Bottoming Out
Im cruising fast on a motorcycle
Down this winding country road
And I pass the gravel on the foot of the hill
Where last week I fell off
Theres still some oil by the old elm tree
And a dead squirrel that I hit
But if I hadnt left, I would have struck you dead
So I took a ride instead
Bottoming out
Bottoming out
Bottoming out
Bottoming out
My doctor says, she hopes I know
How lucky I can be
After all it wasnt my blood
Mixed in the dirt that night
But this violent rage, turned inward
Can not be helped by drink
And we must really examine this and I say
I need another drink
Bottoming out
Bottoming out
Bottoming out
Bottoming out
Im tearing down route 80 east
The suns on my right side
Im drunk, but my visions good
And I think of my child bride
And on the left in shadows
I see something that makes me laugh
I aim that bike at the fat pothole
Beyond that underpass
Bottoming out
Bottoming out
Bottoming out
Bottoming out
Bottoming out
Bottoming out
Bottoming out
Bottoming out
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Politics of Sodom
i really love living in malaysia
there is so much real life drama
to watch day after day - red blood
adrenalin driving episodes of political
and social intrigues to whet your
appetite a la the romans watching
lions tear away at their prisoners
you love real life hardcore racism?
multi levelled croynism seasoned
with a touch of shameless nepotism?
and high handed judiciary rape bottoming
out with repetitive juicy charges of sodomy
thrashing where it matters most?
come to my beloved country, Malaysia then
a country that tastes sweet, sour, bitter, spicy
like delecterious mixed fruit, mixed vege rojak
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Swans l
Unruffled, they sailed the seas
their wings set proudly back on racks of air
stiffly but fluently, blown by the breeze
quasi-mechanically
showing all the world no care;
or like a canon with twin, similar themes
that ether-tread the air on one another's
scruffled moccasins, like brothers
heel, in file, shore to shore.
Now back and forth, they swing
placid, in my mind, drawing dreams on dream
ribbons and spider-tethers wound in their bills-
sole and only labor due them:
freer than ducks at carnivals
although they never sing
for that would mean that death's come, so they go
drifting mutely, studying their faces in the quick
dipping a dripping head below
in liquid jade.
I recall one sorry soul
council insinserity,
I so young, by riverside: vessels of treachery
that haul unwary children down
to walk the murky bottoming and drown
like Gulliver bound up
in sodden reed to helpless fixity-
yet, of treachery they seemed to me
Guiltless....
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Circumnavigated My Eyes
I circumnavigated my eyes
to wash these ashen rags of grief off
like the torn sails of the Magellanic Clouds.
I knew how deeply I was lost
when I set my starmaps afire
because they got in the way of the shining,
to give them a first hand experience
of lighting things up for themselves
like arsonists playing with draconian desire.
Took me years to get the last shadow
of your misdirected spearhead out of my heart,
make white noise out of the snarling chainsaw
that accompanied you like a seeing-eye dog.
At first the intensity of the pain
clued me forensically into thinking
the sheer immensity of your crime of passion,
the number of times you stabbed me through the heart
meant you loved me more than you cared to let on
but then I noticed all your knives were smiling
like scalpels that had just blooded the moon in my eyes
and I could see the savage delight
you took in my Orphic dismemberment
like an artist in a surgical theatre of vivisected hearts.
Incisions I'll remember for the rest of my life
like paper cuts from a black belt in loveletters.
I forgave what I could and deliberately
misunderstood the rest to let you pass
without being noticed by the demonic lighthouses
that kept watch along the coast like candles
at a black mass for a continental shift in perspective.
I think I was still half in love with you
when I was assessing the drift of our separation
in light years, and the grief, at times, when it didn't seem
potentially lethal, was almost suicidally beautiful,
but as my afterlives dragged on like retrogressive epicycles,
as you did when you pulled the stars out by their roots,
I let the garden return to the wild
and laid out a defensive position of black holes
the dead who once bloomed here
never need worry about being exhumed from.
And I remember standing on the trajectory of a bridge
throwing the bones of my body parts off
like the pages of a calendar scored by a sword
in a cutting edge experiment with oviparous clones
born like mystic comas from spiritual replications
of the same cosmic egg you could never break out of
even after I defused myself like the supernova
of an unexploded terrorist who was once wired to you
like the memory of an old risk that wasn't worth the cause
or the collateral damage it would have done
to the startled innocence of the bystanding stars,
not to mention the traumatic disheartening of the sun
in having to realign its shining with midnight
like a firefly in a dream on a flowerless, terminal ward.
