"deads" poems
Indigenous knowledge and unwritten tradition
Ritual dances and pagan gods
She speaks to the deads
Heals the deepest wound
Whispers to the reindeers
But one day people with skins, the colour of snow, came
Untouched by her wisdom
Nothing she could do to stop them
The land was soiled
Purity went away
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 11:27 AM UTC
Between the din of dusk and dawn
Runs Sleepy Pillow Lane,
Where gators guard the Gates of Thorn
And cryptid creatures reign.
They glide across the midnight sky
Like grime in sanguine sewers;
White canines long and talons drawn
Spike rodents on a skewer.
Gray giants glare from full-moon eyes,
A ghastly ghoulish spell;
Sweet sleepers swell the wells of Nile
While centaurs swing the bell.
Horned vipers writhe into your fears
Like scythes through strangled weeds;
And severed heads of angel hair
From shouldered stumps relieved.
A putrid pile of newly-deads
Awaits the devil's scorn;
And legless maggots gorge in beds
From which the fly is born.
Hungry hyenas howl in packs
While circling carrions crow;
And chunks of flesh are torn from backs
Cracking bones bare below.
Scavengers feast on man and beast,
No rotting limb is spared;
From hanging tongues to napping feet
Blood splatters everywhere.
Brimstone and thunder fill the air
With hail presaging doom;
Ten toothless witches shriek and cheer
As zombies creep from tombs.
Masked mummies stalk with stakes and stones
In search of sleeping heads;
They crave the skulls and living bones
Of bodies slumped in bed.
Through R.E.M. you toss and turn
And roll on restless wheels;
Alas Red Rooster blows his horn
To end your grim ordeal....
~ P
(January, 2013)
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 3:22 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, sometimes what we want is not what we're granted;>
brought to you
no you came brought to me
painted with lines on the finements of my destiny
not on the deads
in the lives you float
rent free on a mind I own
called boat
a ship a rocket you name
there is no bound no limit no aim
in the terror of my cave
you bring the symphonies you carve and pave
pave the way to my hands
to board their journeys
to make their plans
feel the world upon tips
like the steps of sand
the breath of land
the sight of dear
the sense of mere
the drip of downs
the realize of nows
the dive of sea
in blues of surreal
up taken by the fingers to a deal
of a fluent flow a pleasant kneel
not to the gods but to the clear
no more on the behinds of blood and set and Neptune
to a slender of a violin a shiver soon
you know your lights and shades on my moon
not aware of my nights anytime for you
although my gates are open to infinite
no stops to the intimate
you color you steep
on the curves of my leap
------ravenfeels
Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 1:23 PM UTC
Some times I pray for the Lord to take me away
From the pain that stays and friends went astray
Once I hit the bottom of the crab barrel
I a ghostly Pharoah living life on death row
My soul inside of a atom'd shell well
Ain't nothing but hell can't even bail
Only if my life got tooken or naturally Rosen
From a unwakened sleep my conscious speaks
Tryna break free but I gotta lotta work clearly
I know they fear me cuz knowledge
Is dangerous G see how many form up as enemies
After ya royalties ain't no more loyalty
Once they see the building of a dynasty
I resurrected as a king corruption born into a ring
Of a fire I'm king Tut risen from the grave givin'
Nothing but revisited pain that stains
Ya master plan I got a powerful clan
Who all pack at least fifty grand packing the stans
And turn haters into fans without even being mainstream man
Restrictions of land plot riots got brought
Unto the community guns and drugs separate unity
They disputing me cuz I speak truthfully
Most fools be spitting for mass publicity
But I gives a **** about the industry
It ain't what it used to be so many phonies
Acting like they ya homies when they holding pistols
Behind ya back my minds spins black
Back to the days of where realness sits at
That's a preposition **** the intermission
I know the rap game is about the commission
Since hataz sho they neck they bound for lynching
No disrespect to the deads souls that dialed connect
Down the gun line all I need is one line
Like to Nas gun line broke the laws that define
Me as a ***** I stay holding my trigger
I try to spread love but most miss the picture
A photograph of his last laugh before ye see the blood bath
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 8:59 AM UTC
Maybe I'll write a poem
That totally rocks
Like maybe one about
Pick-up trucks
And good-old boys
Who drink and make noise
And ogle the girls that sashay by,
Leering and giving them the eye
For nothing but tosses of their heads,
Snarky sneers and icy "Drop deads".
