Dead Will Be The King
Why believe the heart torn, which is the only thief - Why not put me to death, a feast with the dead - Finally for my dark soul, the pressure of pleasure to a release - When you are unhappy, a cross of grief - I am happy, when my nose bleeds, nails taste like my tongue, i vomit, just to breathe - The fly fed by my meat of flesh, she reaps, i cry, in defeat - I will obey the wind, the flow off her rotten wings - I will swell, if she stings - I shall be her joker, her jack, her queen - If she wears the crown and i bow to a box, dead will be the king.
poem by Unic Cjonr
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Related quotes
Psalm 16 part 3
Courage in death, and hope of the resurrection.
When God is nigh, my faith is strong;
His arm is my almighty prop:
Be glad, my heart; rejoice, my tongue;
My dying flesh shall rest in hope.
Though in the dust I lay my head,
Yet, gracious God, thou wilt not leave
My soul for ever with the dead,
Nor lose thy children in the grave.
My flesh shall thy first call obey,
Shake off the dust, and rise on high;
Then shalt thou lead the wondrous way
Up to thy throne above the sky.
There streams of endless pleasure flow;
And full discoveries of thy grace
(Which we but tasted here below)
Spread heav'nly joys through all the place.
poem by Isaac Watts
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A Prayer For The King's Majesty
22nd January, 1901.
THE Queen is dead. God save the King,
In this his hour of grief,
When sorrow gathers memories in a sheaf
To lay them on his shoulders as he stands
Inheriting her glories and her lands--
First gain of his at which his Mother's voice
Has not been first to bless and to rejoice--
A man, set lonely between gain and loss.
(O words of love the heart remembereth,
O mighty loss outweighing every gain!)
A Son whose kingdom Death's arm lies across,
A King whose Mother lies alone with Death
Wrapped in the folds of white implacable sleep.
O God, who seest the tears Thy children weep,
O God, who countest each sad heart-beat, see
How our King needs the grace we ask of Thee!
Thou knowest how little and how vain a thing
Is Empire, when the heart is sick with pain--
God, save the King!
The Queen is dead. The splendour of her days,
The sorrow of them both alike merge now
In the new aureole that lights her brow.
The clamour of her people's voice in praise
Must hush itself to the still voice that prays
In the holy chamber of Death. Tread softly here,
A mighty Queen lies dead.
Her people's heart wears black,
The black bells toll unceasing in their ear,
And on the gold sun's track
The great world round
Like a black ring the voice of mourning goes,
Till even our ancient foes
With eyes downbent, and brotherly bared head,
Keep mourning watch with us. This is the hour
When Love lends all his power
To speed grief's arrows from the bow of Death,
When sighs are idle breath,
When tears are fountains vain.
She will not wake again,
Not now, not here.
O great and good and infinitely dear,
O Mother of your people, sleep is sweet,
No more Life's thorny ways will wound your feet.
O Mother dear, sleep sound!
When you shall wake,
Your brows freed from the crown that made them ache
So many a time, and wear the heavenly crown,
Then, then you will look down
On us who love you, and, remembering,
The love of earth will breathe with us our prayer,
Our prayer prayed here, joined to your prayer prayed there:
Who knows what radiant answer it may bring?
'God save the King!'
The Queen is dead. God save the King!
From all ill thought and deed,
From heartless service and from selfish sway,
From treason, and the vain imagining
Of evil counsellors, and the noisome breed
Of flatterers who eat the soul away,
God save the King!
From loss and pain and tears
Such as her many years
Brought her; from battle and strife,
And the inmost hurt of life,
The wounds that no crown can heal,
No ermine robes conceal,
God save the King!
God, by our memories of his Mother's face,
By the love that makes our heart her dwelling-place,
Grant to our sorrow this desired grace:
God save the King!
* * * * * * * * *
The Queen is dead. God save the King.
