The Mask That Wore A Face
the mask that wore a face
is gone in death
too often was dead in life
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Mask In Life Too Afraid To Feel
the mask that wore a face
is gone in death
too often was dead in life
a mask in life
too afraid to live
too afraid to feel
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Too Afraid To Live
the mask that wore a face
is gone in death
too often was dead in life
a mask in life
too afraid to live
too afraid to feel
afraid to reach out in affection
due to fear of possible rejection
not to try is phobia poor resolution
what is best test answer solution...
a kindness compassionate revolution...
love undeserved a divine institution...
to not reach out in genuine affection...
due to fear of face slap rejection...
not to try is a coward’s poor resolution...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Mask
yes, there was this man in the village
he was happy.
yet, no one know who he really was
even until death.
all his life he wore the mask of the happy man
dignified and praised.
when he lived till 60 he wore the mask through and through
he was famous for his love and charity.
till his funeral the people cried
there i saw the mask, smiling and always willing to help
always empathizing, always willing to understand
the plight of each and everyone
and he was buried a happy man
time buries all including the mask of the happy man
if only they had taken time to dig him out from his grave
they could have seen the rotten ugliness beneath the mask of happiness
let him go, those who knew later said
he was a happy man, he served us so well, let him be, we pray.
i know the ugliness of his true self
but i guess, no one likes to hear what it is.
my lips are sealed
now we must praise him again: posthumously.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Right Mask
One night a poem came up to a poet
From now on, it said, you must wear a mask.
What kind of mask? asked the poet.
A rose mask, said the poem.
I've used it already, said the poet,
I've exhausted it.
Then wear the mask that's made out of
a nightingale's song, use that mask.
Oh, it's an old mask, said the poet,
it's all used up.
Nonsense, said the poem, it's the perfect mask,
still, try on the god mask,
now that mask illuminates heaven.
It's a tight mask, said the poet,
and the stars crawl about in it like ants.
Then try on the troubador's mask, or the singer's mask,
try on all the popular masks.
I have, said the poet, but they fit so easily.
The poem was getting impatient,
it stamped its feet like a child,
it screamed. Then try on your own face,
try the one mask that terrifies,
the mask only you could possibly use,
the mask only you could wear out.
The poet tore at his face til it bled,
this mask? he yelled, this mask?
Yes, said the poem, yes.
But the poet was tired of masks,
he had lived too long with them,
he snatched at the poem and stuck it in his face.
Its screams were muffled, it wept, it tried to be lyrical,
it wriggled into his eyes and mouth.
Next day his friends were afraid of him,
he looked so distorted.
Now it's the right mask, said the poem, the right mask.
It clung to him lovingly and never let go again.
poem by Brian Patten
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The Mask
You wear a mask upon your face
So people wont know of your sin and disgrace
Or of the things that you have said and done
And of the life you have ended and then again begun.
You cover up your lines and all of your tears
So no one can see the worries and your fears
Or of the anger and the hate that's on your face
So upon your face a mask you did paste.
But I wonder if anyone really does know
The color of your cheeks or the shape of your nose
Or the saddened bags underneath your eyes
From the guilt you felt from the tears of your lies.
And when you meet people I wonder do they stare
Maybe they think to themselves, who is really behind there
But then you don't care what people might say or ask
As you can conceal all, when you wear your mask.
And so that mask you will wear till your dying days
As it will become you in so many very different ways
But one day in death your mask it will then be removed
Then man and all will stand in sadness, as they see the real you.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Because the mask is your face, the face is a mask, so I'm thinking of the face as a mask because of the way I see faces is coming from an African vision of the mask which is the thing that we carry around with us, it is our presentation, it's our front, it's our face.
quote by Faith Ringgold
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She'll hide her face
She'll hide her face when shes not alone.
she slaps on her a mask, but its not her own.
It's the mask that everyone else wears.
She wants to be just like them
supposedly free with glee.
Free from her troubles, worries and strife.
Free from her demons that dominate her life.
But when the darkness falls.
And she's all her alone she can't hide her face.
Her mask falls and crumbles apart.
