En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Present Creature

My pain trapped from the past, sets a man made future - I bare no fur, i am a present creature - I see, i hear, i smell, the difference is the dead that tells - The whispers from the dark, with axe in hand, to a tree, i remove all the bark - Blood soaked sheets from a mare, the sun shines it is day - Skeletons in my closet, bones in my bed - Shadows crawl on my walls, i have a rose, but thorns in my head screaming with the dead.

poem by Unic Cjonr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Skeletons In The Closet

Woah-oh, woah-oh
Skeletons in my closet
Woah-oh, woah-oh yeah
Skeletons in my closet
Skeletons in my closet
Skeletons in my shoes
Skeletons I can only see
I said woah-oh, woah-oh
I got skeletons in my closet
I said woah-oh, woah-oh yeah
Skeletons in my closet
Skeletons I can lose
Skeletons in my basement
Loitering on my streets
Wearing my best pajamas
Sandwiched between my sheets
I said woah-oh, woah-oh yeah
Skeletons in my closet
I said woah-oh, woah-oh yeah
Skeletons in my closet
Ooh, I see bones
I see bones, icy bones
Ooh, I see bones
Say say bones - say boys don't you see them bones?
Rattle them bones at midnight
Shaking my bed, no sleep
I find fingers in my coat pocket
Skeletons from the deep
I said woah-oh, woah-oh
I got skeletons in my closet
I said woah-oh, woah woah-oh
I got skeletons in my closet
Ooh, I see bones
I see bones, s-see bones
Ooh, I see bones
I see bones
Say boys don't you see them bones?
No?
Heart bones, leg bones, ankle bones, arm bones,
finger bones, dogie bones, head bones
Skeletons in my closet
They even know when I'm in my closet
It's my.. my closet
Not your closet
My closet
You can have it though
Alice we want you
Alice
Alice
A-Alice
What?
Whaddya want

song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Smothering of Poets

A love which ends badly-
if we let it-
freezes Time;

and we move on
covering it;

leaving it unchanged and unresolved.

We plant the last Kiss
with a question mark
knotted in the Semi-finish..

We drag our Dead Poet Love
into the future
bound and gagged
in the truck of the car
because all past loves
are Dead Poets;

we ignore the muffled cries
in the rear;

drive toward the future
tamping down the present
with a finger
dipped in
past and jaded memory.

We smother old past poets
put them away in the dark closet
because New Love
most often
doesn't share our love of
Former Poetries.

We reel in the Future now
before it is born;
strangled;

we make Hope for New Love
to lie
down in the cold;

but, our warm coat
is in the closet
which means
at odd times
in the chill
we dream of dead poets,

who sometimes
don't remain
dead still
in the trunk of the car
in the closet
in the category
nil.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hanging from a Blood Soaked Tree

Hanging from a Blood Soaked Tree
By: Adam M. Snow

One morn as under a great tree I lay,
Misery held me in its pain-filled sway.
I dreamt of a life where I wasn't numb,
Sleepwalking my way toward the dusk to come.

I felt sweat drops that I thought were rain,
And opening my eyes, saw a man hung in pain.
His feet were crossed and his arms stretched wide;
I could see no life in this man. Had he died?

Arose a voice from the blood soaked tree,
'I died for you so that you are free.'

I sat there stunned in my ignorant sleep,
My curiosity teased by a tree that speaks.
I lingered in repose, knowing not what was said;
Clinging to the echoing voice in my head-

'I did this for you.'
With eyes of blue-
He wept.

His head was pierced with thorns claw-like,
And each hand was nailed by a rusty spike.
He calls to me by my name,
I couldn't help it but show my shame.

Words arose from his lips,
As his blood still drips.
His voice so dear,
So pure, so clear;
Spoken once more-

His voice was dear as it said to me,
'I died for you so that you are free.'

