Hard Lines, Sunken Cheeks
As a child I was given the gift to entertain you.
But through blood I inherited a life that could destroy you.
I drink all day. I smoke all day. Ive done it all but tap
The vein.
These hard lines and sunken cheeks are text book reasons
All these christians come alive and try to sell you
My soul for a goat, yet Ill outlive the old.
You know its bad, some may say sad, a hangover is
Inspiration. like a junkie I hurt for it. a bad trip, the
Emptiness. I never sleep, or always sleep a lack of
Fulfillment to me is me. the big picture.
These hard lines and sunken cheeks are part of
What the christians mean to immortalize my situation.
My soul for a goat. yet Ill outlive the old.
Embrace some religion. to get close to some
Undivine ejaculation point.
Simply to thy ghost I cling.
Simply to thy ghost I reject.
Simply to thy ghost I give spit.
Tempter, tempting, tempt me. molest me. you know that ill
Submit. for this is my weakness and it saves me from relationships
With those christians. you know theyll sell you my soul
For a goat. yet Ill outlive the old.
song performed by by Pantera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Change From The Inside Out
The more that some Christians change, the more they remain the same,
For many people who claim to be saved, are only Christians in name.
Christianity is not simply a religion for man to deal with strife,
But it's God personally reaching down to man to offer him new life.
Change in one's life is not simply an option for each Child of God,
For we were commanded to leave behind the path we once had trod.
Although we live in the world, we're not to be of the world we're in,
For God's desire for us would be hindered if we get entangled in sin.
Christians are sealed by The Holy Spirit until the day of redemption,
You are then set apart for the work of The Lord, with no Exemption.
Our lives belong to God, as He purchased us with the blood of Christ,
Christ is where we place our trust, as we become a living sacrifice.
And it's to the patterns of this world we are not to be conformed,
Instead it's through the Word that renews, we are to be transformed.
For all in Christ, the old passes away as we become a New Creation,
And God, who has reconciled us, give us a ministry of reconciliation.
So our lives should now be used to reach others with God's Salvation,
It should be our compassion to reach every tribe, tongue and nation.
So today is the day to let The Lord inside and really make a change,
And just like John the Baptist my friend, you will never be the same.
(Copyright © 03/2003)
Monastery, Montserrat
Christians’ belief will outlive
these particular monastic bricks,
which will, in their present
configuration, outlast us—visitors
today in bright sun. A child
accidentally kicks a soccer-ball
over the parapet. We all move
to the wall, peer over. Rocks above
the monastery will outlast
Christians’ belief in its present
configuration, will persist past
words like rock and kick that
visitors today, tomorrow, speak.
Can belief make the face of
a simple wooden statue last
forever? The face of the Black
Madonna shines, seems
to gaze past the parapet
of Time. Geology promises
that wind will outlive rocks
above. Wind roaming past
bluffs above Montserrat is
holier than now, is eternal
liturgy of displacement, is
inspired.
poem by Hans Ostrom
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The Ghost And Me
The ghost and me
The ghost and me.
Are one and the same.
We don't exist.
We are never to be seen.
Everybody has washed their hand clean of...
A mistake that never happen.
A birth that was more like a regurgitation.
I didn't mean to do that.
Oh oh but you did.
The ghost and me
The ghost and me.
Are one and the same.
We don't exist.
We are never to be seen.
Now tell me
How hard is it to forgive
When one denies you everyday..?
Oh just disappear.
I wish you weren't here.
Those are the words I continuously hear.
The ghost and me
The ghost and me.
Are one and the same.
We don't exist.
We are never to be seen.
Voices marching to a beat.
Voices marching to an eventual defeat.
Running through a slaughter house just to fix a broken soul.
An what does it expose?
Is the blood real?
A talentless man with no cloths.
The ghost and me
The ghost and me.
Are one and the same.
We don't exist.
We are never to be seen.
I hate it.
It isn't fair.
But in this world of despair.
Tears will never heal these wounds.
For they're continuously felt each and everyday.
The pain will never go away.
It is here to stay.
The ghost and me
The ghost and me.
Are one and the same.
We don't exist.
We are never to be seen.
The ghost and me
The ghost and me.
