Related quotes: Rwandan Elegy The foul stench...

Rwandan Elegy

The foul stench of burning flesh permeates the air,
Rotten, putrefying bodies lie in the baking sun,
Bright crimson death everywhere,
Frightened masses on the run

Wide-eyed terror on the prowl,
Africa rent asunder,
Can be seen Death’s scowl,
Sheer madness in Rwanda

Frenzied killing unabated,
A fevered orgy of blood,
Hate and bloodlust not sated,
A vile and incessant flood

Machete’s a-glint in the firelight,
Dark night knows no end,
Rampant death beneath stars bright,
The victims’ souls ascend

Sculpted in lifeless repose,
Torn bodies and silent screams,
The legion of dead in abject throes,
Naught can ever the killers redeem

And, where must be asked, was the World?
When they were needed the most,
Why were their actions not most bold?
Why was saving lives not topmost?

And today, the land lies sullied in shame,
The rabid killers remain unbowed,
The dark pall of hate still silently aflame,
And beyond, a menacing cloud

But perhaps, as if from the ashes of the dead,
Rwanda can rise once more,
To assuage the blood, terror and dread,
And embrace “Peace” forevermore!

poem by Ross DixPeek
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

Underground Killers

They kill for a reason
They'll strike anyone
Doesn't matter how old or young
Pay 'em big cash, they'll give 'em a slash
Explain how it should be done
A shot in the head
The man cut in half
Tortured 'till death
You'll never see him back
CHORUS
Underground killers
They are everywhere
Killing for money
They don't care
Leaving their victims covered with blood
Underground killers
Will make a mess
Whose killing plans have been set
Murdering their victims without mercy
They promise to make it worse
Tell 'em their next mission
And they'll give 'em death
Burn him alive
A high voltage jolt
A stab in the back
They promise you'll see him dead
Slay the victim to death
Dead bodies everywhere
Brutality is their authority
Killers are not afraid of death
CHORUS
Underground killers
They are everywhere
Killing for money
They don't care
Leaving their victims covered with blood
Underground killers
Will make a mess
Whose killing plans have been set
Murdering their victims without mercy
They promise to make it worse
More massacre for the long future generation
Their customers are the only police source of information
You've paid 'em in full
For the dirty job they've done
Now you must die
Like the other ones

song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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EverCrimson War

The bloody hearts that we consume,
EverCrimson they are,
The bloody streams, crimson with terror,
Are not very afar,

For eventually war will strike,
These haven heaven lands,
EverCrimson forming round,
Death hitting sands.

Causing terror, freedom felt,
In the depths of the sea,
Where drowning can lead to freedom,
A free death possibility.

But still as this war comes,
We shall never prepare,
For this EverCrimson War,
We never daren’t stare.

For this battle will spread blood wide,
Not only blood but lost dreams,
For those that once lived,
Now dead as it seems.

Those dreams lost forever,
Never to come back,
Losing memories of childhood,
Now at severe lack.

The child at home playing,
Wanting war to end,
Never to know the death,
That EverCrimson War can lend.

For as well as dreams and death,
Souls will be lost again,
Reaching up to heaven,
But never these lonely men.

For we caused war, maybe end it,
But we started it at first,
So Mother Nature cannot be happy,
Only send us the worst.

Crimson war is bad enough,
Than having it Ever to stay,
I tell them, ‘it isn’t a game’
The dead in sorrow lay.

Listening to my words,
Understanding what I mean,
But nobody listens otherwise,
They will never wipe sins clean.

Only keep them forever,
Staining the blood EverCrimson red,
Never to be lost,
Reminding of the ones who are dead.