There then rose a light, blinding as the morn;
'Fear not, ' he said 'For I am reborn'
'Behold, ' he said, 'My blood is made pure,
I am not dead, I am dying's cure! '
His voice drew near, and whispered he:
'I died for you so that you are free.'

poem by Adam M. Snow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who Made The Law ?

Who made the Law that men should die in shadows ?
Who spake the word that blood should splash in lanes ?
Who gave it forth that gardens should be bone-yards ?
Who spread the hills with flesh, and blood, and brains ?
Who made the Law ?

Who made the Law that Death should stalk the village ?
Who spake the word to kill among the sheaves,
Who gave it forth that death should lurk in hedgerows,
Who flung the dead among the fallen leaves ?
Who made the Law ?

But who made the Law ? the Trees shall whisper to him:
'See, see the blood - the splashes on our bark !'
Walking the meadows, he shall hear bones crackle,
And fleshless mouths shall gibber in silent lanes at dark.
Who made the Law ? At noon upon the hillside
His ears shall hear a moan, his cheeks shall feel a breath,
And all along the valleys, past gardens, croft, and homesteads,
HE who made the Law,
He who made the Law,
He who made the Law
shall walk along with Death.
WHO made the Law ?

poem by Leslie Coulson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dead Or Alive

There in the shadows, looks like a hand
Without its owner, to give it a command
Its got a purpose but I dont know what it is
Im in trouble
There in the streets, looks like a man
But something wrong that I dont understand
His eyes are open but he dont see a thing
His skin is peeling off, his bones are sticking out
Im getting scared
Oh my God (is it dead? )
Is it living? (is it dead? )
Is it dead or alive?
(is it dead? ), is it dead? (is it dead? )
Is it dead? (is it dead? )
Is it dead or alive?
Hiding in the cupboards, like little mice
Hiding in the frigerator, that isnt nice
Its not an animal, it dont have legs
No one else can see it
It moves so fast, corner of my eye
Look again its gone, its hiding
Wont somebody help me, doesnt anybody care?
It waits so patiently, for me to lose my guard
Im getting scared
Is it dead, is it
(is it dead)
Is it dead
(is it dead)
Is it dead or alive
(is it dead)
Is it dead
(is it dead)
Is it dead, is it
I remember there was a time
When dead and buried meant just that
Underneath the cold dark ground
Things stay put!
Oh them bones they make them bodies walk
Them bones, them bones
If they could only talk!
Is it dead (fade)

song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Skeletons

(ian hunter/darrel bath/honest john plain)
(transcribed by adrian perkins; corrections by colin ford)
Bimbo, flirts, sluts in skirts - muscles brightly glisten
Conversation's full of filth - let's all have a listen
Oh dear oh dear we live in fear
Media bulbs a poppin'
If you're bent, they're on your scent
There can be no stoppin'
Peroxide blondes, vagabonds, into 'eavy metal
Your hair looks like its been done by a dyke with a score to settle
Mud needs raking, photos taken of your murky past
Haunts you, taunts you, love it don't you
Hey hey the gang's all here
Pimps 'n' pervs, straights 'n' queers
Enquiring minds want to sneer at the skeletons in your closet
Sunday morning in the park,
Down the pub or in the bath
We'll all have a good old laugh
At the skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
It's bloody marvellous - innit?
It's bloody marvellous - innit?
Juicy bits, saucy snips, there's gold in them there gutters
Blue rinse mob on the job, curtains all a-flutter
It's cheapo culture, bleeding ulcers, burnt out by the score
Lurid tales never fails to shock you to the core
Kinky boots 'n' rubbber suits,
It's all going on next door!
Caught you, taught you, love it don't you
If you've had your face re-done
If you spank your girlfriend's bum
We can all join in the fun
At the skeletons in your closet
What's the world coming to?
Ain't we got nothin' better to do?
To spend all day sifting through
The skeletons in your closet
Hey hey the gang's all here
Pimps 'n' pervs, straights 'n' queers
Enquiring minds want to sneer
At the skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet

song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Inner Angel

If I look at the mind of God I can see
A vast pure energy ball grow up a tree
He is the pure inner self of us all
Connected within us contained in the ball

