Out of the Depths
In the creative clash
Wit and inspiration
Desperadoes of the soul
Struggling
Hand-to-eye, knife-to-throat
Illusion and fact head-locked
Aesthetics sucker-punched with
Second-guessing
A blur in the clutch of
Tunnel vision
Head pounding on closing wall
Hour upon hour
Day upon night
Caffeine and cigarette, sweat and blood
Stain the solitude
Paid in sacrifice of bread and clay
Hell’s black fire
Char the midnight silence
A gash of moon for
Penance.
In the end
Beaten raw
Exhausted on torn sheet
In unmade bed, collapsed
Light streaming through pulled curtain
Something breathes
Out of the depths, life—
Emerge.
(Previously published in Apollo's Lyre, Spring 2007 Issue)
poem by Laurence Overmire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hour Of Gold
(Emmylou Harris)
I have seen your soul turn black
And then retreat
To that dark place where no one else may follow
I waited here for your returning
To roll your cigarette
And wash your bloodied feet
You have heard the silent running
Of my dreams
Broke me from the grip of grief and fever
With the sound of your voice speaking my name
And a kiss
That I will feel forever
In the hour of gold, the hour of lead
WG did forge our wedding bed
On a hard and holy road
We lay down our head
In tha hour of gold, the hour oi lead
I have watched you riding on
The wall of death
And when il finally breaks you and you fall
I will tear this dress of muslin that you gave me
To bind the fatal wound
And catch your last sweet breath
In the hour of gold, the hour of lead
We did forge our wedding bed
On a hard and holy road
We lay down our head
In the hour of gold, the hour of lead
But the world will be my witness when
They excavate my heart
And find the image of your face
Imprinted there like some Shroud of Turin
That neither time Nor tundra could erase
In the hour of gold, the hour of lead
We did forge our wedding bed
On a hard and holy road
We lay down our head
In the hour of gold, the hour of lead
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fire in my head
My thought cloud up
Like pools of smoke
Oops I'm sorry
My mentalstability just broke
Because of the fire in my head.
With nightmares I am wishing
Were just dreams
Silence is broken by shattered screams
My floor is covered in pools of red In all this fire in my head
My pulse pounding
In my mind
Fire alarms sounding
What did they find?
Me. Curled up in a ball
Shaking in the corner of the wall.
Because of the fire in my head..
poem by Midnight Lily
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At Midnight Hour
AT midnight hour I went, not willingly,
A little, little boy, yon churchyard past,
To Father Vicar's house; the stars on high
On all around their beauteous radiance cast,
At midnight hour.
And when, in journeying o'er the path of life,
My love I follow'd, as she onward moved,
With stars and northern lights o'er head in strife,
Going and coming, perfect bliss I proved
At midnight hour.
Until at length the full moon, lustre-fraught,
Burst thro' the gloom wherein she was enshrined;
And then the willing, active, rapid thought
Around the past, as round the future twined,
At midnight hour.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Put Your Hand Inside The Puppet Head
As your body floats down third street
With the burn-smell factory closing up
Yes its sad to say you will romanticize
All the things youve known before
It was not not not so great
It was not not not so great
And as you take a bath in that beaten path
Theres a pounding at the door
Well its a mighty zombie talking of some love and posterity
He says the good old days never say good-bye
If you keep this in your mind:
You need some lo-lo-loving arms
You need some lo-lo-loving arms
And as you fall from grace the only words you say are
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Ads up in the subway are the work of someone
Trying to please their boss
And though the guys a pig we all know what he wants
Is just to please somebody else
If the pu-pu-puppet head
Was only bu-bu-busted in
It would be a better thing for everyone involved
And we wouldnt have to cry
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Memo to myself: do the dumb things I gotta do
Touch the puppet head
Quit my job down at the carwash
Didnt have to write no-one a good-bye note
That said, the checks in the mail, and
Ill see you in church, and dont you ever change
If the pu-pu-puppet head
Was only bu-bu-busted in
Ill see you after school
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside the puppet head
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inside The Puppet Head
