A Portrait in Blood (the Romanovs are Dead)
Assembled in your finest
A funeral march
To the basement
Of a house that isn’t
Your own but has been
Somewhere you’ve lived
Your mother clings
To your brother
Who, by now,
Can’t walk on his own
And your father is
Worried and weak
In heart and soul
And it feels like
You’re dying
Standing together
Huddled one last time
Because all lies are
Revealed with the gleam
Of chrome and the flash
Of silver on guns
And the portrait they paint
Of you is done
In blood
With all the Romanovs dead
poem by Elizabeth Rebel
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Family Man
Written by lindsey buckingham and richard dashut.
Walk down this road
When the road gets rough
I fall down
I get up
I am what I am...
A family man
I am what I am...
A family man
Mother... father... brother...
Mother... father... brother...
Walk down this road
In the cool of the night
Dont know whats wrong
But I do know whats right
I am what I am...
A family man
I am what I am...
A family man
Mother... father... brother...
Mother... father... brother...
I am what I am...
A family man
I am what I am...
A family man
Mother... father... brother...
Mother... father... brother...
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Carpenter's Song
My lot grew lighter day by day;
The children grew apace;
I built a little house last May--
No palace like that place.
And--"Father," said she, "sure you know
That once we ate dry bread?
Into our own house now we go!"--
The mother, she is dead!
Her house the undertaker made,
And not the carpenter;
My grace unsaid, the pastor prayed
In loud tones over her.
The day that's spent with merriment,
'Mid blossoms blue and red,
No music lent--my heart was rent!--
The mother, she is dead.
We pulled together many a year;
Like old bird-mates were we;
But who e'er thinks of dying here
While both together be?
Fast barred is every window-blind--
I care not what is said;
Yes, sell the house! I do not mind--
The mother, she is dead!
poem by Carmen Sylva
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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My Brother Sarah - Sway B-side
My brother sarah
Doesn't know what clothes to wear
It's a dilemma
To get the stuff to match your hair
But mother and father
Sister and brother
Say they just don't know
My brother sarah
Really wish you understood
Why he's got to show it
For it to be any damn good
But mother and father
Sister and brother
Say they just don't know
My brother lies awake at night
Wishing this world could just be right
But mother and father
Sister and brother
You and all the others
Say you just don't know
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Emptyness
I make my way to the house,
where you once existed,
windows are all moldy,
and the paint has diminished.
Without you there,
the house was forsaken,
no life, no soul
it just felt empty and distant.
Once upon a time,
this house held my memories,
now when I look at it,
it holds my sorrow and heartache.
I have to walk away now,
Can’t walk the path to the door,
Remembering you formerly lived here,
But you don’t no more
poem by Karissa Bristow
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The Dead Feast of the Kol-Folk
We have opened the door,
Once, twice, thrice!
We have swept the floor,
We have boiled the rice.
Come hither, come hither!
Come from the far lands,
Come from the star lands,
Come as before!
We lived long together,
We loved one another;
Come back to our life.
Come father, come mother,
Come sister and brother,
Child, husband, and wife,
For you we are sighing.
Come take your old places,
Come look in our faces,
The dead on the dying,
Come home!
We have opened the door,
Once, twice, thrice!
We have kindled the coals,
And we boil the rice
For the feast of souls.
Come hither, come hither!
Think not we fear you,
Whose hearts are so near you.
Come tenderly thought on,
Come all unforgotten,
Come from the shadow-lands,
From the dim meadow-lands
Where the pale grasses bend
Low to our sighing.
Come father, come mother,
Come sister and brother,
Come husband and friend,
The dead to the dying,
Come home!
We have opened the door
You entered so oft;
For the feast of souls
We have kindled the coals,
And we boil the rice soft.
Come you who are dearest
To us who are nearest,
Come hither, come hither,
From out the wild weather;
The storm clouds are flying,
The peepul is sighing;
Come in from the rain.
Come father, come mother,
Come sister and brother,
Come husband and lover,
Beneath our roof-cover.
Look on us again,
The dead on the dying,
Come home!
We have opened the door!
For the feast of souls
We have kindled the coals
We may kindle no more!
Snake, fever, and famine,
The curse of the Brahmin,
The sun and the dew,
They burn us, they bite us,
They waste us and smite us;
Our days are but few
In strange lands far yonder
To wonder and wander
We hasten to you.