The white is the inner the outer is red
Energy from the outside created the dead
Like he grew up the tree he can also grow you
With red interference it’s the best he can do

Past present and future contained in the ball
It was the white energy zone which started it all
Right at the centre of life itself
He grew out the past and future himself

Attached to his mind was the vast Mister Red
Who forced exactly wrong onto his poor head
His mind had to grow whatever he could
And that was to grow everything up to be good

The red weighs deep in parts of his mind
You can see it clearly as you look through time
World War One and World War Two
He was weighted down heavily as the energy grew

Did the red grow his dolphin into a shark
Did it grow through a black Labrador to create a rottweiler bark
Did the uncontrollable red energy ball
Grow a dinosaur up ever so tall

We have the bones to prove the dinosaur
And old people to prove there was a war
Did he shoot the red energy backwards to create the bones
To question our existence in the age of the Stones

Did Jesus grow from the future into the past
To block the red energy which was growing so fast
An intelligent white ball to shoot through time
To be placed into a virgin mother of thine

The Son of God he stood out to be
Past present and future he’s contained in all three
He wanted to help dominant in all
To destroy the red contained in the ball

As the future looms I pray for the white
To force through the red ready to fight
To grow us higher to destroy the sinner
Whether dead or alive we remain inner

poem by Donna Caldwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Skeletons (In Your Closet)

(ian hunter/darrel bath/honest john plain)
(transcribed by adrian perkins; corrections by colin ford)
Bimbo, flirts, sluts in skirts - muscles brightly glisten
Conversations full of filth - lets all have a listen
Oh dear oh dear we live in fear
Media bulbs a poppin
If youre bent, theyre on your scent
There can be no stoppin
Peroxide blondes, vagabonds, into eavy metal
Your hair looks like its been done by a dyke with a score to settle
Mud needs raking, photos taken of your murky past
Haunts you, taunts you, love it dont you
Hey hey the gangs all here
Pimps n pervs, straights n queers
Enquiring minds want to sneer at the skeletons in your closet
Sunday morning in the park,
Down the pub or in the bath
Well all have a good old laugh
At the skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Its bloody marvellous - innit?
Its bloody marvellous - innit?
Juicy bits, saucy snips, theres gold in them there gutters
Blue rinse mob on the job, curtains all a-flutter
Its cheapo culture, bleeding ulcers, burnt out by the score
Lurid tales never fails to shock you to the core
Kinky boots n rubbber suits,
Its all going on next door!
Caught you, taught you, love it dont you
If youve had your face re-done
If you spank your girlfriends bum
We can all join in the fun
At the skeletons in your closet
Whats the world coming to?
Aint we got nothin better to do?
To spend all day sifting through
The skeletons in your closet
Hey hey the gangs all here
Pimps n pervs, straights n queers
Enquiring minds want to sneer
At the skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet
Skeletons in your, skeletons in your, skeletons in your closet

song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm Just A Tree

I'm just a tree.
I bare the thorns
to share my pain,
kind of like her
scars I've seen.

She used me...
Leaned against me,
Used my thorns
for her relief.
Now she tells me, the tree,
that she has nothing
left to be.

I see her now,
one thing connecting
her and me, the tree,
a rope at plea.
so much pain,
must have dropped her
at insane.
She needed a friend,
everyone thought she was lame.