Are one and the same.
We don't exist.
We are never to be seen.
No never again.
A march to the very end.
When I'm hanging from that rope
I want nothing from you.
It is what you gave me.
Suffering silence.
The stillness that is so quiet.
No one is here except...
The ghost and me
The ghost and me.
Are one and the same.
We don't exist.
We are never to be seen.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Christmas Day At The Bunkhouse (Fun Poem 47)
It was Christmas day at the bunkhouse
everyone had sat down for a meal
when through the door walked a goat.
He stood and looked around,
then continued to eat an artichoke.
When he finished he sat and asked for a drink,
someone got up and gave him a bowel of water.
The goat looked at the offering with disgust.
Ain’t you got anything stronger that that?
Of course, we have, came the reply.
Well pour me out some the goats said,
and put some mud in my eye.
Someone had some scotch whiskey
and took the bottle out,
then gave the goat a dram.
The goat sniffed it, and then downed it
all in one swallow.
He then asked for more
saying his legs were still hollow.
Another dram was poured
and everyone was amazed to see,
an upside down goat
drinking a bottle of scotch whiskey.
The goat drank all day
and it drank all night.
The lights went out
and the old goat went to sleep.
He dreamed of himself
floating out the door
and all the way to heaven,
but when he got there,
St Peter wouldn’t let him in.
He said God will not tolerate
any drunken old goats here,
so you had better go back
and sleep it off, Billy.
Then put up a sign on the door.
No drunken old goats allowed,
signed by you know who.
You could always try
beneath the basement floor
he’ll greet you with a smile
and a shovel,
even make you hot and warm.
The moral of this story
whether you’re a goat or a man.
Don’t drink too much;
you could end up
jumping from the frying pan
and straight into the fire,
the one that they keep burning
permanently beneath the basement floor.
poem by David Harris
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Theologians
Theologians
They don't know nothing
About my soul
About my soul
I'm an ocean
An abyss in motion
Slow motion
Slow motion
Inlitterati lumen fidei
God is with us everyday
That illiterate light
Is with us every night
Theologians
That don't know nothing
About my soul
Oh they don't know
They thin my heart with little things
And my life with change
Oh in so many ways
I find more missing every day
Theologians
I'm going away
Where you will look for me
Where I'm going you cannot come
No one's ever gonna take my life from me
I lay it down
A ghost is born
A ghost is born
A ghost is born
I'm an ocean
I'm all emotion
I'm a cherry ghost
Cherry ghost
Hey I'm a cherry ghost
A cherry ghost
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I feel that Christian music is a subculture directed towards the Christians. It's not really being exposed to non-Christians and it's not really created for non-Christians, so non-Christians almost never hear any of this music.
quote by Larry Norman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghost Train
Here they come to steal my soul
(Ghost train)
Wait it out until I know
(Ghost train)
Trying not to feel I give it
(Ghost train)
Moving up until I go go
(Ghost train)
She was not to hear about me leaving
(Ghost train)
Trying to be near my heart
(Ghost train)
Trying not to feel like bleeding
(Ghost train)
Moving up until I'm taught to your side
(Ghost train)
Yeah yeah yeah
(Ghost train)
yeah yeah yeah
(Ghost train)
yeah yeah yeah
(Ghost train)
Got suicide for my baby
(Ghost train)
Living up until I wanted
(Ghost train)
Seeing like I'm out of bed, yeah
(Ghost train)
Moving up and taught I'm a weapon
(Ghost train)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
(Ghost train)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
(Ghost train)
I see myself pretend how to get there
(Ghost train)
Dripping down, I'm poisoned on the street
(Ghost train)
Come on come on come on!
(Ghost train)
Come on come on come on!
(Ghost train)
Come on come on come on!
(Ghost train)
Come on come on come on!
(Ghost train)
Come on come on come on!
(Ghost train)
Come on come on come on!
(Ghost train)
Come on come on come on!
(Ghost train)
Come on come on come on!
(Ghost train)
Got suicide for my baby
(Ghost train)
Living up until I wanted
(Ghost train)
Seeing like I'm out of bed, yeah
(Ghost train)
Moving up and taught I'm a weapon
(Ghost train)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
(Ghost train)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
(Ghost train)
I see myself pretend how to get there
(Ghost train)
Dripping down, I'm poisoned on the street
(Ghost train)
Come on come on come on!
