Unasking
Timeless,
the eyes and fractured wisdom,
the two of us, extremely prudent, suffering
the dislocation of vigilance against wrinkled sin,
I am on my own today
disconnected to
the unearthly rehearsal
of breaking the cycle of carbon assimilation
in the veins of white lies, of crude bombs,
moonbathing we were colloiding in void
of consciousness and scattered verses
in scriptures remained unsearched;
the brutal hierarchy of chromosomes,
loud and merciless, in the birth of new settlements,
huge ovens for cremations, collecting the golden
teeth from the ashes, celebrating the
return of blood and death, me,
blessing the unborn poem.
poem by Satish Verma
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Related quotes
Cosmic Me
in these futile
spasms of existence,
some cobwebs,
still unstirred,
support this life
with their indelible words
of a forgotten wisdom.
the aum-kaar
that spur as the first voice,
of the created universe,
still echoes in my veins,
and arrives in the pupil of my eyes,
as the secret of my being.
my inner world,
remains still unborn
and as the birth of my being
sets it's first felt ripples
of pain,
from that holocaust
of birth pangs,
my emotions evolve,
with the roar of a thunder,
that leaves pug-marks on the moon.
the scattered stardust
is the ashes of my long lost
sputtered incarnations,
heaving softly
...each time the creator breathes….
-by sarvesh and indira babbellapati.
poem by Sarvesh Kulkarni
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Happy birthday(cruel undertone reveled)
Happy birthday today you were born,
happy birthday you die a little more,
happy birthday here's to another year of suffering,
happy birthday eat some yummy cake while you slowly deteriorate,
happy birthday your dying as we speak,
isn't it ironic that we are celebrating your birth while were also celebrating your death,
so happy birthday today
your turn 15
I wish you a less suffering year
and a nice peaceful death
happy birthday
happy birthday!
poem by Alizia Sampson
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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
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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For Liberation
(into) the birth of carnage will you
but watch when innocent life is born
and destined to an unjustified wretched existence?
i refuse to deny their path or ignore their suffering
i fight for liberation.
ashes on ashes we build their fate with bloodshed upon our hands.
cries - oh we whisper of their death in blood,
of their misery to flesh a vicious price
driven to nightmare while we could sleep
i refuse to deny their pain or ignore their suffering
i fight for liberation
ashes on ashes we build their fate with bloodshed upon our hands.
ashes on ashes tread our path to degradation
their blood upon your hands prized with gifts of dominaton.
their blood upon your hands our fall towards defilement
song performed by by Undying
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Four Seasons
First snowfall this morning.
Ground covered in white.
Flowers have died.
Birds are in flight.
End cycle of life
Death turns into birth
Old becomes new
Renewing our earth
Seasons, like Jesus
Restoring the dead
The blood of the Lamb
And breaking of bread
My seasons, have changed.
I've lost my old ways
Pure white I now sit
From the One whom I praise
I Fall to my knees.
In winter I died.
In spring, I'm reborn.
Summer; alive.
He waits til our fall,
And then helps us rise.
His death for us all,
We see through His eyes.
He is my four seasons.
His will is my goal.
After my death,
He breathes life in my soul
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Smoke And Ashes
I'd heard rumors and I'd heard talk
About the trail you'd left of broken hearts
About the sea of tears too wide to cross
But a little bad press has never scared me off
So I burned a path to figure out
How to get me some of what you got
I've got a red hot heart
If the talk is true your's is the same
And we should be together
And let our passions fan love's flame
When I looked for you I almost passed you by
You were so cool and calm
I thought my friends had lied
But I thought so much reserve must make you wild inside
It was there and then that I knew
I had to get some of what you got
I've got a red hot heart
If the talk is true your's is the same
And we should be together
And let our passions fan love's flame
I thought I'd won your heart when I held you hand in mine
I thought it was true love the way we complemented each other
But my right is your wrong
And when you're right then I'm left with nothing
Your light and your heat have all been spent
Leaving only smoke and ashes
Only smoke and ashes baby
I've got a red hot heart
And your heart's as blue as the blood in your veins
I say there's fire down below
You say it's only smoke and ashes baby
I'm crying all the time
Salty stinging tears
And mourning for the past carbon-dated years
But knowing now for certain that you were always right
Because if a breeze could blow you out of my life
It's only smoke and ashes baby
Only smoke and ashes baby
I've got a red hot heart
And your heart's as blue as the blood in your veins
I say there's fire down below
You say it's only smoke and ashes baby
I was blinded by devotion
My unwavering love for you
So blinded that I thought all your lies were true
But now I know for certain since you've gone away
It was just a smoldering fire I mistook for a blaze
Only smoke and ashes baby
I've got a red hot heart
And your heart's as blue as the blood in your veins
I say there's fire down below
You say it's only smoke and ashes baby
Only smoke and ashes baby, baby ...
