A pale human swan,
Love poems and vitamin pills,
Sighs under eiderdown
quote by by Oskar Hansen
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Vitamin C
How I love you, Vitamin C
bouncer of the body's toxicity
firming up the skin, we see
speeding neural signals over
synapses..
so that we more quickly see
*********
(It's better to get Vitamin C in
uncooked fruit than in pills, but
if one purchases pills know that
stearate, glycerine, whey, MSG,
and natural flavor are terms for
animal products and other toxins
added to pills.
No animal product has vitamin C and
it is destroyed by cooking heat.
Linus Pauling, only person to win Nobel
Prizes both in peace and biochemistry..
studied vitamin C.)
poem by O. Anna Niemus
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Pain Pills
I took too many pain pills
To see what it would do
I took too many pain pills
Now i'm thinking about you
I took too many pain pills
My body's shutting down
I took too many pain pills
I'm lying on the ground
I took too many pain pills
I'm wishing you were here
I took too many pain pills
My death is drawing near
I took too many pain pills
It's messing with my head
I took too many pain pills......
And I think i'm finnaly dead....
poem by Jessi lucas
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Swan
Traffic jams, Concorde drones
TV's and radios drown me out
You won't change slamming doors
Temper, temper, that tongue of yours, drown me out
I've told you once when it comes to love
I'm like a swan, I only love once
I've told you once push comes to shove
I'm like a swan
I only love, only love, only love once
Dumbells crash, babies cry
A thousand voices, mostly lies, drown me out
The underground, Marble Arch
The deafening snap of breaking hearts, drown me out
I've told you once when it comes to love
I'm like a swan, I only love once
I've told you once push comes to shove
I'm like a swan
I only love, only love, only love once
Barking dogs, the lonely roam
The great unlaid making their way home, drown me out
I've told you once when it comes to love
I'm like a swan, I only love once
I've told you once push comes to shove
I'm like a swan
I only love, only love, only love once
song performed by by Right Said Fred
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Need Poems To Make Us Love Life More
WE NEED POEMS TO MAKE US LOVE LIFE MORE
We need poems to make us love life more
Poems that will make us happier
Poems that will make us kinder, better people.
We need poems that will inspire us
That will add to our sense of the world’s Beauty
We need Poems that will make us love others as we love ourselves as we love God.
We need holy poems
And joyful poems
And blessed poems
And kind poems
We need poems which will make us love life more
Which will help us love others and ourselves more
God more
We need poems.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Poems About.
There are poems that you will never see
Marked in a folder titled 'privacy'
Poems of hate and anger and personal pain
Poems about greed and hunger and personal gain
Poems about people I would love to see dead
Poems about women I met
Poems about relationships that have gone bad
Poems about issues with mom and dad
Poems about me, the person no one knows
Poems about places where only my soul goes
Poems I wish I could place in the clouds for all to read
Poems about lust, selfishness and greed
Poems I know will hurt those I hate
Poems I write by complete mistake
Poems I have hidden in my heart and my head
Poems about things that are better left unsaid
Poems I want to share and poems I want to retract
Poems of shame and how others might act
They stay in my psyche, they are a part of me
These poems I write, but you will never see.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Insomniac
there is something in me that does not sleep
and all the rest are protesting in these
sacrifices
the bed is warm it is hot it has fire and it will burn me
i need to step outside
to feel the rain asking for more water
to cool me
i am here in this pool of water
water poems, cool lines of water poems
some pails of poems some lines that lull
some pills of poems
that i swallow
to make me sleep
but when? these poems do not have the word
sleep, or weary, or bore
they have this word they like
insomniac
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pills for Pain. Blood for hurt
How much can a person endure
Before realising pills make the pain stop
They numb all feeling and leave you cold
Cold and dead inside
Pills for pain blood for hurt
It trickles slowly out
The harder you push the faster the hurt escapes
How can a person hurt themselves
When all they do is hurt
When you hurt emotionally physically is easier
Pills for pain blood for hurt
To be nobody to no one
To be unloved and unknown
I am know by the pills
They know me
They make me a someone
Pills for pain blood for hurt
To have a heart broken
Shattered and screaming for less hurt
To feel so much love and the next day non
Pills for pain blood for hurt
Love leads to pain
Caring leads to hurt
Pills for pain
Blood for hurt
Nobody to save me
poem by Maxine Isherwood
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Sing Me A Swan-song Not
Sing me a swan-song not, the tacit allegory
Of all the shadows that squander in the squalid vale
When the Sun, kingly, circumnavigating in circumspect
All over the gardens of plush askance - sing me a swan-song not.
