Stone Cross Prologue
Read marvel
at the dross
while too few mourn
a greater loss
heartfelt life
stone pledged cross.
Look upon
shadows of suffering
the full stark
face of affliction
unveiled is more
tumultuous
than hosts could stand
with nerve stringent
wrenching of heart.
Scan spectral sacrifice orb
Nazi slaughter insensitivity
without window dressing
frosted protective of mind.
Two naked tears come
one for each sightless
eye in streams form
flow from lifeless eyes
down hollow gaunt cheeks
years cannot fathom
to depths of indentured
understanding the look
such eyes dread soul dies.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes
Hitler’s Holocaust: Product Of A Demonic Mind
Look with compassion upon
shadows bespeaking suffering
sea saved floatsam full stark
face affirming agonized affliction
unveiled herded branded inhumanity
industrialized mechanical process
is more demonically tumultuous
than heaven’s hosts could abide stand
view with nerves frayed stringent
wrenching gutted angelic perfect heart
final fatal fallen orb unleashed depravity
inflicted with whipped screaming insensitivity
without window-dressing a barbaric cruelty
within frosted protective polemics’ mad mind.
An extract from the poem ‘Stone Cross’.85? 87?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Stone Cross
Read weep moan marvel
at drover’s driven dross
while too few sincerely mourn
a far greater terrifying loss;
heartfelt chosen selected life
stone pledged; final solution cross.
Look with compassion upon
shadows bespeaking suffering
sea saved floatsam full stark
face affirming agonized affliction
unveiled herded branded inhumanity
industrialized mechanical process
is more demonically tumultuous
than heaven’s hosts could abide stand
view with nerve frayed stringent
wrenching gutted angelic perfect heart
final fatal fallen orb unleashed depravity
inflicted with whipped screaming insensitivity
without window-dressing a barbaric cruelty
within frosted protective polemics’ mad mind.
Two naked tears screaming come
one for each soulless sightless
eye in streams fevered form
flow from lifeless victim eyes
down hollow gaunt sunken cheeks
years cannot infliction fathom
depths disparaging indentured
genocidal indulgence ghost look
such eyes dread soul expires dies.
Candle snuffed no longer brightly burns
within sensation saturation sodden injured.
Human-less spirit fragmented untouchable
body flexes feeling of a trauma chronic kind.
In another age time another pyre place agonized
beyond measure-able distance far away stretched
crimes committed surpass comprehension civilized
forgiveness murdered discarded remains unquestioned
mounds of broken coke carbon fuel cooked oven bones
pre-cooked unto oblivion new dust cremated termite mounds
mounds lie piled still an aging testament to craven third Reich.
Lining bone manured rows
where giant cabbages
once in time did grow.
Lust bloated bodies juices
souls squeezed spoke mutely
as they devoured dribbled
down demon grinning chins
of Schutzstaffel SS guards
in erected extermination camps.
How did we get here?
From gentle comfort
of a woman’s womb.
Why is it. Evil has survived?
In changing kaleidoscope.
Hatching hideous patterns.
Acid answer is found
in interchanging megalomaniac;
effacing emotion, feeling, locked
within (fragile fragmented)
soul aspiring human heart.
Propaganda. Self serving philosophy
practiced by virulent vermin
who profit manufacture war.
Sole purpose propelling life
destruction. Holocaust.
A man responsible for death
dehumanizing millions.
Killer keywords victim.
In search sowing suffering.
Sleeping conscience abated.
Boundary; blindness, hate, fear. Nationalism.
Arsenal; clubs, whips, violent tension.
Threat. Is trigger stimulant mind controlled.
Cry Freedom Now. Bullet lacks morals.
Sane silence more oppressive than organized outcry.
Hate breeds hate epidemically.
Hate for all things all life.
A soul in chains sieves conspiracy.
Feels all things conspire against self.
Destroy Destroy All Forever.
From face of earth. Strike Strike
All Everything Down. Every Last
Man Woman Child. Animal Bug.
Destroy every City every Tower
every Dwelling. Break every Stone
standing on another. Destroy Destroy
Still. Still it is not Enough. Destroy.
Ruins surround and confront.
Glaring accusations athirst sight.
Charred ruins like convulsed minds.
Victims suffer slaughtered over centuries.
Impaled linger transfixed. Slowly agonizingly die.
No answer is found
to comfort dying cries.
Evil conspires to flourish
as plague sweeping diseased
spores into welcoming pores.
Harboured nurtured developed
growing with power-crests.
Engulfing blackness rides carries
devastates all before selected.
