Pebbles In The Pond
A crooked slanting moon
shifts the eye
comes under the chaste tree
and washes the tainted
victory.
Wolves start howling
at the tomb of unknown martyr,
man-eaters recoil
on the sugar island
and talk about destinies,
A mourning crowd walks
repudiating the death;
one day nuances of an ode
will thaw the delta
in disbelief.
The Delphic attitude
of a translucent murder
narrates the wisdom of sadness
which cannot propel the
blood stained light.
poem by Satish Verma
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Mad Wolves
Wolves running wild
Beast and beauty,
Howling full moon instigates
The dead to rise above
And watch us as to
Try and cause some
Paranoid state so we
Don’t disturb their eternal
Bliss.
These wolves,
Mad wolves, brute in
Nature.
Howling at full moon they
Are transformed in beauty and
Beastly eloquent hunting manner,
The calling of the dead to rise.
These wolves, dead wolves
And humans too kill to
Survive.
Then sleep
When the sun rises over Atlantic
Coast.
poem by Randy Briggs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is This Island
there is this island
a very small island where i once escaped
away from the death that the crowd has inflicted
there is this lonely island
where the only house i have is just an old chair
and throughout the nine full moons i simply sit there gazing
looking at the small tree the leaf of which is only one
its veins too tiny for my eyes to love
it gets lonely here most of the time but i owe all my life to this very small island
it saved me once from the death inflicted on me by the crowd
my body becomes a geisha of gratitude
my mouth becomes the kiss of the slave woman to the nth power of Abram
i live in this island and on the last dropp of the day
i become forever
there will be another north star in the heavens
and it shall have my own name
there is this island shaped like a heart and it sheds blood because it is real
i am but a white grain of sand
perhaps, but i have become this grain of gratitude and i have become a star
forever hanging on the heavens.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Island In The Sea
there is this island
a very small island where i once escaped
away from the death that the crowd has inflicted
there is this lonely island
where the only house i have is just an old chair
and throughout the nine full moons i simply sit there gazing
looking at the small tree the leaf of which is only one
its veins too tiny for my eyes to love
it gets lonely here most of the time but i owe all my life to this very small island
it saved me once from the death inflicted on me by the crowd
my body becomes a geisha of gratitude
my mouth becomes the kiss of the slave woman to the nth power of Abram
i live in this island and on the last dropp of the day
i become forever
there will be another north star in the heavens
and it shall have my own name
there is this island shaped like a heart and it sheds real blood because it is real
i am but a white grain of sand
perhaps, but i have become this grain of gratitude and i have become a star
forever hanging on the heavens.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Blood Stained
Atrocities
Made every day
Religiously
Their sins
They hide
Can never disguise
Blood stained hands
Blood stained times
Blood stained deeds
Blood stained lies
They wage their wars
Such profiteers
Will nail us all
Their crimes
Concealed
Despicably reveal
Blood stained hands
Blood stained times
Blood stained weapons
Blood stained lies
They fire at will
Intent to kill
They have no conscience
They have no conscience
Ethnic cleansing nothing more!
Blood of nations blood of war
Turn blind eyes
From all your crimes
You bare our souls
Show no remorse
You cannot wash
The bloodstains off
They turn their backs
While others
Commit grisly acts
Were scared
For life
By politicians greedy
Blood stained hands
Blood stained times
Blood stained weapons
Blood stained crimes
Blood stained lands
Blood stained minds
Blood stained deeds
Blood stained lies
And while such predators
Stalk this earth
Disguised as saints
They kill our faith
Obsessed by greed
Lying through their teeth
They cannot wash
The blood stains off
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Attitude
Kids kind of dirty and a light on you
But talk, talk, talk is all you can do
You want to know how to play a game of show and tell
But youre just not getting off on yourself
When you got to get a message through
Its not what you do
Its your attitude
And there is nothing stopping you
Its not what you do
Its your attitude
You got to get off on yourself
And give them that attitude
You got shrink wrap rap and a prefab smile
Too much substance, not enough style
You got your new age voodoo, but that wont help
cause youre just not getting off on yourself
When you got to get a message through
Its not what you do
Its your attitude
And there is nothing stopping you
Its not what you do
Its your attitude
So you got to get off on yourself
And give it the attitude
Now that youre ok and Im ok
Decide to have it out or to get away
If I didnt believe every word I say
I wouldnt be the man that I am today
It aint no secret, it dont take money
So give it to yourself, in a way its funny
Just try to do right, and it comes right through
Dont care about the donts and dos
If you want to get a message through
Its not what you do
Its your attitude
And there is nothing stopping you
Its not what you do
Its your attitude
You got to get off on yourself, stay up on yourself
Get yourself an attitude
Its the way you walk and the way you talk
And the way you do everything you do
You got the attitude
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Native Touch
Repetition of same thought blurs the mind
invalidates the knot,
wholeness cracks,
and a tremendous force unleashes
the insult to integrity.
