Smashing The Road Signs
My garden cries for no reason.
Kindness melts into a rain
of twisted petals. And that is it.
Alone I whisper the translucent words,
watching the death of dreams, living fossils.
The sun bakes the seeds.
The essence will not heal,
this bandaged soul,
the conceptual death of a thought.
This fear is like a curled snake.
Must I abandon the path? I know,
I will not forgive me, at this dim joint.
I must move.
I do not know, what to think,
how to catch, the poetry of night.
The light blinks on my eyes.
I walk in the shadows of sounds,
smashing the road signs.
poem by Satish Verma
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Introduction To Post-conceptual Poetics(2)
conceptual poetry is not like poetry but post-conceptual poetry is more like a poem of immortal death-death reflecting the happening of death.At the same time death or concept or conceptual metaphor becomes a butterfly flying into the textual eyes of the reader, reflecting and analysing the post -death death, poetics of life which can only be grasped by changing levels of realizing energy of focus on the combination of truth-condition and satisfaction-condition.This is the ghosted identity of post-conceptual poetics in the 21st century digital-culture raising hunanity in a surversive way.
Introduction To Post-conceptual Poetics(3)
conceptual poetry is not like poetry but post-conceptual poetry is more like a poem of immortal death-death reflecting the happening of death.At the same time death or concept or conceptual metaphor becomes a butterfly flying into the textual eyes of the reader, reflecting and analysing the post -death death, poetics of life which can only be grasped by changing levels of realizing energy of focus on the combination of truth-condition and satisfaction-condition.This is the ghosted identity of post-conceptual poetics in the 21st century digital-culture raising hunanity in a surversive way.
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death...
In the darkness alone I sit and wait,
All that is around me I do not see.
A chilling wind blows across my soul,
Empty eyes fill with oceans of tears.
Kneeling down to stand up falling,
I filter through my hopes and dreams.
A motionless marathon of thought,
For we are all death living life daily.
Baptised in darkness, rested and reborn,
Our dreams and realities intertwined.
Death beckons through the quiet night,
A never ending infinite journey through time.
There's no dignity in death no rhyme or reason,
Yet death comes for us all without prejudice.
To fear death is to invite it to consume you,
So live each day to laugh in deaths unknown face...
Spread the dreams... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Serpentine
Dark in the forest the sun dose not shine
Slowly in the night the snake walks
Hark in the sky an angle dose look
Down in my soul the death starts to infest
life has abandoned the garden where we stand
the snake walks no more in the light from heaven
man lives no more in the light as well
death is our calling and we must answer
your soul eternal this body but mud
crumble oh body and relinquish me
the pain is to much the façade is cracking
to the dirt i give my body
to you i give my soul oh lord
forgive me for the serpent has lead me astray
poem by Cody Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Path Of Poetry Petals
My petals are already drying out,
They’re not white anymore,
But a shade of gray!
I am walking on a path of poetry petals,
Why is my poetry tainted with
Innocent blood,
Dripping on my path?
The wind stirs up those petals,
And they run, they fly,
But then they fall again...
I am walking on a path of poetry petals,
Why is my poetry tainted with
Your kisses,
Caressing each petal of mine?
Rain starts, all the poetry
Is washed off those petals,
Massacre of raindrops!
I am walking on a dirty path of solitude,
Of ignorance, of profane light...
Eternity was washed away,
Beauty was damaged...
Poetry is always doomed,
Even if I’d write with my own blood,
On steel petals,
The raindrops would still wash
My poetry away,
It has no strength within,
No eternity within!