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Unborn Poem
An unborn poem
Is perhaps a poetic reverie.
Sure it is, but I must say
Another poem
Has been conceived by me
It is yet to be penned down though.
It needs a pen that will never dry up
And the readers who will turn grey haired never.
Sure it is, and I must say
Within me living on
Is a poem superseding my others
Yet unborn after conception!
Certain poems are so, dear ones.
Between their conception and birth often
Scores of months entwine us the mothers to-be.
An unborn poem never dies.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Smoke & Ashes
Id heard rumors and Id heard talk
About the trail youd left of broken hearts
About the sea of tears too wide to cross
But a little bad press has never scared me off
So I burned a path to figure out
How to get me some of what you got
Ive got a red hot heart
If the talk is true yours is the same
And we should be together
And let our passions fan loves flame
When I looked for you I almost passed you by
You were so cool and calm I thought my friends had lied
But I thought so much reserve must make you wild inside
It was there and then that I knew I had to get some of what you got
Ive got a red hot heart
If the talk is true yours is the same
And we should be together
And let our passions fan loves flame
I thought Id won your heart when I held you hand in mine
I thought it was true love the way we complemented each other
But my right is your wrong
And when youre right then Im left with nothing
Your light and your heat have all been spent
Leaving only smoke and ashes
Only smoke and ashes baby
Ive got a red hot heart
Any your hearts as blue as the blood in your veins
I say theres fire down below
You say its only smoke and ashes baby
Im crying all the time
Salty stinging tears
And mourning for the past carbon-dated years
But knowing now for certain that you were always right
Because if a breeze could blow you out of my life
Its only smoke and ashes baby
Only smoke and ashes baby
Ive got a red hot heart
And your hearts as blue as the blood in your veins
I say theres fire down below
You say its only smoke and ashes baby
I was blinded by devotion
My unwavering love for you
So blinded that I thought all your lies were true
But now I know for certain since youve gone away
It was just a smoldering fire I mistook for a blaze
Only smoke and ashes baby
Ive got a red hot heart
And your hearts as blue as the blood in your veins
I say theres fire down below
You say its only smoke and ashes baby
Only smoke and ashes baby, baby ...
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(V – 1990) War & Peace
War has stabbed the heart of peace
And peace lies bleeding now –
A peace which was healing slow
The wounds it had suffered hard,
A peace which was recovering
From the mind blowing blows
Of the decades past!
Now the precious blood of that peace is draining
And each dropp of dripping blood
Is singing the songs of savagery
To the frightened ears of civilizations!
Man mastered bombs but now bombs master man!
Man busy growing the world outside
How poor he forgot to grow his inside!
And now when he stands a helpless child
Before the giant of things he grew
Reason comes again and asks
Was this the progress you built through the years
And man has no answer
He just drops into wounds
Wounds inflicted by bullets of arrogance
Of selfishness, hatred, fear and greed!
Oh, these bombs that preach ‘might is right’
Oh, these merciless bloodthirsty bullets –
What answers are they? What justice makes they?
What battle is real than a battle for peace?
What victory, true, when won at the cost of peace? !
Peace was long destroyed on the minds of men
So no peace now remains outside!
Rising from narrow rooms of thought
Man armed with the mortal arms of passion
Smashes the skulls of his brethren
And when upon the fractured bones
And the boiled flesh, cries of anguish fall
And when the hands and limbs of innocents
Lie eaten and bitten by vultures of violence
Their hearts cracking into a fury of pain
And when thick clouds of smoke
Of the smoke of life, rises from the graveyards of war
A tear comes into the eyes of man and time asks:
Hasn’t History taught you anything still?
And man stands dumb!
With all his will and wisdom paralyzed
He searches for peace, for the solace of peace
But peace lies writhing there!
He knows he wants it dearly
The company of peace,
Wounded though he be!
But peace is dying there;
But peace is not dead!
His life lies in our hands
The wounds are many
But many more can be spared!
The wounds are sore
But they can be medicined still!
War is death
But war can be killed!