When events happen rage rapidly rabid.
Definitively remain beyond comprehension.
Everything appears becomes threats.
A lifetime of critical injury can be imaged.
Concentrated raged. Into one blow. Murderous.
Though a few nations
heaped verbal venom
scorn upon Hitler. Powerful
demon voice was never stilled.
Even when crippled weakened.
Presence arrested
vibrations external forces.
Unfettered realm
pervades creative analysis.
Time past contracting into present
vortex flux existent continuation inflicted pain.
Carrion birds came fed off rotting.
Living Corpses. Diseased minds like worms
ate as leeches each life holding vein.
Exploited solution washes polluted chemically.
No fresh water flows down such shower drains.
Cries agonized voices torn apart
as nails claw shred concrete walls.
Re-cemented every three wipe-out weeks.
Flesh compressed confined sealed gassed chambers
choked entangled in streams secluding blood.
Children weeping last heard mockery echo.
Reaching for clinging shredding. Bare skirt-less legs.
Collective Guilt Is Groundless.
Guilt is individual as is salvation.
Collective guilt cannot enforced be
laid upon innocence preadolescent.
Vengeance reparations cause wars?
No indictment exists
nor means rationally
for law creating crime
as collective nations
shame blame guilt.
Penalty culpability
regret responsibility
admissions of evils
For the Indictment
of an entire nation.
Least free-born blood
of race righteousness.
Condemned in error.
Cry out from ground
in accusation against us.
Evil must be cleansed
to source malignant.
Before humanity can
collectively throw off. Weight
cavitation chains walk free.
Populations held down bound
in propaganda ignorance hate.
Tyrants proud walk among us.
Living on not as illegal outcasts.
But as charismatic nation leaders.
Cherished denizens. Wielding
strength of demonic disguised
power. Only low. Less cunning
dogs. Are seen face recognized
for who they soul sold do bow.
Throughout human choice ages
have corrupt dark souls misruled.
Then in ages past as present now.
Smearing their mislead Nations.
With individual temptation evil.
As they hostage hold Our World.
In perpetuity. Before
image of the beast.
Until Har-Magedon.
Populations. Are not evil
in conscience themselves.
Though individual evil.
Can overcome a people.
Transform a sane nation.
With propaganda blinded.
Mind putty clay controlled
is shaped at dictator’s will.
Goose-steps into oblivion.
Siddharta Gautama states.
‘To understand everything
is to forgive everything.’
Yet there are amoral men
whose heinous crimes
surpass comprehension.
Therefore forgiveness.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Written 1985? 1987? See also The Holocaust Files!
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Iron Cross
THEY pass, with heavy eyes and hair,
Before the Christ upon the Cross,
The Nations, stricken with their loss,
And lifting faces of despair.
What is the prayer they pray to Him,
Christ Jesus on the Iron Cross?
The Christ, neglected, dark with moss,
Whose hands are pierced, whose face is grim.
Is it forgiveness for great sin
They plead before the Iron Cross?
Or for some gift of gold or dross?
Or battle lost, that they would win?
With eyes where hate and horror meet,
They pass before the Iron Cross,
The Cross, that ancient words emboss,
Where hangs the Christ with nail-pierced feet.
His hair is fallen on his face.
His head hangs sidewise from the Cross —
The Crucified, who knows all loss,
And had on Earth no resting place.
'O world of men,' he seems to say,
'Behold me on your Iron Cross!
To me why kneel and tell your loss?
Why kneel to me and weep and pray?
'Have I not taught you to forgive?
And bade you from my Iron Cross
Believe, and bear your grief and loss,
That after death you too may live?
'You have not followed at my call!
You keep me on this Iron Cross,
And pray me keep you from all loss,
And save and comfort you withal.—
'You ask for love, and hate the more! —
You keep me on this Iron Cross!—
Restore to me my greater loss,
The brotherhood of rich and poor.'
They pass, with weary eyes and hair,
Before the Christ upon the Cross —
The Nations, wailing of their loss,
And lifting faces of despair.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Your eyes burn right through my soul
Your eyes burn right through my soul,
leave marks there
that I cannot extinguish.
At times your eyes are aflame with anger,
like thunder
that is only looking for a place to happen.
Sometimes your eyes flow soothing
like the ocean
and embraces me to spend time with you.
Sometimes there are depths in your eyes
that I cannot fathom, shadows beyond which
unknown emotions, people and places are hiding
and still I want to spend time with you when I can.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Mourners
Weeping for ones who in darkness lie,
the ones who in distress have sold their helpless souls;
for ones who have been born only to die...
perhaps for ones they never knew at all.
