To Some Greed Is The Blood.
Alas! there are some
To whom the eyes are waste,
To some the tongue a viper,
To some limbs a vice!
O God! why such cruel creations?
Why in so many the heart is absent
And greed is the blood?
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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Related quotes
Think For Things
greed you think of things
alas things degenerate
greed you think less of others
alas you tinker with things
greed you think less with sense
alas you kill your neighbour
gree you abhor with your thoughts
alas you make cultures perish
greed you are embodiment of evil
alas unsatiable are are your wants
poem by Venkatesh Ram
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The Hunt
Her face is a lightning strike
with prowling eyes
and razor sharp lips,
her tongue a dagger for an unfortunate heart.
She will kiss like an angel
with a viper's sting.
This is a dangerous love,
a scent that will not be denied.
Those hunting eyes pierce my swaggering shield.
The blood is up.
I am primed for the chase.
Hungry for the kill.
poem by Ronald Shields
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Fire - The Love
I know how the fire is
I burnt myself in the love
So I know what love is
I know how the rub is
As I rubbed heart against heart
So I know what the spark is
I know what thirst is
I had been sucked in lust
So I know what lust is
I know how painful it is
When blood from heart spilled
So I know what bloodlessness is
I know what waste is
I had been ruined in the greed
So I know what the greed is
I know how the soul is
A soil of thousand cracks
So I know what the spoil is.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Sonnet- When a Child
The saddest thing in life I know is when,
I can’t prevent the death of a young child;
All my years of learning seem a waste, then;
My heart with anger fills; my mind grows wild.
I shudder in myself and almost cry;
Was there a freak chance of saving life, still?
I ask myself, my God, the question 'Why;
Death cruel stole the child's soul while still ill!
’Tis alright when an old man diseased dies;
The bud had flowered; fruit was yet unripe;
The child had not a speck or stain of vice;
Who can the mother's lament ever wipe?
Alas! None can query the act of God;
He is the Wisest One; We are but clod!
poem by John Celes
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Pit Viper
[ lyrics: natalie merchant/music: steve gustafson ]
In the cruel garrison of affection
If worth of lore is true
You know the face of a temptress
Pit viper
A witch or enchantress
Pit viper
With the malign venom of conceit
She tries
Civil men
Conceal fear
Misgivings
When night entreats them
A greater chill sustains
Stains her
Darkness
Shall not inhibit death blow
Know this skin does not restrict her
Tear and shed the coil
Fall of garland leaves
Below the soil
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Story
They met each other in the glade –
She lifted up her eyes;
Alack the day! Alack the maid!
She blushed in swift surprise.
Alas! Alas! the woe that comes from lifting up the eyes.
The pail was full, the path was steep –
He reached to her his hand;
She felt her warm young pulses leap,
But did not understand.
Alas! Alas! the woe that comes from clasping hand with hand.
She sat beside him in the wood –
He wooed with words and sighs;
Ah! love in spring seems sweet and good,
And maidens are not wise.
Alas! Alas! the woe that comes from listing lovers’ sighs.
The summer sun shone fairly down,
The wind blew from the south;
As his blue eyes gazed in eyes of brown,
His kiss fell on her mouth.
Alas! Alas! the woe that comes from kisses on the mouth.
And now the autumn time is near,
The lover roves away,
With breaking heart and falling tear,
She sits the livelong day.
Alas! Alas! for breaking hearts when lovers rove away.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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In Memoriam 3: O Sorrow, Cruel Fellowship
O Sorrow, cruel fellowship,
O Priestess in the vaults of Death,
O sweet and bitter in a breath,
What whispers from thy lying lip?
"The stars," she whispers, "blindly run;
A web is wov'n across the sky;
From out waste places comes a cry,
And murmurs from the dying sun:
"And all the phantom, Nature, stands--
With all the music in her tone,
A hollow echo of my own,--
A hollow form with empty hands."
And shall I take a thing so blind,
Embrace her as my natural good;
Or crush her, like a vice of blood,
Upon the threshold of the mind?
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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In Memoriam A. H. H. Obiit MDCCCXXXIII: 3. O Sorrow, cruel
O Sorrow, cruel fellowship,
O Priestess in the vaults of Death,
O sweet and bitter in a breath,
What whispers from thy lying lip?
"The stars," she whispers, "blindly run;
A web is wov'n across the sky;
From out waste places comes a cry,
And murmurs from the dying sun:
"And all the phantom, Nature, stands--
With all the music in her tone,
A hollow echo of my own,--
A hollow form with empty hands."
And shall I take a thing so blind,
Embrace her as my natural good;
Or crush her, like a vice of blood,
Upon the threshold of the mind?
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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I know what the obsession is!
I know what the strike is
As I stroke stone against stone
So I know what the spark is!
I know what the rub is
As I rubbed heart against heart
So I know what love is!
I know what the burning is
As I burnt myself in the love
So I know what the fire is!
I know what the waste is
As I have been ruined in the greed
So I know what the lust is!
