Antiphony
She poses in a provocative way
As she stands on the stage, softly singing.
She, her parochial lyrics, are a
Hollow collage of glittery nothing.
She appears like a detached cherubim
In digitally-enhanced pictures, an
Angel of death in designer denim
Seducing us simply because she can.
Our vacuum-sealed culture serves her as if
She were a porcelain delicacy,
As if she were the filtered anaglyph
Of internet/tabloid intimacy.
Her eyes project a glossy, lifeless stare.
She's no longer a human, but does she care?
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Related quotes
Bad Denim
You've got a rack so stacked.
When you move,
You're like a 'caddy'.
And smooth like a 'rolls'...
Wherever you go.
Some folks wear jeans,
That scream when they're in them.
My eyes look away...
But on you,
They stay!
Bad denim.
Some other people make them look like,
Bad denim.
They shouldn't even try to fit them,
Bad denim.
When you wear 'your' blue jeans,
You lift my low self esteem.
Some other people need to quit,
Trying to squeeze them till they rip.
Bad denim.
Some other people make them look like,
Bad denim.
They shouldn't even try to fit in,
Bad denim.
When I see you from the back,
There's no sad sagging that's a fact.
You're like a smooth moving 'caddy'.
With a packed stacked rack.
Some folks wear jeans,
That scream when they're in them.
My eyes look away...
But on you,
They stay!
Bad denim.
Some other people make them look like,
Bad denim.
They shouldn't even try to fit them,
Bad denim.
My eyes look away...
But on you,
They stay!
Bad denim.
Some other people make them look like,
Bad denim.
They shouldn't even try to fit them,
Bad denim.
My eyes look away...
But on you,
They stay!
Bad denim.
Some other people make them look like,
Bad denim.
They shouldn't even try to fit them,
Bad denim.
You've got a rack so stacked.
When you move,
You're like a 'caddy'.
And smooth like a 'rolls'...
Wherever you go.
Bad denim.
Everybody can't fit in 'em.
Bad denim.
Everybody can't fit in 'em.
Bad denim.
Everybody can't fit in 'em.
Bad denim.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Angel Eyes
Those eyes of an angel
Made strangers feel easy
In the dark irises
Goodness lived completly
Those eyes of an angel
Made heaven's wonders collide
Radiated the sun
Oh, those angel eyes!
Those eyes of an angel
Complimented her dark hair
The coils and strands
Drew in many a stare
Those eyes of an angel
Were so often understood
And I stared at them so long
Before they closed for good
Those eyes of an angel
Pierced my soul to its core
And though I'd stare for hours
I'd want to see them more
And still I dream of their dark streams
That never relvealed their end
I mourn and pray that one day
My eyes find hers again
Though mine aren't as beautiful
I inherited them, I see
Oh, but I miss those angel eyes
That use to stare at me
poem by Whitney Albright
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Sing Softly the Songs of Your Angel
Sing softly the songs of Your angel
Let Your angel let you sleep
For Your angel, in her wisdom
has begun her angel’s song.
Sing softly song’s of Your angel.
It holds the angel’s power
It lets the angel let You laugh
It lets the angel make You cry
Sing softly songs of Your angel
In your angel You must trust.
Your angel only cares for You.
Your angel won’t let anyone hurt You.
WHEN YOU ARE LONELY
JUST CLOSE YOUR EYES.
SING SOFTLY SONGS OF YOUR ANGEL
YOUR ANGEL IS WITH YOU
Sing softly the songs of Your angel
Let Your angel let You sleep
For Your angel, in her wisdom
has begun her angel’s song.
poem by Timothy Venard
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(Rejection Poem) Angel Of Death
The blood is rushing through my veins.
Breaking free of the shackles and chains.
Being pulled away.
I want to stay but I must go.
Oh hell, no.
It wont happen.
I killed all the passion.
Its over.
Done, sorry but this game can never be won.
The angel of death has come.
Reaping those lost souls.
I got to just walk away.
Its no longer my mistake.
I must take control.
Pulling the reins trying to drive me insane.
Patience, is no longer in my best interest.
Just leave me alone.
Let me be calm.
Probably should get stoned.
A unending high in this life.
A dream being destroyed.
But I must let go.
For the angel of death has come.
Reaping those lost souls.
I must take control.
A choice has been made.
As the day fades.
Win or lose it no longer matter anyways.
I'm not playing.
I'm not staying.
So let the angel of death come.
Reaping those lost souls.
I must take control.
I was the fool.
I was the fool.
A life so cruel.
I'll watch from afar.
Like a distant star.
You can no longer reach me.
You can no longer b*tch to me.
The line has been written in the sand.
Everyone one on that side is damned.
So let the angel of death come.
Reaping the lost souls
oh reaping the lost souls.
I must take control.
By saying no,
i will not follow a heart so hollow.
I'm not blinded by the sickness.
No oh no.
So let the angel of death come.