©Elya Thorn. Do not republish without permission!
poem by Elya Thorn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Snake Eye
You paint a picture
So its plain to see
Aint no hiding
No security
Ill be watching
Every move you make
When you hear the rattle
Better be awake
Chorus:
Snake eyes, Im watching
Snake eyes, look out
Snake eyes, its coming
Snake eyes, aint no escaping from the snake eye
(no way)
You leave a footprint
For my eye to see
Catch an echo
From a lock and key
From the shadow
Or behind a rock
Get you anywhere
From the darkest shack
Chorus
Hear a rustle
From behind a tree
Get you running
Home to sanctuary
Bolt the door and -
You think youre safe
Im coming to get you
Gonna reach out (? ? ? )
Chorus
Got the snake eyes, they call me a snake in the bush
Snake eyes, biting
Snake eyes, always watching
Snake eyes
Aint no escaping from the -
Just keep a lookout for the -
Snake eye
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Walking In The Shadows, Where The Path Wasn't For Me
tired of walking in the shadows,
down a path not for me,
i made a new path,
but, it was set for death,
i thought it was for me,
never seen the years i had to come,
plus everything i can be,
never felt good enough,
always thought,
it was the path for me,
finally i opened my eyes,
and stopped placing blame,
on people who mad my life,
a living hell,
woke up to find,
i was to blame,
for how my life was going,
nobody but me,
for the mistakes i've made,
in my life until this day,
i changed little by little,
because i will no longer,
just linger in the shadows,
where the path isn't for me,
i'm stronger than ever,
as i tackle my problems,
and find the path,
that i've made for myself,
because i take control,
and become the leader,
instead of the follower,
watching life pass me by,
i know what i want,
now it just time to get it,
without being in the shadows,
and walking down a path,
that i learned,
just wasn't for me.
Copyright © 2009
11-17-09
poem by Mona Martinez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death and I
When death comes
I’ll need not love –
Consumed,
No wreath or dove
Could offer me salvation,
Not when I’m no more.
A weathered stone will bear my name –
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in
A world of risk, and never seeing
Sense of why we’re here.
My genes will die away thro’ child –
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance –
Memories of provenance
Resigned to curious few.
When death comes
I’ll need not grace
Below; no grieving face
Will call my resurrection,
Not when I’m at ground –
Death and I so bound.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
D eath Crawl
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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18 Definitions Of Poetry
1) Poetry is what is Beautiful in words –
2) Poetry is the deepest feeling words can tell
3) Poetry is the soul of each one of us
4) Poetry is the morning light after the longest night
5) Poetry is a dream of dreams in a world that needs dreams to be
beautiful
6) Poetry is the Search for God and the Love of God in all holy writing
7) Poetry is Reality itself when it is doing what it should
8) Poetry is you and me and all of us when we are kind to each other
9) Poetry is more than we can say or know- deeper than the deepest
silence and quieter also
10) Poetry is the place we go to in ourselves when we need to cry out loud
11) Poetry is Love words of love and the first spring of the young lovers first
song
12) Poetry is all we are when our minds are right and strong
13) Poetry is what saves us from all the other words
14) Poetry is what ceases to exist when Cruelty comes
15) Poetry is Love and Blessing and Kindness again
16) Poetry cuts through the icy sea within and sends chills down the spine
17) Poetry is what is recollected in tranquility but also tried and tossed in
tempest on the most difficult seas
18) Poetry is open to more than what it has been It is what others have not yet created and will so long as we are human and in search of the Sublime
poem by Shalom Freedman
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What Poetry Mean To Me
What does poetry mean to me
Poetry is the air I breathe
Poetry is the words that feed
My soul
To make me whole
Poetry is what makes me blossom
In the middle of spring
Poetry is what grows my garden
And makes it flourish with nature
Beauty
Poetry Is
My magical whim's that supply all my
Fantasy and fills my hopes and dreams
Poetry is the strong desire that keep the
Flames of love burning
In the midst of the hour
And lights up the sky
With beautiful hues of colours
Spreads from one globe to
Another
To swim the ocean deep
Just because of love
Poetry is that and more, which I
Hate to carry this on and on
But
Poetry is the love of our life that visit
Us in our dreams
Poetry is
Me and the worlds that wakes every
Morning to bloom and blossom
Even after the death has played it last