Or maybe I'll write of high society,
Given to extravagance more than to piety,
Dressed in their finest, parading the street,
Deferential to all, light on their feet,
Dancing through life toward their urns of ashes.
Or maybe about old men wearing galoshes,
Smoking cigarettes in the snow,
Maybe there's more future in that:
Some things you never know.
Or maybe I should write about lovers and haters
Or apple pie and mashed potaters.
So many topics out there to choose:
The seasons, bananas, fantasies, the blues...
But maybe its not the subject you select
But how you present it that has the effect?
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 6:27 AM UTC
NOISE does unfair,
disturbs everywhere.
Even at workplace,
at home makes restless.
With only tortures and pains,
this noise makes no sense.
NOISE breaks focus,
annoys, irritates us.
Freezes our mind,
blowing noisy winds.
By giving only pains,
this noise makes no sense.
But,
NOISE of war,
shows end isn't far.
Noise of deads,
shows life's dark shades.
Showing our offense,
this noise makes sense.
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 9:34 PM UTC
I was sitting on the ledge
that borders the outside of drumlin hall
and what if I just leaned back
what if I just leaned far enough
to
f a l l
would someone catch me
and I always think about this stuff
like today when I was driving to class
I thought why not just swerve the wheel left and gun it into the iced over lake
instead I kept 55
still alive in the right lane
still have a chest heavy full of pain
because I have a time frame
and stupid obligations like class and a degree
and the pursuit of making a life for me
head towards taconic hall
with grateful deads "ripple"
blasting through my headphones
droning out the noise and bustle
of all these people
in psych203
my ink pen runs out during the exam
so I shake it hoping it will write more
about the paradigm shift
and collaborative efforts.
I rack my brain for answers but
all I can think about is getting a different writing instrument
so my essay is half black and half white impression on the page
the product:
an interracial answer
head to Hudson hall for coffee
might save the life of me,
but instead I see that group of guys
who spew cat calls and looks of googly eyes sizing me up and down
veer left instead of right
to avoid shameful clowns
outside my breath makes
mist
outside my skin makes
for an unworthy protection against
the cold
so I hold ground
what would be up without coming down
say bottoms up
say stay ****** up
say upside down
say what comes around goes around
because as I tread on, some other girl
in knee high suede
is swamped by those kids.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 10:44 AM UTC
We took a long drive down
To Jawbone Corner where
A flashing red light
Acts as a four-way
I'm with my girl, her driving,
Me delivering foreplay.
Down in the Valley where
You can be at rest or
You can be at play,
Newly Weds and nearly Deads,
Draft Dodgers from Yankee Ville
And my family lives there still.
Apple blossoms with
Their assualt to the senses,
All kinds of distractions,
Too many to mention.
A Sunday drive
That lasts all day,
Cape Blomington stands
Oh so tall,
You can get down
And forget about it all
As you coast in to town
And lay your money down
At the local pub,
Checking it all out
To see what's what
In the way of fun,
Where to next
Under the mid-day sun,
Where to next
Before we're all done.
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC
Took a long drive down
To jawbone corner where
A flashing red light
Acts like four-way
I'm with my girl, her driving
Me delivering foreplay
Down in the Valley where
You can be at rest or you can be at play
Newly- weds and nearly-deads
Draft dodgers from Yankey-ville
And my family lives there still
Apple blossoms with
Their assault to the senses
All kinds of distractions
Too many to mention
A Sunday drive that lasts all day
Blomidon stands oh so tall
And you can forget about it all
As you coast in to town
And lay your money down
At the local pub checking it all out
To see in the way of fun
Just what can be found.
© 2012
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 11:32 AM UTC
Was happy to see me floating,
little did I know I floated cause I was dead.
Oct 16, 2020
Oct 16, 2020 at 2:04 AM UTC
I will sink our last ship,
dive within the last tide
and swallow the whole sea
but no tears will be shed.
To see is not to know
and the ghosts hugs us in dismay.
Tonight I will open my arms
and feel like shining.
Inhaling brightness on my own
but the clouds are blinding the sun.
I look up to the sky
but I see no savior of my soul.
I bury my finger in the ashes
of some forgotten empire,
hoping ,one day, I'll rise on glory.
I whisper words in disarray.
I watch the tomb of hell
opening to daily life, effortless.
Observing the blabbering crowd,
I lay down where the deads rises up...
No waking till I crown!