As your body floats down third street
With the burn-smell factory closing up
Yes its sad to say you will romanticize
All the things youve known before
It was not not not so great
It was not not not so great
And as you take a bath in that beaten path
Theres a pounding at the door
Well its a mighty zombie talking of some love and posterity
He says the good old days never say good-bye
If you keep this in your mind:
You need some lo-lo-loving arms
You need some lo-lo-loving arms
And as you fall from grace the only words you say are
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Ads up in the subway are the work of someone
Trying to please their boss
And though the guys a pig we all know what he wants
Is just to please somebody else
If the pu-pu-puppet head
Was only bu-bu-busted in
It would be a better thing for everyone involved
And we wouldnt have to cry
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Memo to myself: do the dumb things I gotta do
Touch the puppet head
Quit my job down at the carwash
Didnt have to write no-one a good-bye note
That said, the checks in the mail, and
Ill see you in church, and dont you ever change
If the pu-pu-puppet head
Was only bu-bu-busted in
Ill see you after school
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside
Put your hand inside the puppet head
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Working Up A Sweat
Aw, When you touch there, honey
Makes my blood perspire
You got my body flaming
Like a California fire
Pulsing, pounding, pushing
No longer in control
Heatwave in my brain
Smolder in my soul
You got me workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
I've been playing all night long
Time I was gettin' home
But I've got no place to get
Spontaneous combustion
Scientific fact
But your approach to friction
An unnatural act
Bells I hear ain't fire drills
I hope you understand
It's a bona fide five alarmer
Melting in my hand
You got me workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
I've been playing all night long
Time I was gettin' home
But I've got no place to get
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
Yeah, yeah
I've been playing all night long
'Bout time I was gettin' home
But I've, ooh
Dante's famed inferno
Was a trip to hell and back
But you and a bottle in a cheap hotel
Screams pyromaniac
Bandages came off today
Really feeling sick
The hardest part's explainin'
All those blisters on my - nose!
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
I've been playing all night long
Time I was gettin' home
But I've got no place to get
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
I've been playing all night long
'Bout time I was gettin' home
But I've, ooh
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
Workin' up a sweat
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Hate Poem) Cannibalistic Carnivore
It's all building up.
Bringing another lost soul in.
I wish to avenge.
But all I could do is defend.
Look the other way and pretend it ain't happening.
Being destroy with in.
Just bury my true feelings.
I can't oh I can't be that man I was before.
Everything has been so blurred.
The feeling of double vision.
Mirror images.
Just cut me open make the incision.
Take it all out.
I don't need any of it.
I'm already dead.
With satan I shall break bread.
Tell him the words I've been fed.
Tell him what I'm gonna do
and that'll I'll see him soon.
In the depths of hell my heart dwells.
Chained to a post its screams in a constant agony.
I will have no mercy,
I've tasted blood and i want more.
I feel like a cannibalistic carnivore.
Its eat or be eaten.
No getting around it.
Life sucks and no good will come from it.
Am I me
mentally unstable
Just maybe,
if you feel that way
just stay away.
I hate placate debate everything around me.
A manic state.
Destroy,
destroy all that was there before.
Dropping plates on the floor.
Watch the glass shatter into a thousand pieces.
No more preaching.
Never helping anyone but yourself.
A pretentious evil elf.
Welcome to my cage.
Welcome to my rage.
Welcome to a new stage of a mental kind of thinking.
I will have no mercy.
I have tasted blood and I want more.
Feeling like a cannibalistic carnivore.
I have been gotten to.
By a higher power on my darkest hour.
A soul I have devoured.
It had a taste so sour.
But it felt so good cause with it came so much power.
A ego to the head.
I can say no, and hurt someone so deeply.
Feels good
better then it should.
But in this game everyone's a personal gain.
Let me leave my mark my own little blood stain.
I will have no mercy.
I have tasted blood and i want more.
