Santhara
When honeycomb started dripping,
he stopped eating and climbed a sand dune
for the last journey.Pall-bearers were ready
for blunt futurism ceding to a deliberate defeat.
Hunger was his turbulent empire, resting
his hands on the shoulders of rocked time
for the purification of greed and spurting desires.
His only mechanical aid was his pen.
Into the half century of geckoes getting rid
of tails when a monkey was found in the stomach
of a croc.Toons themselves spread out mocking
the winter of hexagonal windows. Grey birds
started melting on the burnt-out grasses.
Lions walked on identical twins of nudes.
A wet kiss of death ensured the beautiful
ceasation. Yellow roses opened the frigid body.
* A soulful ritual of Jainism when a person seeks death voluntarily and stops
eating and drinking.
poem by Satish Verma
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An Evening Tuition
It was winter time
on a chilly evening
a boy had to go to a tuition class
He came from school in a good mood
And started eating quickly as if he should
Books were already arranged in the bag
And the condition was so
That the boy had to run like a stag
On reaching the destination he huffled and puffled
To see that no one had reached yet
He was relieved when he entered the teachers room
To know that he has succesfully reached his destination in time
The teacher started teaching in time
The boy feeled that he had
commited a crime
For no one had come
And the teacher told that no one will come
The boy sat in the middle of the room
Thinking what would be his doom
He sat surrounded by a mist of dissapoinment
Thinking what to do and he was grave silent
The teacher went on teaching the chapter
But the students mind was not thereafter
Suddenly the boy noticed
The windows were closed and the fan was off
he felt as if he was on a volcano top
For he was wearing a thick sweater
which burnt the body under
The teacher gave the boy a lesson to write
and he took a book to recite
The half burnt child got a chance
And opened his night mare at one chance
When he saw the excercise
his brain alarmed twice
The excercise was very large
to be done at one hour time
He started writing as fast as he could
After 90 minutes the task was at last completed
The boy felt from his hand his
wrist being diminished
His fingers ached mercillesly
And he groaned painfully
When the teacher was checking the copy
The boy washed his hand which was sweaty
Suddenly his watch started bipping
And his heart also started jumping
For it was the time to go home
The teacher understood the meaning of the meaning of the bipping
And started checking the copy without care
When the checking was done
Miraculously no mistakes were there
The student was astounded to see it
For he thought that he did not deserve it
When the teacher opened the door
The student ran to the ground floor
And went straight to the exit door
From there he went to his dearest home
poem by Subham Roy
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A Fresh Endeavour
So now I've taken leave of life,
I thought you'd like to know, I still
Possess a mind in love, oh wife;
A soulful eye to catch a show of
Silent beauty – ever yours;
An ear to pick the metaphors
Of tonal dance in words you say,
Grasp a thought in verse you pray
Inside your head, bemused of mind,
Softly mournful, intertwined with
Understanding tears.
I'll drift a whisper o'er to you
To tell that I am quietly calm;
Keeping time till your adieu
To flesh, upon the carol of a
Psalm of consummation. Now!
A fresh endeavour – we're forever
One together, resting yonder,
Cross our open plane of blue.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Lost My Name
Did you taste the ejecta
after a sacred ritual of exploding
a makeshift bomb in a crowded market?
I am worried.
I am becoming death, curling backward.
The wood spirits have started a fire dance.
The healing, yes, it comes from the blood
of steel, they claim, the blackness of a hole
has a purity.
Hunger starts a riot of lewdness in the
ribs of an empire. A skull on the hill
betrays a slaughter of young boys.
The makers of AK-47 were repenting,
for the brutal aura. I have started
telling lies.
Satish Verma
poem by Satish Verma
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A Guide to Eating Meat
Eating a little beef
Could cause a Hindu grief,
Eating too much chicken
Can make a person sicken,
Eating lots of lamb
Is preferable to Spam,
Eating a leg of pork
Won't make the neighbours talk,
But eating Mum and Dad
Is DEFINITELY BAD! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Moonstone
Well, first I have to tell you that Im not insane
And that once I was a famous archaeologist {named}
{who ran} a recent expedition in a distant land
I just happened to passin my hand in the sand
And then I stopped, looked, and then I was hooked
I saw a flash, then a sparkle from a moonstone
Then the mist started, started to clear
I saw a face, a face in the moonstone
Then it started to disappear
Well, I walked and walked and never talked
For many days
And without a friend the desert is a lonely place
I was just about to turn around and make way home
When something told me that I had to see it again
Avuray....etc.