This is no hour when joy has leave to sing;
Only, amid our tears, we are bold to pray,
More boldly, in that we pray sorrowing,
In this most sorrowful day.
God, who wast of a mortal Mother born,
Who driest the tears with which Thy children mourn,
God, save the King!
Look down on him whose crown is wet with tears
In which its splendour fades and disappears--
His tears, our tears, tears out of all her lands.
The Queen is dead.
God! strengthen the King's hands!
God, save the King!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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This Is What You Wanted
Death is hard to understand,
Cause you have to be,
Dead to understand it.
Just like my uncle,
I am dead.
I'm with him now.
I can finally breath,
I can finally run,
I am finally free.
You should be,
Happy too,
Cause you don't have me.
Just like you wished for,
I'm dead,
And gone forever.
You don't even cry,
Or come to my,
Funeral.
You don't look happy,
You look bad,
You look sad.
You've got another girl,
All the money in the wordl,
And too many cars.
You said you loved me,
But you always hurt me,
And never said sorry.
I'm happy,
You aren't,
But you should be happy,
ANd I should be sad.
Cause this is what,
You always wanted...
poem by Dragon Crenshaw
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Murder
Upon the threshold, red-eyed Murder stands,
Fresh from his slaughter-house of human meat,
Blood on his broken teeth and on his hands,
Blood on his nails and on his purple feet.
With hollow voice he speaks, and sick'ning breath,
'A way there is, that only way is death!….
The dead will rise no more,-the dead are dead!
The spared will creep behind the sparer's back,
And breathe their plots and stab. The dead are dead!
And lie along the safe triumphal track.
The young-eyed babe, will lisp it's little tales.
The loving girl will slay her main in bed
Kissing his savage mouth, the victor fails
At Mercy's seat. The dead are safely dead'.
poem by Leon Gellert
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Crown Of Thorns
You were yesterdays hero
An ordinary man of flesh and blood
Took the world on your shoulders
A hopeless crusade, and act of love
But its a world obsessed with religion
And now you wear the face of a god
Like the words you said, youre as good as dead
Just a work of art on the wall
And thats why nobody wears a crown of thorns
Nobody cares
Nobody wears a crown of thorns anymore
Holy men talk of hunger
While standing beneath a cross of gold
And there are preachers on the tv
In their thousand dollar suits, who sell your soul
To think you died for what you believed in
Only to be exploited and used
Now youre supermen from the promised land
Just a vision of hollywood
...anymore
You showed me that theres hope for humanity
But once more youre being betrayed
So many countries torn by their idols
Too many prophets screaming for blood
And they only hear what they want to hear
When it comes to God up above
song performed by by Johnny Hates Jazz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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King Happy, Frog of Doom
Meet King Happy, Frog of Doom.
Withought Queen, Under moon.
Though he was a friendly frog,
Tragedy struck him often.
People would claim to be his friend
To take what could be gotten.
The stress had caused his eyes to cross.
Despite his life of constant loss,
He always had his crown.
This King of course he had no land,
No people to call his own.
To be honest he proclaimed himself a King
Wishing not to be alone.
So he always had his crown. (So what if he had his crown?)
Forgetting to take it off one day,
He sank and slowly drowned.
poem by King Happy
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Playing with cards
The Joker was wild,
uninhibited and out of control.
He hit the deck, out did the Queen of Hearts
and all her tribe
confusing her husband the King
and kicked the Ace into touch.
The King of Spades saw him coming,
rounded up the troops, the Jack and
all the men from 2 to 10,
leaving the Ace until last
in case of something.