This is how the time has ripened.
Perpetual, malignant oozing from pores.
Fear enters in our voice,
we start hurling stones
on the icon.
And then, the nemesis takes over.
A dimpled moon tumbles down the tree,
and wolves start howling.
Now conflicts will make the holes in the sky.
Your loneliness is more frightening,
than the dark words.
Unfeeling the light, the sounds.
You craved for the native touch,
which was not coming.
This moment you are me,
brushing against the pshyche.
I am setting you free.
poem by Satish Verma
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And Death Washes Only Bones
And death washes only bones;
The mouth of death speaks oft of every tounge
Never his patience once lost is found in all your nature;
Death washes a bone and the astrologer hands two back,
So the moon when lined up, shines down on Venus asleep.
Time smiles on the heart beating and long of face therein,
death puts it back on the middle shelf prearanged.
And death washes only bones;
Deep valleys are filled with man's rich oil,
And covered over memories by death too often dredged.
Lined up end to end exposed again to harvest the tears of wait;
And death washes only bones and man who drinks so bold,
There being no truth and lies sown shut death eyes all bottoms.
d.t.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Rhythm Of The Day
The moon is bright, so high, so cool
The sun, fumbles, gazes in the grass
The lake sparkles, smiles, in the grey
Smiling at each day
The verse, comes from the east
The west dangles, dances within
a bawl inside
Rivers cropping, like spokes
And is agrand pa Mulanje mountain
And, to the south, Viphya
with birds, smiling
Order of the day is shaking
Vigorous heads retakes brittle words
Words of wisdom from all walks of life
Smiling at the ridged land
Before is a reclaim of the garden
So, beautiful and the lake washes,
washes, washes, washes
While the doleful king points out,
points out, points out so high
So high, is the song, and birds
Slander and go
In the rhythm of the day
poem by Paul Mwenelupembe
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Premeditation
Oh blade you'll warm tonight!
Awash in crimson-purple flows,
Your sheen will dull with aching flesh:
Palpating anatomic mounds
Caressing, dancing, writhing round
Your metal form-
Whetted ‘gainst a lonely bone,
Then to probe the pounding, begging heart.
And all the while the prey will howl
Before they crumple; greet the mud-
A taut and unbelieving jowl
Will open out for giving blood-
A vent from down below,
Once a brutal show
Of metal in the man.
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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The Winter Wolves Are Coming
The Winter Wolves are coming
They are drawing ever near
The Winter Wolves are coming
They smell our blood, our fear
The Winter Wolves are coming
In packs of hundreds and more
The Winter Wolves are coming
They are knocking at our door
The Winter Wolves are coming
With teeth as sharp as knives
The Winter Wolves are coming
They mean to take our lives
The Winter wolves are coming
The smell our blood, our fear
The Winter Wolves are coming
The Cold of Death is here.
poem by Tim Vallie
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Climbing
Before sinking to knees.
I will talk to flowers.
Day of arrival has come.
In death, wisdom of trees
will eject the seeds
of fire on hip-locked roots.
A miracle will raise the bones
from the rage of crowd.
The king has agreed to depart.
Darkness sings in the
valley of sun.
Tongues are free to weave the moon.