Those that were killed,
The ones they killed,
Hearts, lands, acres full of blood,
EverCrimson War only brings disaster…
To those who fail,
Will flash crimson, go stale,
Rotting bodies, rotting blood,
Mixed in with the dying mud.
EverCrimson War only brings disaster…

poem by Viraj Bhanshaly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Piece By Piece

Modulistic terror
A vast sadistic feast
The only way to exit
Is going piece by piece

You have no choice of life or death
My face you will not see
I'll rip your flesh 'till there's no breath
Dismembered destiny

As soon as life has left your corpse
I'll make you part of me
No emotion
Death is all I see

Modulistic terror
A vast sadistic feast
The only way to exit
Is going piece by piece

Bones and blood lie on the ground
Rotten limbs lie dead
Decapitated bodies found
On my wall

song performed by by Slayer from Reign In Blood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem (Chicago)

'My age, my beast!' - Osip Mandelstam

On the lips a taste of tolling we are blind
The light drifts like dust over faces
We wear masks on our genitals
You've heard of lighting cigarettes with banknotes we used to light ours with Jews
History is made of bricks you can't go through it
And bricks are made of bones and blood and
Bones and blood are made of little tiny circles that nothing can go through
Except a piano with rabies
Blood gushes into, not from, our wounds
Vietnamese Cuban African bloods
Constellations of sperm upon our bodies
Drunk as dogs before our sons
The bearded foetus lines up at the evolution-trough
Swarmy bloods in the rabid piano
The air over Chicago is death's monogram
This is the Were-Age rushing past
Speed: 10,000 men per minute
This is the species bred of death
The manshriek of flesh
The lifeless sparks of flesh

Covering the deep drums of vision
O new era race-wars jugular-lightning
Dark glance bursting from the over-ripe future
Know we are not the smilelines of dreams
Nor the pores of the Invisible
Piano with rabies we are victorious over
The drum and the wind-chime
We bite back a voice that might have emerged
To tame these dead bodies aid wet ashes

poem by Bill Knott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Were-Age

'My age, my beast!' - Osip Mandelstam

On the lips a taste of tolling we are blind
The light drifts like dust over faces
We wear masks on our genitals
You've heard of lighting cigarettes with banknotes we used to light ours with Jews
History is made of bricks you can't go through it
And bricks are made of bones and blood and
Bones and blood are made of little tiny circles that nothing can go through Except a piano with rabies
Blood gushes into, not from, our wounds
Vietnamese Cuban African bloods
Constellations of sperm upon our bodies
Drunk as dogs before our sons
The bearded foetus lines up at the evolution-trough
Swarmy bloods in the rabid piano
The air over Chicago is death's monogram
This is the Were-Age rushing past
Speed: 10,000 men per minute
This is the species bred of death
The manshriek of flesh
The lifeless sparks of flesh

poem by Bill Knott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Disingenuousness

Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.

Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:

Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!

Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.

The March of Death

Death death death death death death death death death death death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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SS-3

Ancient crown placed on your head
The hangman of Prague
Seven keys to the chamber
Surrendered to the God

Hunting
Fighting
Killing whore
Wade through blood and spill some more

Hunting
Fighting
Killing whore
Wade through blood and bleed some more

Golden door submits secrets
As this nation falls
Atmosphere of deadly terror
Subservient to all

Hunting
Fighting
Killing whore
Wade through blood and spill some more

Hunting
Fighting
Killing whore
Wade through blood and bleed some more

Burning sense of mission
Assassination
Symbol of oppression

Crusade from exile
Obliteration
Sabotaged campaign

Check resistance from afar
Planning the death of one
When the plot is executed
There will be nowhere to run
Ramafications will be high
A price paid in torment
The end justifies the means
To hell you will be sent

The wolf leader now is the stalked
Expansion state of horror
Guns echo over the grave
A thousand fates are sealed
Murderous power brought to an end
Only to rise again
Cold and ruthless and iron will
Protectorate of the dead

A thorough sweep
Prelude to death
Secrets kept
But no one left
Firing squad
Begins their work
Harsh reprisal
For what you took
Retribution selective terror
The stench of death is everywhere
A severed head
A floating mass
Will give me the answers to what I ask

song performed by by Slayer from Divine Intervention
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Visions pt2-Torment (Visions Inferno)

I opened my eyes only to see
Destruction and horror in front of me
The searing hot wind forced me to squint
What waited ahead, I dare not think
Dark clouds up high were victims of death
The air smelled of nothing but rotting flesh
I must take this path to make my way home
Wading through blood and stepping on bones

I heard the screams and wails of dead
Bodies moved about without need of a head
A hand tore at my arms, then at my face
I looked in some glass, they were all ablaze
The burning was nothing I could describe
In one, two, or forty lifetimes
Terror and fear is all that was furnished
But I must press on out of this furnace