At times in graveyard they bury their thoughts
as though in there the sentiments hide some sacred notes.
At times they and corpses alike must maintain
the silence of the grave...
I wonder what played beneath their heads
that made them scream a hollow cry
or that if ever in their solemn lips
float the shadows of a lie.
No one has been so desperate to cry as they...
finding reasons to fill their eyes with false tears
or making them real as they recall
the pain of all the years.
They mourn for others and sometimes for themselves;
they mourn perhaps for unwanted fears...
condemning, regretting, yet waiting
for the price after the tears.
I thought that life was different for those
who in silence mourn.
But then life's all the same-
for everything that dies has once been born.
Life is never different for them
who mourn in silence,
for everything that started must come to an end.
Just then, life's all the same-
I watched them from a distance,
pretending as they play the game.
Some think of them as crazy,
for some, ordinary fools.
They, are called THE MOURNERS
and I am one of them.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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Hard Eyes
hard eyes stare into the night...
hard eyes with calloused gentle hands.
hard eyes that have listened and seen.
hard eyes that have touched.
hard eyes that have fought
battles that couldnt be won...
hard eyes that have shared
the suffering of others....
hard eyes that have known beauty and loss...
hard eyes that make choices that are not easy.
hard eyes that have been betrayed,
hard eyes that have loved...
hard eyes that cross the threshold...
hard eyes of the sword and cross.
hard eyes that look into the soul,
and sometimes even smile.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Look Deeply into A Woman's Eyes
Your Eyes
Mirrors of the soul
Reflections of the mind
Green flecked pits of aquamarine
Oval shaped and Olivine
Your Eyes are…
Plumbers of my very soul
Searchers of my mind
Orbs that flash both hot and cold
Dark chalices of wine
Your Eyes have always been….
Deep pools of liquid grace
Quicksilver vases of tears
The crowning beauty of your face
Enduring through the years
Your Eyes Will Always and ever be….
The reflection of your soul
Vision of your essence
The window to your heart of gold
The acme of Quintessense
Tis’ Impossible to visualize
Impossible to truly realize
Yet, Very possible to be hypnotized by…
The depth of a woman’s eyes
poem by David Whalen
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Heartfelt Eyes
The Heart Feels…
The thirst of these eyes
Feelings of the Heart
Flow in the silent cries
of these tearful eyes.
The Heart and these Eyes
Bond well with their sighs
and cries, as if they share
'made for each other' ties.
As the heart lives on
Till the day it dies,
Bidding these eyes
Its Final Goodbyes…
It will always share
This Special Bonding
With its Heartfelt Eyes.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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A Message For The Mourning Beloved...
every morning
i write
but not for you
today
every morning is
a sacrifice
an offering for
the goddess of
truth
every morning is
an exercise of honesty
the night may still
be on that stage of
denial
i may write for you
soon
i do not wish you
to read for now
it will be
incredible
nothing is
worth believing
for the meantime that
the words are
still constructed
what you see actually
is not what you get
there is a ripe fruit
for the season &
it will be for your personal
picking
tomorrow is the best
place for you
to fathom the depths of
my suffering
you lay in bed crying
and you wipe your tears
the thoughts will come
like sunshine on the window
then you will have a hint
of me
and you follow it
like a bird
flying away to a
faraway hill
towards a cave
where darkness is a little bit
mixed
with light and shadows and
creeping sounds of
bats
& glowing worms
then you shall understand
what everything in me is all about
you see
you can only understand the past
when you have arrived
at the room of the
future
when what you remember of me is only the wind
what what i am to you is no longer a star.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Paschandale
(SmithHarris)
In a foreign field he lay
Lonely soldier, unknown grave
On his dying words he prays
Tell the world of Paschendale
Relive all that he's been through
Last communion of his soul
Rust your bullets with his tears
Let me tell you 'bout his years
Laying low in a blood filled trench
Kill tim 'til my very own death
On my face I can feel the falling rain
Never see my friends again
In the smoke, in the mud and lead
Smell the fear and the feeling of dread
Soon be time to go over the wall
Rapid fire and the end of us all
Whistles, shouts and more gun fire
Lifeless bodies hang on barbed wire
Battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb
Be reunited with my dead friends soon
Many soldiers eighteen years
Drown in mud, no more tears
Surely a war no-one can win
Killing time about to begin
Home, far away
From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away
But the war, no chance to live again
The bodies of ours and our foes
The sea of death it overflows
In no man's land, God only knows
Into jaws of death we go
Crucified as if on a cross
Allied troops they mourn their loss
German war propaganda machine
Such before has never been seen
Swear I heard the angels cry
Pray to god no more may die
So that people know the truth
Tell the tale of Paschendale
Cruelty has a human heart
Every man does play his part
Terror of the men we kill
The human heart is hungry still
I stand my ground for the very last time
Gun is ready as I stand in line
Nervous wait for the whistle to blow
Rush of blood and over we go
Blood is falling like the rain
Its crimso
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wizard of Clayton Close
He's steeped in the shadows of ivy and stone,
And time is the seed that the Wizard has sown,
Has sown for the magick of weaving the night
In a tapestry taken from burning delight.