Song that breaks our hearts
Poetry is tears and moans
Grief and pain that Hunt's the
Soul
Poetry is the rain crying from
The sky
The sun the moon with the golden
Light
Poetry is a child laughter at play
The tears a child shreds in sadness
They cry
Poetry is just a book of songs you
And I write down in our journal
Each and every day
We
Mix them together again and again
That is poetry
Poetry is life woes
Life happiness
Poetry is life
Here now and after
Poetry is you and I
poem by Carolyn Sears
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Past Tense
long, long time ago
in the past tense of my life
there was once a rosey rose
with a beauty sharper than a knife
spoiled by every dropp of rain
on her petals so reddish as blood
playful in such childish vain
though never she had to leave her bud
day and night are leaving
but the rose didn't move
and here I'm sleeping
hoping by the morrow
I would get a move
the wisdom it says by virtue
this rose shall live and live along
as long the sun is singing golden
and the rain is playing its own song
but in case the light becomes so dim
and the weather helps not the eye
standing shall not be that rose's stem
and the whole thing shall be just a lie
day and night are leaving
but the rose didn't move
and here I'm sleeping
hoping by the morrow
I would get a move
but for some reason I cannot find
my eyes closed and once open again
to find myself moveless in bound
without a feeling of the world of insane
but thank to the Lord of heavens in up
my head is beside a rosey rose in here
even though my heart is going to stop
my rose with me got me out of fear
day and night are leaving
but the rose didn't move
and here I'm sleeping
hoping by the morrow
I would get a move
sleepless nights and days
how long did I spend in there
my tears are going down alone
but so the rose stayed to me so near
and yet when people go alone
and to me never get back again
my rose is there bending down
swore that she'll never leave me again
day and night are leaving
but the rose didn't move
and here I'm sleeping
hoping by the morrow
I would get a move
by the sounds of the angels
the petals dropped on my cheek
and when my soul is roaming
doesn't know what I have to seek
comes again my rose from heaven
and to me gives a shining salute
I'm never lonely as she was saying
and my to keep faith in her so absolute
day and night are leaving
but the rose didn't move
and here I'm sleeping
hoping by the morrow
I would get a move
Thus, goes my story
of that rose's glory
and from that sand
shall I not get stand
but to say goodbye
O ye passer by
once in past tense of my life
I had a rose that was living by
day and night are leaving
but the rose didn't move
and here I'm sleeping
hoping by the morrow
I would get a move...
poem by Taher Shemaly
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Among Death
We walk among death
As death walks among us
Silence between us
Life within us
Death shows no fear
Yet we fear for our lives
We walk together
Through memories into the future
And we shall forever walk with death
On a path to immortality
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Bow Before My Death
I lie beneath the flame this night,
I bow before my death,
He takes my hand,
And holds me close,
Death embraces me,
He says the time has come,
Beginning now meets end,
He says the fires taken me,
And now it's time to walk,
Walk the path of fates sweet song.
I lie beneath the flame this night,
I bow before my death,
The fires stripped me of my sins,
Humility my pride,
Now death guides me through the dark,
And speaks to me kind words,
'The pain has stopped,
It won't come back,
Your senses now are cleansed,
The soul has been washed clean',
He says the end is pleasure.
I lie beneath the flame this night,
I bow before my death,
Death's a man clothed in blue jeans,
A white shirt stained with blood,
Death holds a knife,
Death slits my throat,
Death is the end of my beginning.
I lie beneath the flame this night.
I bow before my death.
poem by Holly Heron
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fears of a teenage mafioso
Fear of love,
Fear of pain,
Fear of the unforgiving cane,
Fear of lies,
Fear of sighs,
Fear of those distraught eyes,
Fear for the unknown,
Fear for the known,
Fear of everything combined,
Fear is what makes me blind,
Fear is what makes me think,
and act in blind accordance,
Hindering the world around me,
Hence, My Fear of myself
Fear is when you run away,
Fear is when you’re scared to love someone,
Fear is when the sky turns grey,
Fear of confusion,
Fear is like a dark blue ocean,
Fear won’t let me escape
Fear mocks me, watching
Fear taunts me, waiting
Fear of losing,
Fear you cannot see,
Fear dealt upon thee.
Fear of darkness and death,
Fear of a dead comrade,
Fear of a gun being cocked,
Fear of being endlessly stalked,
Fear of time,
Fear of all the crime,
Fear of the undesirable truth,
Fear for the good.