I felt hatred and anguish surround me
And greed and lust trying to bound me
I’m amazed that my heart kept beating
Through all the violent, deafening shrieking
There was an endless war that was raging
With no signs of stopping, no time for aging
As I left, my shadow gave me a pat
To put out the flames
And keep me from looking back

poem by P.R. Prosper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paschendale

In a foreign field he lay
lonely soldier unknown grave
on his dying words he prays
tell the world of Paschendale
Relive all that he's been through
last communion of his soul
rust your bullets with his tears
let me tell you 'bout his years
Laying low in a blood filled trench
killing time 'til my very own death
on my face I can feel the falling rain
never see my friends again
in the smoke, in the mud and lead
smell of fear and feeling of dread
soon be time to go over the wall
rapid fire and the end of us all
Whistles, shouts and more gun fire
lifeless bodies hang on barbwire
battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb
be reunited with my dead friends soon
many soldiers eighteen years
drown in mud, no more tears
surely a war no one can win
killing time about to begin
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
The bodies of ours and our foes
the sea of death it overflows
in no man's land God only knows
into jaws of death we go...
Crucified as if on a cross
allied troops, they mourn their loss
German war propaganda machine
such before has never been seen
swear I heard the angels cry
pray to God no more may die
so that people know the truth
tell the tale of Paschendale
Cruelty has a human heart
everyman does play his part
terror of the men we kill
the human heart is hungry still
I stand my ground for the very last time
gun is ready as I stand in line
nervous wait for the whistle to blow
rush of blood and over we go...
Blood is falling like the rain
its crimson cloak unveils again
the sound of guns can't hide their shame
and so we die in Paschendale
Dodging shrapnel and barbwire
running straight at cannon fire
running blind as I hold my breath
say a prayer symphony of death
as we charge the enemy lines
a burst of fire and we go down
I choke a cry but no one hears
feel the blood go down my throat
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again
See my spirit on the wind
across the lines beyond the hill
friend and foe will meet again
those who died at Paschendale

song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Macabre Beauty

They say death is the end,
But I don't think so,
Death's an old friend,
Waiting for us to go,
Away from this realm,
When our job's over,
The world seems a dream,
That keeps on going forever.
They say death is dark,
As dark as coal,
Extinguishing life's spark,
Dragging into it's hole,
Little do they realize,
That this is nature's law,
So, why're they surprised,
For it's like this since long ago?
They consider death macabre,
For it's the final end,
Like a sharpened saber,
Cutting the delicate thread,
But though it may seem,
That death's always macabre,
But it does itself redeem,
By bringing a new future.
Strangely, I find myself at peace,
When I am not at ease,
I request death, oh please!
Have me from my bonds release!
Silently, death does it's duty,
Therein lies it's macabre beauty.

poem by Suvankar Sen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paschandale

(SmithHarris)
In a foreign field he lay
Lonely soldier, unknown grave
On his dying words he prays
Tell the world of Paschendale
Relive all that he's been through
Last communion of his soul
Rust your bullets with his tears
Let me tell you 'bout his years
Laying low in a blood filled trench
Kill tim 'til my very own death
On my face I can feel the falling rain
Never see my friends again
In the smoke, in the mud and lead
Smell the fear and the feeling of dread
Soon be time to go over the wall
Rapid fire and the end of us all
Whistles, shouts and more gun fire
Lifeless bodies hang on barbed wire
Battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb
Be reunited with my dead friends soon
Many soldiers eighteen years
Drown in mud, no more tears
Surely a war no-one can win
Killing time about to begin
Home, far away
From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away
But the war, no chance to live again
The bodies of ours and our foes
The sea of death it overflows
In no man's land, God only knows
Into jaws of death we go
Crucified as if on a cross
Allied troops they mourn their loss
German war propaganda machine
Such before has never been seen
Swear I heard the angels cry
Pray to god no more may die
So that people know the truth
Tell the tale of Paschendale
Cruelty has a human heart
Every man does play his part
Terror of the men we kill
The human heart is hungry still
I stand my ground for the very last time
Gun is ready as I stand in line
Nervous wait for the whistle to blow
Rush of blood and over we go
Blood is falling like the rain
Its crimso

song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death of Dusk

The sun resigns,
bleeds out the vestiges –
remnants of the day.

