Counting Skeletons Maze Masterpiece War
counting skeletons
broken dreams
upon destruction rocks
lost dead souls
who died in revolutions wars
lost grand causes
festering generations
decline in dissent protests battles
paid for in blood baths
wasted lives
rotten corpses
dead heroes
scared or reluctant sacrifice souls
afraid to offend authorities rogue countries
play non-confrontational activities
I according to teenage character summaries
lack appeasement walk boldly where angels
fear to tread without orders unpredictable steps
nothing now apparently surprises
(communist/overt) dictatorships
initially often deceive their citizens
more honest sincere dictators
in home grown brutality policies
plan comparisons tests futures
dictator futures
are mind battles wells
blood bath souls...
Egyptian futures
are mind battles
wells blood cast souls
human rights
watch some watchers
pray pain tears
who naive ever believes
has ever believed histories
are progressive certainties
history time progresses
regions conflict civilizations
rise mold peak enslave falls
Pablo Picasso moments
painted Spanish Civil War screams
Guernica shows tragedies
war sown suffering festering war inflicts
upon drift swept caught conflict individuals
consumes pale innocent seed civilians
cubist monumental status
perpetual reminder tragedies
anti-war pigment symbols
black white intolerant party issues
suffering people animals landscapes
buildings wreckage violence chaos
stage left fractured wide-eyed bull stands
over a woman mother grieving pities
raw ruptured screams dead child in waste arms
events blasts centre stage frog marches
occupation horse falling in countless agonies
run through spear javelin bayonet thrusts
large gaping torn wounds realities cruelties
horse's sides life bleed potent swift years
devoured bull dictators devour ripe bellies
which human skull death brews demon changes
overlays the horse's body escape crushed kneels
gore fleet horse freedom underneath deceptions
bull's horns gore tossed rent sacrifices flesh forms blood rivers
break escape equestrian front facing legs sanctuary sought shelters
seeks knee blood ground knee in groin leg's knee wobble forms
skull caps counting coup taken head's nose concussion bleeds
horn appears within horse's breast to savage despair steal souls
bull's tail forms images flame worship incendiary burning bombs
smoke rising as window civilization view remembers brighter days
before jack boot shade gray surrounding killed impaled freedoms
under slain horse dead dismembered soldier rapid heat rot perfumes
his hand on a severed arm still grasps
a shattered sword decay flower grows
his hand his severed arm sword parts
what symbolism here crimson reads
written on leaf palms of dead soldiers
read open palm of our dead soldiers
what on open palm of dead soldier dark passion flowers?
is sacrifice a stigma a symbol of war martyrdom stupidities
derived stigmata paid Christ symbolizes humanities sins
stage repeated is written a cross centuries
centuries stigma youth symbol martyrdoms
derived not from stigmata Christ but wars
what light bulb blazes above dismembered corpses?
what evil eye shape Satan peeps over suffering horse's?
head what eureka moment invented bare bulb torturer's?
cell purpose so solitude removed from learned monks
cell which serves to silent vesper recite sacred palmists verses
symbolism relates to Spanish light bulb 'bombilla' makes
explodes allusions to bombs Nazi Guernica destruction effects
modern technologies promised blessings blast curse societies
not a single dropp of blood spoilt fails to cry out plaintive pains
living by swords strokes dying by degrees
in modern mega manic brutality policies
civilizations living slice sharing expansions
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Picasso's Guernica Stigma Youth Symbol Martyrdoms
smoke rising as window civilization view remembers brighter days
before jack boot shade gray surrounding killed impaled freedoms
under slain horse dead dismembered soldier rapid heat rot perfumes
his hand on a severed arm still grasps
a shattered sword decay flower grows
his hand his severed arm sword parts
what symbolism here crimson reads?
written on leaf palms of dead soldiers
read open palm of our dead soldiers
stage repeated is written a cross centuries
centuries stigma youth symbol martyrdoms
derived not from stigmata Christ but wars
what light bulb blazes above dismembered corpses?
what evil eye shape Satan peeps over suffering horse's?
head what eureka moment invented bare bulb torturer's?