(Ghost train)
Come on come on come on!
(Ghost train)
song performed by by Gorillaz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sacrifice
Nothing has been occupying my minds,
I have all the requirements for them to be classed as two,
For I have double-vision as to the religion of my thought,
I am not guilty and I have no stigma,
Merely the goat has been slain by its owner
For the worn garment, and the delicious meat it endows.
What is century after century of sacrifice when a life has been
Rectified for all the days in it?
Why do we keep lunar years for these praises and festivals
When every year seemed to be carried?
Where is my food, O mother! Why does the goat hurt when it is dissected?
It is a child that speaks hostility and not a stranger can even desire this speech.
We can sacrifice all we want, when we want, and however we want
As long as rivers and oceans shall curve with water.
Water makes it abundantly clear, like the blood that wreaks from the neck
Of a dead goat. Always the sacrifice is made on this time in the calendar.
poem by Naveed Akram
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‘Bees will Return to Hives! ’
The Saffronization of India?
–Phulbani, Kandhammal, Orissa, India.
'Calm follows every storm;
But Christians must be calm! '
‘Where martyrs’ blood be spilt,
More churches will be built!
Without much shame or guilt,
Fanatics hit the hilt’
Their saffron hues, they spray
On Dalit Christians, aye!
They won’t allow them pray;
They hunt them night and day!
What tragedy now looms!
‘Turn Hindu, ’ call now booms;
‘Or die; be bruised and maimed! ’
Why Christians all are blamed?
Frenzied mobs on rampage:
A war on Christians wage;
Conversion is their lie,
As Christians many die!
Can’t one profess their faith
Of choice and freedom, say?
Are Christians not Indians?
God will show them their way!
Such states are keeping quiet;
They want Christians to fight;
‘Violence begets violence’
Most Christians stay calm, hence.
Are there no basic rights?
Most Christian homes lost lights;
Hundreds have been destroyed;
Pleas have gone null and void.
Most Christians are too hurt;
No one seems to regret;
Churches are simply torched,
And human beings scorched!
As angry mobs destroy,
And loot the Christian homes;
And burn them down overnight;
O, see the Dalit’s plight!
‘Kandhammal is burning;
Christians are hiding
in the forests near-by,
Out of fear for their lives!
The Bureaucracy’s sleeping!
A community’s weeping;
And the nation goes on
As usual, from dusk to dawn!
Who gives the rioters rights
To kill and loot and maim?
The government takes no blame;
Keeps its political aim.
All Indians are brothers;
They spare not nuns, sisters!
They burn Christians alive,
For converting the tribes?
Will not some leader ask?
Is peace then no one’s task?
Christians cannot worship
Nor live in peace, friendship.
Conversion is excuse
For mobs to cause abuse
Of Dalit Christians poor
Who grew in numbers more!
God watches all these crimes;
He will usher new climes;
As martyrs’ blood cries, pleads
To stop arson, misdeeds.
Has Nature lost its cool?
More floods are going to kill
the robust and the ill,
The ‘wise fanatic fool! ’
Shouldn’t Christians not unite,
As churches, homes ignite?
Our patience isn’t weakness;
God is God of fairness!
If churches bear insult
Temples aren’t stronger built;
Time teaches all lessons,
As blatant lie weakens.
They blame the poor Christians
Who belong to same soil;
Their living God’s mighty –
One, only Almighty!
But how long will they kill
And take innocent lives?
The fanatics have skill?
‘Bees will return to hives! ’
Such states can’t then progress
If violence won’t regress;
God will not spare culprits
Ready are His hell-pits!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 09-27-2008
poem by John Celes
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Actually Some Poems Are Not Meant To Be Understood
forgive me but my poems are not meant to be understood
they are simply meant to be felt
like silk to your hands
just let the feeling slide and it is complete
it is just like a description of something that suddenly passed
you think it is a ghost but it is not
it is just the hush of a wind and it is not driving any point at all
if it refreshes you without thinking of anything at all
and gives you a certain lightness
like you have wings yourself
then the poem has become a poem
it is not meant to be an idea just something
magical and please do not hold it
it is simply meant
to pass and not stay like the wind and the river and
my soul
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Holy Is The Ghost
Do I believe that you can be,
Saved?