Just let her come.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Eyes of Death
I looked into your eyes
Your Eyes of Death
I killed for those eyes to look into mine
Into my eyes of pain and guilt
I dared to walk into your path
I dared to take your hand into mine
And I dared to tell you my darkest secret
I stared into your Eyes of Death
And I lost my soul to them
When I looked into your Eyes of Death.
To this day, I am still dead
To this day, I can no longer live in the mortal world
To this day, we shall not die of fire, water, or love,
But of our Eyes of Death that rein our souls
I stare into your Eyes of Death and I cringe at the sight
I look into your Eyes of Death and I am no longer alive
I looked into your Eyes of Death
And I died again, before I could run from them
For I cannot stand to be around you to this very day again
I looked into your eyes
Your Eyes…of Death
poem by Jade DragonHeart
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His home as an paradise
His home as an paradise
He came back.
He was tired up physically and mentally
after a long struggle with metropolitan culture.
A culture based on profit & loss.
It is unkind also.
Relations between human beings are based on only need
not on human grounds.
It was eight p.m.
and now he want only rest and intimacy.
He desires some one who can
heal up his wounds given by this urban culture.
It may be his home.
So he want to reach his home as soon as possible.
Therefore he asked me not to stop him.
poem by Vijay Gupta
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Writing Its Diktat
Beyond the thoughts,
nothing I mourned,
nameless death was writing its diktat.
The dirty epithets were accepted for collage.
Simply a prayer was needed
for a childless truth.
Rudimentary terms owned
a beautiful diction.
The ultimate pain makes you dumb.
Words lose the vision, you walk in a hollow city.
Now is the time to remember the movement of truth
in a jungle of drums.
Eyes must find out the old path.
Huge crowds collect at the door.
Human connections are at strain.
The questions are never answered flawlessly.
Life should not burn like coal,
but be a tree,
in praise of sky,
wind and earth.
poem by Satish Verma
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That Page Of Life
there is this page of life
of my last resort
when everything seems to be
disturbing
glossy and pleasurable
all pictures that makes life
sort of entertaining
and though
not wholesome but for a while
shall make us forget
what pain is there in our bones
we go back there
lift the cover and search again
the glossy pages
the pictures are not appealing anymore
we have graduated to the
next level of unsatisfaction
we move on to another page
not really appeasing but something new
we smell it
and taste it
it is bitter and yet we prefer it now
our age has advanced us
to the level of the cure
to the stage where we recognize and accept
the sickness
of our humanity
we gloss over and over again
we shine
like the spirits of the east
like the ghosts of the christmas future
now we think
if we finally found it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Dead. (From The German Of Stockmann)
How they so softly rest,
All they the holy ones,
Unto whose dwelling-place
Now doth my soul draw near!
How they so softly rest,
All in their silent graves,
Deep to corruption
Slowly don-sinking!
And they no longer weep,
Here, where complaint is still!
And they no longer feel,
Here, where all gladness flies!
And, by the cypresses
Softly o'ershadowed
Until the Angel
Calls them, they slumber!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Hollow Bullet
The hollow bullet pierces the skin
Something dies within.
The angel of mercy will not visit here today.
Thoughts of prayer go out without a doubt.
But they go unheard as the children are gathered together and butchered.
Execution style.
The rape of the women occurs as their husbands watch.
Oh so powerless.
Finally the men are beheaded.
Horrible acts that no one wants to admit happen or have ever bare witness too.
A gas chamber in the mind.
It is so suffocating.
One can no longer breath.
Once seen a man can no longer be the same.
So much shame bottled up inside.
How can one swallow so much of the pride?
The existence of ones soul subsides.
What was once their is no more.
Can you see this man's blank stare?
When you look straight into the devils eyes he can devour you.
He can eat you alive.
To understand you must meet one who survived.
Not many now.
Most dead and gone.
And sometimes I believe that is for the best.
Finally they have found rest.
Death relieves their unrest.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Pictures
Whoa oh yeah
I've seen pictures
Well i saw you just the other day
And i could not help but look your way
I say you've just got this special look
That has got me completely hooked
Ow
Pictures on the wall
Pictures everywhere
Pictures on the wall
Everywhere i stare
Pictures on the wall
The ceiling and the floor
I'm in a metal room
And i cannot find the door
Will this feeling ever go away?
Or will this feeling stay?
Will this feeling ever go away?
'cause i can't live the rest of my life this way
Pictures on the wall
[c'mon]
Pictures everywhere
Pictures on the wall
[c'mon c'mon]
Everywhere i stare
Pictures on the wall
[c'mon c'mon]
The ceiling and the floor
I'm in a metal room and i cannot find the door
I see your face in the clouds in the sky
I see your face before my eyes, yeah
I see your face everywhere
And now i don't know what to do
Oh oh
Pictures on the wall
Pictures everywhere
Pictures on the wall
Everywhere i stare
Pictures on the wall
The ceiling and the floor
I'm in a metal room
And i cannot find the door
Whoa pictures...
song performed by by Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brunt Of The Storm
the old woman
sits on the floor,
talking to the vacuum cleaner,
and laughing with the broom.
and the pictures of children,
like leaves turning seasons,
stare silently from a distance,
both chosen and not!
the dog bows her eyes,
with worry and love.
and the drone of the tv,
bores holes in the wall.
long grey hair glistening,
as sun sifts dirty blinds.
and the smell of passion,
has turned to old feet.
and no one gives a cold damn,
or understands why...
she has no need of people,
no need for chatter.
she feeds the dog and stops,
staring at the urn on the mantle...
and curses softly,
then breaks down and cries.
only the dog, and the spider in the corner,
hear the whimper,
and feel the brunt of the storm!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Pictures In My Mind
Sweet nighttime pictures in my mind
have made it hard to sleep.