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This is my body
This is my body that you see
It is beautiful carved by God’s hands
Smoothened by His breaths
You will love it and want to have it
To touch and caress
To be feasted upon by the hunger
Of your eyes and thirst of your lips
To be rubbed by the coldness of your body
Seeking the warmth of my flesh
This is my body that you will first see
But there is more in me than my body
This soul that seeks your soul
This beautiful soul that seeks the beauty of your soul
The hands of my spirit reaching out to your invisible hands
They have all for years been longing to clasp
My soul longing to be with your soul
So they can be together
To be fused with each other as one
To be happy and calm and perfect
To that final place where this body
Shies away because something more beautiful
Inside it shines and glows and becomes
So beautiful in all eternity
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Soft White
When the sea is as grey as her eyes
On these days for sure &nb sp;the soft white
mist blown in from the ocean &n bsp;the town dissolving
It all adds up ;her bare shoulders
Nakedness ; rolling in from the sea
on winter afternoons - a fine rain
looking down on the sand &nb sp;& shingle
the waves breaking on the shore &n bsp;& white
It is impossible to deny what
taken by surprise ; then wonder
the many details of her body
to be held first now &nbs p;then later
In body & mind &nb sp;the fine rain outside
on winter afternoons &nb sp; the nakedness
of her bare shoulders &nbs p; as grey as her eyes
the sea rushing up the beach as white as
The whole outline called 'geography'
meeting at a set of erotic points
lips shoulders&n bsp; breasts &n bsp;stomach
the town dissolves &nbs p; sex thighs &n bsp; legs
Outside &n bsp; then across her nakedness
it rains in the afternoon &nbs p; then the wonder
her body so young & firm &nb sp;dissolves the town
in winter & nbsp;grey as her eyes
poem by Lee Harwood
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Death, Inevitable Death
Death, inevitable Death.
So now You come to show Your world,
Hence the blackened cloak – unfurled.
And peering down upon my form
– Bereft of pity – Your eyes of storm.
Death, inexorable Death.
‘When? ’ The only question out of Thee.
My dream retorts 'But ne’er for me! ’
But now awake, I bid you so –
My giving tears cry ‘Where to go? ’
Death, adamant Death.
You cast Your spell and guide me 'way,
For life and I have had our day.
And what of me? I prey You, tell!
Be glorious in Heaven or gnarled in Hell?
Death, ineluctable Death.
Oh wiry ghoul, I'm here to follow –
I leave my body grey and shallow.
‘Come! ’ You bid in thund’ring tones,
‘Beg farewell to shattered bones.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Death
Death death
Death death death
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Death death death death death
Death death death death
Death death death
Death death
Death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death is.....
Death is peaceful
Death is sharp pain in my heart
Death is feeling sadness
Death is deppresion
death is when my loved ones have gone away
Death is when i give up the fight
Death is when i cant think about whats right
Death is a good thing on my behalf
Death started when i gained life
Death is where ill go
Death is near
Death is what i see
Death lives inside of me
DEATH WILL STOP MY MISERY
poem by Angelique Paniagua
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Junk Rock
Can't be late, can't be late for work again
The boys can't wait, the boys can't wait to get started again
My name is music, i see that the music gets done
My name is music, i see that the music gets done
And the apes can't wait to get started again
Look over there, the monkey on a chair
He thinks he's as smart as a computer chip,
But he hasn't figured out how to work his mouth
Shorty by the door, beating on the floor,
You better not mess with the little thing
He's a real nice guy 'til you get him riled up
Can't complain, can't complain about working with them
My name is music, i see that the music gets done
My name is music, i see that the music gets done
They go insane, we give them drugs and they're normal again
There's a pretty face, the monkey plunkin' bass
All the lady monkeys wanna jump his monkey bones,
But he loses track and his work gets backed up
Monkey on a power trip, monkey with a lot of lip,
Thinks he's in charge of every other monkey,
But he still looks cool even while he's drooling
Lunch is fun, lunch is fun when you're eating wit them
My name is music, i see that the music gets done
My name is music, i see that the music gets done
Then back to work, it's back to work while the orders pile in
Is it live or is it memorex?
