Wounded Pride
Generation grips,
I am the street
in dysphoria.
You run, shout, the arc
bleeds, you become your enemy
that kills the alphabets
A statue was hung
upside down
to eject the violence from plastic lips.
Blood stained sidewalk
throws a challenge to send
the skins of martys.
The taste of endometrium confronts
a fortune of calories in pink
for an unconscious hood.
And the language of golden teeth
hides the backdoor flight
of a fallen god.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Plastic Man
A man lives at the corner of the street,
And his neighbors think hes helpful and hes sweet,
cause he never swears and he always shakes you by the hand,
But no one knows he really is a plastic man.
Hes got plastic heart, plastic teeth and toes,
(yeah, hes plastic man)
Hes got plastic knees and a perfect plastic nose.
(yeah, hes plastic man)
Hes got plastic lips that hide his plastic teeth and gums,
And plastic legs that reach up to his plastic bum.
(plastic bum)
Plastic man got no brain,
Plastic man dont feel no pain,
Plastic people look the same,
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Kick his shin or tread on his face,
Pull his nose all over the place,
He cant disfigure, or disgrace,
Plastic man (plastic man).
Hes got plastic flowers growing up the walls,
He eats plastic food with a plastic knife and fork,
He likes plastic cups and saucers cause they never break,
And he likes to lick his gravy off a plastic plate.
Plastic man got no brain,
Plastic man dont feel no pain,
Plastic people look the same,
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Kick his shin or tread on his face,
Pull his nose all over the place,
He cant disfigure, or disgrace,
Plastic man (plastic man).
Hes got a plastic wife who wears a plastic mac,
(yeah, hes plastic man)
And his children wanna be plastic like their dad,
(yeah, hes plastic man)
Hes got a phony smile that makes you think he understands,
But no one ever gets the truth from plastic man (plastic man)
Plastic man (plastic man).
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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The perfect suicide
Death is cold
Death is above
But sometimes
Death is love.
Blood glistens
Like the morning dew
Blood comes out
Because of you.
Razors shine
In the pure white light,
Razors sharp
Perfect for flight.
Fallen Angel cuts
Fallen Angel bleeds
She stands alone
He's all she needs.
Fallen Angel screams
Fallen Angel cries
She can fly no more
So instead, she dies.
poem by Kelsey Joe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dont
Walking round this metropolis
With its buildings that reach to the clouds
There must be millions of people out there
Walking round with their heads bowed
This city kills me, but it thrills me
Now somethings gone and held up the crowd
Theyre pointing at a man standing high on a ledge
And somebody just cried out loud
Dont look down at the people below, oh
Dont look down
Its a long way to fall and Id sure like to know
What made it happen, sure makes you think
Must have been something special
To send him to the brink
Down here on the sidewalk, hes clearly in view
Then a voice shouts up to him
Try thinking it through but whatever you do
Chorus:
Dont look down
At the people below, oh
Dont look down, things might start looking up
You just never know
Hes heard the cries of the lunatics facing defeat
The cheers of the winners
Who are dancing in the street
Perhaps the crime and corruption finally got through
And the violence of the city
Just broke him in two
Now a voice from the queue shouts
Chorus
Dont look down, dont look down
Down here on the sidewalk
Its stopped all our lives
People are talking instead of just walking by
Before this happened it was just another day
Now people are talking instead of walking away
Now were gripped by this tragedy
Our blood starts to pump as we all shout together
Dont jump, dont jump
Chorus
Dont look down, we all shouted out, oh
Dont look down
Its a long way to fall and Id sure like to know
What made it happen, guess well never know
Now the suns come out
Looks like hes standing on a rainbow
Hes in the heavens, Im standing on the ground
Saying dont look down
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Give Into Hate
Violence surrounds me
Violence in society
Violence in our eyes
Violence in their cries
Violence it's our fate?
Violence, it's too late?
Violence, no escape?
Violence, give into hate?
Is it human nature to act like animals?
We're all guilty, we're all criminals
Selfish species headed for a self destruction
Violent product of moral corruption
Violence for love
Violence because of hate
Violence, revolution
Violence of the state
Violence, you will find
Violence, it grips your mind
Violence, it's too late?
Violence, give into hate
song performed by by Unseen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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your Blood cells Shy red, looking at me in your heart!
Someday as I dive in my own unconscious,
My own mystery unfolds me for a while,
billions hands of it look like,
Golden lotus of billion petals!
It is where I part from this,
Mortal remains return from where they come,
Friend, I may part from your consciousness,
And live as your part in unconscious!
you may see me not,
You may miss me,
Yet I will not miss you,
I will be very close to your heart,
Your each blood cell become red,
Feeling shy when they look at me there!
Look into yourself,
I will be smiling there,
When wind blows, I kiss your lips!
