Peace fot the Living People
A useless space between the sentences,
ghastly story does not end in black and white.
Again the heart cries.
I keep on knocking on the doors
and then return to blackness.
Sometimes people become insects.
Cockroaches, ants and spiders,
weaving their webs and hills,
crawling, creeping, clawing.
Flesh eaters. Pouncing upon hapless victims.
Depression. I am devastated.
Something churns in breast, dousing the spirit, lines and words.
Cannot sit quiet. Agoraphobia. Don’t want to talk
Somewhere a name crops up. Saint or beast.
Under the trees there is no shade. I walk barefoot.
Hungry dogs chasing the flies.
Humidity fills the eyes.
Silence of the night.
City has stopped running.
All the dead will speak now.
Not asking any revenge,
but peace for the living people.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No, No I'm No Ovid!
A useless space between the sentences,
ghastly story does not end in black and white.
Again the heart cries.
I keep on knocking on the doors
and then return to blackness.
Sometimes people become insects.
Cockroaches, ants and spiders,
weaving their webs and hills,
crawling, creeping, clawing.
Flesh eaters. Pouncing upon hapless victims.
Depression. I am devastated.
Something churns in breast, dousing the spirit, lines and words.
Cannot sit quiet. Agoraphobia. Don’t want to talk.
Somewhere a name crops up. Saint or beast.
Under the trees there is no shade. I walk barefoot.
Hungry dogs chasing the flies.
Humidity fills the eyes.
Silence of the night.
City has stopped running.
All the dead will speak now.
Not asking any revenge,
but peace for the living people.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spiders In The Night
Spiders in the night
Creeping round the walls
Now you'll feel him
Crawling over you
Creepy crawly things
Filling up your bed
Soon you'll feel him
Crawling through your brains
You think he's there
Beware his bite
But when you look
The spider's not in sight
Spiders reappear
Taking peoples names
Everything is taken down insane
There's no way out
And there's no key
But here's a clue
The spider's really me
You're written in his book
The spider won't forget
You won't forget
The spiders in the night
The end is going night
Itsy witsy friends
The spiders disappearing from the night
You think he's gone
You think he's dead
There's no escape
The spiders in your head
All the spiders in the night
All the spiders in the night
All the spiders in the night
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne from Bark At The Moon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slaughter In A Grave
It's a killer and it's prowls
Night after night
It's murderer in the vault
It lives for a fight
It's a story of soul
That has come for revenge
On murderous grounds he
Seeks his victims for the night
Listen to the night for
The shout of the skull
It's the call of death's return
And the vengeance of the God
It's a bad land and the
Storm comes to chill
It's a passage and the killer
Feels remorse to kill in fear
It's a victims who fixes the man with hate
A dead man drives crime in his
Fate so near
In the black vault the strange
Spirit commands the victims soul
To return in his body and to
Revenge his bloody murder so cold
On the screaming place
Mad spirit reighs with his killing soul
On his crazy face the vengeance
Makes it's course with fever...
In vaults
song performed by by Voivod
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night Spiders Crawling
night spiders
crawling
crawling through
mind
encased
in black
satin
webs
deep
sleep
tra pped
drained
tread encased
in raw exhaustion
stung spun webs
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Bad Boys Running Wild
Music :rudolf schenker
Lyrics:klaus meine, herman rarebell
Out in the streets
The dogs are on the run
The cats are all in heart
Out in the streets
Snakes are all around you
Dirty rats are on their way
They control you and theyll make you play
Out in the night
Glaring eyes in darkness
Tigers wanna fight
Out in the night
Spiders all around you
Spinning webs and make you pray
Tie you up and you cant get away
Bad boys running wild
If you dont play along with their games
Bad boys running wild
And you better get out of their way
Out in the streets
The dogs are on the run
The cats are all in heat
Out in the night
Spiders all around you
Spinning webs and make you pray
Tie you up and you cant get away
Bad boys running wild
If you dont play along with their games
Bad boys running wild
And you better get out of their way
Bad boys running wild
If you dont play along with their games
Bad boys running wild
And you better get out of their way
Get out of their way
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Depression is...
