again,
so my blood starts to run again, it is you, and you alone,
who can make me rise.
i am no other man. I am you.
help me. help yourself.
this is the real picture of the man
in the mirror of your eyes
in that secret chambers of your heart.
help yourself. help me.
we shall rise.we are one.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ready To Love
When I look at you all I can see
Is the shadow of your life
You see this stage is a mirror
You can see me
But I can't see past its light
Lovers have tried to reach down inside
I only said that they were wrong
But when all I've got left is me and my pride
I realize you can't buy love with a song
So somebody take me out of the night
Show me what life is made of
Won't somebody reach inside of my heart
I think that I'm ready to love
I think that I'm ready to love
I feel like I'm ready to love
Well a lesson that's learned too late is a crime
I can't stand the pain of what could have been
Oh it's such a shame there's no one to blame
But no one knows what I have seen
What do you see when you look at me
Do I really seem so far away
But the song will go on
And you will applaud
And look at me I'll just keep singing
Somebody take me out of the night
Show me what life is made of
Won't somebody reach inside of my heart
I think that I'm ready to love
I think that I'm ready to love
I feel like I'm ready to love
Oh show me what life's made of
Somebody please reach inside of my heart
I think that I'm ready to love
I think that I'm ready to love
I feel like I'm ready
song performed by by Melissa Etheridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The first Snow for M 'lady Tara
Now almost imperceptibly the snow is falling steadily.
Unruffled by the slightest breeze to coat the branches of the trees
with layers of the purest white which sparkle in the pale moonlight.
A sight that’s pleasing to my eyes. Beneath the trees a blanket lies
as yet a flimsy covering but it is slowly thickening.
As falling snow relentlessly, continues drifting quietly.
The world reverts to black and white. It is a bitter winter’s night
I sit and watch from my window backlit by the firelights glow.
I’m thankful that I need not go outdoors amidst the falling snow.
I am content to stay inside I much prefer my fireside.
Although it’s beautiful to see the snow descending steadily.
I am too old to brave the cold I leave that to the young and bold.
Tomorrow with the morning sun the children will be having fun.
With cries of glee they’ll greet the snow and I will watch from my window.
The antics of small girls and boys as they engage in childish ploys.
Just as I did so long ago when I could enjoy the snow.
One benefit of being old I stay inside when it is cold.
My aching bones will not permit me to do much more than sit
and watch the children as they play and remember my young days.
18/08/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com.poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Walking Nightmares
Black silhouettes of a hangman's noose
Surrounded by ways to cut my life loose
Worn away gravestones of the gone and forgotten
Smell of decay, Bodies are rotten
Clouds form to create tombstones
Dead and abandoned, Feather and bones
In the road states the word death
Written in blood and the body that's left
Defenceless creature lays on the curb
Ripped apart flesh leaves me disturbed
No escape from death, No where to turn
Murder in mass as distant trees burn
Shadows before me stand crucified
I hear dying children that have cried
Funeral bells ring in the back of my mind
A family photo that's been left behind
Fallen tree looks like a dead body
Waiting to be found and ready to study
A helpless wave from a fallen branch
The wind whistles the funeral march
poem by TyjaRae Guy
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Thunderous Snow!
thunderous snow,
born o'er dark silent mountains;
the final prayer,
the last turn of the plow.
air frozen and heavy,
the wind shakes the bones,
the bare trees wait,
naked, and obedient.
time come and gone,
the memory of a kiss fades
into the deep stillness,
and the sleep of the soul.
cries of passion lost,
in the darkness so deep,
that ending and beginning are one!
the hunter stares,
his shadow twisted by moonlight,
the faint taste of flesh,
dried blood on his lips.
a few flurries, a drumbeat,
the wolf howls, no sound!
stillness wraps around fire,
the fields pray empty prayers.
thunderous snow,
love, and cosmos!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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How To Kill
Under the parabola of a ball,
a child turning into a man,
I looked into the air too long.
The ball fell in my hand, it sang
in the closed fist: Open Open
Behold a gift designed to kill.
Now in my dial of glass appears
the soldier who is going to die.
He smiles, and moves about in ways
his mother knows, habits of his.
The wires touch his face: I cry
NOW. Death, like a familiar, hears
And look, has made a man of dust
of a man of flesh. This sorcery
I do. Being damned, I am amused
to see the centre of love diffused
and the wave of love travel into vacancy.
How easy it is to make a ghost.
The weightless mosquito touches
her tiny shadow on the stone,
and with how like, how infinite
a lightness, man and shadow meet.
They fuse. A shadow is a man
when the mosquito death approaches
poem by Keith Douglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Man Watches And Sees
Man watches you hide behind
your shadow.
Why do you think you need to
to hide?
No man should want to hide
along side or behind his
shadow.
Stand up and show your
face to man.
Your life will still travel on.
And your shadow, will
follow behind.
No shadow can stay still
even at your will.
You are, your shadow of you..
You'll always travel together
It'll be forever.
No man can travel without
his shadow.
As long as there is light
from earth or man made.
Then you will always travel along
with your shadow
poem by Gayle Anne Goff
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It is murder
When you take away a life
With the aid of a knife
It is murder
While you extinguish the living with a gun
Without being able to recreate what was born
It is murder
If you feed someone dead tablets
Later have second acrimonious regrets
It is murder
You are taking away a life
It is clinging on to survive
Need I say anymore further
It is murder
Murder sprung by a fling
With ropes or a string
Your hands only bring
Death around a necks ring
Execution by suffocation
Condemned with abomination
Deliberate foetus termination
It is murder
Make no mistake,
Be careful
Asleep or awake!