I wish I wasn't a tree.
I want to be like you,
able to set her free.
But I'm just a tree.

poem by Hope Bennett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silverfuck

I hear your winter
I hear your rain
I've failed your summer ways
And I feel no pain

I hear what you want
And I feel that way
I hear what you want
And I feel that way

I hear you fade away
And I hear you crawl
I gave my life away
And I feel no pain
And I feel no pain
And I feel no pain
And I feel your pain

And she was my lover so sweet
And she was my angel
And what I've recovered of me
I put into a box underneath my bed

When you lie in your bed
And you lie to yourself
When you lie in your bed
And you lie to yourself
Lie
Lie

Bang bang your dead hole in your head
Bang bang your dead hole in your head
Bang bang your dead hole in your head
Bang bang your dead hole in your head

I hear what you want
And I feel that way
I hear what you want
And I feel that way

[This take

song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins from Siamese Dream
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Guardian and BloodRose

BloodRose,
Rose of my love,
My love for Dark moon,
Dark as my heart,
Black as my soul,
And gave me my rose.

The rose of blood,
With petals soft and black,
Never as a rose so beautiful,
Grown not in light,
But under a dark moon lit sky.

Guardian,
Yes a guardian of BloodRose,
With teeth long and sharp,
Claws hard as diamonds,
Scales as dark as night.

My dear sweet guardian,
Guardian black as my heart,
Fire in your eyes,
Shadows in your soul,
A dragon of the dark moon.

A single rose,
With petals so fare,
As dark as my heart,
I now hold in my hand,
The rose of blood.

You are my darkness,
Fear of this love,
This love for you,
Love for darkness,
The cold shadows in my heart
That makes me yearn for you.

Now as you lay dying,
I hold a single rose,
The rose you gave me,
And as I hold it tight,
The thorns slice my hand,
Covered with blood,
My blood.

I have one fear,
The fear of death,
Symbol of my lost love,
Rose as dark as me,
Laying in a pool of blood,
Blood from me.

As I lay dying,
I remember my name,
BloodRose,
I am the rose of blood,
And I died of my own creation.

A creation of perfect beauty,
Petals dark black,
Thorns like small daggers,
Grown from my love,
My love for a dragon,
A dragon as dark as my heart.

Even in my death,
I think of you,
And the rose you gave me,
The rose that killed me,
The Rose of Blood.

poem by Nicolette Gonzalez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Stringy-Bark Tree

There's the whitebox and pine on the ridges afar,
Where the iron-bark, blue-gum, and peppermint are;
There is many another, but dearest to me,
And the king of them all was the stringy-bark tree.
Then of stringy-bark slabs were the walls of the hut,
And from stringy-bark saplings the rafters were cut;
And the roof that long sheltered my brothers and me
Was of broad sheets of bark from the stringy-bark tree.

And when sawn-timber homes were built out in the West,
Then for walls and for ceilings its wood was the best;
And for shingles and palings to last while men be,
There was nothing on earth like the stringy-bark tree.

Far up the long gullies the timber-trucks went,
Over tracks that seemed hopeless, by bark hut and tent;
And the gaunt timber-finder, who rode at his ease,
Led them on to a gully of stringy-bark trees.

Now still from the ridges, by ways that are dark,
Come the shingles and palings they call stringy-bark;
Though you ride through long gullies a twelve months you’ll see
But the old whitened stumps of the stringy-bark tree.

poem by Henry Lawson
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: XVIII

HE LAMENTS THAT HIS LOVE IS DEAD
My love is dead, dead and in spite of me,--
Dead while I lived,--while yet my blood was rife
With hope and pleasure and the pride of life.
For my love ended unexpectedly
During the Winter, stricken like a tree
By a night's cold, and frozen to the blood,
Whose leaves fell off and never were renewed
By any promise of the years to be.
And, when the Spring came, and the birds, to mate
Among its branches, lo! they found it bare,
Though all around was Summer in the wood.
Yet they took heart awhile, incredulous
That such a tree should be for ever dead.
``'Tis early yet,'' they cried. ``The Spring is late.
It shall still be as in the days that were.''
But Summer came and went while the tree stood
Bare in the sun like a deserted house.
--Then the birds suddenly despaired and fled.

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dyes Cast

Each night
As he drops his head
To the deep dream
Of the dark bed,
A shape beckons him
Wellaway
From the starlight
And the dim day.

