Rags
“The buried glaciers make sense as preserved fragments from an ice age millions of years ago. On Earth, such buried glacial ice in Antarctica preserves the record of traces of ancient organisms and past climate history.'
-Their grandchildren, you mean, those ancient organisms,
They, the impersonality of pronouns
A nonchalant passive voice)
Snoopers, übercontrol, but the buried glaciers remain
And glacial ice keeps the traces of ancient history
- lying in the Hellas Basin region of Mars's southern hemisphere
the Moguls of Babylon
as frozen fragments from an ice age millions of years ago
they might symbolize something that one is already aware of
They stretch for dozens of miles from edges of mountains or cliffs,
Not a very clear picture, buried under rock debris, apparently,
Draw the Three of Swords, they learnt how to divert arrows of hate
Under cover of the night
a friendly ghost from friendly fire
“Don´t lose face, hope, don´t foam at the mouth”
Though wise men were said to rage at the dying of the light
And their rage, the empirical fog wrapping us up
our intercepted words. Fossils now,
Of their mountains or cliffs, you can’t tell)
Warning: you could be shot in the face without warning
Or just disgruntled locals tempted to indulge in unrest?
poem by Amparo Perez Arrospide
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Related quotes
Ivan
Part of the psychic poem project. If this touches you, please let me know.
Thanks
I've got a secret buried somewhere deep inside of your haunted home that was once upon a time my own
Violence and danger seek to bury it just like they buried me 35 years before
A warning to you tonight I give to beware those who seem just a bit too curious about you and your new home
No one are what they seem
Beware dark intentions from friendly sources!
2008 Ramona Thompson
poem by Ramona Thompson
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Buried Alive
I speak in verses prophecies and curses
I speak in verses prophecies and curses
I hate my life
The miracle is coming its just a hole
Nothings wrong with you, just maintain control
Everyones asking questions, your place is safe
Ill forfeit resurrection to escape the pain
I hate my life
I hate my life
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I speak in verses prophecies and curses
The storm of thorns is growing
There is no end in sight
Chaos claws my jaw
Thank Metal riot
Im in the mouth of madness with this tongue of poetry
I ate the spine of atlas, now the world is crushing me
I hate my life
I hate my life
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
I HATE MY LIFE
(I hate my life)
Buried behind enemy lines
Surrogate child for the sins of all mankind
Buried alive behind enemy lines (Buried Alive Buried Alive)
Buried alive behind enemy lines (Buried Alive Buried Alive)
Buried alive behind enemy lines (Buried Alive Buried Alive)
For the sins of all mankind
song performed by by Otep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Buried Alive
Afraid to feel
What's inside
Embrace my soul
In solitude
Frozen eyes
Face the fears
Rising strong
Out of control
Feels like I'm bursting into flames
Lost in hate future will be gone
Emotions strained misty eyes
Hear those silent cries
Nothing's real
I can't appear
The cold winds blow
Into my face
Feels like I'm bursting into flames
Lost in hate future will be gone
feels like I'm safe here
feels like I'm strong
Buried, Buried alive
Buried, Buried alive
song performed by by Zonata
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Have Been Millions And Millions Of Years
THERE HAVE BEEN MILLIONS AND MILLIONS OF YEARS
There have been millions and millions of years
And there will be millions and millions more
And I have had only less than seventy-
There is so much to see and be and know
I could understand far more than I do now
I have so much beauty and hope and love in me
Why do I have to die?
It does not seem fair or wise
So much waste and loss in my dying
Worlds in me that will never be known.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Prologue
Chronicle of The House of Maltus
In the corner of history you were there
watching the broken shadow of the air
cast by the light- from the uncertain future
of the recorded fate clothe of horror
In the corner of history- they
people of strange tongue and of ancient way
pale skinned creatures: silent in the day,
at night they with sharp and penetrating eye
In the corner of history- was a sight
the undying old between day and night
-he was un-earthed master of the tomb- the knight
and, -she was, in the womb of the lord's might
In the corner of history- still is
the great ancestors buried to the chest of bliss
lords and ladies- the royal blood of the fathers
warriors and servants- the welcomed guests
In the corner of history- I am
-the last of them, wise and valiant half man
-hundred years and more; I am the to and the from
-their birth, their death in my heart precious so warm
In the corner of history- the face and the name
of the creature cursed by them
man they are all the same
consumed by their malice they named us villain
In the corner of history- I, vanished
left the cruel world created by mans' heart
doomed by their own malice, their hatred
to my own kind- the sons and daughters of god
In the corner of history- I found
at last the heaven for us, above the sand
were memories from the past un-harmed
by the filthy beast: man, and their kind
Note:
Book the first, The Prologue
From the tradition of the “vamperas”- the story of Maltus.