Depression is Loving someone with nothing in return,
Depression is Slowly living instead of jumping head first,
Depression is Acknowledging the mistake but without learn,
Depression is Not trying, giving into your lifes curse.
Depression is Cutting and cutting thinking you cant stop,
Depression is Staying quiet thinking no-one will care,
Depression is Floating around with the desire to drop,
Depression is Ignoring the people who always seem to be there.
Depression is Trying to end the life youve been given,
Depression is Watching other people watch you,
Depression is Giving up instead of being hard driven,
Depression is Depression, do you feel it too?
poem by Jodie Louise Pollock
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Depression 1
depression is loving someone with nothing in return,
depression is slowly living instead of jumping head first,
depression is acknowledging the mistake but without learning,
depression is not trying, giving into your life's curse.
depression is cutting and cutting thinking you cant stop,
depression is staying quiet thinking no-one will care,
depression is floating around with the desire to drop,
depression is ignoring the people who always seem to be there.
depression is trying to end the life you've been given,
depression is watching other people watch you,
depression is giving up instead of being hard driven,
depression is depression, do you feel it too?
poem by Tashi Coote
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Velvet Shoes
Let us walk in the white snow
In a soundless space;
With footsteps quiet snd slow,
At a tranquil pace,
Under veils of white lace.
I shall go shod in silk,
And you in wool,
White as white cow's milk,
More beautiful
Than the breast of a gull.
We shall walk through the still town
In a windless peace;
We shall step upon white down,
Upon silver fleece,
Upon softer than these.
We shall walk in velvet shoes:
Wherever we go
Silence will fall like dews
On white silence below.
We shall walk in the snow.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Talking.... (Who Listens?)
even the silence of the night talks,
small children talk in their dreams;
old people talk staring out windows...
trees talk shedding leaves,
empty buildings talk to ghosts;
dead bones talk to the wind...
the wind talks those who mourn.
the hungry talk to their oppressors,
the prisoner talks to the walls.
the desperate talk to the noose,
lovers talk with simple touch.
soldiers talk to their fears,
the unborn talk to our decisions.
the moon talks to the night,
and the night talks to the dawn.
the soul of man talks,
and calls it god.
the conscience talks to the heart.
death talks to the living....
who listens?
who really hears?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Song: The Running Dogs
In a land of distant memory,
in the primal world of old,
dog and man were enemies;
and our story should be told.
Beyond the mystic mountain,
lived a pack of hungry hounds;
with a tribe of rustic humans,
who lacked our strength renowned.
A menace to our hunting grounds,
they laid their claim to turf;
and fenced our range to out of bounds,
and stole our birthright, earth.
Our children too were victims,
of eugenic genocide.
The wild spirit of our nature;
broken, tamed, denied.
They call us now the running dogs,
the stunted and the hunted dogs.
They call us now the running dogs,
but are we running scared?
We were once the Big Bad Wolf,
fierce nemesis of cloven hoof.
We patrolled the deep dark wood,
and took the rap for Riding Hood.
We were once a breed to fear,
of sneering breath and snarling leer.
We were threats to little pigs,
and architects in flimsy digs.
But now we lounge on comfy chairs,
grow fat and soft and take on airs.
As trustee to a gaoler's whim,
our savage past must fade and dim.
They call us now the running dogs,
not cunning, merely stunning dogs.
They call us now the running dogs,
but are we running scared?
Running, running, running dogs.
I see and shun those running dogs.
Running, running, running dogs;
the docked and doctored curs.
Running, running, running dogs.
I see no fun in running dogs.
Running, running, running dogs;
till our heaving lungs will burst.
Running, running, running dogs.
And I am done with running dogs.
Running, running, running dogs.