It's not up to me,
To place that judgement made.
And,
Do I believe that you can be,
Saved?
It's not up to me,
To grade or rate your days!
I'm not one to sum up with a fuss...
Who has had it tough,
Without a suffering one covers.
I'm not one to sum up with a fuss...
Who has had it tough,
Without a suffering one covers.
Some days I slip away to pray.
Knowing the expense,
Of the dues I had to pay.
And,
Some days I slip away to pray.
Knowing the expense,
Of the dues I had to pay.
Do I believe that you can be,
Saved?
It's not up to me,
To place that judgement made.
Holy is the Ghost,
That paves the way!
Holy is the Ghost,
That saves!
Holy is the Ghost that paves the way.
Holy is the Ghost that saves.
In the morning,
That Ghost saves.
In the evening,
That Ghost saves.
From the dawn and through the night time too!
Holy is the Ghost that paves the way.
Holy is the Ghost that saves.
In the morning,
That Ghost saves.
In the evening,
That Ghost saves.
From the dawn and through the night time too!
Holy is the Ghost that paves the way.
Holy is the Ghost that saves.
Holy is the Ghost that paves the way.
Holy is the Ghost that saves.
Holy is the Ghost that paves the way.
Holy is the Ghost that saves.
From the dawn and through the night time too!
Holy is the Ghost that saves.
Holy is the Ghost that saves.
Holy is the Ghost that saves.
Holy is the Ghost that saves.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If You Could Read My Mind
If you could read my mind
If you could read my mind love
What a tale my thoughts could tell
Just like an old time movie
bout a ghost from a wishin well
In a castle dark or a fortress strong
With chains upon my feet
You know that ghost is me
And I will never be set free
As long as Im a ghost that you cant see
If I could read your mind love
What a tale your thoughts could tell
Just like a paperback novel
The kind that drugstores sell
When you reach the part where the heartaches come
The hero would be me
But heroes often fail
And you wont read that book again
Because the endings just too hard to take
Id walk away like a movie star
Who gets burned in a three way script
Enter number two
A movie queen to play the scene
Of bringing all the good things out in me
But for now love, lets be real
* I never thought I could act this way *
And Ive got to say that I just dont get it
I dont know where we went wrong
But the feelins gone
And I just cant get it back
If you could read my mind love
What a tale my thoughts could tell
Just like an old time movie
bout a ghost from a wishin well
In a castle dark or a fortress strong
With chains upon my feet
But stories always end
And if you read between the lines
Youll know that Im just tryin to understand
The feelins that you lack
I never thought I could feel this way
And Ive got to say that I just to get it
I dont know where we went wrong
But the feelins gone
And I just cant get it back
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If You Could Read My Mind
If you could read my mind
If you could read my mind love
What a tale my thoughts could tell
Just like an old time movie
bout a ghost from a wishin well
In a castle dark or a fortress strong
With chains upon my feet
You know that ghost is me
And I will never be set free
As long as Im a ghost that you cant see
If I could read your mind love
What a tale your thoughts could tell
Just like a paperback novel
The kind that drugstores sell
When you reach the part where the heartaches come
The hero would be me
But heroes often fail
And you wont read that book again
Because the endings just too hard to take
Id walk away like a movie star
Who gets burned in a three way script
Enter number two
A movie queen to play the scene
Of bringing all the good things out in me
But for now love, lets be real
* I never thought I could act this way *
And Ive got to say that I just dont get it
I dont know where we went wrong
But the feelins gone
And I just cant get it back
If you could read my mind love
What a tale my thoughts could tell
Just like an old time movie
bout a ghost from a wishin well
In a castle dark or a fortress strong
With chains upon my feet
But stories always end
And if you read between the lines
Youll know that Im just tryin to understand
The feelins that you lack
I never thought I could feel this way
And Ive got to say that I just to get it
I dont know where we went wrong
But the feelins gone
And I just cant get it back
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghost
I'm like a ghost
Flying in the night
Im in the darkness of light
Im a ghost or at least thats how I feel
Im like a zombie
Things have taken over.