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 7:00 PM UTC
Fate has choked on us
Our life driven by wind on monstrous sea
Conquered by our friendly foes
Invoking death and tears accompanied with plague
On our fatherland
.
Tonight, we bury our deads
For the they have joined our ancestors
Let us dress up our wounds for our visit
To the ancestors has been postponed
Let us sharpen our blades and smoothen our spears
For this is just our prologue
.
May fear not be the guest
But the gods in their very best
As we sit round the fireside,
May the gods ignite the fire inside
Sing! For this is the last dirge our lips would sing
Lay the young ones to sleep and sing them sweet lullabies
That they may take shield in their tender dream
.
We fight back
Like Herculean with strength on
We write fate with ink on the clouds
Commanding death on our foes like rain on pastures
No one tell our story like us!
.
Balogun David Tolulope {drunk poet}
IG-@ace_da_drunk_poet
©️2017
Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 4:24 PM UTC
I am a fool, who fell for love
A wingless angel, from the heaven above
Waited and waiting for the promise virtues
Sitting with the deads among momentary statues
Alone, thinking of the fortress I left behind
For the sake of love and mankind
But no one notices me and neither my deeds
Everyone is so busy with their wants and needs
I pray to thee, to grant my wings back
So I can fly to my realm and be with my pack
Angels have become a myth over here
People laugh at me, when they often hear
Say, am a fool, a mental ******
So shameful of how we are been regard
Beautiful creation is this earth, Dear Lord
But fading away is your righteous teachings and word
I have seen the demons in disguise
Playing like a ******** dude, pretending to be wise
The hell gates are lose, leaking out the evilness
The untamed beasts, walk out with their wickedness
I have no place of peace but this burial grounds
Where I seek your help Lord, as the darkness surrounds
I am powerless, as my time on earth is finishing
Seen how innocents survive the wrath through punishing
Tonight, I shall have my wings back to flee
Else I'll be dead before I can make another plea...
©sim
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 6:37 AM UTC
What lays beneath, shall remain unknown
As the creepness prevail with a dark mourn
Unsure of the foul smell of decayed meat
No one wants to breath while they eat
It's certain that we are not alone here
Cause everytime I feel the crawling of fear
Like someone rushing through to come near
But possibilities are that it's just the fear in mind
Which guides the fearful heart to actually find
What lays beneath the ground?
From which the mourn aches mumer the sound
The chill feeling gathers on hearing the dogs howl
The strange faint hooting of the jungle owls
While none has the courage to see outside
The ground breaks and the smell smearing from inside
It's what looks like the opening of the hells portal
And the creatures crawl out as a rotting mortal
The lordship of this place has guarded this place
That's why these creatures are not able to trace
For we are few who are safe for now as told
But who knows what this darkness really holds
The smokes fill the atmosphere around
The cold mist and heavy fogs surround
As there is a wait for the day break to come
How many of us shall remain? Probably some
The growling and gronning such unheard
Unseen deads roam, some even without heads
I only wish this was just a dream not true
If only this night passes and hopefully we are through
In the light of day, we shall know what's there
None have such courage, for they do not want to bare
The wreath of the dark hell creatures
With distorted bodies and disfigured features...
©sim
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 10:57 PM UTC
What a perfect vision dancing on the water,
At least that’s what I heard
Nice to meet you and your daughter
No I won’t take her hand she’s not wearing any gloves
I don’t subscribe to plastic people
Because I’m a marble of a man
Take your diamonds and your silver
I would have **** on it anyway
Metal people shouldn’t be bought
There so unreliable
If I need something to love
Id buy a dog
Stimulate me, Make me Crazy
Please do something with my brain
Cuz if you can’t
I’ll buy some Mary Jane
Have a party
And **** your best friend all night long
You think your perfect
You daddy says your Pretty
Honestly I think you look like a cow
A stain glass windows
Is Still a window
When it comes crashing down
Is that your baby
Its ******* ugly
You should really go complain to the dad
So you say I’m and alcoholic
When I’ve just been ******* **** all night
Try and judge me
Cast a stone
That’s why the doctor gave you zanxe
People are a fickle thing
Always singing about ***
Honestly I could care less
Just leave your underwear when you go
Rock my body, and My soul
Give me faith in mankind
Because I just snored some aderales
And rainbows are now my friends
You act like a sterling sculpture
When in reality your just a pile of rocks
A door is still a door
Even without the hinges
I see you
You see me
***** get out of the way
I have to keep up with the Jones’
Because I think there sons got it going on
Hay **** you still there
I thought I told you to leave
Red is my world, green is my heart
Its all really ******** anyway
Flowers are dyings
The worlds already deads
Lets just play ring around the rosie
Because after all
A worlds still a world
Without your “GOD”
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 11:43 AM UTC
My heart is broken
My soul is torn
My spirit has woken
My body all worn
My bones have shattered
My eyes are closed
The vultures have gathered
The deads aroused
My heart now bleeds
My soul deliberately shivers
My spirit helplessly feeds
On the flowing rivers
I was hated by many
Loved by few
I never owed a penny
But who knew
I was stabbed in the heart
On a cold drizzling night
Awfully broken apart
No, I wasn't in a fight
Left to die with so much pain
My life in complete vain
Dragged in the stormy rain
And shoved in a clogged drain...