cell purpose so solitude removed from learned monks
cell which serves to silent vesper recite sacred palmists verses
symbolism relates to Spanish light bulb 'bombilla' makes
explodes allusions to bombs Nazi Guernica destruction effects
modern technologies promised blessings blast curse societies
not a single dropp of blood spoilt fails to cry out plaintive pains
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Picasso's Skull Caps Occupied Horses Falling
events blasts centre stages frog marches
occupied horses falling in countless agonies
run through spear javelin bayonet thrusts
large gaping torn wounds realities cruelties
horse's sides life bleeds potent swift years
devoured bull dictators devour ripe bellies
view human skull death brews demon changes
overlays victim horse's body escape crushed kneels
gore fleet horse freedom underneath deceptions
bull's horns gore tossed rent sacrifices flesh forms blood rivers
break escape equestrian front facing legs sanctuary sought shelters
seeks knee blood ground knee in groin leg's knee wobble forms
skull caps counting coup taken head's nose concussion bleeds
horn appears within horse's breast to savage despair steal souls
bull's tail forms images flame worship incendiary burning bombs
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Picasso Anti-War Pigment Symbols
Pablo Picasso moments
painted Spanish Civil War screams
Guernica shows tragedies
war sown suffering festering war inflicts
upon drift swept caught conflict individuals
consumes pale innocent seed civilians
cubist monumental status
perpetual reminder tragedies
anti-war pigment symbols
black white intolerant party issues
suffering people animals landscapes
buildings wreckage violence chaos
stage rage left fractured wide-eyed bull stands
over a lost woman mother shadow grieving pities
raw ruptured screams dead child in waste arms
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Counting Skeletons
counting skeletons
broken dreams
upon destruction rocks
lost dead souls
died in revolutions wars
lost grand causes
festering generations
decline in dissent protests battles
paid for in blood baths
wasted lives
rotten corpses
dead heroes
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Egyptian Democracy Attained
Egyptian futures
are mind battles wells
blood cast souls
human rights
watch some protesters
pray pain tears
Mubarak protests
dictator demise gains
sealed in sacrifices
overnight Egypt
celebrated remarkable
rise of democracy
birth moments revolutionary
hand phone camera visionary
facebook twitter democracy
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unassailable Fidelity!
The horse never slept
Nor it lay on ground
His mind was battling
With the songs of swords
The challenges of the riders
The splash of blood
The pool of blood
The horse kicked
The horse of the enemy
Eager to cut the throat
Of his master on him
The horse trampled on
The dead on the battlefield
To take his master to safety
When the hissing sound of sword
Lashed at him like a storm.
The horse learnt the rule
The rule of sword
The rule of battlefield
The justice of killing
And the destiny of killed!
His master on him swing
With the sword socked with blood
Of the enemy cavalry
And enemy animal carriers
And moved fast to fix
The mast and flag
At the fort his master seized.
As the thunder and lightening
Deafened and blinded
The horse lost a leg
And the master had the wound
Gushing blood with all force
The horse leapt as a wind
And crossed the river
And fell on the river bed
And his master took his head
To put on his lap
To see the flash of life
Taking wings through eyes!
The horse had the satiety
Of saving his master
And serving him to keep alive!
poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
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War Solace
let all mothers sweep their tears with their sleeves
and flowers wither on old horse steps
let the fear and night
frozen our soldier
we are not going back
peaceful home own no more
once sword slashed and blood flashed
the body will crave from living
we are doomed from light
let the dead become the dead
and we will walk our way home
to nothing land
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Country Cut-Throat Mentalities
living by swords strokes dying by degrees
in modern mega manic brutality policies
civilizations living slice sharing expansions
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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History Of Ages Burns On Minds Eye
Soul cry hear blood soak earth
fires burning in ghost phantom dark
images burned into victim retina.
All sacred homes lost burning fires
raids plunder cruel famine wars
burning through rage pages history.
Screams across fury dark demon ages
slaves taken beat broken enchained
civilizations burning collapsing dying
waxing falling death conquest repetition.
Age of aspiring mind man
slave to stalking brutality
beats drumbeats inside skull
angels call chosen souls home.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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War Never Solves Anything
Of battles won and noble soldiers you hear the old balladeer sing
But war only brings death and suffering and war never solves anything
And the mental scars of war keep festering long after the battle does end
You badly injure or kill someone's loved one that person will not be your friend.
For God and the flag of their Nation too many in battle have died
And the Government honour war heroes in their false show of patriotic pride
But the fact is their young lives were wasted and the fact with us sadly remain
That old battles are never over and for old grieviances human blood spilt again.
War weaponry and explosives big business in a World where human life is taken cheap
By some a human life seen as of no more value than that of a cow's or a sheep
From history we have not learned the war supposed to end all wars long gone
Yet every day more violence and terror and war and war mongering lives on.