I know what the thirst is
As I have been sucked the blood
So I know what the bug is!
I know what the addiction is
As I have been addicted to wine
So I know what the obsession is!
I know what the memory is
As I have been experienced the break up
So I know what the hurt is!
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Senselessly Cruel
When I was a poor young boy at school
Girls like you always played me for a fool
But now, a time has come to lay to waste
The theory people have of getting an acquired taste
You treated me -
Oh, so, so senselessly cruel
Oh baby, you were so senselessly cruel
From the beginnings I suspected the worst
And you didnt disappoint me
It was just that you were the first
But now, I wouldnt let you touch me
If you were within a foot
And girl, Im never ever gonna get hurt
cause you treated me -
Oh, so senselessly cruel
Oh now, so senselessly cruel
(oh, so senselessly cruel)
(oh, so senselessly cruel)
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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These Sentiments Within Them Sit
The increase of fear,
Has those whispering in each other's ears.
People have become afraid and wish to be saved!
But from what can be identified within themselves,
Keeps them running away not to face?
Since all that they have chosen to live,
Has been a product resulting from their own creations.
The toy guns.
The violent video games purchased,
With a waiting in line until there were none.
Racial hatred taught and identifying enemies made.
The sitting in theaters with patience awaiting...
Those movies to panic to scare everyone until they scream.
And people solicit their own nightmares to dream!
Resulting from their own creations...
These devastations within them sit.
Resulting from their own creations...
With sentiments meant to send.
Resulting from their own creations...
And expecting from them,
To heal and mend.
Resulting from their own creations...
These devastations within them sit.
Resulting from their own creations...
With sentiments meant to send.
Resulting from their own creations...
And expecting from them,
To heal and mend.
Resulting from their own creations.
Resulting from their own creations,
Yes...
These sentiments within them sit.
These sentiments within them sit.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Two Women
I know two women, and one is chaste
And cold as the snows on a winters waste,
Stainless ever I act and thought
(As a man, born dumb, in speech errs not) .
But she has malice toward her kind,
A cruel tongue and a jealous mind.
Void of pity and full of greed,
She judges the world by her narrow creed;
A brewer of quarrels, a breeder of hate,
Yet she holds the key to ‘Society’s’ Gate.
The other woman, with heart of flame,
Went mad for a love that marred her name:
And out of the grave of her murdered faith
She rose like a soul that has passed through death.
Her aims are noble, her pity so broad,
It covers the world like the mercy of God.
A soother of discord, a healer of woes,
Peace follows her footsteps wherever she goes.
The worthier life of the two, no doubt,
And yet ‘Society’ locks her out.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Reality of you...
The heart is of such fragile make
in wants and love it has no refrain
the head can temper, but only so
and can do nothing really to stop the pain
the pain of hearing you just wont do
I've decided that part of my life is through
and picket fence and man all I need
but your my friend, despite your greed
your greed of wanting me for a love
even if you try your best
and hold my image close to your heart
Its time to realize you were never a part
a part of what I wanted in life
your love was nothing more than a vice
and I turn away at last to that
and walk the straight road, your heart my doormat.
poem by Natasha Headstrong
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Sonnet: Why Waste …?
Why waste your voice, extolling men on earth,
Who don’t deserve the smallest praise, you give?
Why waste your life in earthly aims since birth,
When there are better things for which to live?
Why waste your talents, earning name and fame,
When nothing we can take back when we die?
Why waste your precious days in acts of shame,
When we can thank the Lord and God, Most High?
Why waste your labor, building things that break,
When you can share the love of God with all?
Why waste your life in taking risks to make
One skyscraper, that must anytime fall?
Why waste God-given time in sin and vice,
When God expects us to remain soul-wise?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-9-2008
poem by John Celes
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LOok WHerE GReEd HaS GottEN US
I have walked the earth,
but I have never seen
more animosity than
in a workplace.
People will gut
you there with
dull knives that
take hours to penetrate
all of the way.
They belittle or praise
sometimes twice
hailing from both ways.
It is greed, it is greed.
They want more and they
want to get more.
Sell your arms,
sell your limbs
they'll fly away
from you just the same.
The poor have many layers
that they have to break through.
A cocoon of 100 inches of steel
with out a drill, with hope going against us.
They want to raise our tuition.
LOok WHerE GReEd HaS GottEN US
poem by Cokbod Lodwogo
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Ink In Blood
Writing with pride
a fresh cut of life
Drops of Ink in blood
Leaving a path of black & red
The room fills with darkness
Moonlight lies in greed.
Lighting flash
cracking the tree
bursting it in flames
Scream and Fear
Ink in Blood
Pen crushes and snaps
The nightmare is over
Ink In blood
Is a curse of greed
poem by Sarah Frank
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A Child's Nightmare
Through long nursery nights he stood
By my bed unwearying,
Loomed gigantic, formless, queer,
Purring in my haunted ear
That same hideous nightmare thing,
Talking, as he lapped my blood,
In a voice cruel and flat,
Saying for ever, "Cat! ... Cat! ... Cat!..."