Sing me a swan-song not, pale lover
For as the ides dawn a marching twine
Here I wait, like a tavern-frequenter, longing to behold
The intoxication of your supple wine,
Your dank submission, and your obsequiousness resembling
A flower toadied; a stem of savvy mysticism.
Sing me a swan-song not, in and out of the madness
The drizzle upon the pliant seethe of gray fire carries
The semblance of the quietus: have you seen a taciturn storm
Upon a battered doorstep love? That is I, a calm tempest -
An angst-ridden farcical or perhaps, the behest of the lustre
Of romance. And so sing me a swan-song not, dear love
Traipse alongside in an entwined manner, a sequestering specification
Of the gracious moon in the midnight soiree of unsheathed dreams.
Sing me a swan-song not, never, not even for a day, love
The fountains of bliss are situated in each wayward corner
Of the pallid walls where we break and amalgamate ourselves
Again - that is where I found you, wincing away into the sultry air
A soul confined to the thresholds of a bewailing thousand-shards;
Sing me a swan-song not, I will croon the lullaby of a
Thousand-fabled joys and a too-sudden image cast into
These eyes. Sing me a swan-song not, as I knock upon
Your doorstep, waking you in your unsettling slumber,
Professing love, like a flame whilst speaking, tongue in a knot:
Love, sing me a swan-song not in the time of your iridescences!
poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr
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I shall love a poetess
Sometimes a poet is called a mad man
For he sees sinister,
Even a gentle graceful swan
And so I shall undo a spinster
A woeful heart,
Can understand a woeful heart
For they have felt being apart
And that is how love is to start
I want a like minded lass
I shall love a poetess
Together we shall write poems of loss
Or poems of bliss,
-An ode upon fulfillment of our wish
To each others might pose meekness
She will appreciate them,
The way I expected them to be
Her comment I shall take as a gem
There will be eccentric dreams we will long to see
poem by by unknown author
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Love The Wild Swan
"I hate my verses, every line, every word.
Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try
One grass-blade's curve, or the throat of one bird
That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky.
Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch
One color, one glinting
Hash, of the splendor of things.
Unlucky hunter, Oh bullets of wax,
The lion beauty, the wild-swan wings, the storm of the wings."
--This wild swan of a world is no hunter's game.
Better bullets than yours would miss the white breast
Better mirrors than yours would crack in the flame.
Does it matter whether you hate your . . . self?
At least Love your eyes that can see, your mind that can
Hear the music, the thunder of the wings. Love the wild swan.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Not Every Poem Knows How To Say Its Own Name Properly
NOT EVERY POEM KNOWS HOW TO SAY ITS OWN NAME PROPERLY
Not every poem knows how to say its own name properly-
There are poems that have no name
And poems that are named by others who have not written them-
There are poems whose names make them what they are
And poems whose names contradict and belie them-
Many poems have their first lines as their names
And these poems often are as memorable as one line only-
Great poems and good poems can be nameless
Or can have unforgettable names.
Not every poem knows how to say its own name properly -
Poems are poems are poems
And names are names are names
And sometimes they meet and are one
And live happily ever after-
But there are times when perhaps
They never should have met each other at all.
Poems have their names
And names have their poems
But sometimes they love each other
And truly are one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Vitamin
Im born
Im alive
I breathe
In a moment or two I realize,
That the sphere upon which I reside,
Is asleep on its feet.
Should I go back to sleep?
We orbit the sun
I grow up
My open eyes see...
A zombified, somnambulist society.
Leaving us as vitamins
For the hibernating human animal.
Do you see what I mean?
You stare at me like a vitamin
On the surface you hate,
But you know you need me.