©sim
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 10:02 PM UTC
Thou shall outh thee
In midest of the foul three
MUTILATE THY HEADS! ((grinding teeth))
CUT THY JAWS! ((snorting))
BURY THY DEADS! ((heavy breaths))
Hereforth, followth my laws!!
©sim
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 7:38 PM UTC
Arise, O compatriots
Your father's land calls, obey
Your future generations calls, obey
Listen to the voice of hundreds calling
They all awaits, O compatriots
They all awaits your awakening
To take the lead and show them the true path
Will you sleep on, O compatriots?
If you failed, O compatriots
Then livings shall come with their deads
Singing to your hears, through clumsy voices
You failed us, O compatriots.
Oct 12, 2020
Oct 12, 2020 at 6:05 PM UTC
You went back to the youth room
and you wondered
which whims did not let you get as far as you could
which fears and disappointments did not let you mark your own destination with your compass
It is not only one Ithaca
not only one destination
why did not you come back like a ghost one night why you borrowed your dreams from the deads
Every night you hear the ship that sails
Why you never search the sailor who longed to look with your eyes
and to measure the loneliness of the deep ocean
You went back to the youth room
and you wondered why you did not paint the path you deserved, but you let the boredom and the everydayness smother a small alley with a half-
an alley to walk
an alley to get lost ...
Oct 5, 2017
Oct 5, 2017 at 2:07 PM UTC
Ghosts are walking today.
Last night, misty rain fell upon the town.
On top of already soaking wet yellow leaves
that was plastered flat layer by layer-
like a yellow brick road. I walked on-
after work because biking was not an option-
in the wet air upon the wet road.
Where the road shone slick black,
Under the orange streetlight-
beneath the fading twilight, into the night.
Ghosts are marching today.
They pushed and shoved between the thin veil,
in forms of wind shrouded with orange decaying leaves.
They left dust trails, sidewalk cyclones, and-
Played mischief upon innocent walkers.
They crowded around and laid in wait,
until in groups they swamped and swayed.
As they passed by the disarrays,
with their fuzzy hats, thick coats and flying scarves,
they clutched their coat, just a little bit tighter-
and that’s enough I’m sure, to make deads smile.
Ghosts are parading today.
There was a halo behind the blanketing grey clouds-
that allowed a trickle of lights like diamonds fell into my eyes
and just for a moment in the corner of my eyes I saw:
a long crowd reflected by the golden light,
parading down the street, not caring for passing cars.
They carried a banner high up to the sky
and I squinted my eyes for a better look,
twisted my head back to catch another glimpse,
but with a blink of eyes, they were gone-
like the misty rain that fell last night.
Nov 3, 2019
Nov 3, 2019 at 6:52 PM UTC
2 deads on a bark in the middle of the lake
They are standing in front of each over
2 lovers who wanted to take the dead end
They are trapped by the strings of their minds
2 deads on a bark in the middle of nothing
They are watching ourselves for many hours
2 lovers who wanted to grow up and fly
If someone falls, the other dives
2 deads on a bark in the middle of nowhere
They are crying together
2 lovers who wanted to break free
They waiting now for an agony
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
I punish myself daily
to deny a god.
Do angels cry?
Pinning hope in a crisis to extract
the truth from a dying moon?
A ghost walks on the
wall to enter the alphabets
of living deads.
Ambrosia― was not
sufficient to resuscitate
a bleeding cross.
I am charting my life
for you to forget me.
Quasi-surrender. No never
I am just learning―
how to meet the death.
Another name of victory.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 8:07 AM UTC