Of battles won and acts of war bravery so many songs written and sung
And war instigated by old men must always be fought by the young
But the song for the young dead war hero to the hero's mum to it has a bitter ring
And war is a waste of human life for war never solves anything.
poem by Francis Duggan
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How Bizarre Picasso's Guernica
had a strange bizarre idea
an explosive expression of force
a kind of Kung Fu high ya
to write split images
slicing Picasso's Guernica
are ambitious goals
‘Counting Skeletons
Maze Masterpiece War' cannon fodders
expendable human wave attacks
counting skeletons
military civilians animals
far too complex figures
for mind dumb numb critics
expecting classical critiques
lacking Geneva Conventions
tone deaf paint strokes
powerfully counting skeletons
symbolist blood cubism's
splitting images
is poetic cubism slices
shifting images
lenses
original concepts
shifts
heightened are purifications
lenses through looking glass
quality intensity frequencies
window frame shattered glass
reflects no light dust disembowels
nail polish veneer shade layers
behold I am the light sparks
cast upon yonder wall outpourings
what colours abuses decays?
images screaming ghosts
paper mache bull's horns
tearing apart peace dreams
bits of newspapers
blue shadings
ripe purple bruises
a red tear streams
from screaming eye woman's
nightmare deletes
colours
so must Picasso's
images
final phases
defeat reeks
flesh decays
monochrome metal monsters
political black white gray tones
felt impact descent bomb blasts
evokes deaths
flesh sufferings
war insanities
lick wounds
impaled oozing sacrifices
histories pages
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Painful Title
It’s just a useless try to fall in love
It’s just a cry
Just a die
And you ignore
All I want
Time is up
I am down
It needs time
time, like a horse
like a dead horse
dead hours
turn the seconds
No, no, no need to help
No help
No word
No alarm
No fight
Love is leaving
And the world is bored of
My fixed moments
Of my silence
Of my dead horse
Big pains
Big souls
Small cures
Short smiles
Deep eye
Deep mind
A little word
Destroy world
No time
No cure
No mind
No word
Big pain
Bigger pain
Largest pain
No word
No cure
No time
There’s a question
A pain
A painful cancer
A sculpture
Numb like a dead
I’m a beautiful reflection of sadness.
poem by Mohammad Reza Dousti
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A Place Where Demons Walk
hear cry of blood earth,
fires burning in places dark,
images burned into eye retina
homes lost burning fires,
raids plunder trophy wars,
burns through rage history
screams across agony ages,
slaves force taken fear enchained,
civilizations dying falling in repetition
ages review history humanity,
slave chained to evil brutality,
beats drumbeats inside victim skull
angels call chosen souls worthy home
earth is ever a place where demons roam
poem by Terence George Craddock
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What Price Golgotha?
seer eyes burn with
prophetic words read
vision words sweep
forth in sleep soul fed
dream spaces echo
divine fountain head
heart surges witnesses
flowing images bled
blood of all spilled human
suffering fills vast lake red
blood cries out from ground
to God spoken testament said
murder of Christ at Golgotha each
shed droplet screams at deathbed
judge this sacrifice this moment
against each soul resurrect all dead
judgement judgement screams
all blood spilt where murder lead
all sin all crime all evil is judged
against all guilty soul’s in dread
those born again in Christ have sin
washed clean with Christ are wed
their name is written in sacred book
of life angelic marked upon forehead
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Drift Swept Caught Conflict Individuals
war sown suffering festering war inflicts
upon drift swept caught conflict individuals
consumes pale innocent seed civilians
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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High Horse
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
And get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Moonlit shadow, she starts a trippin' firelight
Jumpin' the trees lyin' across the right of way
Silvery mornin' it glistens down the valley
But she don't stop 'til we ride the night away
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
Get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Blonde braids tangle at the misty break of mornin'
Catchin' light through a dusty window pane
Lost in lust, in denial of the warnin'
She digs her heels in this stallion's flank again
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
Get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Get up on your high horse, woman
You paid the price, you get to play
Get up on your high horse, woman
You're gonna ride to the break of day
To the break of day
To the break of day
To the break of day
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
Get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Get up on your high horse, woman
You paid the price, you get to play
Get up on your high horse, woman
You're gonna ride to the break of day
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anzac Day
Patriotic men and women from sixty down to sixteen
Rode proudly on their horses in the famed Anzac green
Followed by the women of the Red Cross in their renowned white and red
On this day every April they honour the war dead.
Up to the war memorial where a large crowd stand around
And at the front of the congregation old 'Diggers' to be found
Old veterans of World war 2 they show their years in gray
Their war medals pinned to their lapels their bravery on display.
A lone bugler played the last post to honour the war dead
And an old man who was standing near i saw him bow his head
And tears were trickling down his face his thoughts were far away
Some noble men who were his friends in foreign Country lay.