Social Consciousness.... (Face Of The Begger)
social consciousness...
baby, it's just breathing!
awareness of suffering,
the key to unlock the door.
compassion constant,
the universe revolves.
from birth unto death,
from death unto birth.
the face of the begger,
the face of god.
the hand you offer,
god's only hands.
the action of giving,
the heartbeat of freedom.
social consciousness,
the flesh of eternity!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Remembering the future
The Greeks said, those great Muses
who civilise us, grace our dance of life,
were once, before they were nine,
just three; and before that,
only one was named: and she was, Memory.
Does that make poets just regurgitators
of what’s already been oft said -
and better, too, some would aver…?
No, it’s more subtle than that; ask a poet:
a poem that comes warm, hot, from the human heart
demands a summary birth; won’t hang around
while you go out to buy more toys and frills
to hang around the cot…
it is indeed, more like remembering:
as if you step into a timeless place
where all that’s needful is to remember
what the future poem shall, will, have said..
write it down; and maybe sleep on it;
when you wake, you may remember
two lines somewhere which you’d forgotten,
but know exactly where that is…
That Muse of memory will then decide
whether a poem that has a timeless birth,
may have a timeless life... or not...
How can a poet claim a poem as his, or hers,
when such a Muse? and yet, so close at hand?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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As we look deeply within, we understand our perfect balance. There is no fear of the cycle of birth, life and death. For when you stand in the present moment, you are timeless.
quote by Rodney Yee
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rise From The Ashes
Sent to the earth In the open light
White soul delivered out from the dark
Guardian of a pure heart, run in innocent blood
Owned the spirit like a young phoenix learn to fly
Underneath the skin it binds, fears existence denied
But when the sun loose it's crown at the dark night
Mist of fear shadowing all visible roads
Suffering without heat to breathe cold
Consuming air from this atmosphere
Holding soul in frozen blood, away from frozen heart
Taking over sanity to absorb all energy of living
Numb all the strength till wings lost the last flames
The glory now fade away soon to disappear
All broken, burned by this cold fear just in one night
And released spirit moved out as despaired soot
Force the soul to vapor above the ashes crude
Left the rest wait to collapse on the ground
Hopes estranged, decayed in the ashes
Purified soul levitates between the earth and the sky
Like a mass of white cotton, now it keeps growing
Filtering air to embrace all scattering black dust
The spirit particles, to not gone in black space
Emerge In anew constitution, an invisible union,
Unison for two, back as a whole one again
Sown by lightning, ties them together
In a mega black cloud above the ashes
A restoration of fearless,
Mission to save the life grace
A shiny drop, hit the ground
The purest ardor in the gem of soul
Return to the ashes as a brave dew
A spark was created, life ignited
Drizzle bring more, in every drip drop
Bring the heats, poured as the rain fall
Towering fires, Igniting sensation
Celebrating of new rising life
The return of the soul and spirit
For the heart lend the pulses again
Breathing confident
To raise the flamed wings again
Behind the limb
Like burning fires
Like a phoenix reclaim dreams
From lost life in earth and return again
After one more time delivered from dark
To seek the open light brighter than the sun rise
Cause after all what we found a lesson to be wise
..............................
poem by Unwritten Soul
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It's All Because of Death
Why we are separated from our love ones?
Why we all have to die?
Why did you leave me alone in this hurtful world?
After all your promises dat you will be there,
for my wedding day, my graduation at the university.
Today I'm suffering because of death.
Today I have no father who will guide, protect, provide for me.
Today I don't have a home.
why death?
I'm living with my aunt she abuse me.
I have to obey everything she says, my feelings doesn't maater.
I don't have a say.
Why did you take my dad?
Death have no shame.
Why didn't you let me be a man before you take him?
You did the same thing to my mother when she gave birth to me.
She never had a chance to hold me in her arms.
I hate you death!
You took everything from me.
Sometimes I go to school empty stomach.
I'm living a life wit' no joy, no peace, no happiness
I'm a slave to her and her kids.
They treat me so...... bad, so... cruely....so less human.
I cry day night.
Saying why death?
but nobody answer me.
I'ts all because of death.
Death caused me suffering.
All I have is hatred in my heart.