Exsanguination edges into twilight:
red-brown hangs;
upwards darkens:
blue-brown,
blue-black,
death-black,
disquiet – furtive,
like ghoul-ridden fog.

A sombre moon assumes its role,
gushing silver-white lymph upon the muted scape –
a prequel of supernatural undertones
to chill the scene,
ice the spine,
kill the brain –

we have unnerved the very firmament.

But now a shadow closing down the globe:
dinosaurian cloud shrouds the moon glaze,
claims the late hour –
declared in a dying crow caw.

I, the hidden owl
– nemesis of claustrophobic minds –
awake! for mammal flesh –
fresh, jerking out its warmth in dance of death.
Rock-still I perch in sculptured oneness
with my crooked night-tree,
emanating nocturnal allure.

Together we scowl
together we play the dark
upon the land and sky
and mind

while you lie as dead in your box.

dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark
dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark
dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Death’s Too Near

Death, you’re standing rather near!
Don’t you understand the fear
You trigger deep within my soul–?
The terror sprung by such a ghoul
Of dark and hideous hue!

Now you’re rattling on my door!
I’m sure I threw you out before –
Methinks you really need to learn!
So leg it please and ne’er return
To haunt me ‘gain, now shoo!

Gain a sense of social pride, and
Keep your bearing far and wide –
Perform the deed when I am done –
Be free and loose to have your fun
When I’m too frail to turn and run,
But now I’ve living to do!

Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death
Death, death, nearing death
Death, death, death
Death, death
Death
Death, death
Death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The shadow of Cain (a reply to Edith Sitwell)

Man did not heed the cloud,
the cloud looking like the hand of man
and I saw lightning falling from the sky
and it was manmade,
thunder that exploded in flame
came down and down again

and in the dark clouds of death
the sun was blotted out
the bright cobalt sky was torn away
and men died as if being dolls made of clay

but on the hands of the living
the marks, the shadow of Cain remained
as killers of fellow men, slaughters in war
of a enemy
decided by politicians
whose hands were covered in blood

and these soldiers were young once,
only boys just out of school,
whose manhood, humanity had been stolen
and now were bomb happy
half crazy soldiers
who wanted nothing more than peace,
who needed tranquillity
and on their knees knelt to the living God
and sought his presence
while coming back from the bush,
from war, the fires of hell

begging forgiveness for taking killing shots,
for launching rockets, mortars
and throwing grenades to remain living
and was now torn in body and soul
and never complacent
offering their lives to the Greatest of generals
not knowing how to dispel
their own suffering, memories
and overpowering guilt
that made some weep

and they trusted
that the gates of hell
and eternal damnation
would be smothered, quenched
by the blood of the One
who died for all
knowing that He did not die in vain
and offering Him the pain,
standing in His shadow
as mortal men
true to the living king
when the day of Judgement comes
as did the thief on the cross.

[Reference: The Shadow Of Cain by Edith Sitwell.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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New Year's Eve Midnight

There is excitement in the air
Hearts are bubbling with joy and light
We feel the Death that is near
And we sit in wait wit smiles wide and bright.

This is the end we all wish to witness
The only Death we want to see so often
This is the time to forgive and to bless
Because a year is dead; boxed in a coffin.

This has always been our sole wish
The only resolution we would die to achieve
That we travel the time between the Ram and the Fish
That we always remain here and never leave.

As we watch the year gasp his Last
We see our pains flickering in His eyes
The dear ones that are now naught but dust
And the dreams that have long seen their demise.

So we cover the Year in His shroud
With mixed feelings of love and hate
Then we recite his elegy out loud
And light the straw to His body cremate

Into the open sea the licking flames go
Sailing away with dark memories three hundred and sixty-five days old
The wind is whispering what we already know
That we let go and face the New Year all strong and bold

With lighter hearts we await the midnight howl
The first cry of the New Born One
Desperately we wish it to cry and never yowl
So our days never dim but always have the Sun

