Twilight
On periphery of gestures and casts
I speak for fading integrity while a fossil
of a scream was stolen from the womb
of language.
On becoming silent, an untitled truth
shakes sensibility. Small vignettes track
the battleships of calligraphy. The sermons
wage a war.
The saints praised the puffed up sheep,
suffered the asylum of Atlantic for astral
hopes to cross the folds of virginity. Splashed
motherhood refused the onslaught of tears.
You make inadequate love, exiled in
intimacy. Blood-drowned statements
will not make to the surface of time. Century
moves not for you, not for me, not for him.
poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes
Responsibility Encoded Truth
most hide from the truth
but truth demands responsibility
accuracy empathy sensibility
lost is discernment rare art
logic applied sense sensibility?
No rare is once prized rare art
valued sense and sensibility?
most hide from inconvenient truth
but truth demands responsibility
integrity morality sensibility
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silhouettes of Vignettes
Silhouettes of vignettes
Selected carefully,
As one who chooses a favorite pet!
Remembering a darkened time,
That had no light to spare.
Remembering those who chose to dance,
Upon nerves deserving
Someone's thoughtful chance...
To take a broken heart,
And mend it with romance.
Silhouettes of Vignettes,
Pieced and placed together...
To avoid moments one regrets!
And viewed from shadows,
One hopes a masquerade charades!
Forcing a picture to complete what does not fit...
Yet the delivery can not hide,
The gestures that rise...
Giving clues of what's felt,
As one tries to deny...
A truth concealed inside!
Silhouettes of Vignettes,
Perfected to reflect...
A completeness one desires,
With emotions no one detects!
And when this moment passes...
To satisfy what one now accepts.
A divided heart once torn apart,
Will discover under spotlight...
The arrival of true happiness,
One deserving gets!
Inspired by and Dedicated To:
My dear friend and 'genius'
Michael Bradford!
'Thank you Michael! You are truly
an amazingly gifted individual!
I am honored to know you! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who I Really Am
Fingers dash across keys, type, type, type
Awkwardly from one key to the next, I told myself I wouldn't write
The computer, the ginger tea, the black text in a sea of white
They subside
As a new reality has come to override
I don't want to be who I was back then...
Screams of an infernal scratching
Voices of endless chiding
Murmurs of infinite condemnation
Each word a wicked consolation speaking to a identity of hatred
Each scream a twisted affirmation of the identity of hatred
Each murmur coaxing out my identity of hatred
Thus he does emerge, the man, the monster
No it's not a scream
No it's not a voice
Not it's not a murmur it's who I am
I made those
I make those
I am those
Inadequate, incapable, inevitable, inept, invisible
Untalented, unkind, unworthy, unable, unlovable
These are lies
You know they're all true he sighs
You know that's you
Murmurs of infinite condemnation
Voices of endless chiding
Screams of an infernal scratching
I don't want to be who I was back then...
Haha I've come to bring you freedom, let you be honest, let you be me
Can't you see?
I've come to take what's mine
Cough, cough, it's dizzying, I see blood, I feel blood, I lose blood
Ground... thud... voices
tears...screams...tears
murmurs...ha nds...blood
Unlovable
scream
Scream
SCREAM
Still small voice
Whisper, no
Whisper, I am here now because of My love, and it's real
It echoes more than voices, rings stronger than screams,
Louder than murmurs, truer than the lies
And stronger than you...
But you... but this, I tried to be someone else, but I am you
You're right, because that is me
It may always be
THIS is who I really am
Whisper, let's do it together, you know who I really am
I can't, not even with you!
Whisper, I can, even with you
Know I love you, let Me heal you so you can be who you really are
This is who I really am inside
Maybe who I was back then is a part of me, that does hide
Maybe that man will never pass away
Maybe he shall continue under the delusion of what is fey
But that identity is false
That identity is a travesty of who I am, a farce
In the end I am him, but this is me.
poem by David Knox
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The white man’s GRAVE
This school is not our school
We have our own.
This culture is not our own,
I know it well.
They teach us science
What is it?
And philosophy of their own.
When they say knowledge,
Who is a fool?
Pluto, Plato are not blacks
They impose on us
And make it law.
And have us in their rule condemn
These men are wicked
Tell them so.
In our pain they make their mansion
And gave us food from our wage.
Before your Mathematics,
I know the numbers of my wives
And your Geography.
I know the road to my farm.
Before your Government,
I know my kingdom,
Before your Language,
I speak my own.
Before your Biology,
I feel my blood in my veins
Before your Accounts,
I make proceeds from trade.
Before your Architecture,
I make my mat,
Well designed.