(vamperas- equivalent to vampire; Maltus- character
appeared in the author's dream)
poem by Jordan Legaspi
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My Father Buried My Sister........Today
My father buried my sister today
My soul burns red with pain
No longer will I touch her face
Or caress her skin again
My father buried my sister today
God, what have I done wrong
To have her stolen from my arms
When my faith in you was strong
My father buried my sister today
Thank God I have another
I couldn't walk this path alone
Every breath is a struggle
My father buried my sister today
She was just 20
Searing, ripping, tearing ache
My emotions overcome me
To God above, how I pray
These words by her not repeated
My father buried my daughter today
poem by Pritisha Sardesai
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History!
Spoken words are history
Records of some remain a mystery
And when today and tomorrow
Row bitterly over yesterday
Today will become history
With just an empty space
Enlightened by a darkened face
History reminds me of a repetition of events
Dancing to the rhythm of the same kind of achievements
A battle is won or lost
Every love or hatred will eventually be buried in dust
I love you
You love me
Soon our love goes down in history
Someone else will find love a new discovery
So the theory behind is history
Is to have a story that commands all glory
For the inevitable past that will last!
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Human consciousness arose but a minute before midnight on the geological clock. Yet we mayflies try to bend an ancient world to our purposes, ignorant perhaps of the messages buried in its long history. Let us hope that we are still in the early morning of our April day.
quote by Stephen Jay Gould
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pet Cemetery
Under the arc of a weather stain boards,
Ancient goblins, and warlords,
Come out of the ground, not making a sound,
The smell of death is all around,
And the night when the cold wind blows, No one cares, nobody knows.
I don't want to be buried in a Pet Sematary,
I don't want to live my life again.
I don't want to be buried in a Pet Sematary,
I don't want to live my life again.
Follow Victor to the sacred place,
This ain't a dream, I can't escape,
Molars and fangs, the clicking of bones,
Spirits moaning among the tombstones,
And the night, when the moon is bright,
Someone cries, something ain't right.
CHORUS
The moon is full, the air is still,
All of a sudden I feel a chill,
Victor is grinning, flesh rotting away,
Skeletons dancee, I curse this day,
And the night when the wolves cry out,
Listen close and you can hear me shout.
I don't want to be buried in a Pet Sematary,
I don't want to live my life again.
I don't want to be buried in a Pet Sematary,
I don't want to live my life again, oh no, oh no
I don't want to live my life again, oh no, oh oh,
I don't want to live my life again, oh no no no
I don't want to live my life again, oh oh
song performed by by Ramones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pet Sematary
Under the arc of a weather stain boards
Ancient goblins, and warlords
Come out of the ground, not making a sound.
The smell of death is all around,
And the night when the cold wind blows,
No one cares, nobody knows
I don't want to be buried in a Pet Sematary!
I don't want to live my life again!
I don't want to be buried in a Pet Sematary!
I don't want to live my life again!
Follow Victor to the sacred place,
This ain't a dream, I can't escape.
Molars and fangs, the clicking of bones,
Spirits moaning among the tombstones
And the night, when the moon is bright,
Someone cries, something ain't right.
CHORUS
The moon is full, the air is still,
All of a sudden I feel a chill,
Victor is grinning, flesh rotting away,
Skeletons dance, I curse this day
And the night when the wolves cry out,
Listen close and you can hear me shout.
I don't want to be buried in a Pet Sematary!
I don't want to live my life again!
I don't want to be buried in a Pet Sematary!
I don't want to live my life again, oh no, oh no!
I don't want to live my life again, oh no, oh oh!
I don't want to live my life again, oh no no no!