At last the time is apt to forgive a debt
For the New Year is finally here
Now we begin another journey hoping to win the ultimate bet
'Who lives longer - Me or the Year? '

poem by Goddy MensahNab
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Sonnet Of Painful

the loud sound of blast
broke the silence of the night
splitted dream
start creating the sonnet of painful

innocence babies crying
children screaming bewilderment
they could only crying and screaming
since they are really in frightened

debris everywhere, flame here and there
bodies lay bathed in blood
bodies lay lifeless
some moaning, some silent

some hurt
some dead
some became defectively
some became orphan

tears will not be enough to pay for grief
regret will not return the dead
the guilt has to live tormented
in this world and hereafter

poem by Meilani Rozavian
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The City Sings the Song of Death

The City sings the song of Death
Death that roams in the streets
Fearless and merciless, its hands smeared with blood
Its clothes drenched, its desire insatiable
It yearns for more bodies, for more and more
And yet more

The City sings the song of Death
A song whose tragic pitch would scare of birds
Were they to listen to its harrowing cadence
A song that makes babies cry and disturbs the old
A song that is sung by every one who lives in the city of Death
In fear, in pain, in terror
For Death itself has come to life
For Death itself, unchained and unchecked, roams around freely
Who shall now question Death?

The City sings the song of Death
My City sings the song of Death
I too sing the song of Death
And so do the millions that live with me
In the City of Death

poem by Abdul Samad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Experiment in Homicide

Walk away, into the dark
Come my way, terror
I am the evil within each soul
I take the spirits of those I kill

Murdered

Decomposition, The body rots
Rotting, rotting body parts
I killed the first
To experiment

I don't want to hurt you
I just want to kill you

Torture, I start to cut
Carving, blood slowly clots
Horrors, mutilations
Homicidal experimentation

I set the dead on fire
To decay in flame
Homicidal desire

More are marked for murder
More victims to capture

Butchered

Bodies hang dead
Drained of all their blood
Pieces sewn on backwards
Neck with no heads
Mutilated, dead

Homicidal desire
More are marked for murder
More victims to butcher

poem by Jay W. Allen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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May 1,2011

At nightfall
we wait for the news
disasters lurking, terror
wafting across the land,
like an acid wind

when we hear
that he is dead!
A sudden crowd fills the park
as though we won the super-bowl!
World Champions!
U S A!

I hear their voices
praising God for the bullets
that pierced his brow
and spattered his foul mind
down to a place
as dark
as his murdering
soul….
… but his soul!

Now he goes
to his center,
to face the One,
to face his victims,
to acknowledge the lives he shattered
and dip his hands into pools of innocent blood.

I feel the glow
of justice; but what about
my own soul?
“Love your enemy”
“Forgive those who
trespass against you”

I am not half
so good as that, but
in my guilty depth
I know
I must not revel
in this evil man’s
death.

poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Single Candle/Death Herself

A single flame lights her face
The face of death
A single candle holds her fears
The fears of death

Her hands clasped anrond their souls
The souls of the dead
She feeds of their screams
The screams of the dead

Her legs lay bellow her
Bellow death
Her black gown over her body
The body of death

Her chest rises and falls with her breath
The breath of death
Her cloak drawn over her long flowing jet hair
The face of death

Her eyes unmoved unfeeling
Do you see it?
Do you see the soul of death?
Do you feel it?

Her skin as white as snow as it fades into darkness
The snow of tears
Her cloths as dark as night that swallows the light
The dark we all shall see

Her eyes close as she feels their souls flow
Flow from the dead
She leaves them there to lay in darkness
She steals from the dead

A single candle lights their faces filled with her
Filled with death
They fall into the darkness of her eyes, of her heart
The darkness of death

A single candle shall stay to light their way
Their way through the dark
A single candle holds their past
The pain and trials

A single candle lights her face
The face of death
A single candle holds her fears
The fears of death herself

A single candle

poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

Rwandan Elegy

Related quotes

Underground Killers

EverCrimson War

Piece By Piece

Poem (Chicago)

The Were-Age

Disingenuousness

SS-3

Visions pt2-Torment (Visions Inferno)

Paschendale

Macabre Beauty

Paschandale

Death of Dusk

Death’s Too Near

The shadow of Cain (a reply to Edith Sitwell)

New Year's Eve Midnight

A Sonnet Of Painful

The City Sings the Song of Death

Experiment in Homicide

May 1,2011

A Single Candle/Death Herself

En.Citatepedia^®.ro