The Joker just smiled,
hitched up with the Queen of Clubs,
went along for the ride
to find the Diamonds and then,
threw all the cards on the table,
leading the whole pack awry
until the last man was trumped.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Dead Men
Inside the blizzard of hate, i found the blister, sometimes she does the do for a listen - The sound of revenge, a multitude of twisters, three of some with the wicket sisters - My head bleeds, the blood pours from my wrists - My brain pleads, my mind refuse, death is my only risk - The knife shivers, my feelings are lost, total the recall, there Arno Cost - My heart frost with silver, my soul accepts black as dew display soft - I enter the darkness, the tunnel of lies, i only see flies - I am engulfed by screams, it is finally my turn to cry, i will try - Tears that flow, the river presents the time, too late - My world axed by the inverted nine, when you are dead, you pay your debt, to Fate - Dead men tell no tales - Dead men pay no rent - Dead men have no friends
poem by Unic Cjonr
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The Joker and the Queen of Hearts
The Queen of Hearts is dead and gone
By her hand she was slain
The Prince stands like a statue
Quietly crying in the rain
Work calls to the ruler
Like the lyres to the bards
As the King takes on the task
Of informing the other cards
Two looks on in horror
Of the bloodshed that was wrought
Three sreams out to heaven
'Everything's for naught'
Four sits in a corner
And sadly hangs his head
Five now wishes with all his heart
That he was also dead
Six can barely hang on
He will really miss the Queen
Seven sees her spirit
As he can see more than is seen
Eight runs to the forest
And cries beneath a tree
Nine stares out forlornly
But he knows the Queen is free
Ten retreats to darkness
And will not show his face
That leaves one last card...
The little lonely Ace
Ace will know the story
He will search and seek and find
Nothing will deter him
Or ever change his mind
The story that he found out
It can be told like this
It involves a handsome lover
And our stunning Queen of bliss
There was a man of high degree
Funny, smart, and quite a looker
And though it was degrading
His mother named him Joker
The Queen, though she was married,
Fell into his arms
The Joker was a mischievous man
And only planned her harms
The Queen had truly loved him
And she would not let go
The Joker tore her heart to bits
And all the rest you know
She ended her life in her depression
To end her throbbing pain
And as I have said before
Prince Jack stands in the rain
The cards all stand in silence
As she descends into the ground
And her lover and her killer
Is locked up, chained and bound
But these are not your average chains
He's bound by things above
Cause now he knows with all his heart
He's killed his one true love
The Joker did not think
He could love someone
He broke the hearts of many
And thought it all good fun
But this time it was differnt
Maybe he changed with age
Because now that his Queen is gone
He's locked up in this cage
He wishes he could turn back time
Repeat and start again
But Nature will not have it
It's not part of the plan
And so the Joker takes his life
To join his missing Heart
And now that they're together
They shall never part
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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The weak flesh
Dress of silky black dreams
and marble sphere's layers
Seek nocturnal desire.
Breathe, through her moaning legs.
Like the open wings of a swan,
swing at the blue sun.
Contemplate, the rise over the devil course,
upon the weak flesh.
So good that death, may be sweet in our tongue.
That no Gods temptations, and afterlife,
dead will never rise.
Blandness flash swallows.
Redeemed pleasure of cast lights.
poem by Luca Menin
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Distances....
this distance shall seal
the fate of those bridges
the empty space
are cut arms
the chasms between our
thoughts
are sliced feet
there are no more nails
to scratch what pleasures
are there
in this all broken
arrangement
the words fall from the trees
like poisoned leaves
as i walk away like a thief
you shall have the last
laugh
when you are dead and there
shall be peace
i shall come back
not to bury you with all
the requisites of
religious dignity
i am coming with my vultures
and they shall have a feast
on your rotten
belly.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Is Dead
Is dead.
That’s the part
you heard,
those words
through the gap
between door
and frame.
Who’s dead?
or what?
the dog?
Uncle, Auntie,
Grandfather?
The old biddy next door
whose nose
spied through curtains?
Curiosity
like some virus
bit into you,
and your ears
lingered by the gap,
your eyes peered
at the adults talking,
lip reading unsuccessfully.
You torn
between the call
of nature (to piss)
and the needing
to know unfolding
of who had died.
Shame,
he was much loved,
the voices continued,
the ears flapping
for further news,
standing on tiptoe,
the bladder filling
to busting.