You were the anti-enlightenment that occluded my identity
as if I'd never been there in the first place,
and that would have been fine, I would have
happily lived for you as a better lost cause
than the one I was waging like an unholy war of one.
I would have burned in my inexhaustible solitude
like a discipline of devotion refining my passion for you
into a sword worth falling upon in the name of your integrity.
It would have been a privilege, a tribute, a blessing
to have had you there to give it all up to,
knowing you can never lose what you freely give away,
to get behind your dream like a demonically fulfilled familiar.
Capo, and consigliere, but the power went to your ego,
forgetting that arrogance makes you unguardedly stupid
and stupid will get you killed faster than evil,
but you didn't need my advice to assist you with that.
Not to be. That's the last plea of exoneration
from people who don't know the damage
they've done to each other without even trying to.
The inert delusions of neon gas that highlights
the stations of the heart where we stopped
along the way for a garish night
of PyschoBabylonic heartbreak gone berserk
and solar flares ionized the gun-metal, electrical fragrance
of flowers going supernova in space as if
they were ripping the veils and spiderwebs off
the gutter wisdom of the upper atmosphere gone slumming.
Even if I didn't need to, from playful firefly
to dragon sage with dusky yellow blood,
I would have transmogrified myself for you,
an oracular shapeshifter delighted to accommodate
the most delicate lineaments of protozoic desire
to keep you from bottoming out like the Burgess Shale
into a motile labyrinth of genetic cul de sacs
waiting for your traffic jam to turn green again.
Not to be. The gavel of whose will?
The officious seal of whose blood?
Better to be loved than righteous, feast the heart
among friends and lovers rather than
nibble on the bitter weeds of your isolated sanctimony.
You were always trying to salvage
perfection from its flaws, dehumanize it somehow
into nanodiamonds you wanted to genetically replicate.
Pollen of crystal flowers in a menagerie of bees
that turned their hive into a kiln of glass honey
that shattered like tears at your feet when you wept.
Who isn't an approximation of the person
they hoped to achieve, who isn't the fraud
of their own accomplishment, more disbelieving
in themselves than those who applaud with envy
the strawdog that gets thrown on the fire
after it's served a ritual purpose no one
quite understands? Hard to find a rose in the wild
that isn't supple and pudgy, blighted and marred,
soiled by life, armed and scarred, dust on its leaves.
You wanted to excise the imperfections
as if you were editing my emotional life.
I was always the diamond in the rough
you were going to send like a foolish jewel
to a multi-faceted finishing school
where they scrubbed your ancestry out of you
like bituminous coal off your immaculate, adamantine record.
Trouble is when you let that happen
you're not rooted in life anymore,
you scrape the poetry of living
from out under the moon's fingernails.
And there's no way you can plough a mirror
and throw a seed in it and expect it to sprout
however you exalt and weep over it.
Life may be a black hole,
but it's not an infertile ditch
of mercury trying to pass
for a thread of silver in the moonlight
through the eye of a needle wider than the Hubble
popping bubbles like worlds in the multiverse.
I offered you dragons, but you wanted me to be
a hyena with great table manners whenever
we were eating the leftovers of a lion
at your mother's place, and I was always
the savage you picked on to say grace
as if the words would somehow burn in my mouth.
And I suppose I could have been seated
at the appropriate place at the table below the salt
and not eaten before those you considered alpha dogs did,
and torn my share of meat from the spoils
of the psychological leg-hold traps set for everyone,
and honed my night vision to take down
an albino baby rhino on a National Geographic documentary
to reveal that scavengers know how to hunt on the sly
nocturnally. Maybe you would have seen me
in a different light, maybe it would have become
easier in time to become what you had in mind for me
but I can shift hearts and minds as easily as forms
and when I assumed I was you for a moment
I could see, after the hyena, you had me
lined up like a chimpanzee in a cage
with needles taped to my shaved head
as I expired in my solitude like visiting hours
with pain the only nurse on the night shift
working over time in the lab of a perfumery
to make the abattoir you made of the roses
I used to bring you, smell more like blood than flowers.