Fear for the sake of life,
Fear of the neighbors next door,
Fear of the secretive man in the subway,
Fear of the revolutionary uproar,
Fear is to not rejoice your living,
Fear for the sake of your life,
But to fear is to forsake it.
Fear is to have no hope in life,
Fear of the fear of fear,
We need no reason to fear,
For fear has no reason for itself.
I guess life is just like that,
To fear for no reason,
For to fear is not to reason,
But to reason is to fear.
To fear for the sake of fear,
Is fear for fear,
So let me think,
What else do I fear?
What else do I fear?
What else do I fear?
poem by David daveres
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death’s Too Near
Death, you’re standing rather near!
Don’t you understand the fear
You trigger deep within my soul–?
The terror sprung by such a ghoul
Of dark and hideous hue!
Now you’re rattling on my door!
I’m sure I threw you out before –
Methinks you really need to learn!
So leg it please and ne’er return
To haunt me ‘gain, now shoo!
Gain a sense of social pride, and
Keep your bearing far and wide –
Perform the deed when I am done –
Be free and loose to have your fun
When I’m too frail to turn and run,
But now I’ve living to do!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death
Death, death, nearing death
Death, death, death
Death, death
Death
Death, death
Death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beldame of Death
A crunch: afoot a dead arachnid
Spanning once a serving plate –
Oh! that others be alive
With such as me for spider bait!
I slunk along the silent hall
Of ancient ore attired in grime –
Feculent beyond the nose;
No bearing here, nor feel for time.
I shuddered in appreciation –
The ambience would mortify
A feeble mind, aghast, opined
Of murky thought, and typify
The will of Belial err I brought
Upon myself to loathe and dread
Exquisite retribution: to linger
Oftentimes alive, then dead.
Compulsion saw me edging on
Toward a narrow door of oak.
Behind, I knew, a greater evil
Waiting in her fusty cloak.
A choice of nil upon the table;
Aught of leave, I had to face
Alone the shrew – her flaming aura
Angling me; my deep disgrace
From ugly deeds I dealt in life,
A heinous world I honed in glee…
'Now take a crooked path to death,
For I have come to torture thee! '
Out of eyes of orange flame,
A piercing glare, then here it came –
The cackling cry of chanting song:
'You thought you'd die alone in pain
The once – nay nay! you'll die with me,
And so a catch: you'll die again
Ad infinitum - ever be!
Your soul to curse, my heart we'll gore,
Your liver to draw and quarter;
A sadomasochistic pair,
We'll slither together in slaughter! '
I answered only with a scream, from
Sensing near her craving lust.
My crimes to answer; wrongs annul;
Renounce my soul and turn to dust...
On an evening cool and quiet,
Stretch an ear to listen tight –
Are you lucky of a moment –?
Hark! my clarion call of plight.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Notes on this poem can be found at:
http: //succumbedtothinking.webs.com/featuredpoems.htm
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wings Of Joy
I loved you under the spring stars
Laughed with yellow and violet flowers
Sat for hours by the blue sea
We listened to the tides sing
Walked the shore like innocent children
Hearts lifted by mystic feathers
Golden days flew with wings of joy
The world didn’t seem so lost
Love reconciled all the pettiness
Montague and Capulet fought
Romeo wanted no war only love
Juliet felt her heart sail with desire
Dreams nestled in summer wine
Kisses true with passions jewels
Hearts broken seek kindness
Trust must be won with virtue
I know you have been hurt
I know you need time to heal
I know you feel gentle words
Love is a warm fire in the chill of life
Rivers of stars surround the moon
She has come again to listen
Leary but open waiting for a troubadour
She treads carefully with her heart
The night brings quiet angels
Amidst the shadows of moonbeams
I call to your serene soul
I reach for you with my broken heart
I have searched the garden for you
Waiting for the joy of your song
Only love can heal the wounded
Loneliness has been my friend too long
Wings of joy sigh amidst loves poetry
My darling I walk softly into your heart
Tender words start a fire of dreams
Wings of joy whisper on the moonlit sea
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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