List then to our sighing,
While yet we are here
Nor seeing nor hearing,
We wait without fearing,
To feel you draw near.
O dead, to the dying
Come home!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Infinite Love
Innocent love was within deception
Which resulted in conception
Of a child who was by her father rejected
And wrongfully denied and neglected
A wet face from the mother’s tears
As she worried how she’s going to get through the years
A little girl with her father’s face
With a broken heart and an empty space
Oh! How mother tried as hard as she could
To raise her right and do what she should
Rebellion stepped in and the girl lost respect
She was addicted to sex, and lost control of herself
She hated being home, and loved being on the streets
Seeking what was not home between the sheets
She lived carelessly doing whatever she please
But silently hoping for love; so her addiction would cease
Although she may have thought; she wasn’t alone
As the father her father she seeks was on his throne
Wherever she went he was always with her
He cherishes her more than gold or silver
One day she read psalms 136
And her father told her don’t be deceived by devilish tricks
Don’t you know how much you mean to me
My feelings for you are beyond infinity
What you are finding is not love
It’s not in front of you it’s from above
So stop being confused by lies of men
And know that true love will never end
poem by Nikiesha Richards
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Good Morning Blood Brother
Good morning blood brother
Are you alright this morning?
How is the war blood brother?
Do you think that you are winning the battles?
Blood brother
We have the same mother and father
And that is why we are called blood brother
Also please remember that we have the same flesh blood brother
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Departure
It's little I care what path I take,
And where it leads it's little I care;
But out of this house, lest my heart break,
I must go, and off somewhere.
It's little I know what's in my heart,
What's in my mind it's little I know,
But there's that in me must up and start,
And it's little I care where my feet go.
I wish I could walk for a day and a night,
And find me at dawn in a desolate place
With never the rut of a road in sight,
Nor the roof of a house, nor the eyes of a face.
I wish I could walk till my blood should spout,
And drop me, never to stir again,
On a shore that is wide, for the tide is out,
And the weedy rocks are bare to the rain.
But dump or dock, where the path I take
Brings up, it's little enough I care:
And it's little I'd mind the fuss they'll make,
Huddled dead in a ditch somewhere.
'Is something the matter, dear,' she said,
'That you sit at your work so silently?'
'No, mother, no, 'twas a knot in my thread.
There goes the kettle, I'll make the tea.'
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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An Arab Love-Song
The hunchèd camels of the night
Trouble the bright
And silver waters of the moon.
The Maiden of the Morn will soon
Through Heaven stray and sing,
Star gathering.
Now while the dark about our loves is strewn,
Light of my dark, blood of my heart, O come!
And night will catch her breath up, and be dumb.
Leave thy father, leave thy mother
And thy brother;
Leave the black tents of thy tribe apart!
Am I not thy father and thy brother,
And thy mother?
And thou--what needest with thy tribe's black tents
Who hast the red pavilion of my heart?
poem by Francis Thompson
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Funerals are a Festival
An old lady was dead. She was my father’s
Mother’s elder sister, who brought him up
After his mother’s death when he was at seven.
I went with him to attend the funeral.
Then I was fifteen; no sadness engulfed;
Not aware how much it engulfed my father.
My funeral will be a festival to
Most who would come there for connections.
21.01.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Orphan Girl
(gillian welch)
I am a orphan
On gods highway
But Ill share my troubles
If you go my way
I have no mother
No father no sister
No brother
I am an orphan girl
I have had friendships
Pure and golden
But the ties of kinship
I have not known them
I know no mother
No father no sister
No brother
I am an orphan girl
But when he calls me
I will be able
To meet my family
At gods table
Ill meet my mother
My father my sister
My brother
No more an orphan girl
Blessed savior
Make me willing
And walk beside me
Until Im with them
Be my mother
My father my sister
My brother
I am an orphan girl
Be my mother
My father my sister
My brother
I am an orphan girl
I am an orphan girl
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dream Brother
brother, your darkness
closes over me like an eyelid
and I am invited into
the hole your absence
tears into our mother's heart
brother, brought to me in a dream
you are the boy & the truth
that never was
and I am enticed by the
secrets hidden behind your lips
dream brother, your mouth,
wrought onto mine, spills
the secrets of your nonexistence
your life unlived;
how before my time
our mother wept at your bedside
clutching the sheets
where your body left no indention
where your mouth made no noise
except in my dreams
and in my mouth
dream brother, left-handed like half two twins -
Do you mirror my movements?
brother, you are not the light at the end of the tunnel
you are the darkness that fills it
you were the one torn out as sacrifice
brother, you are the potential energy
the David in a marble prism,
the destruction still bright
in our mother's eyes -
how she dreamed of the promise you were!
all soft and not yet definite
brother, you were a sculpture half-finished
a child ripped away, premature
and between each hope
there lies sterility
between each dream
I lie awake.
