Laertes: To cut his throat i’ the church.
King Claudius: No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize;
Revenge should have no bounds.
line from Hamlet, Act IV, Scene 7 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Related quotes
King Claudius: Laertes, was your father dear to you?
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
A face without a heart?
line from Hamlet, Act IV, Scene 7 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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King Claudius: Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine,
And thy best graces spend it at thy will!
line from Hamlet, Act I, Scene 2 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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King Claudius: The head is not more native to the heart,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father.
What wouldst thou have, Laertes?
line from Hamlet, Act I, Scene 2 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Messenger: Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds: ‘Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!’
line from Hamlet, Act IV, Scene 5 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Knife
Slit and
Slither knife
Penetrate in phallic push
To perforate the pulse of tissues in the flesh
Slice a vein to drain the unsuspecting victim
E’er they bleed and plea
Their scream
Of death
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pleasure
Try to comprehend me
Before you tear the aorta
Stab with a knife...
...Once again
Cut throat does not compare
To the pleasure of raping a child
Following her,
I leered at her tiny boy
Watched her delicate moves
And that strange freshness
Now, she's just a dead,
Ripped corpse
...In the cut throat
I find my pleasure
Raping the child
You hatefully murder,
Then desecrate
My body
You should have
Done it before...
...Before you thought
Of revenge
I was molested
It doesn't matter now
Now it's blood
Now it's sperm
Cut throat,
Pleasure
song performed by by Yattering
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Premeditation
Oh blade you'll warm tonight!
Awash in crimson-purple flows,
Your sheen will dull with aching flesh:
Palpating anatomic mounds
Caressing, dancing, writhing round
Your metal form-
Whetted ‘gainst a lonely bone,
Then to probe the pounding, begging heart.
And all the while the prey will howl
Before they crumple; greet the mud-
A taut and unbelieving jowl
Will open out for giving blood-
A vent from down below,
Once a brutal show
Of metal in the man.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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‘holy Family Church House-warming, Perundurai, T.n.’
Excerpt from Dr John Celes’ Welcome Speech
(to be held on 05-02-2010)
The Shepherd comes to meet his flock,
And bless the church that’s newly built,
Wherein an older church had stood on rock –
A sacred ground of prayer for Catholics!
Let’s welcome him; let’s welcome him, ye sheep!
He brings with him his staff that protects us;
This is the time our hearts with joy must weep;
The anointing will give us greater bliss.
Let’s thank the Lord for giving us this house
Of prayer to worship the ‘King of kings’;
Let everyone take Jesus Christ as spouse,
And tread the road to heaven as earthlings.
The Church though small looks splendidly laid out;
It has been christened ‘Holy Family Church’;
Our parish is a small one without doubt,
Nevertheless, peeps in internet-search!
The flock is one led by our parish priest,
Father Claudius, a dynamic, young man!
Who works hard without mistakes in the least;
‘May God give him good health and long life-span! ’
Our heart-felt thanks to Bishop and all souls
Who gave the land for building the new Church;
Our hearty thanks to all who played new roles,
And doled the sums that can now help to preach.
God made it possible to build His house!
Let’s worship Him with masses, hymns and pray;
Let’s reach the world at the click of a mouse!
And preach the Word of God by night and day.
We thank You God for giving us this place,
And worship Jesus Christ, as a family;
Let sweat of foreheads reinforce this base,
And help to rear this provident LILY!
Dedicated to: The Most. Rev. Dr. Thomas Aquinas M.A., DCL.,
Bishop of Coimbatore diocese
Rev. Fr. Xavier Claudius, the Parish priest and
All parishners of ‘Holy Family Church, Perundurai, T.N., ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-11-2010
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Church Is Built On Bloody Bones
The church is built on bloody bones,
Broken martyrs, burning homes;
The church is built on bloody bones-
Not singing angels, golden thrones.
The church is built on murder, rage,
Plunder, anger and pillage;
The church is built on murder, rage-
There's no escaping murders wage.
The church you choose informs your soul,
If you're shattered, if you're whole;
The church you choose informs your soul-
So be sure it's worthy goal.
poem by Patti Masterman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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King Claudius
My mind now moves to distant places.
I'm walking the streets of Elsinore,
through its squares, and I recall
the very sad story-
that unfortunate king
killed by his nephew
because of some fanciful suspicions.
In all the homes of the poor
he was mourned secretly
(they were afraid of Fortinbras).
A quiet, gentle man,
a man who loved peace
(his country had suffered much
from the wars of his predecessor),
he behaved graciously toward everyone,
humble and great alike.
Never high-handed, he always sought advice
in the kingdom's affairs
from serious, experienced people.
Just why his nephew killed him
was never actually explained.
The prince suspected him of murder,
and the basis of his suspicion was this:
walking one night along an ancient battlement
he thought he saw a ghost
and he had a conversation with this ghost;
what he supposedly heard from the ghost
were certain accusations against the king.
It must have been a fit of fancy,
an optical illusion
(the prince was nervous in the extreme;
while he was studying at Wittenberg,
many of his fellow students thought him a maniac).