Feeling like a cannibalistic carnivore.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Hotel Hobbies
(derek dick, steve rothery, mark kelly, pete trewavas, ian mosley)
Hotel hobbies padding dawns hollow corridors
Bell boys checking out the hookers in the bar
Slug-like fingers trace the star-spangled clouds of cocaine on the mirror
The short straw took its bow
The tell tale tocking of the last cigarette
Marking time in the packet as the whisky sweat
Lies like discarded armour on an unmade bed
And a familiar craving is crawling in his head
And the only sign of life is the ticking of the pen
Introducing characters to memories like old friends
Frantic as a cardiograph scratching out the lines
A fever of confession a catalogue of crime in happy hour
Do you cry in happy hour
Do you hide in happy hour
The pilgrimage to happy hour
New shadows tugging at the corner of his eye
Jostling for attention
As the sunlight flares
Through a curtains tear
Shuffling its beams as if in nervous anticipation of another day
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dance of Dances
Dance in the moon light with all the stars in sight
Dance with all of this power and might
Dance with danger every night
Dance up and down twirling around
Dance with sweat dripping down the neck
Then dance with fire every dark hour
Dance with thrust if you must
But dance on the hour every hour
That’s when to explain in steps the dance of dances
poem by Nick Trager
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In the Midnight Hour
When we meet
in the midnight hour
country girl
I will bring you night flowers
coloured like your eyes
in the moonlight
in the midnight
hour
I remember
Your cold hand
held for a moment among strangers
held for a moment among dripping trees
in the midnight hour
I remember
Your eyes coloured like the autumn landscape
walking down muddy lanes
watching sheep eating yellow roses
walking in city squares in winter rain
kissing in darkened hallways
walking in empty suburban streets
saying goodnight in deserted alleyways
in the midnight hour
Andy Williams singing `We'll keep a Welcome in the
Hillsides' for us
When I meet you at the station
The Beatles singing `We Can Work it Out' with James
Ensor at the harmonium
Rita Hayworth in a nightclub singing `Arcade Mia'
I will send you armadas
of love vast argosies of flowers
in the midnight hour
country girl
when we meet
in the moonlight
midnight
hour
country girl
I will bring you
yellow
white
eyes
bright
moon
light
mid
night
flowers
in the midnight hour.
poem by Adrian Henri
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Skin of Light
The skin of light enveloping this world lacks depth and I can actually see the black night of all these
similar bodies beneath the trembling veil and light of myself it is this night that even the mask of the
sun cannot hide from me I am the seer of night the auditor of silence for silence too is dressed in
sonorous skin and each sense has its own night even as I do I am my own night I am the conceiver
of non-being and of all its splendor I am the father of death she is its mother she whom I evoke
from the perfect mirror of night i am the great inside-out man my words are a tunnel punched
through silence I understand all disillusionment I destroy what I become I kill what I love.
poem by Rene Daumal
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Strangered In The Night
Well it was dark at midnight
There was hardly any moon
And no one really saw much
No one was really sure
But something didnt seem right
Something seemed kinda queer
The roar turned into whispers
Everyone stood t here
When the sounds fit the night
Something hiding from the light
Like strangers in the night
Well I didnt see them shotguns
I didnt see no knife
I saw this crazy black guy
With a demon in his eyes
I heard him say white man
Ive seen that silver cue
You dont remember me well
But I remember you
When the sounds fit the night
Something hiding from the light
Like strangers in the night
Well the knife just left his fingers
As the black guy took his aim
White guys head exploded
My God how much pain
And then everybody scattered
I heard some woman scream
God damn you old black bastard
Youve blown away my dreams
When the sounds fit the night
Something hiding from the light
Like strangers in the night
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Playing Golf at Midnight
Playing golf in the moonlight,
at midnight, at night, when light
cannot be trusted, when sight
deceives, it can’t be right.
He drives the sphere with the craters
like the moon, white like the moon,
orbiting like the moon; soon
it will collide with grass or sand, and
the black night will swallow the white
moon and the driving sphere
and no one will know where
went the white and where went the black
and why.
And after the ball has divorced its tee
and after the moon laughs
and retires behind the roofs
of the neighborhood houses,
the silence of the green
and the heartbreaking loveliness
of the green emerge and converge
and here in the suburban
wilderness, the only home he has,
he sees for the first time
how clouds absorb
and disperse
the light of the moon.
poem by Sonny Rainshine
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In The Midnight Hour
(s. cropper, w. pickett)
Producer: john hudson
Albums: tina live in europe (88)
Im gonna wait till the midnight hour
Thats when my love comes tumbling down
Im gonna wait till the midnight hour
When there is no one else around
Im gonna take and Im gonna hold
Do all the things Ive told
In the midnight hour, in the midnight hour
Im gonna wait till the stars come out
To see the twinkle in your eyes
Im gonna wait till the midnight hour
Thats when my love begins to shine
Youre the only one I know
That really loves me so
In the midnight hour, in the midnight hour
Midnight midnight midnight tonight
song performed by by Tina Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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AlOnE...