This school is not our school
I know it well.
Yours make men proud
Ours make men humble.
We learn it from home,
So much it sticks.
Your school makes men tyrants,
Ours make a people worthy.
In your school,
our ladies are whores in naked pants.
No! not in our school.
My father told me so.
This is not our school
Our school must come again.
poem by Macaulay Akinbami
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Virginity
It is said that you can only be a virgin once
I am not so sure.
For virginity may be more than physical
and may have to be measured
in emotional purity.
You can make a mistake
and squander that first time
with the wrong person
but does that mean that
virginity once squandered is lost forever?
I don't think so.
How many of us even
remember IT,
so tense that first-time experience?
Rather, I think
It like most things in life
relies on practice
to get it right.
Rather, I think that virginity can't be lost
on mere amateurs
who had no idea
of its' importance.
Rather, it depends on my frame of mind.
My virginity was not lost;
IT can only be given
and after several times
and after several mistakes
it is bestowed upon the one
I really loved.
and you know
I now know
the difference
because virginity
isn't given away
unless it releases
in the act
purity and true love.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Inner Side Of Your Perfection
to get intimacy
you make love
to be more intimate
you need to make love some more
like a string of
buds of
tiny flowers
seemingly you want it without
an ending
eternity & infinity
side by side
but there is no intimacy in intimacy
since after each lovemaking
you return to the
emptiness of your arms again
less the other arms of those
other nights & other nights
before them
a cold night returns
with empty hands
and winds begin to pass
by your face
between your eyes
beyond your
hair
outside all of you
finally you try embracing yourself again
as though
you are another distinct set of arms
unto your
inner arms
and then you become one
without need
of any other
silent and
complete
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hammer Purged By Rust!
in cursed dread
with iron thoughts,
the rebel plows his fields.
neath napalm skies,
infested by drones and crows,
his hands are bound by time.
tis murder by execution,
truth revealed by blood!
the carnal cross,
the skulls of dreams,
and virgin bodies for seed.
who pays the price,
who tames the beast,
the child devoured by wolves.
with flags betrayed,
by human conscience,
and gods that shed acid tears!
and the sound of voices swells,
till the earth trembles and shakes.
faces drawn on tombstones,
with crayons made of flesh.
do we pray with tongues
stricken by disease?
do we kneel or dare we fight?
freedom's just a remembered thought,
and justice stinks of lies!
yet still the rebel casts forth,
with seeds stolen in the hour of need.
pulling nails from grey casket lids,
with a hammer purged by rust!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Scream
Scream
Scream at the world
For all your pain
For all your worries
For all that you lost
For all that you gained
Scream
Scream at the world
Wipe your tears away
Listen to it echo
Feel the stress
Melt away
Scream
Scream at the world
For loves found
And loves lost
For every feeling
That gets jumbled up
Scream
Scream at the world
For your horrible day
For the things that they say
For everything that
Drags you down
Scream
Scream at the world
Then let it fade away
Tomorrow's a new day
Today is a memory
No one knows what' ll happen
Scream
Scream at the world
Then look ahead
Never back
Life moves
One day at a time
poem by Autumn Winds
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Saints In Hell
They laughed at their gods
And fought them in vain
So he turned his back on them
And left them in pain
Now here come the saints
With their banners held high
Each one of them martyrs
Quite willing to die
Wake the dead, the saints are in hell
Wake the dead, theyve come for the bell
Cover your fists
Razor your spears
Its been our possession
For 8,000 years
Fetch the scream eagles
Unleash the wild cats
Set loose the king cobras
And blood sucking bats
Wake the dead, the saints are in hell
Wake the dead, theyve come for the bell
We are saints
In hell
We are saints
In hell
Were going down
Into the fire
Were going down
Into the fire
The streets run with blood from the mass mutilation
As carnage took toll for the bell
Abattoir, abattoir, mon dieu quelle horreur
For a time is was like second hell
Saints in hell
Saints in hell
The battle is over, the saints are alive
How can we all thank you, we felt so despised
Saints in hell
Saints in hell
Saints in hell
Saints in hell
Saints in hell
Saints in hell
(fade)
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Afternoon
The light is fading in the afternoon
Wont you see me baby in my room
Theres something that I wanna say to you
Tell me baby am I getting through
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
In the afternoon, in the afternoon
The light is fading from across the way
I see you coming baby every day
I see you running, running from across the field
And I wanna know if you can feel the same as me
Cause I wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
In the afternoon, in the afternoon
The wind is howling baby outside the shack
Train whistle blowin from across the track
Get on my wavelength, and you set me free
I just wanna be everything you want me to be
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
In the afternoon, in the afternoon
The moon is sinking way across the trees
I can see my baby but she cant see me
Ive got a longing deep within my soul
I have to take it there and let it roll
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
In the afternoon, make love in the afternoon
Make love in the afternoon
Let it roll
You got me reelin and a-rockinand rollin again
Let it roll
You got me reelin and a-rockinand rollin and rollin again
Oh, Im rollin and tumblin, and Im rollin and tumblin
And Im talkin all outta my mind baby
Let it roll
You got me reelin and a-rockin
And Im talkin all outta my mind
Im talkin all outta my mind
Make love in the afternoon
Make love in the afternoon
Make love in the afternoon
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Guilt
You accuse them of guilt and theft,
Of worried statements and mild skill.