When you are in sleep,
I lay in your hug,
When you eat something,
I taste and digest it for you,
I will be within you,
When I want to see you,
I will look down from stars and smile at you!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lingers
shotgun shells,
and kentucky bourbon;
long howling nights,
bound by the moon/
teeth bared to the icy cold,
the taste of blood.
lingers.
the fiddle weeps,
while the mandolin prays.
old hat pulled down,
feet dance to the sound/
teeth bared to the icy cold,
the taste of blood...
lingers...
broke down and busted,
carried by the darkness.
fists pound the walls,
but there's no one home/
teeth bared to the icy cold,
the taste of blood.
lingers.
woman, smell and touch,
sucks the light from empty.
she rolls me over,
cries out like a cat/
teeth bared to the icy cold,
the taste of blood.
lingers.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Pink
A blush of pink:
She'd caught a roving eye -
He gave a wink.
Her smile had played a shy
And quaint florescence;
The siren of pubescence
Drew him in.
She bade him touch her hair,
Suggesting that he dare
To kiss her pulsing lips!
E'er the fool a man, he did:
The drips of blood began to cheer -
And so, another rid:
Tips of fangs are sharp, you know -
Dancing ivory feeds her soul -
See her claim a howl upon a chilling wind!
Slain, he lay across a crimson floor:
She grinned in her repletion.
A blush of pink;
Beneath a glowering sky
Her savoured drink
Was done.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
pink pink pink pink pink pink her blush
pink pink pink pink pink pink her blush
pink pink pink pink pink pink her blush
pink pink pink pink pink pink
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A War To End All Wars, But Wasn’t
They not only fought the enemy,
but fought the elements as well.
They fought for their country
in lands far from home.
They fought rain, mud and the enemy
in trenches stained with blood
from those who had fallen there before.
They fought on and on
while the Generals watched
the slaughter from far away.
For their mistakes men died
by the score across the battlefield.
Their blood would stained the land
then and forever more.
Then came the gas
like a creeping mist across the battlefield
that silenced all in its wake.
It made no distinction to young or old,
just poisoned all it touched.
Their contorted bodies rotted where they fell.
They said this was a war to end all wars, but it wasn’t.
Almost twenty years later
men from different countries gathered to fight another war
and again in the trenches men fell.
The mechanics had changed;
machines became more prevalent across the battlefield,
still men died for small victories in the tide of war.
3 July 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Self-Portrait in Shoulder Stand
Old bag of bones
upside down,
what are you searching for
in poetry,
in meditation?
The mother you never had?
The child in you
that you did not conceive?
Death?
Ease from fear of death?
Revelation?
Dwelling in the house of clouds
where you imagine
you once lived?
'Born alone,
we depart alone.'
Someone said that
during meditation
& I nearly wept.
Oh melancholy lady
behind your clown face,
behind your wisecracks-
how heady it is
to let the ideas rush to your brain!
But even upside down,
you are sad.
Even upside down,
you think of your death.
Even upside down,
you curse the emptiness.
Meditating
on the immobile lotus,
your mind takes flight
like a butterfly
& dabbles in bloodred poppies
& purple heather.
Defying gravity,
defying death,
what makes you think
the body's riddle
is better solved
upside down?
Blood rushes to your head
like images that come too fast
to write.
After a life held in the double grips
of gravity & time,
after a headfirst birth
out of your mother's bowels
& into the earth,
you practice for the next.
You make your body light
so that in time,
feet first,
you will be born
into the sky.
poem by Erica Jong
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Poet's Epitaph
i see the lights of a far distant shore.
i hear the moan of thundered skies.
i smell the perfume of rain not fallen.
i taste the lips of earth, and of trees.
i see the fire in cold artic winters.
i hear the words the wind desires.
i smell the scent of passion held back.
i taste the blood of coming death.
i see the dawn of the blackened cave.
i hear the weeping of mountains still.
i smell the coffin, and shovelled dirt.
i taste the spirit set free in flight!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Born Again
As you look through my window
Deep into my room
At the tapestries all faded
Their vague and distant glories
Concealed in the gloom
The icy fingers of forgotten passions
Softly brushing my lips
At the tips of my primitive soul
As you look through my door
Deep into my room
Can you feel the mighty wall of power
Its waiting, waiting in the gloom
The distant shadows of forgotten champions
Those who live in me still
And will rise when we challenge and kill
Born again
Youll be born again
Look at this prince of evil
Fighting for your mind
Fighting all the priests of shame
For the thrust of my challenge is aimed
At the hearts of mutant gods
Who think were all the same
Theyre controlling our minds
And they use us for fortune and fame
As you look through my window
Deep into my room
At your future and freedom
The grey and plastic retards all floating in circles
And as you taste the fruits of new sensations
Softly brushing your lips
As we rise when we challenge and kill
Born again
Youll be born again
If you want to be king for a day
Just do what I say
Everybodys got to think like a hunter
Just search for your prey
Be alive through the night and the day
Just do it my way
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And I Thank You...