And that's when my sense of empathy
began to grow eyelids so I could turn it off at night
to identify with the dream figures
that didn't wake up with me when I did
and I began to evolve an affectionate sensitivity
to the exquisite features of compassion inherent
in painting life masks on the emptiness
to amuse my own inconceivable sensibilities.
poem by Patrick White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dirt Bike
Here comes the dirt bike
Beware of the dirt bike
Because I hear theyre coming to our town
Theyve got plans for everyone
And now I hear theyre over their sophomore jinx, so you had better check it out
All hail the dirt bike
Philosopher dirt bike
Silence as we gathered round
We saw the word and were on our way
Now its
Brain washing dirt bike
Ground shaking dirt bike
Mind bending dirt bike
In control
Soul crushing dirt bike
Self propelled dirt bike
You see I never thought Id understand
til that bike took me by the hand
Now I ride
Ride
Ride
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Nothing
Shot down your instincts, turned into a freak
You said this was your first time
How fast changes come for you to finally see
Shallow plains for you to find what you...
There's nothing left!
For me on this ride
There's something left!
With you by my side
There's nothing left!
Noooo nothing left...
Stuck in with no way out a gift for your grief
Shattered your thoughts of a good thing that you never had
Hopelessly knowing whats right or wrong
Can't stop the feeling, it comes so strong
There's nothing left!
For me on this ride
There's something left!
With you by my side
There's nothing left!
Noooo...
Observe nature from a black top view
Left you defenseless hoping for defeat
Built on my fears
Confession of obsession
One day happy place for you to hide
There's nothing left!
For me on this ride
There's something left!
With you by my side
There's nothing left!
There's nothing left!
For me on this ride
There's something left for me!
With you by my side
There's nothing left!
With this ghost on my side!
There's something left
With you in my life!
There's nothing left!
Nothing left, nooo...
song performed by by Zug Izland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Crazy Mary
she lived on a curve in the road, in an old tar-paper shack
On the south side of the town, on the wrong side of the tracks
Sometimes on the way into town we'd say:
"mama, can we stop and give her a ride?"
Sometimes we did but her hands flew from her side
Wild eyed, crazy mary
Down along the road, past the parson's place
The old blue car we used to race
Little country store with a sign tacked to the side
Said "no l-o-i-t-e-r-i-n-g allowed"
Underneath that sign always congregated quite a crowd
Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around
Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around
Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around
One night thunder cracked mercy backed outside her windowsill
Dreamed i was flying high above the trees, over the hills
Looked down into the house of mary
Bare bulb on, newspaper-covered walls, and mary rising up above it all
Next morning on the way into town
Saw some skid marks, and followed them around
Over the curve,through the fields, into the house of mary
That what you fear the most, could meet you halfway
That what you fear the most, could meet you halfway
Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around
Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around
Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Another Good Reason
(harley allen/carson chamberlain)
I woke up the other night
Lying on the floor
Right beside someone
Ive never seen before
She said my names juliet
And romeo you aint
Thats another good reason not to drink
Thats another good reason not to drink
When Im sober Im almost a saint
If I keep going on like this
Ill end up like ole hank
Thats another good reason not to drink
I cant go see my best friend
He said stay away
Just because of what I said
On his wedding day
He oughta call a sherman
Cause she looks just like a tank
Thats another good reason not to drink
Thats another good reason not to drink
When Im sober Im almost a saint
If I keep going on like this
Ill end up like ole hank
Thats another good reason not to drink
Im gonna sue to city
About that policeman
Last night as I left the bar
He stepped right on my hand
He said are you drunk or blind?
I said let me think.
Thats another good reason not to drink
Thats another good reason not to drink
When Im sober Im almost a saint
If I keep going on like this
Ill end up like ole hank
Thats another good reason not to drink
Thats another good reason not to drink
When Im sober Im almost a saint
If I keep going on like this
Ill end up like ole hank
Thats another good reason
Baby let me in Im freezing
Another good reason not to drink
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Child of Then
I lay down on my living room floor
Convinced that the world would end.
A crisis off Cuba with missiles in route.
Yes, I am a Child of Then.
A lady in pink with blood on her dress.
A President shot in the head
I remember where I was exactly that day
Yes, I am a Child of Then.
Police battle Blacks, Watts is in flames
Protests rage on without end.
King is dead at the hand of a bigoted man
Yes, I am a Child of Then.
Camelots heir sought to bind up the wounds
Then Sirhan Sirhan shot him dead.
Bobby bled out on the kitchen tiled floor
Yes, I am a Child of Then.
Asian girl running, naked, on a dirt country road.