IT'S ALL BECAUSE OF DEATH.
from a broken heart.
poem by Hopewell Syprien
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An Elegy on the Death of Kenneth Patchen
A poet is born
A poet dies
And all that lies between
is us
and the world
And the world lies about it
making as if it had got his message
even though it is poetry
but most of the world wishing
it could just forget about him
and his awful strange prophecies
Along with all the other strange things
he said about the world
which were all too true
and which made them fear him
more than they loved him
though he spoke much of love
Along with all the alarms he sounded
which turned out to be false
if only for the moment
all of which made them fear his tongue
more than they loved him
Though he spoke much of love
and never lived by ‘silence exile & cunning’
and was a loud conscientious objector to
the deaths we daily give each other
though we speak much of love
And when such a one dies
even the agents of Death should take note
and shake the shit from their wings
in Air Force One
But they do not
And the shit still flies
And the poet now is disconnected
and won’t call back
though he spoke much of love
And still we hear him say
‘Do I not deal with angels
when her lips I touch’
And still we hear him say
‘0 my darling troubles heaven
with her loveliness’
And still we hear him say
‘As we are so wonderfully done with each other
We can walk into our separate ‘sleep
On floors of music where the milkwhite cloak
of childhood lies’
And still we hear him saying
‘Therefore the constant powers do not lessen
Nor is the property of the spirit scattered
on the cold hills of these events’
And still we hear him asking
‘Do the dead know what time it is?’
He is gone under
He is scattered
undersea
and knows what time
but won’t be back to tell it
He would be too proud to call back anyway
And too full of strange laughter
to speak to us anymore anyway
And the weight of human experience
lies upon the world
like the chains of the ‘sea
in which he sings
And he swings in the tides of the sea
And his ashes are washed
in the ides of the sea
And ‘an astonished eye looks out of the air’
to see the poet singing there
And dusk falls down a coast somewhere
where a white horse without a rider
turns its head
to the sea
poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
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Winds Of Time
The winds of time blow a cloud of dust
As scattered ashes of an unborn lust
As those ashes are churned through time
Those left affected are unsound of mind
poem by Timothy Weiermann
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Massacre Of The Unborn
No survive
Unborn child
Cut to pieces
Left without a name
Unwanted because of the problems of humanity
Unspeakable crime
Silent war is the name of the game
Millions are dying in actions of death and pain
Misguided mothers make this happen
Sometimes for a financial situation
Or a sexual mistake
[Chorus:]
Massacre of the unborn
Massacre of the unborn
Massacre of the unborn child
Innocent blood cries in vain
Defenseless lives are slaughtered everyday
They should make a law against this insanity
Unborn corpses are growing in extreme quantity
Premature stage
Slowly destroyed by the human race
[Lead]
Tortured by tyrants
Unjustly demise
Infant children are left to die
Just innocent lives they slay
There is no chance to escape
Murdering is the matter of this case
A merciless torture to take
No one will live, because they won't survive
There's infant dying
Can't you see
That they will not have a chance
Of growing up in this life
[Lead]
[Chorus:]
Massacre of the unborn
Massacre of the unborn
Massacre of the unborn child
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The POET from the POEM
That lady -
whose eyes can see no ordinary eyes can see,
and desolate winds crying for her name
till truth and lies are all the same;
who knows how she ate the stars at night,
yet left the old moon sleeping in the sky?
Certainly she married that awful death
only not to die.
Out of her hands there came blood,
till blood covered her flesh.
And the blood had life...had sweeter life
till blood became her flesh.
How can you know the poet from the poem,
or sift the melody from its song?
Judge me, for I'll say
that lady -
is the poet and he being the blood, her poem.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of Birth And Death
Of birth and death,
life is but a cross-fade.
A tinge of meaning,
painted to the trembles of my tendrils
as the soul of each encaptured emotion.
The aumkara of the first voice of the universe,
fumes up in my crevices.
With the smoke of ashes,
the wisdom of soul
smothers my ambience.
In the receding mist
of the unscribbled unclarity,
as I open my eyes-,
flown with the wind,
I find me gone…
I take birth,
in each bubble of fatality.
And I die in the sublimation,
of each vibration of music…
of every birth and death,
life is but a cross-fade.
poem by Sarvesh Kulkarni
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Some Question Marks
Don’t go brutal in the veins
blood is diluted
life has become complex.
Barefoot truth walks,
in the sun without shadows.
We are beaten by lies.
The caste aside had a carnal thrust,
and the stars were weeping.
I will die of a primordial death one day.
What is the central theme, of present life?
It has no nuances, only the numerical strength of passions.
Question marks are leaving,
an omnipresent stink everywhere.
An awakening without,
a flame does not inspire
a hidden defeat of haloed touchstone.
I will go for a swim,
in the dead sea to taste,
the salt of all the white moons.
How would our forefathers
know the masks?
poem by Satish Verma
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