Your desks of wisdom are contained in a box,
A box is always full of statements that lock.
Guilty people are like thieves, often called flocks,
Called sheep that mutter why they cry.
The lambs are like sweetness, but only sheep,
Their habits will cause us to shun and speak.
This habit carried anxiety and absoluteness,
My habit is of worry for those in worry.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Gardener
I am in love with my womb
& jealous of it.
I cover it tenderly
with a little pink hat
(a sort of yarmulke)
to protect it from men.
Then I listen for the gentle ping
of the ovary:
a sort of cupid's bow
released.
I'm proud of that.
& the spot of blood
in the little hat
& the egg so small
I cannot see it
though I pray to it.
I imagine the inside
of my womb to be
the color of poppies
& bougainvillea
(though I've never seen it).
But I fear the barnacle
which might latch on
& not let go
& fear the monster
who might grow
to bite the flowers
& make them swell & bleed.
So I keep my womb empty
& full of possibility.
Each month
The blood sheets down
like good red rain.
I am the gardener.
Nothing grows without me.
poem by Erica Jong
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Language from Womb to Tomb
It is heard from mother's womb,
taught and learned through the days
and years; repeated, remembered,
quoted, mimicked, twisted,
spoken to bless and to curse.
It is to make one
come across the border lines
It is to feel a part of the whole
It is to understand and be understood.
It is seed that grows through the years
It is a pen that records the scars and stars
It is present in the years of our life
the years lost and gone
and the years to come.
It is language
from mother's womb
to our own tomb
It is language of jubilation,
of judgment and adoration
It is law and order
It is history-
document and monument.
It is victory and defeat.
It is the language of love
It is the language of hate.
It is the language of life
and the language of death.
_____________
May 7,2010
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Heartbreaker
(russ ballard)
And theres no need to tell me Im just wasting time
But if you tell me break it slowly
Im in deep water and Im hanging on a line
And youre the only one can save me
But if you gotta go
I think you better know
Oh, heartbreaker, if you wanna leave
I wont make you stay
If you wanna go, better go away
Oh, you loser, offered you a love
You refused her
What you gonna do when she goes away
I know the memories melt their pictures in my mind
Too bad to see they could be fading
But Ill come home to you
If someday you should find
You want me back then Ill be waiting
But if you gotta go
I think you better know
Oh, heartbreaker, if you wanna leave
I wont make you stay
If you wanna go, better go away
Oh, you loser, offered you a love
You refused her
What you gonna do when she goes away
Um, heartbreaker, if you wanna leave
I wont make you stay
If you wanna go, better go away
Oh, you loser, offered you a love
And you refused her
What you gonna do when she goes away
Oh, what you gonna do when she goes away
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The way out of hell
You may feel you're lost
You may believe there's no hope
but there's a way
just follow what I want to say
When you're alone
when you feel like you want to scream
and the anxiety kills your well-being
don't follow their way
don't let them bring you down
(stay small, as small as you can be)
believe in me, I've been there
in the reality where the demons feast
where the paranoia and delusions make you mad
(it's the sorcery, the sorcery of the beast)
don't believe, (in It)
do not let fear control your actions
try, and you will see
the way out of hell is a narrow and long way
(you will make it, just don't give in)
don't believe, your mind is playing tricks on you
don't fear, (stay small, as small as you can be)
cry, but never burst out in anger
never let them get to you
(it's the sorcery, the sorcery of the beast)
(stay small, as small as you can be)
you'll find your way, just believe
there's a way, you will see
(don't believe in It, it's the sorcery of the beast)
(they will win if you fail)
the road to heaven is a narrow and long way
you'll make it, you will see
(don't believe them, don't let them get to you)
it's all in your head, just believe
there's a way out of your agony
there's a way (a way, a way, a way, the right way)
poem by Uriah Sheep
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Inadequate
Inadequate.
It means not enough.