A Viet Cong man shot in the head
Fifty Eight Thousand names on a wall
Yes, I am a Child of Then.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Don't Ever Drink And Drive
I never thought about accidents,
When I drove my souped up car,
I thought I was invincible,
Admired from afar.
There was no one else could touch me,
Those others could only dream.
When I had that drink in me,
My God was I was supreme,
I always took a drink or two,
Before getting behind the wheel,
Alcohol gives you confidence,
It enhances the way you feel.
I didn't need to drink too much,
Just enough to get me by,
Laws were made to be broken,
To me they don't apply.
Nobody would accompany me,
Which always made me think,
Are they scared because I drive so fast,
Or because I drive with drink.
I thought my friends admired me,
They'd say I was over zealous,
Their comments only made me think,
That they were all just jealous.
Little did I realise then,
My actions made them frown,
Instead of being their hero,
I was looked on as a clown.
Driving with a drink in me,
Had never held any fears,
I never gave it a second thought,
That it would all end in tears.
I drove down to the bar one night,
Then I sat and had a few,
I came out and jumped behind the wheel,
I'd show them what I could do.
As I sped along the highway,
Here was I the king,
I thought I was immortal,
What more could my life bring.
Just then there was a mighty crash,
What in Gods name had I done,
There was blood and gore everywhere,
This was no longer fun.
As I left my car I froze with fear,
There were bodies all around,
They were all lying lifeless,
Not one of them made a sound.
I knew I had to run away,
What a low down skunk, ,
I knew that I'd be sent to jail,
For driving whilst drunk.
Just then the police approached me,
I didn't know what to say,
They told me I'd caused total carnage,
For that there'd be a price to pay.
Tonight there'll be families grieving,
What you've done they won't forgive,
Because of your selfish actions,
Their kin no longer live.
Those parents have lost their children,
Yes it's solely down to me,
A thoughtless drunken lowlife,
So I beg you all to see.
Our actions have a consequence,
Some good while others bad,
To drive with just one drink in you,
Is totally and utterly mad.
Families are left distraught with grief,
Because I just didn't care,
I chose to drive while I was drunk,
Now they're left in despair.
Millions do it every day,
They don't give it a second thought,
It really only hits you,
'' WHEN '', not if you're caught.
I'm lucky, I'm in prison now,
Alive and in my bed,
My victims weren't so fortunate,
Five of them are dead.
It's too late to say I'm sorry now,
But while I'm still alive,
Please listen to my plea to you,
‘' Don't Ever Drink And Drive''.
Man And Bottle
Just an empty brandy bottle by the door
An empty bottle standing on the floor
Last week 'twas worth a carpenter's day's pay
But now it isn't worth taking away.
Last week 'twas full of brandy to the top
But in it now there's not a single drop
Just like a candy box without the candy
What value a brandy bottle without brandy?
The man who drank the brandy he is dead
Like all dead men a pine box is his bed
He rests in peace where all dead people lay
Six foot under graveyard earth and clay.
He drank the brandy and then drove his car
But alas the poor man did not travel far
His car left the road and crashed against a tree
And with his life he paid for gluttony.
Next time you're in a bar and have to drive a car, do think
Hard liquor is a thing you ought not drink
Spare a thought for the poor man who drank the brandy
And ask the publican for a beer shandy.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Bike Is Just A Bike
A bike is just a bike
It can take you for a riding hike
A bike is just a bike
With a motorcycle it is a look alike
A bike is just a bike
When you ride it you feel childlike
But there is something I dislike
It is hard to impress and make a good strike
Two wheels and one seat available for hitchhike
Your charming words will have a declined spike
Therefore it is best to leave the bike for the dikes
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lost Horizons
The last horizons I can see are filled with bars and factories
And in them all we fight to stay awake...
Drink enough of anything to make this world look new again
Drunk drunk drunk in the gardens and the graves
She had nothing left to say so she said she loved me
I stood there grateful for the lie...
Drink enough of anything to make this girl look new again
Drunk drunk drunk in the gardens and the graves
Turn summer trees to bones and ice
Turn insect songs against the night
With words we build and words we break
Im drunk drunk drunk in the gardens and the graves...
Drink enough of anything to make myself look new again
Drunk drunk drunk in the gardens and the graves
song performed by by Gin Blossoms
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
SONG On: Animal Love
There lived a girl called Lovina,
Whose animal-love was great;
Tall, she was and so much lean, ah!
She sang songs for a treat.
She had a sister, with whom she fought,
Right from her child-hood days!