Murder is unlawful
If death occurs because of the effects of an evil curse
I will say this with my lips pursed
'What a great loss, but this is not murder!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Down In The Park
Down in the park
Where the machmen meet
The machines are playing 'kill-by-numbers
Down in the park with a friend called 'five
I was in a car crash
Or was it the war?
Well, Ive never been quite the same
Little white lies like I was there
Come to zom-zoms, a place to eat
Like it was built in one day
You can watch the humans
Try to run
Oh, look, theres a rape machine
Id go outside if it looks the other way
You wouldnt believe
The things they do
Down in the park
Where the chant is death, death, death
Until the sun cries morning
Down in the park with friends of mine
We are not lovers
We are not romantics
We are here to serve you
A different face but the words never change
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Find Meat On Bones
'Find meat on bones that soon have none,
And drink in the two milked crags,
The merriest marrow and the dregs
Before the ladies' breasts are hags
And the limbs are torn.
Disturb no winding-sheets, my son,
But when the ladies are cold as stone
Then hang a ram rose over the rags.
'Rebel against the binding moon
And the parliament of sky,
The kingcrafts of the wicked sea,
Autocracy of night and day,
Dictatorship of sun.
Rebel against the flesh and bone,
The word of the blood, the wily skin,
And the maggot no man can slay.'
'The thirst is quenched, the hunger gone,
And my heart is cracked across;
My face is haggard in the glass,
My lips are withered with a kiss,
My breasts are thin.
A merry girl took me for man,
I laid her down and told her sin,
And put beside her a ram rose.
'The maggot that no man can kill
And the man no rope can hang
Rebel against my father's dream
That out of a bower of red swine
Howls the foul fiend to heel.
I cannot murder, like a fool,
Season and sunshine, grace and girl,
Nor can I smother the sweet waking.'
Black night still ministers the moon,
And the sky lays down her laws,
The sea speaks in a kingly voice,
Light and dark are no enemies
But one companion.
'War on the spider and the wren!
War on the destiny of man!
Doom on the sun!'
Before death takes you, O take back this.
poem by Dylan Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Winter Night for Friend Hunter
Though almost imperceptibly. The snow was falling steadily,
unruffled by the slightest breeze. To coat the branches of the trees,
with layers of the purest white, which sparkle in the pale moonlight.
The contrast pleasing to my eyes. Beneath the trees a blanket lies
as yet a flimsy covering which is slowly thickening.
The snow continues relentlessly but quietly and stealthily.
The winter will remorselessly alter existing scenery.
Cover the faults and flaws with snow, assisted by the winds which blow.
When night departs and morning breaks, spread far and wide the fallen flakes.
Until the world appears to be as far as human eye can see.
A pristine expanse of pure white: a truly awe inspiring sight.
Which waits to greet us when we rise, a sight too bright for human eyes.
26-Nov-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Gifts?
What gifts shall this the new day bring?
What words that I shall sing?
Let us throw ourselves once more
Into the moment of creation,
Amidst the heat of destruction
The phoenix shall rise again,
Into new life,
Blessed with new name.
Brought forth from ash
All burning flame,
Bent and broken
Our dimensions letters sent,
Written in the tongues of elder trees
Slow groans of primeval secrets, please.
All from the soup that spurted legs,
All from the gas that grew as eyes,
From star forge into material purge,
Our nature’s favourite game.
Alchemy in motion, poetry the ocean
And life the volcano's roar,
In death new life does pour
And dark skies bring new light.
Promise of springtime,
Promise of sunburn,
Not here, not now in shivering
All senses perishing,
And shaking, withering
All bones intent on breaking,
Bent and broken
All secrets spent and spoken
You must listen if you wish to learn.
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Burning
After the puppet show,
the nest was calling.
Indeed, the leaves held the slanted light
expanding the shade snared on branches,
of dancing ash, of almond eyes.
Why the hangman was waiting
for the echo? The river was calling.
Was this the inheritance of less
talent of pugmarks, which strayed
into the city of abused words?
The book was calling?
After birth there was no death of my
rhyme. The flesh has gone, only
the burning bones are lying
on bed of roses.
poem by Satish Verma
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Murder Me
Kill me,
Jump Me,
End my life like I care,
Take this gun and shoot me,
Don’t look,
Don’t Stop,
Just murder me,
Just end my life tonight,
As I no longer care,
Or dare to speak of his name,
Or cry out his name in vein,
Murder me,
Murder me here,
Just end it now,
End my suffering,
Make it go away,
Just help me from feeling this rage inside of me bursting to get out,
Please kill me here,
Take this knife and murder me.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Down In The Park
Down in the park
Where the machmen meet the machines
And play 'kill-by-numbers'
Down in the park with a friend called 'five'
I was in a car crash
Or was it the war
But I've never been quite the same
Little white lies like "I was there"
Come to "zom-zom's" a place to eat
Like it was built in one day
You can watch the humans
Trying to run
Oh look there's a rape machine
I'd go outside if he'd look the other way
You wouldn't believe
The things they do
(CHORUS)
"We are not lovers
We are not romantics
We are here to serve you"
A different face but the words never change
Down in the park
Where the chant is "death, death"
Until the sun cries morning
Down in the park with friends of mine
song performed by by Marilyn Manson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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