song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Couples First Kiss
a young couple walking the darkness at night
wanting to experience their first kiss of delight.
he had a knot in his stomach which he could
not explain, and she like him felt the same.
anticipation growing to an extreme height
not letting one another, out of their sight.
they grasped each others hand and continued the walk
she became hesitant, and started to balk.
he squeezed her hand a little tight
and told her it was alright.
they found a secluded spot where no one could see
then they held each other and kissed passionatly.
a kiss so passionate, that it could
not be explained, and their lives
would never be the same.
they pulled apart and looked into each others eyes
a feeling so strong that it could not be denied.
they learned about the first kiss, and thought
about other things, that they must have missed.
so they decided to go a little further
and experiment a little more
and found themselves on the floor.
the passion started to rise faster than
a flaming fire, filling them with desire.
they knew in their hearts that it could not be
they would hurt themselves, and their families.
so they stopped at a point of no return
and just let their fires burn.
they had finally experienced their first kiss
and knew that it was something that they
would forever miss.
they walked away hand in hand
and a smile on their face
and their hearts, beating in a rapid pace.
the rememberance of that fist kiss
will always stay, it is a memory
that will never go away.
poem by Louis Rams
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Junk Rock (Million Monkeys)
Cant be late, cant be late for work again
The boys cant wait, the boys cant wait to get started again
My name is music, I see that the music gets done
My name is music, I see that the music gets done
And the apes cant wait to get started again
Look over there, the monkey on a chair
He thinks hes as smart as a computer chip,
But he hasnt figured out how to work his mouth
Shorty by the door, beating on the floor,
You better not mess with the little thing
Hes a real nice guy til you get him riled up
Cant complain, cant complain about working with them
My name is music, I see that the music gets done
My name is music, I see that the music gets done
They go insane, we give them drugs and theyre normal again
Theres a pretty face, the monkey plunkin bass
All the lady monkeys wanna jump his monkey bones,
But he loses track and his work gets backed up
Monkey on a power trip, monkey with a lot of lip,
Thinks hes in charge of every other monkey,
But he still looks cool even while hes drooling
Lunch is fun, lunch is fun when youre eating wit them
My name is music, I see that the music gets done
My name is music, I see that the music gets done
Then back to work, its back to work while the orders pile in
Is it live or is it memorex?
song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death Married Death To Death
Death looks at the flower, and it screams,
I am wet, moist and beautiful, look at me.
Why do I stand here alone, come and beat me,
I will wait, I will wait you must come over here to speak.
Death hovers, smiling, winking and always talking,
and by you walking, knowing that, this time is yours
there is no rest, that death must ignore you as well.
Any thing that you touch will also never die, neglected.
Death is love, love is death, why are you both, here.
Death is your pet pink pig, two flying pearls,
slapping against deaths face.
Death is a dry cracked nipple, asleep, holding on until
the flesh falls off and the milk is yellow and dry..
Death is a bullet fixed, never moving, and why does the
world move you through it always with impertinence to show..
Death is a mysterious voice, so disturbing and your quite,
coming aligns along the border, sounding alarms to no one,
while you walk across the street knowing you never look
at death as it comes over to you while you talk to some
one else never paying attention and embarrassed death
again leaves you to rest over some other you know.
Death is reaching in your casket and squeezing dry cotton,
and holding it's nose while he wipes your face from above.
Death is a woman, who is happy, thinking the world is
spinning into her fruit cake while death drinks coffee.
Death to all men who think they can save the woman
by marring death and eating her tuna fish sandwich.
Death fingered you, and you loved it, now you finger me,
leaving a bee exposed on your flower, that decays..saying,
Death's own flower it's always sweet and poignant and..
Death is always waiting for you to open and smell them.......