I don't want to live my life again, oh oh!!!!
song performed by by Rammstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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First Miraculous One-Celled Creatures?
Who wove first intricate webs of cosmic life?
Who formed the waters seeded first earth life?
Who put together first miraculous one-celled creatures?
For two billion years only single celled organisms exist?
Then suddenly zap single celled organisms began to evolve?
To evolve into multicellular organisms seeding atmosphere?
Who what caused this unexplained unprecedented
profusion of life in incredibly complex wondrous forms?
Multicellular organisms fill the oceans spanning surface?
Why for eons two billion years only single celled organisms
then suddenly zap multicellular organisms teem in earth seas?
Multicellular organisms adventurers desire crawl from seas?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Traces Of Sadness
Verse 1:
He walked through the neon light
His future's 'bout to burn
His face was a mask of violence
He'd just reached the bitter end -
That point of no return
There was nothing left to reach
Chorus:
Just traces of sadness
(All the tears remained uncried)
Just echoes of madness
(All his fantasies had died)
He buried his daydreams
(But the nightmares stayed alive)
(Addiction's like a fence)
(That keeps away your second chance)
When the road to freedom ends
Verse 2:
Drinks and drugs and all the rest
He walked that one way street
That leads into desperation
And he learned the hardest way
To steal and fight and cheat
There was nothing left to learn
Chorus:
Just traces of sadness
(All the tears remained uncried)
Just echoes of madness
(All his fantasies had died)
He buried his daydreams
(But the nightmares stayed alive)
(Addiction's like a fence)
(That keeps away your second chance)
When the road to freedom ends
Bridge:
Deep down in his soul he found
The words he had to learn:
There is no way to return
Chorus:
Just traces of sadness
(All the tears remained uncried)
Just echoes of madness
(All his fantasies had died)
He buried his daydreams
(But the nightmares stayed alive)
(Addiction's like a fence)
(That keeps away your second chance)
When the road to freedom ends
When the road to freedom ends
(The traces of sadness)
Chorus:
Just traces of sadness
(All the tears remained uncried)
Just echoes of madness
(All his fantasies had died)
He buried his daydreams
(But the nightmares stayed alive)
(Addiction's like a fence)
(That keeps away your second chance)
When the road to freedom ends
When the road to freedom ends
song performed by by Vanilla Ninja
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Canto XII from The Heights of Macchu Picchu
Arise to birth with me, my brother.
Give me your hand out of the depths
sown by your sorrows.
You will not return from these stone fastnesses.
You will not emerge from subterranean time.
Your rasping voice will not come back,
nor your pierced eyes rise from their sockets.
Look at me from the depths of the earth,
tiller of fields, weaver, reticent shepherd,
groom of totemic guanacos,
mason high on your treacherous scaffolding,
iceman of Andean tears,
jeweler with crushed fingers,
farmer anxious among his seedlings,
potter wasted among his clays--
bring to the cup of this new life
your ancient buried sorrows.
Show me your blood and your furrow;
say to me: here I was scourged
because a gem was dull or because the earth
failed to give up in time its tithe of corn or stone.
Point out to me the rock on which you stumbled,
the wood they used to crucify your body.
Strike the old flints
to kindle ancient lamps, light up the whips
glued to your wounds throughout the centuries
and light the axes gleaming with your blood.
I come to speak for your dead mouths.
Throughout the earth
let dead lips congregate,
out of the depths spin this long night to me
as if I rode at anchor here with you.
And tell me everything, tell chain by chain,
and link by link, and step by step;
sharpen the knives you kept hidden away,
thrust them into my breast, into my hands,
like a torrent of sunbursts,
an Amazon of buried jaguars,
and leave me cry: hours, days and years,
blind ages, stellar centuries.
And give me silence, give me water, hope.
Give me the struggle, the iron, the volcanoes.
Let bodies cling like magnets to my body.
Come quickly to my veins and to my mouth.
Speak through my speech, and through my blood.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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The War Game
I am buried by time,
I am buried by love;
Like life from Herat in Afghanistan.
I am buried by the heat,
I am buried by the cold,
I am buried by the wings of nature!
Like life from Herat in Afghanistan.