Like water in a glass half full
it is insufficient.
Some necessary bit is absent.
Inadequate is deficient.
It is vitamin C
in the diet of someone suffering from scurvy.
Inadequate is precisely what you feel
when you work yourself tired
for something your heart so desired
and in the end disappoint yourself still.
Inadequate is when you lack the will
to even try because somewhere inside
you just know you will fail.
Inadequate is someone when rejected.
Something inadequate is something defective.
Inadequate can mean not deserving company
almost like you're invisible maybe,
too unimportant to like or hate.
This word 'inadequate'
resounds in my head of late.
poem by Shaqueena Celestin
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The ugly human face
Wailing with tears and
Helplessly in commotion,
All of you’re telling to write
The history of hatred, enmity, killings,
The history of human ugly face.
My pen is dried up,
Tell me in which medium,
And language should I write.
Where to begin and
Where to end
Such history of human ugly face.
Oh! Betrayer
You’re telling me to wipe out from the history
Of such human ugly face,
That shattered and shook human conscience,
That haunts the face of those innocent people,
Killed and hurt; widows and orphans.
That hums: that reminds.
Telling me just to close my eyes.
But I’m not blind.
Telling me not to speak,
But I’m not dumb.
Telling me not to write the truth,
But I cannot write anything but the truth.
How can I deceive the history where I belong?
Human memory is short,
Tears would dry up,
The blood would be washed away with time
But the silent words, written in the heart of each human ugly face
Imbedded forever and immortal.
Let me dip the pen in the smeared blood,
The blood of all religions, caste, creed and colour, poor and rich,
The thick blood of those innocent persons.
poem by Dr.bhagya Chandra Rajkumar
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The Blood of Thousands
Thousands upon thousands are slain
Each year, are killed in cruel, cold blood.
Thousands cry out, but to no avail—
They are attacked with cruelest hate.
They scream and shout!
But do we care? No! and we never will!
Let’s murder some more! Kill more from inside!
It doesn’t hurt us in the least!
They’re as dead as dead can ever get—
They’ll not trouble us again.
They are gone and now you can rejoice!
Take pride in your murder of innocent blood!
Who are these thousands killed every year?
The infants in your womb!
Murderess! ! Fiend! Heartless animal!
You don’t deserve motherhood!
Abort them. Go ahead. At least they’re in a better place,
A place you’ll never go! At least it’s over, and they
Didn’t have to deal with you, selfish pig!
I hope that guilt tears you apart the way you did to them!
This is abortion.
This is evil.
This is.....
Murder!
poem by Paige Scott
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After The Tears
Do you want a shoulder
I only want to hold you
In your hour of need
I hate to say I told you so
But you should've let him go
It just wasn't meant to be
Let me make your pain a little lighter
I can help you make your world a little brighter
I'll be there when the shouting's over
I'll be here after the tears
You just may need me to hold you
I'll be here after the tears
Just a matter of time now
Till I make you mine now
It could happen any day
Waited patiently
Now it looks like you're gonna be free
The tide is turning my way
I'll see you through all the confussion
I'll be your only true solution
I'll be here when the party's over
I'll be here after the tears
You just may need another lover
I'll be here after the tears
Hold on
Love is not so far away
Can you hear it calling
Be strong
I'll be waiting in the wings
(I'll be here when the shouting's over)
i can make it better
(I'll be here after the tears)
I can make it better
(You just may need me to hold you)
I can make it better
(I'll be here after the tears)
(I can make it better)
I'll be here when the party's over
(I can make it better)
I'll be here after the tears
(I can make it better)
You just may need another lover
(I can make it better)
I'll be here after the tears
(I can make it better)
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Priest
The priest sat in the airport bar
He was wearing his fathers tie
And his eyes looked into my eyes so far
Whenever the words ran dry
Behind the lash and the circles blue
He looked as only a priest can, thru
And his eyes said me and his eyes said you
And my eyes said, let us try
He said, you wouldnt like it here
No its no place you should share
The roof is ripped with hurricanes
And the room is always bare
I need the wind and I seek the cold
He reached post the wine for my hand to hold
And he saw me young and he saw me old
And he saw me sitting there
Then he took his contradictions out
And he splashed them on my brow
So which words was I then to doubt
When choosing what to vow
Should I choose them all-should I make them mine
The sermons, the hymns and the valentines
And he asked for truth and he asked for time
And he asked for only now
Now the trials are trumpet scored
Oh will we pass the test
Or just as one loves more and more
Will one love less and less
Oh come lets run from this ring were in
Where the christians clap and the germans grin
Saying let them lose, crying let them win
Oh make them both confess
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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