For by that name we're cursed!
poem by David SmithWhite
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Drawing
you draw a map
you make a landscape
there are people and children
and there are houses and trees
you put the wind
sketches of lines and shadows and
shades and blots
you pour this black ink
to make a night
and then you make waves to form the birds
flying away
you situate the fence upon an edge
they all fall down upon an abyss
you try to find
where you are
you are not there
and if somehow you are there
you are but a dot
you have no heart
there is no space where you can put it
there is no place
where you can make it beat
you do not hear it
they say that is correct
for you have long been dead
you refute
you take the revenge
you hurt
you write more words than they can think of
you tell them
this is poetry
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To An Ex....
what we told them that we did
was all those games of catching spiders
rested in their spun webs on the trees
beside the mountain river
we we really did they knew so well
but how can we ever ever tell?
that what they knew was not all that happened
as it was something else more that what spiders are
on their transparent
webs of illusions upon those trees
that in the first place
never existed
what we had were more than words
and thoughts
and so how can we ever tell ourselves
truly
that we have already forgotten?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Mothering Blackness
She came home running
back to the mothering blackness
deep in the smothering blackness
white tears icicle gold plains of her face
She came home running
She came down creeping
here to the black arms waiting
now to the warm heart waiting
rime of alien dreams befrosts her rich brown face
She came down creeping
She came home blameless
black yet as Hagar’s daughter
tall as was Sheba’s daughter
threats of northern winds die on the desert’s face
She came home blameless
poem by Maya Angelou
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Watching The Wildlife
(gill/johnson/nash/otoole)
Watching the wildlife
On my way home, the state of rome
People gliding on the floor
Pleased with life not needing more
Sunset on the river
People go home in the rain
Familiar faces on the train
Running scared, and staying sane
If you live by the sword
Well thats your own reward
So dont walk with me
Watching the wildlife
The beast within you
Eats your heart out
Get free from hate and get in love
Boys in the backyard
The girls are hanging out the lines
Washing the day, wash your troubles away
Its game we have to play
Ghosts are chasing you round
Things that happen in the past
Dont make that mistake again
The sun beats down the streets of passion
If you live by the sword
Well thats your own reward
So dont talk with me
Watching the wildlife
The beast within you
Eats your heart out
Get free from hate and get in love
Your own worst enemy
Get free from hate and get in love
If you live by the sword
Watching the wildlife
Watching you
The beast within you too
Watching the wildlife
Get in love, get in love
Watching the wildlife
We all live in a dream in home
We watch tv and drive a car
We go outside, but not too far
Watching the wildlife
We walk the water like a sun
Living cuts you like a knife
Living here watching the wildlife
Get in love, get in love
song performed by by Frankie Goes To Hollywood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White Hot Day
Instrumental version called bass line
In time, only time, speak for time, in time
Time calls, time cries, sweet friend of mine
Time could be a place, a spirit and a face
Teardrops through time
While away below, the whirlwinds will blow
A pretty nation speaks in time
The beauty of it is, to waken up to
Shake the hand of time
In time, only time, well speak for time
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the years, hold back the years
Time calls, time cries, sounds like a friend of mine
Time will run to meet, the slick and shiny beat
That creeps to me through time
While away below, the whirlwinds will blow
A pretty nation sleeps in time
The beauty of it is
Well wake up to, shake the hand of time
In time, only time, in time, only time
In time
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the tears, hold back the tears
In time, only time, well speak for time
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the tears, hold back the tears
In time, only time
Quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Roll back the years, roll back the years
In time, only time, well speak for time
On a quiet night
Hold back the tears to another day
Quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the tears, hold back the tears