Till the words are ready
to walk on street of sorrow
to remove the blood soaked prints.
poem by Satish Verma
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Snow wolves
I can hear the wolves
Howl in the distance
The howl is suddenly
Dampened by the falling snow
In a clearing
I see the wolves howl
Perched on the slanted rock
They cry to the moon
The moon cries back
It cries with agony
It cries because of death
Death witnessed beneath it's glow
The wolves turn and howl
The snow doesn't let up
But blows harder
Through blind panic
i run
I hear the wolves howl
Only it isn't in the distance
poem by Eric Ripley
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Has Your Soul Sipped?
Has your soul sipped
Of the sweetness of all sweets?
Has it well supped
But yet hungers and sweats?
I have been witness
Of a strange sweetness,
All fancy surpassing
Past all supposing.
Passing the rays
Of the rubies of morning,
Or the soft rise
Of the moon; or the meaning
Known to the rose
Of her mystery and mourning.
Sweeter than nocturnes
Of the wild nightingale
Or than love's nectar
After life's gall.
Sweeter than odours
Of living leaves,
Sweeter than ardours
Of dying loves.
Sweeter than death
And dreams hereafter
To one in dearth
Or life and its laughter.
Or the proud wound
The victor wears
Or the last end
Of all wars.
Or the sweet murder
After long guard
Unto the martyr
Smiling at God;
To me was that smile,
Faint as a wan, worn myth,
Faint and exceeding small,
On a boy's murdered mouth.
Though from his throat
The life-tide leaps
There was no threat
On his lips.
But with the bitter blood
And the death-smell
All his life's sweetness bled
Into a smile.
poem by Wilfred Owen
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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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Dire Wolf
In the timbers to fennario, the wolves are running round,
The winter was so hard and cold, froze ten feet neath the ground.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
I sat down to my supper, twas a bottle of red whisky,
I said my prayers and went to bed, thats the last they saw of me.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
When I awoke, the dire wolf, six hundred pounds of sin,
Was grinning at my window, all I said was come on in.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
The wolf came in, I got my cards, we sat down for a game.
I cut my deck to the queen of spades, but the cards were all the same.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
In the backwash of fennario, the black and bloody mire,
The dire wolf collects his dues, while the boys sing round the fire.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
No, no, no dont murder me. I beg of you,
Dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blood stained top
My blood stained top lies on the floor.
Coved in crimson red.
From the bursting seems of my skin.
The blood did pour.
Going all over my top.
As the blood seeps in to my top.
It has made it blood stained.
Like blood tears.
My life remains in tatters.
Like my top I cut to bits.
My skin is sliced to ribbons.
And the blood is oozing,
down my top
Making it blood stained
See the top in the morning.
A memento of the night before.
It won't stop me.
For I'll have to do it again
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Another Season
We have another season ahead, when we think of death instead,
Instead of the birth of Jesus Christ, Who, came to be a sacrifice,
We think of a Hill called Calvary, where our Savior died on a tree,
When cursed is the one on a tree; this, Christ did for you and me.
It was part of God's Eternal Plan, for the babe to become a man,
As a body was prepared for Him, Eternal God, to bear all our sin,
He became a curse for everyone, with God's wrath upon His Son,
Christ paid sin's eternal cost, as The Sinless Lamb for all the lost.
He was then buried in a tomb, all appeared, to be His final doom,
But in three days to much surprise, from that grave He would rise,
From the tomb Christ had risen again, to be the Savior of all men,
Now, behind Christ was Calvary, while ahead for man was victory.
As this alone is the very reason, we celebrate this Easter Season,
Better known as Resurrection Day, when God for us made a way;
Unlike Christ, we were born in sin, and only in Christ can men win,
That final victory over death, and receive from Him eternal breath.
The victory to be gained by us, is through The Lord, Christ Jesus,
Who as The Savior of all men, enables us to become Born Again,
As believers, still upon this earth, through a spiritual second birth,
And through the Lord Jesus Christ, we instead will see eternal life.
(Copyright ©02/2012)
Alpha Man
leading the
pack of wolves
silent in
the snow
killing the herd
in such
a quick show
blood pours
forming a river
as he claims
victory
around the
land
inside the house
there is no talk
for all the
guilt
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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