Keep talking it,
Keep saying it,
Keep doing it,
Keep walking it,
Keep dancing it,
Keep swinging it,
Keep climbing it,
Keep trying it,
Keep asking it,
Keep working it,
Keep moving it,
Keep flying it,
Keep acting it,
All in the time frame to be buried;
Like the War Game in Afghanistan.
Buried under the nature of things,
With bombs exploding from left and right;
Like a message from Herat in Afghanistan.
The War Game,
All in a time frame to be buried;
Keep rolling it,
Keep changing it,
Keep trading it,
Keep building it,
Keep covering it,
Keep painting it,
Keep writing it,
Keep blocking it,
Keep cookin it,
Keep posting it,
Keep accepting it,
Keep driving it,
Keep bombing it,
Keep squeezing it,
Like the war game in Afghanistan.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Ziplocked
Fear grips a family of words.
You are going to where you do not want
to go.
I remain worried about the unknown.
The inevitable was flowering
on dead palms.
Would you exhume the past to find out,
what the divinity has buried
along the panicles of croci?
I do not understand this war
between glaciers and guns.
Can we drink together the elixir
of death dripping from the snow peaks?
Sun was screaming from the unblooming trees.
poem by Satish Verma
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Heavy Moral Burden
There's a park in this city
Where my soul can dream that I'm happy
And that she remains with me.
I've been lost like the meaning
Of an ancient hieroglyphic
For innumerable years.
Once there was silence
Undisturbed by words
And there was consolation in her eyes.
One day, after I've buried
My self-deceptive lies, I'll find a way
To say I'm still in love with her.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Totally confused.
Far below us there are salt mines
From ancient seas.
And fossils from millions of
Of years ago.
But yet I am told that they were put there
To confuse the evolutionists
There is Gods plan.
What plan is that I ask myself.
When millions of soldiers and non-combatants
Died in the two World wars, and a holocaust that decimated the jewish, old men, children and women.
People that died in terror.
Where was he?
Appearing at a time of disaster or war
Would it be wonderful
To see a great hope.
Can you imagine the media!
War is no more, diseases are controlled.
It confuses me because I have belief in him.
Yet no one has returned with the good news,
In 2000 years.
I really want' to see him
But he is like an uncle that I never see.
poem by Willow Moon Pearce
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Find The Cost Of Freedom
Daylight again, following me to bed
I think about a hundred years ago, how my fathers bled
I think I see a valley, covered with bones in blue
All the brave soldiers that cannot get older been askin' after
you
Hear the past a callin', from Ar- -megeddon's side
When everyone's talkin' and noone is listenin', how can we
decide?
(Do we) find the cost of freedom, buried in the ground
Mother earth will swallow you, lay your body down
Find the cost of freedom, buried in the ground
Mother earth will swallow you, lay your body down
(Find the cost of freedom buried in the ground)
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ice-cold Refusal
Act of God Graham Phillips - a very academic
account, the first 200 pages are bone dry but
I forged on, set on reaching wonderful theories
about cataclysm & history, nearly did not make
it, getting buried under a dearth of facts, names,
funerary rites, conventional Egyptology
Ice-cold refusal to consider Graham Hancock
theories about pyramid age determined by
precipitation marks - all irrelevant, I'm only
guided by a need for the enthusiasm of the
inspired researcher but the first 200 pages
fail to touch the reader
After suffocating in a desert of words, names,
facts and conjectures, the author promises to
prove that the Egyptian events were the effect
of ancient cataclysms, I hope to reach this part
of the academic dissertation before losing my
mind in boring reams of facts
It's clear why maverick Zechariah Sitchin
is so much more interesting to read, especially
when one has no use for the ancient lore
in designing a dreamy life...
Act of God - Graham Phillips, Pan Books,1988
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Our Riches
We came onto this earth and we met money!
But we will die one day and leave it all;
Because i have never seen a rich person being buried with his or her money!
Our riches of this world,
The rich are not even buried with their best car! !
So if we are rich today,
Let us use it wisely to help the poor around us;
Because we will all die one day without the riches following us.
The poor will always be around us,
So it is better to gain heaven than hell!
And it is better to love one another than hate,
For we cannot be buried with all our riches!
And it is better to give than to receive.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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