A young soldier takes a deep breath before battle,
Now millions of miles away from the golden plains and the cattle,
Fearing for his life, and another battle loss,
He closes his eyes, and grips tight on his golden cross.
The sergeant yells, and he gets into line,
The troop marches to the battlefield, early morning, about nine,
With sweat running down their faces, and dirt in their hair,
The men look to the sky, and say a silent prayer.
A grenade explodes and the troop scurries on the run,
The young soldier hides in a foxhole, griping onto his gun,
He pops up, but too much smoke he can’t see,
Squinting as hard as he can to find the enemy.
The day is gone, and the young soldier still holds his gun to his shoulder,
Bruised and battered, he feels the night become colder,
As he looks to his left, he wants to break down and cry,
Because he had to watch his best friend get shot, and then he died.
The stale scent of tragedy in the air hovers,
Because this young soldier lost many of his band of brothers,
And now the enemy has fallen back with a retreat,
Because they now know that they have been beat.
You fought for the red, white, and blue,
And for this I greatly thank you,
You fought to allow me to speak my mind freely behind this ballpoint pen,
So once again I thank you, my hero, my dear veteran.
poem by Ryan McNicholas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sub-language
a lustful desire suppressed
takes a language of its own
at first you disregard it
but soon it finds its own
grammar & syntax in your lips,
you taste it again, lick it, roll it
inside your gum, sip and swallow,
your teeth delighting, your tongue
trembling to such sweetness,
you love it, and at the
end, it becomes your
main language again
this time more subtle
metaphorical, lyrical,
and more responsible.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Plastic Passion
Plastic passion is a hard to handle
Plastic passion is a sold out scandal
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is the ladies lover
Plastic passion is the marble mother
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a diamond delight
Plastic passion is the nadir of night
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a hycoscine heart
Plastic passion is a transparent tart
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a gold guarantee
The plastic passion is murdering me
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Wind Of Silence Is A Wind Of Violence
The wind of silence has become a wind of violence
Guns for war, guns for ones own protection
For some satisfaction, for others lack of affection
Children playing Russian roulette with their feet
Its not even safe anymore walking in the streets
The wind of silence is a wind of violence
Our future will be a reflection
Of our own segregation of the old generation
Lonely hearts lost in desperation
Not one or two, but a whole civilization
The wind of silence has become a wind of violence
The present, the future or the past. What would you choose?
Or shall I say: What have we to lose?
If we want our children to be happy and proud,
Then we have to shout and shout out loud:
Mouth to mouth, throw the dice
But hurry and don't think twice
It's only your voice you have to sacrifice
There is a wind of violence
Let's blow away the wind of silence
poem by Elisabeth Karlberg
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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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Red Stained the Earth
When white clouds filled the land
Red stained the earth
Thunder roared and lightning struck
Red stained the earth
Darkness devoured the soul
Red stained the earth
Smoke choked the air
Red stained the earth
Cries were loud but never heard
Red stained the earth
Words misunderstood
Red stained the earth
A compromise was in vain
Red stained the earth
Land was stripped of its beauty
Red stained the earth
Raped of dignity, honor and trust
Red stained the earth
Language lost, stories untold
Red stained the earth
No more tradition, no more culture
Red stained the earth
When white clouds filled the land
Red stained the earth
poem by Ema Bovoro
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A Boy at the Window
War raged on as if that was how it was meant to be.
There were no sides. You killed your allies,
or you were killed by them. Fear made us
choose the former. Tears rolled down my sweaty cheeks.
Blood stained my mud-splattered skin and clothes
and fear.
The streets smelled of Hatred. Why so much Violence?
I desperately wanted to stop and mourn
for fallen friends, but there was no time for weakness.
I had to keep moving so no one could learn my strategy,
armed only with shields for eyes and daggers for teeth
and fear.
The streets smelled of Hatred. Why so much Violence?
I marched silently. My shoes made no sound against
the pavement and my footsteps were invisible.
I thought this would protect me: not my first mistake.
As far as I would see were nothing but the aftermath
of massacres and the afterthoughts of murder
and fear.
The streets smelled of Hatred. Why so much Violence?
I looked up to see a small, pale face hiding
behind a window. His arms were at his sides.
His eyes were expressionless bubbles.
I stood and stared at his innocent features,
and the child-who was blind to the bloodshed
that lay before him-held up his hand in a wave.
My face broke into a smile as I waved back.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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Predatory
Surge of rage in domes of violence
skins the history, becomes a frozen embryo
of genetic markers, shimmers in society,
race and native shirts.
Enters into the creation of a saga
accomplished by advancing poppies;
there was no connection to ancestors.
Brutalizing golden dawn
leaves a bitter taste.
They were fighting with broken swords.
Virgin flesh becomes moon face,
bloats for a fatal jump,
on to the widow’s peak
of a dancing star at sun-set point.
The innocence cleaves the night
to implant the bride’s lips.
I am lost in a sheared landscape
there is no singing tree.
poem by Satish Verma
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