Quotes about venom, page 13
Music of Demise
Twinkling with grace
Killing without trace
Caring with lullaby
Torturing without mercy
Tune by tune erasing our mind
Lyric by lyric crushing our sanity
Cutting our veins silently
Killing us with the innocence of it
Your creator was died brutally
Erasing their life with their own hand
Died with unknown causes
A moment after created you
Venom that lies in you
Whispering death with you
Killing everything with you
The demise that lies in you
poem by Ade Santi
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Singing Together
Autumn has came already
As in a psalm the amen.
We are together ready
To swallow venom-honey.
We are together ready
To grow the willing crocus
To bloom in our soul
This autumn last in focus.
We are together ready
And blessed by the cloud shadows.
What Sun has planed already-
We are together ready…
Translation of the poetry 'Cantec in doi' by Lucian Blaga
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucian_Blaga
ww w.agonia.net/index.php/poetry/84465/index.html
poem by Elena Daniela
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A Rock Already Turned
If I had my druthers,
I would not bore you with my genius.
I would pretend I was of shallow mind.
So you would find me worthy,
To pass exquisite...
And exceptional judgement.
I've always been the one to say,
Wasted venom...
Leaves a rock already turned.
And the love I have to upset apple carts,
Has to be genetic.
My daddy,
God rest his soul.
Once surprised a burgler.
And then asked him,
If he wanted breakfast 'first'...
Before he whipped his ass!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Virtue
My virtue is sick like magic,
It defines acute and obvious ability;
My view dances in my eyes,
Little lovers of mine, little colours
That are yellow and green
If I am a child.
This child in me is greater than my heart
In old age,
For we believe in the sorting out of dumbness,
The getting of solutions and heartiest of secrets,
These are answers of venom, too greater than pies.
We eat them more like shapes that taste,
But my view is disrupted and I finish.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Furnace
The furnace of noise is obliterating,
Heat surges like a bird’s cry,
The crying of the furnace is like venom.
Heat is audible now, it never whispers here;
Rippling heat like hell is lowering the limbs,
Soft voices are heard from afar to attack your body.
Fainter, and still fainter, the voices run,
Vast is the thudding, gentle clicks,
So that floating happens from the hot air.
To turn this down is obviously dreadful,
But silence is absent in every way.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Polite Wasp
So fly the wasps of strings and stings,
Straightforward in their venom and longer with heaven.
The bees are outside in this wild wilderness,
They start again with polite sound.
My warts and gems are enough to spurn luck,
This fortune obeying us is explicit,
Like the forever snows and pains,
That inside us burn to destroy.
I have many flies and warriors inside
To stomach and feed with their frenzy.
Frenzy is occult science now that you're here.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Parrying?
A baby snake stopped
at the pedestrian crossing
The limousine to pass ahead?
Then the old chauffeur questioned; 'Why? '
Reptile replied in the childish voice;
'If I crushed there's no way to attend school
and learn moral,
I heard that you have venom
in your luxurious saloon car? '
[It's the little things we do and say
That mean so much as we go our way.
A kindly deed can lift a load
From weary shoulders on the road.]
-Willa Hoey
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Verities
The moon was moving
stealthily in wilderness.
Time was running out
tracing the shape.
I let her go, the
comely thing, putting on
hold, the teetering
poem.
Running faster than light, the
words catch you in midstream.
A warlord wants to put on
a helmet in night.
It was raining sparks and
cinders. You walk along the
redoubts, obliterating
simmering footsteps.
[...] Read more
poem by Satish Verma
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Resentment
It is poison for the soul
That venom called resentment
It breaks up what is whole
And to hatred it gives vent.
Its cruel tendrils block
The heart and makes it cold
Makes kindness hard as rock
And dark its ugliness as told.
It robs the owner of sleep
Torments him with disrupted peace
Mutes the prayers that he keeps
What kind of suffering is this?
Resentment is an illness sure
That ends in soul unhappiness
And there is only one good cure
That is the release of Forgiveness!
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Whitewashed Tombs
Whitewashed tombs He called them
Who appeared all pure outside
Those sly religious leaders
Corrupted and filled with Pride.
He knew their vicious schemes
And the venom in their hearts,
We find them here it seems
Still active in these parts.
My country is full of such
Vile Hypocrites displaying
Deceptive games that touch
The unwise who keep believing.
Jesus hated Hypocrisy
Those cunning masks of Pretense
Sinners must have true Honesty
Repent for their sin offense.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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