Her heart fills with the numbness she's had for many years.
Now her tears will fall she's all alone.
In her last bid for a better life,
She let the mask slip once.
She had to put it on again as they stared at her in disbelife.
The world didn't want to see her pain.
Rather belives she's an annoying pain.
So Her mask went back on.
Well she planned the day when she'd be gone.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Me
I wore a mask to hide my face.
I wore it to hide my disgrace.
Disgrace from truth of lies.
That makes me sighs.
But all I want is to be myself.
Why can't I be myself?
I'm crying.
What have I done.
What do I do?
Would any one help me?
poem by Shannon Welch
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Most Visible Mask
you have loved the most visible mask i have
my face
everyday, this face, tomorrow this face, yesterday
this face
you are proud of my nose, and you tell all your friends about
it
aquiline, conquest of a nose, occupying almost all parts
of your territory
not even the hands but this face
the mouth that eats you
the eyes that close when
i kiss you
the tongue that maps out
what has to be found when lost
this face, the most visible mask
inside
is the real face, the face of my mind
it is thinking something else
all these years
the invisible mask is silent
tomorrow shall be the scorn
you must bear it,
you are fond of the most visible
though not really enduring.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Shaken
Your shaken with grief
Your shaken by death
Your shaken with horror
Your shaken with the cold
But no matter how you feel, life must go on
The word will not stop and wait for you
After all you are human
You are afraid you will be laughed at
Remember that everyone is entitle to there opinion
And you to yours
Move on and don’t look back in the darker days when you were shaken by grief, death, horror, and cold
Death, horror, and grief you have no control of it
But you have control of your emotions, feelings, and fears
Put a little laughter in your life
Learn to laugh from the inside out
Behind the mask you hide your face so no one can see how you feel
You are afraid of your fears and don’t want other people to know how You feel
It’s okay to feel the way you feel
Remove the mask from your face and let your fears and feelings be shown
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Devil
the devil once told me
that I have her in me
she constructed
a life of shame and pain to others
though out this life
she made many die
inside
she wore a mask of torture
a mask that would make people bend to her will
even make them feel sorry for her
she had rotted inside
destroyed forever
black hearted as you could say
thou she felt no mercy or hardship for others
the me that wants to devote my life to helping others
and yet I have the devil inside of me
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Life Or Death?
Every day we live, we always face death
We get closer to it, every time we take a breath
Life is special but death brings peace
Life brings reality and things you believe
Death is hard for everyone around
Death is quiet, no more bad sounds
Life is also hard, all the things we go through
Life can never be easy, no matter what you do
Death is sad, for those who cry
Death is meaningful, for those who die
Life is a work of art, it's nice to look
Life is full of teachings, like an open book
Death is the new life, might as well be dead
Death is a lot more, for what's up ahead
Life brings new things, always something new
Life brings surprises, something out the blue
Death is scary, nothing we want to see
Death is negative, a place we don't want to be
Life is full of love, with the ones close to you
Life is full of money, for those who sue
Death is empty, nothing compared to this
Death is a lot of things, too long of a list
But life is everything; don't wait till there's nothing left
Death can wait, so don't waste your last breath
So just pick your choice, which one? Life or death?
poem by Triauna Hall
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Time Table
A carved oak table,
Tells a tale
Of times when kings and queens sipped wine from goblets gold,
And the brave would lead their ladies from out of the room
To arbours cool.
A time of valour, and legends born
A time when honour meant much more to a man than life
And the days knew only strife to tell right from wrong
Through lance and sword.
Why, why can we never be sure till we die
Or have killed for an answer,
Why, why do we suffer each race to believe
That no race has been grander
It seems because through time and space
Though names may change each face retains the mask it wore.
A dusty table
Musty smells
Tarnished silver lies discarded upon the floor
Only feeble light descends through a film of grey
That scars the panes.
Gone the carving,
And those who left their mark,
Gone the kings and queens now only the rats hold sway
And the weak must die according to natures law
As old as they.