A mare
Black as a spade, calls
From the dark hill
As the wind falls,
The reeds mutter
The night is black
As he leaps blind
To the mare’s back.

Then like the roar
Of an ill wind
Or a black flame
From the devil’s kiln,
The mare speeds
To the night’s work
By the old mill
And the dark Kirk.

Shapes flutter
And leap alight
Before they sputter
And, out of sight
Disport and mutter
Of black arts
To see the mare
And the rider pass.

Hour on hour
He clings to scenes
Of dark images,
Wild dreams
And chance friends
From the dead past
In the grim haunts
Of dyes cast.

His face burns
And tears stream
In the long night
Of the dark dream,
He clings grim
To the mare’s back
For his soul’s sake
And a long lack.

The day brinks
At night’s mist;
‘There may be nothing
More than this, ’
The mare fades
From his wide eyes –
But the thoughts bide,
And the old lies.

‘There may be nothing
More than this! ’
And his mind seeks
The mare, the mist;
‘There may be nought
But the dead past,
And the dark haunts
Of dyes cast.’

27 December 1978

poem by David Lewis Paget
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3..... the past not to be Framed In Shadows

the dark shadows of the past
bracket the the here and now of the present
and create a blinding mirage into a hazy future

our choice to stand so hopeless,
.......framed in the present
thus, locked into an unwanted future.....?

let us rather allow our light to shine so bright here in the now
in this we overcome the shadows of the past
and let the radiance of the present then mirror a future

possible, at long last, reflective introspection discovering deep inside
so, as shadows retreat fragments of the essence of Being surface
finding remnants of the essence of Being affirmned, still the same
finding values and priorities migrated to new dimensions in space and time

through this then
the fabric and texture of Being...., now wiser, .....more resilient
the resonance of mind harmonious quiter at peace
understanding and having overcome the shadows,
accepting the mirrored future, bearable-, and joy to be alone

soul no longer running the prairies with scavenging wolves, hungry for love
now present a man hand in hand with love.... belonging,
......no longer longing, ........the cracks, ok emitting light
and as waves of sorrow come at times, as it will, joy smooths the crests

poem by Johan Fourie
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Walking Nightmares

Black silhouettes of a hangman's noose
Surrounded by ways to cut my life loose
Worn away gravestones of the gone and forgotten
Smell of decay, Bodies are rotten

Clouds form to create tombstones
Dead and abandoned, Feather and bones
In the road states the word death
Written in blood and the body that's left

Defenceless creature lays on the curb
Ripped apart flesh leaves me disturbed
No escape from death, No where to turn
Murder in mass as distant trees burn

Shadows before me stand crucified
I hear dying children that have cried
Funeral bells ring in the back of my mind
A family photo that's been left behind

Fallen tree looks like a dead body
Waiting to be found and ready to study
A helpless wave from a fallen branch
The wind whistles the funeral march

poem by TyjaRae Guy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Emotional

loneliness seeps through my bones,
wondering,
there is no hope,

screaming sorrow in my brain,
hopelessness,
all in vain,
come with sorrow,
equals pain,

emptiness all in my head,
wondering,
when ill be dead,

broke my bones,
and,
bled me dry,
I just hope,
nobody saw me cry,

carelessness in my blood,
i am now,
face down in mud,

cornered in my mind,
restlessness,
i have now,
run out of time.

poem by Alicia Roseberry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Snared Is My Care

The wind that swept across the hand of time - So i glide along the mist, the cr6me of age - I am caged, inside a six sided room - I painted a portrait, the saint which brooms - The moon with a cow, my resentless destruction of the broken in my vows - I sleep not to keep, my memories which i have lost - The good i have damaged, the thought of rude mixed with sooth - I run in a field, the flowers winter my seeds - The vines of the rose, i use her thorns as a shield, allthough i bleed with needs - My sword, the blade is always unsheathed, i am soaked in blood, my heart snakes for a rat to feed - The cover to my lies, i feel the breeze, off the wings of a fly - I see the colors, the mutter of whispers, from a butterfly - I am clouded with fear, my mind, the engine that break my gears - The screams out of my past, the excitement to pain, i can hear - snared is my care to the web, the spider ate the bears

poem by Unic Cjonr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These Old Bones

