The Poet as Hero
You've heard me, scornful, harsh, and discontented,
Mocking and loathing War: you've asked me why
Of my old, silly sweetness I've repented--
My ecstasies changed to an ugly cry.
You are aware that once I sought the Grail,
Riding in armour bright, serene and strong;
And it was told that through my infant wail
There rose immortal semblances of song.
But now I've said good-bye to Galahad,
And am no more the knight of dreams and show:
For lust and senseless hatred make me glad,
And my killed friends are with me where I go.
Wound for red wound I burn to smite their wrongs;
And there is absolution in my songs.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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Straight Into The Simile
Becoming bologna, this is not my god:
This is just another
Comic book left
Outside to understand the elements of
The usual bird:
There she is, cleaning herself through
The usual elements
Of her available estuaries:
There she is just doing as she’s told.
Whilst the average Christmas trees
Are sold and sold.
And sold:
Oh, old bold wound; oh, old gold wound:
Same natural element happenstance
Through the preternatural heavens:
Just as same old grave song,
As seems to be happening through same
Old natural grave song:
Presupposing through the same old
Elements of the rose:
Seems to be grossing this way:
Seems to be crossing anyway, as anyway,
I suppose: just as the laments,
I supposed, anyway, held between the teeth of
Anyway- elements, anyway,
Straight into the smile that happened to have
Held the rose.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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“Faithful Trust”
There’s nothing to offer to those ignoble vows
But a long wail of dejection if this heart allows
Trust has come to open the wound
Averment carries no word for word
The misguided mind has become the guard
Trust has come to open the wound
A solemn promise’s been made to none
With faithlessness it is believed to have gone
Trust has come to open the wound
The wound that's trapped into bleeding emotion
To heal the pain it drinks the potion
Then trust has gone with its faithful notion
And everything fades with that true devotion.
(23rd of October,2010)
poem by Munia Khan
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Flesh Wound
We flew over miles of ocean--be prepared.
I don't have the faintest notion who'll be there.
You underestimated; nobody sympathized.
I think you'll soon feel better once we get inside.
I see the door is open -- Why don't we walk right in?
Let's put our party hats on and let the fun begin!
We should have called and said that we were on our way;
Who would have ever guessed that you'd be so unreachable?
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in my side
Just another flesh wound--another wonder-cure that you tried
Just another flesh wound--another scratch on your hide
Just another flesh wound--another irritation you abide
You know the rumour's going that he was synthesized.
And if we had to dress, I wouldn't be surprised.
I say -- you're so outrageous -- you'll go to number one!
They'll have us both arrested for having too much fun.
Just another flesh wound--another scratch on your hide.
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in your side.
Just another flesh wound--another bruise on your pride.
Just another flesh wound--another paranoia that you hide.
And when she held her nose, she took an underdose.
It was nice to see her completely comatose.
You go first, you're completely debonair;
Let's go dutch -- it's only fair.
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in your side.
Just another flesh wound--a minor injury you dignified.
Just another flesh wound--another unsuccessful suicide.
Just another flesh wound--another curse that you ride.
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song of Wrongs
Some songs are trapped, while other songs are free
Some songs can linger, while others need a key
Some songs look Heavenward to find a place to be
While most songs have homes, some songs aren't so lucky
Which song would you rather hear
The song of hope, or the song of fear
The song that has everything, or the song that needs care
The song you care nothing for, or the song you revere
I'd like to listen to all of those forgotten songs
Not the song of rights, I want the song of wrongs
I want the song of solitude hiding in the throngs
I want the song that has no place to which it belongs
poem by Bianca Free
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To A Heartbreaker
Do not look for the wound
I am not hurt
And I do not bleed
You know
You injured me so
Worse
Than you think
But look I still know how
To carry myself
I look well
I still wear a smile on my face
I won’t show it
I won’t shed a tear
I won’t make you happy
As you want it to be
Look
I got no wound no bruises
Look
You must be surprised
I still keep myself alive
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Faithful Trust
There’s nothing to offer to those ignoble vows
But a long wail of dejection if this heart allows
Trust has come to open the wound
Averment carries no word for word
The misguided mind has become the guard
Trust has come to open the wound
A solemn promise’s been made to none
With faithlessness it is believed to have gone
Trust has come to open the wound
The wound that's trapped into bleeding emotion
To heal the pain it drinks the potion
Then trust has gone with its faithful notion
And everything fades with that true devotion.