Alone when i cut,
Alone whebn tears fall,
Alone in this hell,
Alone each day,
Alone each night,
Alone in my school,
Alone when im gone,
Alone inside my head,
Alone with a knife,
Alone with my friends,
Alone with my family,
Alone with my blood,
Alone in my head,
Alone with my sucidial thoughts
Alone when i die,
Alone when i rise,
Alone with depression,
Alone in the mall,
ALONE IN MY HELL THAT I CALL LIFE....
poem by Cherish Bernstein
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Farewell To Verse
In youth when oft my muse was dumb,
My fancy nighly dead,
To make my inspiration come
I stood upon my head;
And thus I let the blood down flow
Into my cerebellum,
And published every Spring or so
Slim tomes in vellum.
Alas! I am rheumatic now,
Grey is my crown;
I can no more with brooding brow
Stand upside-down.
I fear I might in such a pose
Burst brain blood-vessel;
And that would be a woeful close
To my rhyme wrestle.
If to write verse I must reverse
I fear I'm stymied;
In ink of prose I must immerse
A pen de-rhymèd.
No more to spank the lyric lyre
Like Keats or Browning,
May I inspire the Sacred Fire
My Upside-downing.
poem by Robert William Service
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Head To Wall
Relax in time,
from the pain you've been.
I don't know anything,
but I can read what's on your face.
Just on moment,
just one more to struggle.
We all want everything,
but we all can't fit in the door.
Seven tries,
head to wall,
hurts your head.
Sort of trust,
that you'll get.
What you paid for soon.
Seven tries,
head to wall,
just to get cut.
And it's only time,
it's what you make it.
I don't know what it brings.
Hope for the good, hope from despair.
A second, just on moment,
just one more to trust.
Some time you'll get to see,
you where you want to be.
Seven tries,
head to wall,
hurts your head.
Sort of trust,
that you'll get.
What you paid for soon.
Seven tries,
head to wall,
just to get cut.
It's what you break down.
It's just a second.
A thrown in towel is the first thing.
Can't tell if it's the time that your gonna throw.
Push through or youll never get,
to see what you gave up,
passed on.
Seven tries,
head to wall,
hurts your head.
Sort of trust,
that you'll get.
What you paid for soon.
Seven tries,
head to wall
song performed by by Quicksand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Homonym
Don’t you agree with my ability
to loosen up on our times in no night?
A river thing was flowing
through foliaged silence.
In deranged hour of the
neck tie, you throw up obscenity
on road. What? Chicken hearted?
Sickle cell anemia?
Goat rioting before sacrifice: -
the tiny feet will dropp from heaven
to walk in blood and bless you
for dispatching the head of unlove.
The night hawk butchers the hope,
if the baby owl cries again. Afraid,
I am going to take a flight
to yellowing moon.
poem by Satish Verma
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thAts lIfe
I feel lost in my own thoughts.
lost in a world of struggle between good and evil.
lost in my dreams, my soul, even my own damn life.
what kinda life is that?
sure as hell aint the life i want,
but i got.
struggling every day to pull myself out of this deep dark hole...i sit back and watch my life pass me by...hour by hour...day by day.
but im still waitin for that day that i can stand up and say 'yup that WAS me and if i can do YOU sure as hell can to'...
poem by Alicia Tschantre
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The morning song
At this hour of midnight,
Desires creep
On the temple of sanity,
The ever locked spirits break
The walls of brevity;
And rise my oppressed powers
From the age old bed of isolation,
Crushing down
On hell, my heaven;
Tonight, lies there no wall
Between the kingdoms of wrong and right,
And no morning,
After this midnight.
poem by Pragjyotish Bhuyan Gogoi
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