Writer Dolly Parton
These old bones will tell your story
These old bones will never lie
These old bones will tell you surely
What you cant see with your eye
These old bones, I shake and rattle
These old bones, I toss and roll
And its all in where they scatter
Tells you what the future holds
Oh, she lived up on the mountain
Eleven miles or so from town
With a one-eyed cat named Wink,
A billy goat and a blue tick hound
Her graying hair was braided
And wrapped around her head
And her dress was long and faded
And her home a rusty shed
In a little pouch of burlap
Tied with a piece of twine
There were bones all shapes and sizes
Gathered through the course of time
Shed throw them out before you
She swore that she could see
The present, past and future
She could ready your destiny
Everybody knew about her
Came to get their fortune read
Concerning health and wealth and power
Who to love and when to wed
Well, I just like helpin people
Im just glad that I could help
Why, I know everybodys secrets
But I keep it to myself
These old bones will tell your story
These old bones will never lie
These old bones will tell you surely
What you cant see with your eye
These old bones, I shake and rattle
These old bones, I toss and roll
And its all in where they scatter
Tells you what the future holds
Some called her witchy woman
Some said she was insane
Some said she was a prophet
Still everybody came
Just because a bodys different
Well, that dont make em mad
Well, theyve crucified a many
For the special gifts theyve had
I had often heard about her,
Dreamed about her now and then
For I, too, was clairvoyant,
Came about when I was ten
I was fascinated with her
And the things Id heard about
And I knew some day Id meet her,
And one day it came about
Well, I knowd that you uz acomin
I could feel it in my bones
These old bones have also told me
That I wont be here for long
Did you know that you uz adopted?
Did you know you oncet was mine?
But the county took you from me,
Said I wasnt right in mind
But I just knowd I had to see you
Fore these bones was laid to rest
So I conjured up a message
It musta worked, I guess
This gift runs in the family
I know you also know
And I passed this gift on to you
These old bones, theyre just for show
These old bones will tell your story
These old bones will never lie
These old bones will tell you surely
How to live and when youll die
These old bones, I shake and rattle
These old bones, I toss and roll
And its all in where they scatter
Tells you what the future holds
I held her hand while she was dyin
And with the funeral through
I headed on back up the mountain
For Billy, Wink and Blue
And that little pouch of burlap
With those bones so worn and old
She give me somethin special
Now every time I throw
These old bones will tell your story
These old bones will never lie
These old bones will tell you surely
What you cant see with your eye
These old bones, I shake and rattle
These old bones, I toss and roll
And its all in how they scatter
Tells you what the future holds
Now I cant tell you what you want to hear
I just tell you what I see
Its these old bones atalkin
Blame it on them; dont pack it on me
Its just like that time that there boy died
Up at the sawmill
Well, I knowd who done it, but I never said
And I knowd when somebody is a cheatin
Or when somebodys baby was gonna be born dead
But unless somebody just plain out and asked me
Well, I just figured there aint no point goin around actin like you know
everything, just cause you might.
Ah, you know girl I want you to take these bones
Cause I dont want no youngun of mine agoing around unprepared
You just remember that the magic is inside you
There aint no crystal ball

song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If That Is To Be My Experience

Please,
Do not remove the thorns from that rose.
I wish to experience every bit of it.
If I can not handle it and it should prick,
Let me be the obe to adjust to it.
I want to know what it is as it is.
Not what you wish me to believe,
To leave me to discover...
You decided to have me,
Think of it as something else.

Please,
Do not remove the thorns from that rose.
I've chosen it just the way it is...
Thorns and all.
I will never appreciate it,
If you make the decision...
To keep me from getting pricked.
If that is to be my experience...
Let it be.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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