Both were aged, a year’s diff’rence;
And so they fight-her mother says.
She did her home-work, in a short time,
Dreamt while her mother cooks!
In argument, she was so good,
And loved to read animal-books.
Once there fell down, a small Squirrel,
As she stood ‘neath a Mango-tree;
She laid it gently in a box,
The Squirrel-babe was no more free!
She fed the Squirrel, fruit and nut,
And lullabied it to a sleep;
The baby Squirrel loved her much,
Their friendship grew so deep.
She sang to it and fondled it,
And talked to it whenever free;
She kept it cosy, neat and clean;
Her holidays, went off in glee!
One day, the Squirrel fell so ill;
Perhaps, it thought of its mother!
So, you must set the Squirrel free;
Her doctor-uncle advised her.
With Squirrel ill, her heart turned sad,
Poor Lovina, could not sleep well;
For long, she kept awake and cried;
Was the Squirrel ill ‘cause it fell?
The poor girl prayed, all night and day;
She prayed to God to make it well;
And wished, she could become a fay!
Her life now seemed to look like hell!
She kissed her Squirrel, one more time;
Her Uncle let it up a tree;
The Squirrel squeaked and wagged its tail;
And jumped with joy, away, afree!
Lovina too now wept with joy;
Her pet-Squirrel seemed quite alright!
Her heart leapt like the Squirrel, Boy!
Her Uncle’s words were quite correct.
But Lovina missed her Squirrel;
She visited the Mango-tree;
She hopes to meet her pet some day,
Her friend, never turned up to see!
Ye love your God through animals!
Ye love thy sister first, then else;
Man hath a soul, animals don’t,
“Love thy neighbour, ”the Poet tells!
specially dedicated to my neice Rubina, an animal-lover herself, a true incident in her life!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Summer in Calcutta
What is this drink but
The April sun, squeezed
Like an orange in
My glass? I sip the
Fire, I drink and drink
Again, I am drunk
Yes, but on the gold
of suns, What noble
venom now flows through
my veins and fills my
mind with unhurried
laughter? My worries
doze. Wee bubblesring
my glass, like a brides
nervous smile, and meet
my lips. Dear, forgive
this moments lull in
wanting you, the blur
in memory. How
brief the term of my
devotion, how brief
your reign when i with
glass in hand, drink, drink,
and drink again this
Juice of April suns.
poem by Kamala Das
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hope The Hornblower
'Hark ye, hark to the winding horn;
Sluggards, awake, and front the morn!
Hark ye, hark to the winding horn;
The sun's on meadow and mill.
Follow me, hearts that love the chase;
Follow me, feet that keep the pace:
Stirrup to stirrup we ride, we ride,
We ride by moor and hill.'
Huntsman, huntsman, whither away?
What is the quarry afoot to-day?
Huntsman, huntsman, whither away,
And what the game ye kill?
Is it the deer, that men may dine?
Is it the wolf that tears the kine?
What is the race ye ride, ye ride,
Ye ride by moor and hill?
'Ask not yet till the day be dead
What is the game that's forward fled,
Ask not yet till the day be dead
The game we follow still.
An echo it may be, floating past;
A shadow it may be, fading fast:
Shadow or echo, we ride, we ride,
We ride by moor and hill'
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Ballad of God-Makers
A bird flew out at the break of day
From the nest where it had curled,
And ere the eve the bird had set
Fear on the kings of the world.
The first tree it lit upon
Was green with leaves unshed;
The second tree it lit upon
Was red with apples red;
The third tree it lit upon
Was barren and was brown,
Save for a dead man nailed thereon
On a hill above a town.
That night the kings of the earth were gay
And filled the cup and can;
Last night the kings of the earth were chill
For dread of a naked man.
‘If he speak two more words,' they said,
‘The slave is more than the free;
If he speak three more words,' they said,
‘The stars are under the sea.'
Said the King of the East to the King of the West,
I wot his frown was set,
‘Lo, let us slay him and make him as dung,
It is well that the world forget.'
Said the King of the West to the King of the East,
I wot his smile was dread,
‘Nay, let us slay him and make him a god,
It is well that our god be dead.'
They set the young man on a hill,
They nailed him to a rod;
And there in darkness and in blood
They made themselves a god.
And the mightiest word was left unsaid,
And the world had never a mark,
And the strongest man of the sons of men
Went dumb into the dark.