Written on the night of the 23rd of October,2010
©Munia Khan 2010
poem by Munia Khan
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Well, Neighbours wanted to do a song on the show, and they asked me what songs I had. I told them I'd just written this song, called Born to Try, and I had just gone overseas and spoken to some people from Song about it.
quote by Delta Goodrem
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Droplets of roses
when the droplet
floats down the
petal of the red rose
it opens an old wound
deep and which never
really has ever healed
a wound red as blood
time has taken
into its hands and
shrouded around
like petals do to the rose
so that when it blooms
it opens the way to
both cheers and pains
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Adventure
Out of the wood my White Knight came:
His eyes were bright with a bitter flame,
As I clung to his stirrup leather;
For I was only a dreaming lad,
Yet oh, what a wonderful faith I had!
And the song in my heart was never so glad,
As we took to the trail together.
"Friends and lovers, good-bye," I said;
Never once did I turn my head,
Though wickedly wild the weather
min were the rover's rags and scars,
And the rover's bed beneath the stars,
But never the shadow of prison bars,
As we ranged the world together.
Dreary and darkling was the trail,
But my Knight was clad in a gleaming mail,
And he plucked from his plume a feather.
And oh how foolishly proud was I!
"I'll wear it," I told him, "till I die;
Freemen we'll be of sea and sky,
To the ends of the earth together."
Yet now I know by my failing breath
I'm ripe for the last adventure, Death,
And I've reached the end of my tether:
But my Knight of the shining mail is there,
And his eyes are bright and he bids me dare:
So into the Dark let's boldly fare,
Into the Dark . . . together.
poem by Robert William Service
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Songs About Me, Songs About You
Well youve been movin all down that highway
You can turn another page
And if you finally get to the old folks home
Then you can finally act your age
I can make a million dollars
And you can spend it as fast as it comes
And you can sit there and cry on a bed full of lies
And be thankin that you got you some
CHORUS
Theyll be songs about me
Theyll be songs about you
Theyll be songs about everything from money to booze
But there wont be no songs of regret
Cause I aint wrote no songs like that yet
No I aint wrote no songs like that yet
You can hear me on the radio
You can see me on TV
You can dig you a hole to find your soul
And it gets you away from me
You can run as fast as an hourglass
You can fly as high as the wind
See you can be strong for as long as you like
But youll end up right back where you can
REPEAT CHORUS
I got a song for every occasion
Ive been told I got away with words
Ive been told that Id be loved forever
But its been only lies that Ive heard
Ive been bold in my days
Ive been goin my ways
Ive been packed up and moaned and gone right away
I belong to a song for as long as I say
But Ill always have a song to play
REPEAT CHORUS (2x)
No I aint wrote no songs like that yet (8x)
song performed by by Uncle Kracker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Toy Soldier
Once upon a time there was a toy soldier and he lived in the play room
Once upon a time there was a toy soldier with a whip lash in his hand
And every night little girl sadie would take all her clothes off and wind up the toy soldier and he raised his whip and said
On your knees little sadie
Little sadie on your knees
Taste the whip and love might given likely
Taste the whip and bleed for me
Little sadie loved her little toy soldier
And she run home from school each day
Little sadie loved her little toy soldier
And she locked her door so she could play
Little sadie got ambitious
And wound the clockworks so to tighter
So he could whip her harder and harder
On your knees little sadie
Little sadie on your knees
Taste the whip and love might given likely
Taste the whip and bleed for me
One day sadie wound and wound
And wound and wound
And wound and wound
Til suddenly the little toy soldier spring, went. . .
(ugly, beat her to death)
Ahhhh
Cough, cough, cough
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Turning 15
My life hasn't changed, but only teenager things, friends, guys, romance, lust, looks, school, doing those bad stuff, school is easy, friends complicated to understand drama, guys like me for all the wrong reasons, except one show far, lust and romance are two different things, but only get one, my looks make me look like a woman, fully developed, now doing those bad things, i try not to do it, but being reckless is who i am, wanting excitement, show me a good time, drink my pain away, having sex isn't safe anymore, drugs to hard to quiet when your life is all screwed up, turning 15 isn't like the old days, men i look for maturity, not how big you are, or how good you can pleasure me, trying new things a little scary, sneaking out to see the stars that brighten up the sky, sipping on that can of beer, crying about what you wish you could of changed sooner, get in the backseat of your car, undress to let the breeze touch my bare skin, what happened to that innocent girl i use to be, now i'm some stranger.
poem by Julietta Isla
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Wound
a wound will always
be a wound.
a scar may come
to say you are healed
but soon it will
remember the wound.
perhaps you have not
loved enough
to learn from those
whose hearts
are broken, they
say: forgive and forget.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Who Will Heal This Wound?