(march 08)
poem by Ryan Blood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Freedom of the Flame
Standing before all of those that have done her wrong
she screams to the writhing throng
'to you that have not thought me strong'
She tears into her chest
pulling out her still beating heart
she shows it to the assembled guest
'This was to much trouble from the start'
Tossed upon the funeral pyre
her once beating heart slows and begins to smolder
and as the flames climb higher and higher
and she grows bolder
' Is this what you want, is this our desire'
tossed upon the funeral pyre
first goes one then the another
their bodies threaten to smother
with each body tossed her laughter comes
and as each succumbs
she feels her burden lift and she becomes
FREE
8/23/07
Mother Once Said...
My mother once said
'Don`t open your mouth before
Elders and those with white hairs'.
My mother also said
'Don`t speak unless asked'.
My mouth asked me once,
'What is my role in your life? '
I said, 'My mother has said nothing about it'.
I added, 'You swallow and eat'.
My mouth has been quiet since.
My friends said, 'Your mother is wise'.
My father said, 'She is my strength'.
I wondered how she could be so great!
Then was born my kid brother with a big mouth.
My mother said to my kid brother too
Not to do those old things
But his mouth spoke everything
Everything that I never dared.
And his mouth swallowed, ate and spoke.
Today my mother is no more
And my father is is weak and worn out.
I still remember my mother`s words.
While my kid brother speaks out his mind
My mouth refuses to speak out its regrets....
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flash's Dream (The Final Elbow)
Scene: Mr. Black's army is closing in on Flash & The Spivs.
After a long day's campaigning Flash, having overindulged
the alcohol, has fallen asleep in his den.
Voice: Cooee. Cooee. Flash. Flash
Flash: Who is this?
Voice: Wake up Flash. Can you hear me Flash?
Flash: Who is this? Who dares to wake me from my slumber?
Voice: Need I announce myself? Am I such a stranger to you?
Flash: Say your name. Speak!
Voice: I am your soul.
Flash: My soul?
Voice: I have come to show you who you are.
Flash: Show me who I am? I know who I am you upstart! How
dare you intrude.
Voice: You lied and schemed and took over a simple village and
turned it into a vulgar playground for your own money-
making ends. Before you came people lived simple lives.
This was a happy place. Then you ploughed up the fields,
sold off the land and lined your own pockets with the profits.
Flash: Lies! Lies! I did it to help the nation
Voice: You did it for your own preservation!
Flash: No! No!
Voice: Prepare yourself Flash, there are many who suffered at your
hands. They are craving for vengeance. Time is running out.
Flash: Can this be the end? Can this be the swan song? The final
elbow? I will not go. The people need me.
Voice: Men like you will always come and go, but the people will go
on forever. Take one final look at the past Flash. Enjoy it,
because you have no future.
Flash: No! No! No! I can't stand this.
Trumpets herald the final confrontation between Flash and himself.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flash's Dream
Scene: mr. black's army is closing in on flash & the spivs.
After a long day's campaigning flash, having overindulged
The alcohol, has fallen asleep in his den.
Voice: cooee. cooee. flash. flash
Flash: who is this?
Voice: wake up flash. can you hear me flash?
Flash: who is this? who dares to wake me from my slumber?
Voice: need i announce myself? am i such a stranger to you?
Flash: say your name. speak!
Voice: i am your soul.
Flash: my soul?
Voice: i have come to show you who you are.
Flash: show me who i am? i know who i am you upstart! how
Dare you intrude.
Voice: you lied and schemed and took over a simple village and
Turned it into a vulgar playground for your own money-
Making ends. before you came people lived simple lives.
This was a happy place. then you ploughed up the fields,
Sold off the land and lined your own pockets with the profits.
Flash: lies! lies! i did it to help the nation
Voice: you did it for your own preservation!
Flash: no! no!
Voice: prepare yourself flash, there are many who suffered at your
Hands. they are craving for vengeance. time is running out.