The King is dead,
long live the Queen,
Grandmother said,
circa 1952,
and you giving in
to nature’s call,
walked off satisfied
along the dark hall.
poem by Terry Collett
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Soul On Fire
There's a flame that leads our souls astray
No one's safe from its tender touch of pain
And every day it's looking for new slaves
To celebrate the beauty of the grave
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverance
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
And again we're falling for disgrace
And hate will shelter us from the rain
We are enslaved by the sacred heart of shame
And gently raped by the light of day
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverence
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
Addicted to our divine despair
The venom of the cross we bear
The guilt will follow us to death
We are like the living dead
Sacrificing all we have
For a frozen heart and a soul on fire
We are like the living dead
Craving for deliverence
With a frozen heart and a soul on fire
With a soul on
Soul on
Soul on
Fire
Soul on fire
song performed by by H.I.M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I hear the Lark.
I hear the lark, said Alice,
it sings in my ear like an
angel's voice, brings me
pleasure in my darkest
hour, plays in my mind
like an echoing dream.
I see the morning sun,
its beams dance at my
feet, swirl around like a
child at play, my eyes
rejoice at the sight I see,
dread the thought of
blindness in some new
day's gift, push away the
ideas as if they were flies,
push all away like one fulfilled.
I smell the lily's scent, its
aroma brings me out in a
rash of joy, its smell invades
my nose like a vanquishing
army, opens me up to the
pleasures of smell, makes
me want to sniff forever,
drink in until my head swims,
my sleep recalls the aroma's kiss.
I feel my lover's fingers along
my flesh, sense his skin smooth
along mine like a skater on ice,
like one sliding across a polished
floor, the fingers caressing like
a butterfly's touch, tickling to
laughter, fondling until my voice
says, ah, don't stop, fill me up,
squeeze all on until the final drop.
I breathe the wind's breath,
inhale the morning's freshness,
the air of angel's exhalation,
my lungs take in like a greedy
girl, sup in each particle as I
dance along, remembering now
the air of summer, the filling
of my lungs like a fish the water,
opening my lips in a happy song,
my voice singing across an open sea.
I taste my lover's tongue touch
mine, feel the tongue and mine
in dance, lick and lick until the
pleasures erupt, the places engorge
and swell, I taste the saltiness
of my lover's sex, the sweetness
of the heavenly hive, the tongue
swimming along my lover's thigh
and arm and on and on, my taste
buds explode into a rainbow of
colours, my tongue feeling like
a snail's flesh, moving and sensing
until my mind says, No more, no
more and I hear the waves of dark
depression surge in on my shore.
poem by Terry Collett
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Pray For Me Brother
Neither a pie in my hands
Nor a dropp in my eyes
Left with nothing I am
Lost everything in life now
Left to go only is my soul
I am dead now virtually
Still my soul does not refrain me why?
The day I lost my domicile,
It was supposed to depart me dead.
Then it did not and thus carried today
A day none even will dream of.
The day I lost my buddy
It was supposed to leave me dead
Then too it did not so do
I am alive but for who?
Thus in life dawdling came today
A day all do not wish of.
The day I lost my riches and dosh
It was supposed to leave me dead.
Money I thought was all
But still survived without fall
Only to surpass a day as today
Which none even ponder of.
And today I lost my hope
A hope to live being alone
A hope to be happy being torn
I was slapped, I was evicted
Only since I fought for justice.
This world has today to me shown
Alive are those who are brutal,
Happy are those who are rotten,
Satisfied are those who are affluent.
Still this soul at all doesnot leave me
And all these intentions I cant see
This world is not for the kind
This world is all now blind.
Thus depart from my soul I will
And one last request mine to fulfill
For my respect at least after death
Pray please for me brother!