Ill come dressed as any pill you deem fit.
Whatever helps you swallow truth
All the more easily.
And I wonder, will you digest me?
Into the sleep machine I wont plug in,
In fact Id rather die before I will comply.
To you, my friend,
I write the reason I still live,
cause in my mind its set the vitamin is ripe to give
Coming closer to another 2000 years
You and I will pry
The closed eye of the sleep machine
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Room #9
Come inside take a ride it's your lucky day
Start your car won't go far brain's on holiday
Think I got a hit do you want a hit? Yeah!
All you need is a little bit! Why?
Open up your mind look at what you find
Touch the sky
Think it's almost time do you see the sign? Yeah!
Tasted like a grape but it was a lime! Yum!
Looking at the rain on a sunny day
Vitamin A! Vitamin A! Vitamin A!
I can see you and me floating in the air
It's allright day or night life without a care
Think I got a hit do you want a hit? Yeah!
First I used a toke Now I wanna flip! Cool!
Open up your mind and look at what you find
Feeling free
Don't anticipate hurry up and wait Now!
In a little while you'll be feeling great! Wow!
There's so much to do there's so much to see!
Follow me! Follow me! Follow me!
Rainbow cotton candy cloud thinking thoughts and speaking loud
Point to me the right direction pass the mirrors and reflection
See yourself as broken glass smash the vision of your pas
Running forward - can't turn back
Trains of thought are now on track now my mind's of purple haze
Screaming out in silent rage hearing things for miles around
Listen closely can you hear?
Can you hear the sound? Can you hear the sound? Can you hear the sound? Can you hear the sound?
I think I got a hit! Do you want a hit? Yeah!
All you really need is a little bit why?
Open up your mind look at what you find
Touch the sky
Think it's almost time do you see the sign? Yeah!
Tasted like a grape but it was a lime! Yum!
Looking at the rain on a sunny day
Vitamin A! Vitamin A! Vitamin A!
song performed by by 24-7 Spyz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loving all those mistakes
all the alls the extra s
mistake in tenses
how i so strangely love them
in all my poems
they make my poems
come alive
alive with a human touch
the missed s,
the extra f
a classic touch they give
to my poems
as if they are work of old
weather beaten
socrates' laws
on stones
the T turing into I
shakespeare's misspelt lady macbetf
dickens' forgotten ghot
wordsworth extra clouds
i love all the mispelt words
in a classic way
the rawness my poem run
over the computer
into a world that has
given up
up pen and ink
for the written words
the human touch
of old time poetry
that runs fluid as
the blood in my veins
i love all the human touch
in my poem
all the mispelt words
i love each missed s,
each extra f
i missed too
the pen and ink
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Vicodin
Pills, Pills, Pills
Pills I do adore
Pills, Pills, Pills
Yes, that's right-
Give me more!
'Look at her!
She's such a fien'd! '
'No, I'm not! '
-I try to scream
But, I know the truth
And, so do they
I'v got no chance
In them believing what I say
I'm addicted now
Completely hooked
It's not only my life
But, my sanity they took
All of my pain
All of my frustration
My pills took away
My fantasies of self mutilation
They make feel great
They make me complete
My neurosis they erase
My paranoia they delete
So I eat them for breakfast
For lunch, and for dinner
And, I no longer care whether
I'm a loser or a winner
I eat them all day
Shovel in one right after another
As I try to erase the pained faces
Of my Father and my Mother
And, it's like everybody watches
Yes, they just sit and they listen
As my eyes are tear streaked
So shiny they glisten
It is my pills that I love
It is my pills that I need
It is my pills that I live off of-
Live off of and feed
They make me feel happy
When I'm feeling sad
They make me feel good
When I'm feeling bad
They stop all the thoughts
They seem to flood through my brain
And, they make me feel normal
Even though we all know I'm not sane
Yummy.
I ate them again.
You know its funny?
They have become my only friend
All of this I explain
I scream and I shout
I just want my pills!
I don't care what anything else is about!
You can't have my pills
Give me them back
Give me ten more
Hell-give me a stack!