Im like a ghost
Hovering over myself
Looking down at the mess
Labelled with my name
I see the mess below me
The mess is me
Im a ghost of my formal self
Im a ghost that floats above
Im a ghost of life
A ghost of my old self
Half the person I used to be
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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The Ghost Of Reverand Greene
Spit on my grave if it makes you feel better baby,
Curse my name to the heavens above and maybe,
Ill throw you down a ladder in the shape of a streak of lightning,
I may have been snuffed out, its so frightening ,
You havent seen nothing until youve seen -
The ghost of reverend greene.
You can tell your storys to worthless magazines,
Sell yourself up the river in black limousines,
But dont crawling to me on hands and knees,
Id like to kick you in the teeth,
But Im 6 foot underneath,
You havent seen nothing until youve seen -
The ghost of reverend greene.
Id always thought we had something special between us,
Something special that now seems so hollow,
So Ill leave out the bedroom ceiling,
And retire to the attic to whence my life hath no meaning,
Here lies the ghost of reverend greene.
Throw your fist into the air if you have to,
Wear garlic necklaces maybe that would suit you,
You drove me out to the point of no return
With your uncanny wicked ways and for this you must in turn,
Your not getting of lightly,
Not until youve seen the ghost of reverend greene.
Honey you may have gotten away with murder,
And I may have lost you to another,
But Im back
The ghost of reverend greene.
Ooooo, ooooo
The ghost of reverend greene.
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think most non-Christians who try to be good people are probably better Christians than Christians.
quote by Paul Kantner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghosts
How to forget your smell?
How to forget your tender kisses?
Now I want to yell.
Your love my heart misses.
Cruel time didn’t save us, didn’t save.
Gentle breeze blew away our feelings,
Ghost of love came from the grave,
No mercy on me, no healings.
Our years together flowed and flew,
It seemed they would never end.
None of us knew
The ghost of death all will amend.
Your hot breath burned my lips,
Your sweet words burned my heart,
Our life was the love trips,
We didn’t want to be apart.
We’ve met on a crossroad,
Two destinies merged into one.
The whole world glowed,
We gave birth to the son.
The ghost of original sin appeared,
Fatal errors can’t be avoided.
We were both feared
To be deprived of our freedom, be annoyed.
Someone’s head is on someone’s shoulder,
But only cold is now on my cheeks.
I haven’t become bolder, but…getting older
I know what a soul seeks.
And still: A black ghost of guilt is behind my back.
My love was true, but something had a lack.
It was the black ghost of fault.
That one I couldn’t halt.
(The 3rd of July,2011/Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ghost
Tell me
Who is not a ghost
Ghost is a ghost
To afraid ghost
Is to afraid thyself
It is good to
Go with the ghost
Ghost is for a
Short time with us
Ghost left
Our works stop.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How To Forget?
How to forget that smell?
How to forget your tender kisses?
Now I want to yell.
Your love my heart misses.
Cruel time didn’t save us, didn’t save.
Gentle breeze blew away our feelings,
Ghost of love came from the grave,
No mercy on me, no healings.
Our years together flowed and flew,
It seemed they would never end.
None of us knew
The ghost of death will amend.
Your hot breath burned my lips,
Your sweet words burned my heart,
Our life was the love trips,
We didn’t want to be apart.
We’ve met on a crossroad,
Two destinies merged into one.
The whole world glowed,
We gave birth to the son.
The ghost of original sin appeared,
Fatal errors can’t be avoided.
We were both feared
To be deprived of our freedom.
Someone’s head is on someone’s shoulder,
But only cold is now on my cheeks.
I haven’t become bolder, but…getting older
I know what a soul seeks.
And still: A black ghost of guilt is behind my back.
My love was true, but something had a lack.
It was the black ghost of fault.
That one I couldn’t halt.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska
The 3rd of July,2011
Odessa, Ukraine
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If the Christians who were alive in the 1770s behaved and believed like the Christians of today, there wouldn't be an America as we know it.
quote by Randall Terry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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