With all the carefulness I could muscle
I went for the rose, the red beautiful rose
Ouch! The thorn struck,
The sharp spike-like thorn struck
The heart pierced, spilled the contents
The wound has refused healing
The rose, the red beautiful rose, stares unseemly and unconcernedly
Who will gather the contents?
Who will heal this wound?
poem by Obed Akuma
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I could not forget..............
Sorrow laid by me all nights along
his tears were flowing all along
He cried all nights and never depart
Cause me pain in my heart
I asked him to leave me for a night
but he refused and hold me tight
Sorrow told me he feels so sad
for me cause i treat myself so bad
I told him not to do what he do
because i will never let my love go
Sorrow surprised for my speech
cause he thought he could be the leech
to the deep wound that inside
the heart of me and i denied
But sorry, I could not forget
the one i loved once and get
So leave me sorrow for loving him
Cause no one could ever be like him
About the wound believe me i can endure
because i will do my best to get back its cure
poem by Passionate flower
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Enigma of the Knight
I dreamt that I was dreaming
And in my dream beheld
A knight in fading armour
His name from me withheld.
Relentlessly the tolling
Did saturate the air,
And filled the empty graveyard...
The one with no-one there.
His sword within his scabbard
Still sharp and virgin clean,
I wondered if to battle
This knight had ever been?
No blood upon the countenance
Beneath the iron hood;
No answer to my question,
The mystery still stood.
Of toil and sad confusion
And hatred and disgrace
He told me, then I looked again
And thought I knew his face;
I felt I recognised the voice
That whispered soft as mute:
'A song will be our epitaph,
Sung sweetly on the lute.'
The vision turned and made to leave,
I asked him not to go,
He drew a little closer saying:
'Do you wish to know?
The timer drawn of molten glass
Is running out of sand;
This dream within another
You will never understand.'
His life was nearly finished
And so, I thought, my dream,
I turned away and over
To try my sleep redeem;
Then dreamt that I had woken
Still puzzled by the knight,
Then woke again to find that
I, like he, had lost the fight.
(Written April/May 1996)
poem by John Carter Brown
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Our Lives
Our lives are songs. God writes the words,
And we set them to music at pleasure;
And the song grows glad, or sweet, or sad,
As we choose to fashion the measure.
We must write the music, whatever the song,
Whatever its rhyme, or metre;
And if it is sad, we can make it glad,
Or if sweet, we can make it sweeter.
One has a song that is free and strong;
But the music he writes is minor;
And the sad, sad strain is replete with pain,
And the singer becomes a repiner.
And he thinks God gave him a dirge-like lay,
Nor knows that the words are cheery;
And the song seems lonely and solemn-only
Because the music is dreary.
And the song of another has through the words
An under current of sadness;
But he sets it to music of ringing chords,
And makes it a pean of gladness.
So whether our songs are sad or not,
We can give the world more pleasure,
And better ourselves, by setting the words
To a glad, triumphant measure.
1872
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Nucleus
How can you take away the nucleus
and expect everything outside of it
to stay mended together with strength?
A family is held together by a bandage.
You take away the bandage and you got a wound.
Sometimes a wound can heal on its own
and sometimes it can get infected or never heal.
I've seen it all before, the bandages go away
and then the wound that is left attacks itself.
The skin, the blood, the puss, and all the cells
that were once held together by one bandage
turn on itself and then it all melts as if touched by acid.
I don't think that will happen to our wound.
I think we'll all band together and form a new bandage.
It might not be one person holding it all together,
but it will be all of us coming together
like hospital staff to make sure we don't die of an infection.
poem by Cokbod Lodwogo
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In My Dreams
In my dreams I am always saying goodbye and riding away,
Whither and why I know not nor do I care.
And the parting is sweet and the parting over is sweeter,
And sweetest of all is the night and the rushing air.
In my dreams they are always waving their hands and saying goodbye,
And they give me the stirrup cup and I smile as I drink,
I am glad the journey is set, I am glad I am going,
I am glad, I am glad, that my friends don't know what I think.
poem by Stevie Smith
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Whale of a Tale
Hail bishop with memory frail
wound up when night's sup d[r]owned pale ale,
in Tooting Bec Garden
sin rooting wreck, hard-on,
but confessions too catholic fail.
Head made headlines, unfortunate tale,
he could make neither heads or tails, bail
may be sought for the sot
got his lot, potty plot
grows thicker, and sicker, all quail.
For at least from his priests rose gale wail
on the whale of the tale, they'd prevail
on the bish with boys' toys
who should fish for souls' buoys,
for repentance for leaving gael trail.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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