Burning delight in the eyes of the mind he has
Stolen, to conjure insight for the blind, for the
Blind are the pebbles that litter his beach, while the
Tides of his mind set the blind out of reach.
The masonry wall is caught deep in the spell that he
Conjured forgotten, in some distant dell,
And if you should peer through the ivy and stone
There's a voice whispers... 'leave me, just leave me alone.
I've wandered with Ishtar, away from your eyes
From your spying and prying, away from your lies,
In the peril and terror that lonely men speak...
Seek not the undying, whatever you seek.'
But drawn to the shadows and drawn to the stone
I could leave him not ever, not leave him alone,
And turning one day to the light and the lace
He uncovered his forehead, uncovered his face.
I froze in the instant to question my mind for
The face spoke eternities, infinite time
And the stars held their place in the lips of the man
And the cheeks and the ears, and the eyes and the hand.
The wall crumbled inward as slowly I fell
Through his eyes to the stars, to the depths of his well,
And knowledge was mine as it never had been,
In my mind, misaligned, in the things that I'd seen.
But knowledge was danger, disaster and death
To the heart that would beat, to the mind, to the breath,
To the cheek of a girl or the smile of a man,
To the whisp' of the wind, to the shift of the sand.
And nothing exists in the nothing of me
But the stars and the sky, and the sand and the sea,
The light that was night and the dark of the day
As I drift in the tides of his vision away.
And look as I might for the eyes of his mind
I believe that the Wizard is totally blind,
That once in the depths of his well and his breath
We're imprisoned in freedom, the freedom from death.
If only the way was as clearly defined
In the world of the deaf and the dumb and the blind,
I'd crawl through the stars to the lids of his eyes
To the breadth of his world and the width of his lies.
For the comfort of woman and warmth of a man
I would give all the shift and the sift of the sand,
And not all the shadows of ivy and stone
Would lure me to walk in the winter alone.
21 May 1975
poem by David Lewis Paget
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A Book, Never Read
Many, many years ago, I experienced a loss most profound;
Now I view the same as a blessing-a dichotomy to confound;
I no longer need solace; I no longer grieve-
Any sense of loss I may have felt, I begged its leave;
I think not of moments lost; nor of a life, without;
My mind has removed, forever and always, any doubt:
For, my most heart-wrenching loss is now my gain;
My heart's poignant relief, supplanted its deepest pain!
Nary hath a moment come, since this day of change,
Where my former sense of loss, seemed anything but strange;
I am begotten from what I lost, though there, it ends;
I live my life with this knowledge, no matter where it sends
Me, or any other I may love-for, he is now and ever, dead-
Gone forever, forgotten completely-as though a book, never read!
poem by Maurice Harris
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All Crazed.
blackness and Darkness.
Hidden and unseen it lurks.
A monster in utter secrecy.
clouded in a flow of words.
a language incomprehensible by my mind.
Brightness and Soft lights.
Music that clears the mind.
pure of imperfections. glass shards in my eyes.
tears within angel eyes and demon eyes.
on pair sorrowed of silver, melted, gently, purely.
another only pitch, blackened, encrusted, burnt.
all this a confession of heaven hell dreams.
all damned by a loss of sudden life.
all a loss of sudden happiness.
all a loss of a loss.
all crazed.
poem by Paul Foulkes
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A Poem to Remember
The is a sorrow none should know
Yet so many have come to
It only takes a minute for a life to change
Something taken, never to be replaced
The understanding of these dangers
The loss they leave behind
For a life that has worked so hard
And is as beautiful as any other
Please don’t forget, remember
We can all play a part in this life
In being there when needed
Those sullen eyes, dried of tears
Need not look so alone
The sounds of love and friendship
The art of understanding
Under a watchful eye
That we may ease the suffering
Of a sorrow none should know
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Oh! My dear God
Oh! My dear God
You are my reverential Lord
You are ever with me, my Ward
For which heartfelt thanks transmits this bard!