Can't I change them into dreams,
the kind I want to keep?
They've got me wide-awake in bed
wondering why they're here?
I should be sleeping soundlessly
but they just won't disappear.
Pictures of dancing and sweet romancing,
things that are no longer around,
I need to stop these pictures
and keep my feet on the ground.
Pictures of moonbeams shining
with a glow that warms my heart,
I close my eyes and I see you
and now my eyes start to smart.
The pictures become too blurry
for tears have formed in my eyes.
I wipe them and look for the pictures.
They're gone and I realize
that they were pictures of younger days
when all we ever knew
was passion and sweet embraces.
These were pictures of me and you.
And so as I lie here next to you
and wait for sleep to come,
I content myself with these scenes I've had
for I remember where they're from.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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And no more dreams
Dream always
If fail the ways
If you find no rays
If you are not able to pass the days
It ultimately pays
Let us not limit
Let us not forget and omit
Let it mushroom and permit
To grow in open and under the sky
Never question and ask why?
It is always there but don’t feel shy
Trust him always and sincerely try
Think of powerful wings and fly
Where will you stop?
Mountains atop
At horizon’s end
What will you send?
Beautiful roses
Good pictures
With nice poses
Breath for a while
Prepare for an extra mile
Look in the eyes
Go and get him
He is there to greet
Ready to meet
That’s it
Why to dream when it is there?
Think how to find and where?
Would you ever care?
Is it not fair?
Not to stare
See through
Love true
Only woo
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Angel all in the eyes
When i look at you your always in lala land
Making plans to make others happy
When i stare in your eyes its like staring into an angel's
Your an angel all in your eyes
they sparkle when they look in mine
Cuz your an angel
and its all in the eyes
Sing me a song and make your eyes light up like they always do
when your with me i never have nightmares
your an angel all in your eyes
poem by Izzy Barnwell
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Anothner Stranger
to come home
and be not at home with the house
you are detached from the intimacy of a garden
the dog recognizes you still
but you have no intention to play with it
you are looking
for the right time
and it could be
not later
it is a kind of kiss
no longer of your liking
even the sound of your own feet
on the floor
has become
another stranger
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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When the Light Appears
You'll bare your bones you'll grow you'll pray you'll only know
When the light appears, boy, when the light appears
You'll sing & you'll love you'll praise blue heavens above
When the light appears, boy, when the light appears
You'll whimper & you'll cry you'll get yourself sick and sigh
You'll sleep & you'll dream you'll only know what you mean
When the light appears, boy, when the light appears
You'll come & you'll go, you'll wander to and fro
You'll go home in despair you'll wonder why'd you care
You'll stammer & you'll lie you'll ask everybody why
You'll cough and you'll pout you'll kick your toe with gout
You'll jump you'll shout you'll knock you're friends about
You'll bawl and you'll deny & announce your eyes are dry
You'll roll and you'll rock you'll show your big hard cock
You'll love and you'll grieve & one day you'll come believe
As you whistle & you smile the lord made you worthwhile
You'll preach and you'll glide on the pulpit in your pride
Sneak & slide across the stage like a river in high tide
You'll come fast or come on slow just the same you'll never know
When the light appears, boy, when the light appears
poem by Allen Ginsberg
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The Game of Stare
There’s a boy with his fellow
I caught his eyes with a wander
Now the game has been played
Now you have been challenged
You better asked my name
Before anyone came
But you only stare, stare, stare
Like I annoy your safety ring
Like you can’t even think
You only stare, stare, stare
Like I lose you something
Something you can’t even win
There’s boy in the dance floor
I catch his eyes, he comes closer
Now the game is replayed
Now you better watch out
You better take me out
Before someone calls you coward
Cause you only stare, stare, stare
Like you never see me in dress
Like no one else who dares
You only stare, stare, stare
Like I steal you something
Something you can’t even think
There’s a boy in the park
He makes me catch his eyes
Now the game is forward
Now you don’t want to break up
You better have a word
Before you loose your hold
And you only stare, stare, stare
Like a puppy wants a bone
Like you’ll be lost if I’m gone
You only stare, stare, stare
Like I can give you something
Something you think you can’t win
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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You can find pictures anywhere. It's simply a matter of noticing things and organizing them. You just have to care about what's around you and have a concern with humanity and the human comedy.
quote by Elliott Erwitt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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