Then hymns and harps of praise they brought,
Incense and gold and myrrh,
And they thronged above the seraphim,
The poor dead carpenter.
‘Thou art the prince of all,' they sang,
‘Ocean and earth and air.'
Then the bird flew on to the cruel cross,
And hid in the dead man's hair.
‘Thou art the son of the world.' they cried, `
‘Speak if our prayers be heard.'
And the brown bird stirred in the dead man's hair
And it seemed that the dead man stirred.
Then a shriek went up like the world's last cry
From all nations under heaven,
And a master fell before a slave
And begged to be forgiven.
They cowered, for dread in his wakened eyes
The ancient wrath to see;
And a bird flew out of the dead Christ's hair,
And lit on a lemon tree.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Yes I Guess They Oughta Name A Drink After You
Oh I get drunk most every night
Seems like all we do is fight
The more I drink
The less I feel blue
Sometimes I feel like an awful fool
Spendin' my life on an old bar stool
And yes I guess they oughta name a drink after you
If this date were to be our last
I'd never sit down this glass
It'd take all the booze in the world
To forget you
You've left my heart a vacant lot
I'll fill it with another shot
And yes I guess they oughta name a drink after you
Looks like I had my fill
Guess I better pay my bill
When I started out I only meant to have a few
Someone just said that you left town
I better get a double round
And yes I guess they oughta name a drink after you
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
They Oughta Name A Drink After You
Oh I get drunk most every night
Seems like all we do is fight
The more I drink
The less I feel blue
Sometimes I feel like an awful fool
Spendin my life on an old bar stool
And yes I guess they oughta name a drink after you
If this date were to be our last
Id never sit down this glass
Itd take all the booze in the world
To forget you
Youve left my heart a vacant lot
Ill fill it with another shot
And yes I guess they oughta name a drink after you
Looks like I had my fill
Guess I better pay my bill
When I started out I only meant to have a few
Someone just said that you left town
I better get a double round
And yes I guess they oughta name a drink after you
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
After that night
He said things would never change
that things would always be the same
he told me he loved me
he swore all this on our friendship
but after that night we had no friendship nor any love
after that night he said goodbye
after that night he said it never mattered
after that night he ignored me
after that night he left for good
it wasnt my fault
it wasnt me who made all the mistakes
it wasnt me who turned and walked away from him
cause i still love him, but he made the choice
to leave me standing all alone that night
he left me standing there full of saddness and shame
he left me believing all his lies
he left me to love him after thaat night
nothing was ever the same nor will it ever be
because after that night not a bit of that night could make it right
i lost my best friend and my first love after that night
poem by Kendyll Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Ballad of God-Makers
A bird flew out at the break of day
From the nest where it had curled,
And ere the eve the bird had set
Fear on the kings of the world.
The first tree it lit upon
Was green with leaves unshed;
The second tree it lit upon
Was red with apples red;
The third tree it lit upon
Was barren and was brown,
Save for a dead man nailed thereon
On a hill above a town.
That right the kings of the earth were gay
And filled the cup and can;
Last night the kings of the earth were chill
For dread of a naked man.
'If he speak two more words,' they said,
'The slave is more than the free;
If he speak three more words,' they said,
'The stars are under the sea.'
Said the King of the East to the King of the West,
I wot his frown was set,
'Lo; let us slay him and make him as dung,
It is well that the world forget.'
Said the King of the West to the King of the East,
I wot his smile was dread,
'Nay, let us slay him and make him a god,
It is well that our god be dead.'
They set the young man on a hill,
They nailed him to a rod;
And there in darkness and in blood
They made themselves a god.
And the mightiest word was left unsaid,
And the world had never a mark,
And the strongest man of the sons of men
Went dumb into the dark.
Then hymns and harps of praise they brought,
Incense and gold and myrrh,
And they thronged above the seraphim,
The poor dead carpenter.
'Thou art the prince of all,' they sang,
'Ocean and earth and air.'
Then the bird flew on to the cruel cross,
And hid in the dead man's hair.
'Thou art the sun of the world,' they cried,
'Speak if our prayers be heard.'
And the brown bird stirred in the dead man's hair,
And it seemed that the dead man stirred.
Then a shriek went up like the world's last cry
From all nations under heaven,
And a master fell before a slave
And begged to be forgiven.
They cowered, for dread in his wakened eyes
The ancient wrath to see;
And the bird flew out of the dead Christ's hair,
And lit on a lemon-tree.
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!