'Cause I'll die on these things
And, I'll do it in vain!
Because they feel so fu*kin' good
Painkillers really do kill all the pain.
© Copyright 2003 Nicole Settimi/Dark Lyric Poetry
Dark Lyric Poetry by The Dark Artist Nicole Settimi
poem by Nicole Settimi
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Tell me, O Swan, your ancient tale
Tell me, O Swan, your ancient tale.
From what land do you come,
O Swan? to what shore will you fly?
Where would you take your rest,
O Swan, and what do you seek?
Even this morning, O Swan, awake, arise, follow me!
There is a land where no doubt nor sorrow have rule:
where the terror of Death is no more.
There the woods of spring are a-bloom,
and the fragrant scent 'He is I' is borne on the wind:
There the bee of the heart is deeply immersed,
and desires no other joy.
Sonnet XVII: Beauty's Pageant
What dawn-pulse at the heart of heaven, or last
Incarnate flower of culminating day,—
What marshalled marvels on the skirts of May,
Or song full-quired, sweet June's encomiast;
What glory of change by Nature's hand amass'd
Can vie with all those moods of varying grace
Which o'er one loveliest woman's form and face
Within this hour, within this room, have pass'd?
Love's very vesture and elect disguise
Was each fine movement,—wonder new-begot
Of lily or swan or swan-stemmed galiot;
Joy to his sight who now the sadlier sighs,
Parted again; and sorrow yet for eyes
Unborn, that read these words and saw her not.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Dream Miracles God Speaks To Soul Mine
I gave God two more poems today
two perfectly harmonic resonating poems
two poems dream mind writ
two poems never to write out
two poems never to public post
the first fruits the best
I vowed to give God
in awaiting dreams I gift
poems to God is gifted best poems
God smiles I watch heaven’s eyes
across cosmos God’s love is given
across created God space prayer given
love gifted given God’s love shines
dream miracles God speaks to soul mine
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Overdose
As I overdose these pills,
Watch me die,
Bring me back to life if you can,
Pump these pills out of me,
Save me,
Can you save yourself,
Overdo on things,
Watch me as I overdose,
Watch as these doctors pump these pills out of me,
Go up on the hill,
Go scream your heart out,
I might hear you but I might be dead,
Poison leading through my body,
As I lay dying on floor,
Overdose these pills,
As I sleep,
Sleeping forever,
For know one knows what had happen to me,
The story of my life will end soon,
As soon as I overdose these pills,
Remember me when I am done,
Just one memory of me,
As I overdose on these pills that will end my life,
Thinking why should I end my life or how I should I get it,
I guess it natural for me to think these thoughts,
But someday soon I will overdose.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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The History Poems Have Not Been Written
The history poems have not been written
The poems after Milosz
The Wallace Stevens poems will never be written
I can’t come close
I have tried the Blake poems
But of course I am not near them either
I would like to the ironic intellectual poems
I might be able to do them
I could do a kind of surrealistic association mind poem a prose poem
But I don’t like that very much
The poems of Jerusalem have not been good enough
Poems of propaganda are awkward and unacceptable
The small poems that tell of my life
They are for me the chance at real poetry
And I will continue as best I can with them
The American poems I have not yet found the idiom for
I can be epigrammatic in Emerson Thoreau fashion
But not with the hard New England observing eye
Borges poems I love
And the stories of mind and literature
Making the drama of a life of a storyteller
Interest me
But I doubt I could truly do them well
Imitation can only take one so far
And through it one may lose one’s way entirely
I can really do only what I am
Not the Dickinson poems nor the Hopkins poems nor the Wordsworth poems nor the Keats poems nor the Amichai poems nor the poems of many others whose poetry I love
The Biblical poems have been tried
The poems of cosmic and scientific reflection
I could try to improve them
There are too many different kinds of poems to write
And I cannot write almost all of them
This is another poem about poems and poetry
I have written many for a long time now
Perhaps I need to go elsewhere and write in a new way
A way I have not dreamed or even remotely understood possible before.
The poems of the unknown poetry await me
I will go on but I am not sure now I know in which wa
poem by Shalom Freedman
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