Flash: can this be the end? can this be the swan song? the final
Elbow? i will not go. the people need me.
Voice: men like you will always come and go, but the people will go
On forever. take one final look at the past flash. enjoy it,
Because you have no future.
Flash: no! no! no! i can't stand this.
Trumpets herald the final confrontation between flash and himself.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rednecks unite!
My father is my brother
My sister, with three ears,
Is his significant other.
My sister is my mother
And somehow, also my brother
My father's father am I
The vile thought makes me shudder.
Grandma was a mule,
Grandfather's sperm, she used as fuel
A french aristrocrat,
Made love to my mother, for he prefered his women fat
A letter written for my eyes
Containing news of demine
Said my true mother was some other
And my father, not her brother.
Jubilant and joyous,
My wife is what used to by my sister.. Or brother?
poem by Thy Mother
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Purple And Silver
frozen evenings
on me, they camp greetings
intruding me to the dark feelings
demolishing any happy traces
that i once discovered
teardropp cases, these faces
never seem to get em' outta my head
paint in purple, paint it silver
track a train
to the valley of midnight pain
which i once suffered
i still suffer
when we look back to the spring shower
they left us, leaving poison flowers
i extracted the pulp
she wrapped the words
we made a bomb
mark our words
paint them purple, paint them silver
bang bang now check this out
heavy storm outside
reminds me of one inside
tornado of tears
volcano of fears
but they had to hit
and hit they did
birth of a kid
off color white
put up a fight
listening to 9 crimes
i've been given too much time
he did his part
i broke mine fast
paint it silver
msg delivered
paint it purple
i start to crumble
over the top
the boat beneath the blue whale
river of lost got a new sail
they met the pain at the oceans date
cross the fence in senses
sit at the last bench
bury the drench
she did her seven cry
i made my blood dry
birth of anger
paint it silver
run in circle
paint it purple
something pushing me to
cry one last try
that hope to see blue butterfly
makes his blood dry
she just sees the sky
and does her seven cry
frozen evenings dark fire
anguish through lime wire
silver frost bite
i burnt my kite
purple midnight
i released my knife
hearing the drums
following 1,21 guns
getting nothing
expecting a lot
talking tears
hiding fears
for 16 years
he waited for his father
for 18 years
she blocked her laughter
the waiting purple
the falling silver
paint him purple
lost in jungle
paint her silver
remember this november..
poem by Talal Athar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O Father
Thus, upon the ground did my body walk
and across the lands did it roam and talk
but O father of my tearing eyes tell me now
what happened to the earth and my old folk
Did my heart astray alone in the darkest way
or did my humble soul denied to remain and stay
but O father of my crying heart tell me then
what happened to the earth and the old way
I see as if my eyes got dropped down on the cheek
or it may be like my sorrows and agony reaching a peak
but O father of my broken back in the dusty past
what happened to the earth that I used to seek
By my own hands my blood did I share freely
in the tubs of wisdom in the rage of the daily
but O father where did my blood now astray
what happened to the earth of the lovely
O father my body got the agony now and then
and my soul tired of roaming and the time is when
O father the time is here and it came to me
where I can raise up and roar outside the den
O father, who was my father through in time
how I wonder what you are and how am I
but O father no time is left to say no time
verily, that's my tomb here, and then I, to goodbye
poem by Taher Shemaly
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Here Lie's The truth
“Here Lies the truth”,
On Her tombstone this will be wrote.
It was never spoke when She was living,
So also in death, it will be unspoke.
By Her it was never said
it was as though pulling out Her soul,
So here lies the truth and herself dead
Both has died in sadness and woe.
Here lies the truth,
Not once by her was it cried,
Not in the days that she was living,
Not even in the day that She had died.
She must of believed that it was a sin
To open Her heart and listen to the word
So She closed her heart and locked it shut,
And She never believed in no one but Her.
Here lies the truth,
It lived but a very short life,
Though the Woman died of years of age
The truth though, never had a chance to try.
Everyone She knew had learned Her lie
They never believed a word that she said
So when She finally tried to speak the truth,
Her heart stopped; and She laid dead.
Here lies the truth
It lived but a very short life,
It was loved by neither Child or Man,
For they believe its living was but a lie.
So here in the grave it will lay dead
As it had lived in this woman's soul,
Never again will it be uttered or thought of,
Never till the end of time will it be thought of or known.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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