Why, why can we never be sure till we die
Or have killed for an answer,
Why, why do we suffer each race to believe
That no race has been grander
It seems because through time and space
Though names may change each face retains the mask it wore.
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If You
If you lift your index finger
to someone, you must know,
the four others are towards you.
If you don't have the courage,
to face one, don't try to
humiliate him under the guise,
of a person whose mask disturbs you.
My face will then turn into,
another mask, may be worse,
than yours, then where will you
hide your ugly face and utterance?
poem by Nilakshi Das
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What's My Name? !
What is my name and who am I?
I do not ask myself
But you
Who
Ever you are
I ask who is this David Knox
Who remains under this mask
Just a boy who runs fast?
I pray I'm more, even more than talks
With others or with you, am I more than just who i was before?
Who is this kid any more?
Is he still one to abhor?
If he is, who is me?
How can this be?
For I know him not
Though I hear every thought
I don't know myself, or what's inside
I forgot what I pledged to hide
Maye all that remains is the mask
But then I must ask
What is my name?
If my mask holds my fame
Who is he>?
Who is this shadow of a man?
Who is this dark messenger who spreads light
Who is this dead messenger that brings life
Who is this mask that urges you to take off yours
Who is this boy who claims to find his identity in Christ?
Who is David Knox
What makes 'me'
Who is that?
What's my name?
And what's that means for who I am
Tell me you must know if I do not
Because SOMEONE must!
TELL ME! WHAT'S MY NAME? !
poem by David Knox
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Climb Pyramid Steps Touch The Sky
Take off the life mask
by putting on a mask
for a festival carnival
of community celebration
put on the masquerade mask
to put on an original face
free an original mind
thought is a pattern mask
culture web fabricated
taught in word rhetoric
free soul sought mind
escape word limitations
ancient ritual pathways
climb pyramid steps
to touch unmasked sky.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Deviance
I embrace the darkness within
Forever serve beneath its hand
Horrid thoughts that surface to me
Ceremony bloods command
I will live through this forever
I have done the things you grieve
As you kneel before its evil
Death is here deep inside your
Skinned alive now naked
Terrorized no humanity
Seek salvation from an mia god
Empty vessels chanting for your death
Walk the streets beneath the shadows
Searching for a cryptic bride
Eat alive the conscience I hate
Without pain I watch you die
I will live through this forever
I have done the things you grieve
As you kneel before its evil
My face is the last you'll see
Soaked in blood the mask you wear
Haunting cries the dead scream for me
Staring eyes invoke no guilt
I can taste your mind your lifeless
Face the dead and dying
Feel your life drain
Through your soul
Seek salvation from an mia god
Empty vessels chanting for the dead
Death is yours
Your veins have dried
Staring eyes of glass now empty
Still you speak with lips so cold
In my head I hear you cry
God is dead can't save me
Taking lives with impunity
Resurrection of a deviant Christ
Feeding hate to capacity - deviance
song performed by by Slayer from God Hates Us All
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Phoenix
In the movie the gray, men face death, some consciously believe in an after life, others do not, through the pain and trials some spontaneously come to their own understanding or experience of death. A pack of wolves is pursuing them, almost for certain they are not going to make it, but still they go on trying as our human instincts compel us. This leads to some of the more basic ideas of the movie, Alfa, dominance, strength and courage, how we face death is intertwined with how we face life. On a more primal level, we create our own phoenix, our own rebirth by how we face death. Unconsciously we all have our own allegiance, understanding of life, death and the after life.
poem by Michael Kavuoti
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The Eyes Of Death
I have stared into the eyes of death with my own
It is hard to see death eye to eye, face to face
Many times death leaves a cold darkness
Other times death leaves a bright light
There are many who may welcome death
They are ready to meet their maker face to face
Others attempt death by their own hand
For whatever reason I can see the torment in their eyes
I have stared into the eyes od death only to see darkness
It has been my own death that I have seen
Many times by my own hand
Others by the hand of others I have seen my death in their eyes
Whatever death is my fate let me face it
Eye to eye as I have seen others no regrets
Even though I would be dead
Let others see that I have made peace with my maker and others
poem by Robin Conley
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