We are gathered here this morning the ageing speaker said
To commemorate true heroes our great and brave war dead
They made the ultimate sacrifice and at a young age they did die
And we have them in part to thank for the freedom we enjoy
For our soldiers who died in foreign wars for their souls let us pray
It's only to remember them that we have Anzac day
Their bones may lay in foreign fields but in history they survive
And the spirit of the Anzac is still very much alive.
He thanked the old war veterans who marched in the parade
How can we thank you enough for the sacrifice you've made
You risked your lives in cause of peace 'we salute you today'
You noble men who won the war in Country far away.
He thanked the red cross women the finest in the Land
And the bugler who played 'The Last Post' and the six piece marching band
And the horse riders dressed as Anzacs in the famed faded green
And he asked the band to finish up by playing 'God save the Queen'.
And the band played 'God save the Queen' but not 'Advance Australia Fair'
And i who doesn't believe in war could only feel aware
That in Britain they don't play the Australian anthem when they honour their war dead
Was it for Britain or Australia that young Aussie blood was shed? .
The horse riders dressed as Anzacs in the famed faded green
And the bugler played the last post and the band played 'God Save The Queen'.
And a war veteran spoke of Aussie war dead their bones in Europe lay
At least they are remembered still on every Anzac Day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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One Drop of Christ's Blood Shed…
One dropp of blood
of Jesus Christ, shed
Frees millions of sinners
Of their life-time sins!
One dropp of blood
Of Savior Christ, priceless
Absolves the punishments
Of the worst repentant sinners!
One dropp of blood
Of Messiah Christ
Opens the gates of heaven
For souls which yearn for God.
One dropp of blood
Of the slain Lamb of God
Annuls eternal damnation
Of all who repent and plead!
One dropp of blood
Of the Redeemer Christ
Can save mankind
From the fire of Hell!
Such is the immense power
Of the blood of the Son of God,
Who suffered and died upon the cross
for mankind's sake!
The sacred blood of Christ
Can sanctify all souls,
Who are truly sorry from heart,
From time immemorial!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 22-06-12
poem by John Celes
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EverCrimson War
The bloody hearts that we consume,
EverCrimson they are,
The bloody streams, crimson with terror,
Are not very afar,
For eventually war will strike,
These haven heaven lands,
EverCrimson forming round,
Death hitting sands.
Causing terror, freedom felt,
In the depths of the sea,
Where drowning can lead to freedom,
A free death possibility.
But still as this war comes,
We shall never prepare,
For this EverCrimson War,
We never daren’t stare.
For this battle will spread blood wide,
Not only blood but lost dreams,
For those that once lived,
Now dead as it seems.
Those dreams lost forever,
Never to come back,
Losing memories of childhood,
Now at severe lack.
The child at home playing,
Wanting war to end,
Never to know the death,
That EverCrimson War can lend.
For as well as dreams and death,
Souls will be lost again,
Reaching up to heaven,
But never these lonely men.
For we caused war, maybe end it,
But we started it at first,
So Mother Nature cannot be happy,
Only send us the worst.
Crimson war is bad enough,
Than having it Ever to stay,
I tell them, ‘it isn’t a game’
The dead in sorrow lay.
Listening to my words,
Understanding what I mean,
But nobody listens otherwise,
They will never wipe sins clean.
Only keep them forever,
Staining the blood EverCrimson red,
Never to be lost,
Reminding of the ones who are dead.
Those that were killed,
The ones they killed,
Hearts, lands, acres full of blood,
EverCrimson War only brings disaster…
To those who fail,
Will flash crimson, go stale,
Rotting bodies, rotting blood,
Mixed in with the dying mud.
EverCrimson War only brings disaster…
poem by Viraj Bhanshaly
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The Blood On Satan's Sword
They gather in congregation.
Their prophet wired into their core.
To avoid, and yet, to conquer.
The blood on Satan's sword.
They are the modern virtue.
The wax shaping onto the floor.
Solidified to overcome.
The blood on Satan's sword.
And as they all embraced their symbol.
It's fear encased within their mental.
All saintly men have cowered and trembled.
At the blood on Satan's sword.
They say we'll all be torn asunder.
If we don't fear the darkest thunder.
Then we'll face the infernal slumber.
And taste the blood on Satan's sword.
Terrified and forlorn.
Still, an answer one man seeks.
The so-called blood on Satan's sword.
Why has it always gone unseen?
He has questioned their fixed path.
They swear he'll see the fiery bath.
The stained glass adorned with wrath.
The holiest evil now is cast.
Onward they wander in plight
Are they praising whats wrong or whats right?
Raising their royal swords, not pride?
Their blades dripping of crimson lost life.
poem by Aaron Lynn
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