Pray please for me brother! !
poem by BhanuPrakash Singh
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Dead Meat
The hangmans noose wont get me
Gas chambers never stress me
The can line me up against the wall
No firing squad will make me
Confess or even break me
Ill stand alone or not at all
I will not obey
I will not betray
I will not give in
Not while Im living
No surrender
We never will surrender
We are all dead meat
Cut us, watch us bleed
No shackles made will chain me
No endless pain will change me
The scars will testify this all
No solitary confinement
Will break my strong resignment
Ill die before I will conform
I will not obey
I will not betray
I will not give in
Not while Im living
No surrender
Therell never be surrender
We are all dead meat
Cut us, watch us bleed
Read in my obituary
Defiance breeds victory
No cage they make can hold me
No law enforced controls me
No trap thats sprung stops me for long
No prison cell contains me
No snare they set will claim me
Relentlessly Ill fight them all
I will not obey
I will not betray
I will not give in
Not while Im living
No surrender
We never will
Be driven asunder
No surrender
We never will
Raise the white flag
We are all dead meat
Cut us, watch us bleed
We are all dead meat
Cut us, watch us bleed
Indoctrination
Will never
Suppress me
Theyre seriously mistaken
Cause Ill take them
Down with me
And just before theyre finished
Theyll scream along with me
We are all dead meat
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Gallows
There was a weasel lived in the sun
With all his family,
Till a keeper shot him with his gun
And hung him up on a tree,
Where he swings in the wind and rain,
In the sun and in the snow,
Without pleasure, without pain,
On the dead oak tree bough.
There was a crow who was no sleeper,
But a thief and a murderer
Till a very late hour; and this keeper
Made him one of the things that were,
To hang and flap in rain and wind,
In the sun and in the snow.
There are no more sins to be sinned
On the dead oak tree bough.
There was a magpie, too,
Had a long tongue and a long tail;
He could talk and do -
But what did that avail?
He, too, flaps in the wind and rain
Alongside weasel and crow,
Without pleasue, without pain,
On the dead oak tree bough.
And many other beasts
And birds, skin, bone, and feather,
Have been taken from their feasts
And hung up there together,
To swing and have endless leisure
In the sun and in the snow,
Without pain, without pleasure,
On the dead oak tree bough.
poem by Edward Thomas
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Full Tilt
running down the road
laying it on the line;
cause mercy's just a prayer,
and justice is blind
give what you got
more than hope can allow
nothing more important
than right here and now
he's a joker, he's a clown,
he's a fighter, he's a man.
sell his soul to protect you,
got his heart in his hands
wide open, and looking for
a bullet to the head...
when you stand, dont back down
somebody gonna want you dead.
love bleeds, love burns,
it turns you inside out.
takes your pride, shakes your soul,
steals your dreams with doubt.
keep on going, keep believing,
shake the dust from your shoes.
keep on giving, keep doing,
till there's nothing left to lose.
he's a joker, he's a clown,
he's a fighter, he's a man.
sell his soul to protect you,
got his heart in his hands.
wide open and looking for
a bullet to the head...
when you stand, dont back down,
somebody gonna want you dead!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Dreaming R6AL
You see black, my teeth are splintered just to taste dark - I am veal to the ill of my meat, flesh burned by my hand on this land - I key the gate, the forgotten vortex - What wants out is the screams of your shouts - Plea i dont, my war is with death - When my heart is burned, i will rest the witch quest - Ponder the stars, the end is not that far - Dreams are real, your day is faked by your selfish will to take - The whisper from the trees, you spade the leaves instead you should rake the pale in dead
poem by Unic Cjonr
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Three Nails And A Man
Glued on a lonely wood
Three nails and a man
Stood in a dimly lighted place
His bruised heart aching
He wears my crown again
the cross that you gave me
i will accept with all humility
soon, all my trials be over
for you will be with me
in my life's journey.
Thank you for the Cross, Lord
thank you for the price you paid for me.
Thank you Lord, for dying on the cross for me...forgive me...
poem by Meggie Gultiano
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