Death is more than the lilies and roses, it crawls out of one,
and comes out of the other and covers the worm with lilacs.
poem by Is It Poetry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's Death Again
It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
The Reign of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: XCVI
ON THE SHORTNESS OF TIME
If I could live without the thought of death,
Forgetful of time's waste, the soul's decay,
I would not ask for other joy than breath
With light and sound of birds and the sun's ray.
I could sit on untroubled day by day
Watching the grass grow, and the wild flowers range
From blue to yellow and from red to grey
In natural sequence as the seasons change.
I could afford to wait, but for the hurt
Of this dull tick of time which chides my ear.
But now I dare not sit with loins ungirt
And staff unlifted, for death stands too near.
I must be up and doing--ay, each minute.
The grave gives time for rest when we are in it.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Liquid
Smoke consumes his lungs.
Liquid fills his stomach.
He feels the weight of the world on his shoulders.
So he tries to lift it off a little by smoking and drinking.
The amount of stress keeps piling on his shoulders.
Little does he know that his baby girl is ready to lift the weight of his shoulders
and fill his body with love and compassion.
poem by Christina J. Williams
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Matrix
He said creating a will
to become whole Being,
was more important. Spacing of thoughts
can wait. Fear was there
all the time.
Life had been loaned on a timeless impermanence,
an in-between death and death
Light was being and dark was being.
There was no god, no icon
only shades.
Castaway on a lonely stretch,
you tune in to the rising pitch of cuckoo.
It stops for a while. A deliberate pause.
Again more resolutely it rises
to measure the awakening!
A soul caged in body wants to fly away,
on an austere journey; solemn and relentless
transcending the misprints of life.
The matrix and it secret will be out
after a short while!
poem by Satish Verma
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Death 'married' Death To Death
Death looks at a flower and you screaming,
I am beautiful, look, look..
look here I am, come and eat me, alive.
Death hovers, smiling, never waiting, walking always
walking by, walking in side, you knowing that,
any thing that touches, it will soon also, come to *sigh*.
Death is love, love is death, what are you both, death
is your pet pink pig and deaths two flying bagged pearls.
Slapping you for ever and ever about your red face.
Death is a dry cracked nipple, sleeping, holding on
to the flesh untill it falls off, still dripping.
Death is a bullet fixed, never moving, why does the
world move you through it.
Death is a voice always quite, sounding alarms to
walk across the street knowing you look both ways,
while you come running very quickly out across,
just to stop in the middle and wait.
Death is a woman, who is crazy, thinking the world is
spinning into her coffee.
Death to all men who think they can save each woman
by marring death and eating her tuna fish sandwich.
Death fingered you, you loved it, now you finger me,
leaving my bee exposed on the flower, you buzzed it.
Death's own flower is always sweet and poignant on you..
It is always open for death to smell..............
and it's red alarms, you ignored...
still here it comes, never alone....to see you as you really are....
poem by Is It Poetry
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Fairy Tales Sand Castles
He says he looks in the mirror
And he can't tell anymore
Who he really is and who they believe him to be
And he says he walks a thin line
Between what is and what could be
And he's getting closer
To something he can understand
Cause there's a crack in his plastic crown
And his throne of ice is melting
He climbed his ladder
There was nothing there
And now it's a long way down
It's a long way down
(Chorus)
On and on and on he goes dancing on the grave
Of what he thought was still alive
On and on and on he goes
Dancing in mansions made of twigs
And castles made of sand
He says his head is filled with
Cartoons and fairy tails
And he's trapped inside a dungeon of dolls
With smiles on their faces
He's built a pretty cage
His shows on a beautiful stage
With candy coated prison bars
And chains that look like jewelry
Cause there's a crack in his plastic crown
And his throne of ice is melting
He climbed his ladder
There was nothing there
And now it's a long way down
(Repeat chorus)
On and on and on and on he goes on and on
On and on and on and on he goes on and on
Cause he lives inside
Of fairy tails and castles now
And there's room inside
For false expectations and illusions
Cause there's a crack in his plastic crown
And his throne of ice is melting
He climbed his ladder
There was nothing there
And now it's a long way down
It's a long way down
(Repeat chorus 2 times)
On and on and on and on he goes on and on
On and on and on and on he goes on and on
On and on and on and on he goes on and on
song performed by by Lifehouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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