Time, only time, speak for time
Quiet night of a white hot day
Whisper the things that will come our way
On a quiet night of a white hot day
Roll back the years, roll back the years
In time, only time, speak for time
Quiet night of a white hot day
Hold back the tears to another day
Quiet night of a white hot day
Words & music : james kerr, charlie burchill, mel gaynor, derek forbes, michael macneil (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thinking Of What To Do
Thinking of what to do
Of what to say
Hoping for the best
Feeling hopelessness settling in-
Thinking of where to go-
Of who to go to-
Hoping for help,
Getting none
Running from my fate
Rejecting all, losing nothing
Feeling guilty
Running faster, farther away
Running with eyes closed, -
Sealed shut-
Afraid of the world I'm running from, the world I'm running through-
My eyes hurting- pain reminds to open these doors.-
Opening the doors to the Living
I trip-
On my own heel-
Face meets the ground-
Getting up-
I look back-
Nothing-
I see- only blackness behind me-
Blackness- darkness- following me-
SPIDER AND THE FLY...by Talile Ali
SPINNING THAT WEB
TO TRAP ANY DUMB ASS GUY
CAREFULLY WOVE
DID THE SPIDER FOR THIS UNDONE FLY
DUMB ASS COME RUNNING
CHASING A LIE
GETS WHAT HE DESERVES FROM
THE SPIDER WHEN SHE CRIES
TRUTH IN AN ACTION
IT IS DO OR DIE
GIVE WOMEN WHAT THEY WANT
OR YOU BETTER KNOW YOU WILL FRY
WOMEN ARE SENSELESS
WOMEN ARE INSANE
THATS WHY MEN ARE BEAST
BECAUSE THE WOMEN AREN'T TAMED
SPINNING THEIR WEBS
WITH THE POWER OF THEIR EYES
NOT EVEN GENTLE
AS THEY HANG YOU OUT TO DRY
BUGGY EYED AND BUZZING
ALWAYS GOING TO TRY
THATS WHY MEN ARE CAPTURED
IN THE WEBS OF THESE ARACHNI
poem by Talile Ali
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The City With Eyes
The city with eyes
Sees everything,
City with eyes
Hears everything
Feels everything
The city with eyes
Sees people living on the rough side of the streets
Sees people eating crumbs from the floor
Sees people with ripped clothes and no shoes
Watching other people wearing lubatones walking past
It cries not one but millions of tears
For them
Tears which touch every one
Which soaks everything
Rain, they call it.
The city with eyes
Watching
What has happened to my city?
It cries with sorrow
The city with eyes
Feels the sadness
Of those in need, sad, hurt, …
Watching what was happy
To what is sad know
Talking XX
And then a scholar said, "Speak of Talking."
And he answered, saying:
You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts;
And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered.
For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words many indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.
There are those among you who seek the talkative through fear of being alone.
The silence of aloneness reveals to their eyes their naked selves and they would escape.
And there are those who talk, and without knowledge or forethought reveal a truth which they themselves do not understand.
And there are those who have the truth within them, but they tell it not in words.
In the bosom of such as these the spirit dwells in rhythmic silence.
When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the market place, let the spirit in you move your lips and direct your tongue.
Let the voice within your voice speak to the ear of his ear;
For his soul will keep the truth of your heart as the taste of the wine is remembered
When the color is forgotten and the vessel is no more.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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People talk the streets hypnotic
Another day has come
And I cannot help it
I’ve got to go out and hear
I’ve got to go out and let it hear me
Walk the streets like walk the clouds
People speak people laugh
People laugh and their laughter
Spreads my laughter too
People look at me I look at them
They want to come into my eyes
They wonder I wonder
I take them like a picture
I want to go in they take me in
We walk together
People talk shallow talks
I hear the depths below
People beg the streets
I beg the streets with them
People seek the streets
Being sought by them
People cry my tears
People kiss I can feel the kisses
People touch I can feel the touches
People talk the streets
I talk people in the streets
Put fragments of their talk
Into a Hypnos mosaic
Of my own words
‘Communication is health. Communication.’
Note: The last line taken from Mrs Dalloway by V. Woolf
People talk - a short novel by Rastko Petrovich
Miroslava Odalovic,2010.
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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