For myself, I have not wanted this
For myself, I have not wanted that
You have always provided this and that
I am so very grateful for all that.
During pooja time when I stand before you
All the kindness you've shown, I view
For which my heart with emotion swells
As ring the pooja ‘s tinkling bells.
At the temple your magnificence, when I behold
My heart throbs with subtle thoughts untold
There before you when I humbly bow
Streams of tears from my eyes do flow.
Whilst expecting the birth of our first grandson delightfully
There fell a thunder-bolt—he was asphyxiated deeply
Oh God! I entreated you weeping with all my heart
And you came to our rescue and let not his life to part!
I remember that was the one occasion
When I implored you for my dear grandson
And for that -your munificence, truly great
I hold my heart's over flowing gratitude till date.
Oh! My dear God
You are my reverential Lord
You are ever with me, my Ward
For which heartfelt thanks transmits this bard!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Pearls Of Soul
In the still of the night,
My mind was so confused and sad,
I closed my eyes and start to cry,
When you were hurting me with hard words.
In front of my eyes memories open up,
Beautiful memories that we lived once,
I asked myself why this nightmare happend,
What we have done with our love?
Our love suppose to be our vow,
To respect and share till the end of time,
You should see the love i have for you,
You should have faith in me like i have in you.
Tears are running down my cheeks,
Digging my skin, burning my face,
Small pearls of soul rolling, shinning,
Merging together to my chin.
You have to look into my eyes,
And see the blue torment flow,
Don't let it waste these pearls of soul,
Don't let my tears waste in vain.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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In Love & Terrified
In love and terrified
This singular feeling overwhelms
Making its own purpose to life
Beautifully distracting the mind
To other thoughts and feelings
That seem to go unnoticed
While a fear still persists
That all could be lost
Stolen before its had its time
To be entwined into memory
Never to be left forgotten
Such dread lingers in stale air
Dampens the joyful spirit
That the world could fall down
Into the depths of loss
Eyes shimmer in holding tears
Full of love yet still terrified
poem by Matthew Holloway
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A Fall Of Grace
Sometimes the world turns on you
Waters ravage your lonely shore
The sky offers no remorse
Beyond the abysmal pale
And God is nowhere to be found
No ones around to hear your cries
Cast your stone into the ocean
Fill your heart with silver and gold
Dear Light, hold me close
Fly away with my heart
Ill cross the roads
That you've paved for me
But I cannot find peace
In this fall of grace
My eyes are dry from the tears
I've seen the demons take away
All that has been gained
Let the water flow inside
An end to the sorrow
That plagues the frail strings
On the instrument of life
Soon screams will follow in the wind
Dear Light, won't you take my hand
Replace the death in my soul
Let the water bleed out
Dear Light, won't you lay me down
Cover me in sticks and stones
Crush my brittle bones
Dear Light, you let me fall
In this hollow disgrace
Let the tears run down my face
Dear Light, you are the downfall of my grace
poem by Matthew Peel
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Can Streams Flow Along The River Sides?
Can the streams run upto the oceans far?
Can they run along the side of the rivers known?
You were a river and I a stream
Who flowed together once.
Using the sixth sense I read your mind
The one none could read before.
Each line written on your mind
Unveiled a portrait painted never.
You were a river and I a stream..
Aside my failing senses old
Triumphed my sixth sense young.
You, the river got flooded
And I, the stream was drowned.
Denouncing the last reason left you kept even my soul off-
An act someone else could have done.
Each word spoken at my funeral often
Unravelled the mystery of your mind.
Along the side of the river of your ego,
May I flow as a stream entwining you ever in the next life too?
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Faces
I cant read faces but i can read yours;
I know it when youre sad or happy,
not through your smile but through your eyes;
and the lines of your forehead,
and the lines of your cheeks...
they tell your secrets and then mystery unfolds.
The beauty of your chin...and the lines of your lips,
they tell me of something that hasn't been told.
Sometimes you laugh, but you're empty inside...
sometimes you frown, but your heart glowed with pride.
Sometimes serious, but your face
has something to hide.
I know coz your eyes tell me everything,
everything within your soul.
You have so many faces...
and i wonder if the world knows.
I wonder if they can read them,
or see what you conceal..
I wonder if they can see your mysteries...
secrets to steal.
And i wonder if they can look into
your eyes like open doors.
I know i cant read faces...
but i can read yours.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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