A few days later he went
to his mother's room to discuss
certain family affairs. And suddenly,
while he was talking, he lost his self-control,
started shouting, screaming
that the ghost was there in front of him.
But his mother saw nothing at all.
And that same day, for no apparent reason,
he killed an old gentleman of the court.
Since the prince was due to sail for England
in a day or two,
the king hustled him off post-haste
in order to save him.
But the people were so outraged
by the monstrous murder
that rebels rose up
and tried to storm the palace gates,
led by the dead man's son,
the noble lord Laertes
(a brave young man, also ambitious;
in the confusion, some of his friends called out:
'Long live King Laertes!').
Later, once the kingdom had calmed down
and the king was lying in his grave-
he was killed by his nephew, the prince,
who never went to England
but escaped from the ship on his way there-
a certain Horatio came forward
and tried to exonerate the prince
by telling some stories of his own.
He said that the voyage to England
had been a secret plot, and orders
had been given to kill the prince there
(but this was never clearly ascertained).
He also spoke of poisoned wine-
wine poisoned by the king.
It's true that Laertes spoke of this too.
But couldn't he have been lying?
Couldn't he have been mistaken?
And when did he say all this?
While dying of his wounds, his mind reeling,
his talk seemingly delirious.
As for the poisoned weapons,
it was shown later that the poisoning
hadn't been done by the king at all:
Laertes himself had done it.
But Horatio, whenever pressed,
would produce even the ghost as a witness:
the ghost said this and that,
the ghost did this and that!
Because of all this, though letting Horatio talk,
most people in their hearts
pitied the poor king,
who, with all these ghosts and fairy tales,
was unjustly killed and disposed of.
Yet Fortinbras, who profited
by winning the throne so easily,
gave full attention and weight
to every word Horatio said.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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King Claudius: Madness in great ones must not unwatch’d go.
line from Hamlet, Act III, Scene 1 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Dire Wolf
In the timbers to fennario, the wolves are running round,
The winter was so hard and cold, froze ten feet neath the ground.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
I sat down to my supper, twas a bottle of red whisky,
I said my prayers and went to bed, thats the last they saw of me.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
When I awoke, the dire wolf, six hundred pounds of sin,
Was grinning at my window, all I said was come on in.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
The wolf came in, I got my cards, we sat down for a game.
I cut my deck to the queen of spades, but the cards were all the same.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
In the backwash of fennario, the black and bloody mire,
The dire wolf collects his dues, while the boys sing round the fire.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
No, no, no dont murder me. I beg of you,
Dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sex & The Church
Though the idea of compassion
Is said to be
The union of christ
And his bride, the christian
Its all very puzzling
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
All the great mystic religions
Put strong emphasis, on
Redeame this spiritual qualities
Of sex of sex
Chrstianity
Has been pretty modern
About sex
Of sex of sex of sex of sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
I think there is a union
Between the flesh and the spirit
Its sex and the church
Sex and the church
All religions mother
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Victims continue
Revenge is the means God punishes by.
Pleasure of revenge is God given bait.
Revenge removes hurt feelings, yet no good.
Revenge breeds revenge; victims continue.
02.05.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tonight We Murder
red hand takes a purple terror
love knows these nuts
when we escape from the madhouse
we will... hunt down
tonight we murder
between the battle of pain and hate
we will wait, but not for our time
we'll for hate and to take
to deep... throat
tonight
tonight we murder
between the pain, the battle of pain
love never ties knots
a twisted plan of fear and hate
we'll never untie these nuts
tonight we murder
i murder
tonight we murder
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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King Claudius: That we would do,
We should do when we would, for this "would" changes
And hath abatements and delays as many
As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents.
line from Hamlet, Act IV, Scene 7 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Hamlet Meets His Maker
Unseen and scene,
Of both composed;
these aery heavens,
this solid globe.
Will roused my Sire's
ghost from the grave.
Will would, for
that's the part
he played.
What is Will's will
I next should say?
Will I best Laertes
with my foil today?
Will the villain, Claudius,
be undone
by his victim's
vacillating son?
What is Will's will
regarding Mum?
Unseen and scene,
Of both composed;
these Aery heavens
this solid globe.
Now I lay dying,
and Fortenbras comes.
Let my tale be told
in every tongue.
'The rest is silence'-
Thy will be done.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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King Claudius: There’s something in his soul
O’er which his melancholy sits on brood,
And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose
Will be some danger.
line from Hamlet, Act III, Scene 1 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Osric: How is ’t, Laertes?
Laertes: Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric; I am justly kill’d with mine own treachery.
line from Hamlet, Act V, Scene 2 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Slit My throat
Tears are stained
against my cheeks
blood is gashed agaisnt the walls
all i have to say is slit my throat and lay me to sleep
I want out of this crule harsh world
everyone is mean to me
they hurt me
beat me
and make fun of me
Most of the time though
they end up hurting me
so as i cry out into the night
i want my last words to be
slit my throat and lay me to sleep
Lay me to sleep,
killme,
murder me,
do something, but if you do
slit my throat first
an lay me to sleep in a grave
poem by Dominique Lange
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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