That one word was all he said,
That one word through all my sleep,
In monotonous mock despair.
Nonsense may be light as air,
But there's Nonsense that can keep
Horror bristling round the head,
When a voice cruel and flat
Says for ever, "Cat! ... Cat! ... Cat!..."
He had faded, he was gone
Years ago with Nursery Land,
When he leapt on me again
From the clank of a night train,
Overpowered me foot and head,
Lapped my blood, while on and on
The old voice cruel and flat
Says for ever, "Cat! ... Cat! ... Cat!..."
Morphia drowsed, again I lay
In a crater by High Wood:
He was there with straddling legs,
Staring eyes as big as eggs,
Purring as he lapped my blood,
His black bulk darkening the day,
With a voice cruel and flat,
"Cat! ... Cat! ... Cat! ... Cat!..." he said, "Cat! ... Cat!..."
When I'm shot through heart and head,
And there's no choice but to die,
The last word I'll hear, no doubt,
Won't be "Charge!" or "Bomb them out!"
Nor the stretcher-bearer's cry,
"Let that body be, he's dead!"
But a voice cruel and flat
Saying for ever, "Cat! ... Cat! ... Cat!"
poem by Robert Graves
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To a Lady
Spare, gen'rous victor, spare the slave,
Who did unequal war pursue;
That more than triumph he might have,
In being overcome by you.
In the dispute whate'er I said,
My heart was by my tongue belied;
And in my looks you might have read
How much I argued on your side.
You, far from danger as from fear,
Might have sustain'd an open fight:
For seldom your opinions err:
Your eyes are always in the right.
Why, fair one, would you not rely
On Reason's force with Beauty's join'd?
Could I their prevalence deny,
I must at once be deaf and blind.
Alas! not hoping to subdue,
I only to the fight aspir'd:
To keep the beauteous foe in view
Was all the glory I desir'd.
But she, howe'er of vict'ry sure.
Contemns the wreath too long delay'd;
And, arm'd with more immediate pow'r,
Calls cruel silence to her aid.
Deeper to wound, she shuns the fight:
She drops her arms, to gain the field:
Secures her conquest by her flight;
And triumphs, when she seems to yield.
So when the Parthian turn'd his steed,
And from the hostile camp withdrew;
With cruel skill the backward reed
He sent; and as he fled, he slew.
poem by Matthew Prior
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Cruel Summer
Dans la chaleur de la nuit qui s'enroule tout autour de moi
Je marche seule sans savoir pourquoi tu n'es plus l
Ca tourne dans ma tte
Et tout s'arrte
Ta voix me parle tout bas
Je ne sais plus o j'en suis, je ne vois plus que toi
It's a cruel, cruel summer
C'est fini
Tu n'es qu'un rve qui s'enfuit
It's a cruel, cruel summer
Now you're gone
You're not the only one
The city is crowed
My friends are away
And I'm on my own
It's too handle
So I've got to get up and go
It's a cruel, cruel summer
C'est fini
Tu n'es qu'un rve qui s'enfuit
It's a cruel, cruel summer
Now you're gone
You're not the only one
It's a cruel, cruel summer
C'est fini
Tu n'es qu'un rve qui s'enfuit
It's a cruel, cruel summer
Now you're gone
You're not the only one
Cruel summer, it's a cruel summer Cruel summer, it's a cruel summer
It's a cruel, cruel summer
C'est fini
Tu n'es qu'un rve qui s'enfuit
It's a cruel, cruel summer
Now you're gone
You're not the only one
Cruel summer, it's a cruel summer Cruel summer, it's a cruel summer
It's a cruel, cruel summer
C'est fini
Tu n'es qu'un rve qui s'enfuit
It's a cruel, cruel summer
Now you're gone
You're not the only one
It's a crue , cruel summer, c'est fini
song performed by by Ace Of Base
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Ode To A Lady. She Refusing To Continue A Dispute With Me, And Leaving Me In The Argument
Spare, generous victor, spare the slave,
Who did unequal war pursue;
That more than triumph he might have,
In being overcome by you.
In the dispute, whate'er I said,
My heart was by my tongue belied;
And in my looks you might have read
How much I argued on your side.
You, far from danger as from fear,
Might have sustain'd an open fight;
For seldom your opinions err,
Your eyes are always in the right.
Why, fair one, would you not rely
On reason's force with beauty's join'd?
Could I their prevalence deny,
I must at once be deaf and blind.
Alas! not hoping to subdue,
I only to the fight aspired:
To keep the beauteous foe in view
Was all the glory I desired.
But she, howe'er of victory sure,
Contemns the wreath too long delay'd:
And arm'd with more immediate power,
Calls cruel silence to her aid.
Deeper to wound she shuns the fight;
She drops her arms, to gain the field;
Secures her conquest by her flight;
And triumphs, when she seems to yield.
So when the Parthian turn'd his steed,
And from the hostile camp withdrew,
With cruel skill the backward reed
He sent; and, as he fled, he slew.
poem by Matthew Prior
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