spilledwoords
“Poetry burns in our hearts with the passionate heat of a lover’s embrace.”
Tag: war
Weapon
The will to power destroys the power to will.The weapon made, we cannot help but use it;it drags us with its own momentum still. The power to kill compounds the need to kill.Grown out of hand, the heart cannot refuse it;the will to power… Continue Reading “Weapon”
I Don’t Want a Marked Pit
Burnt on the pyre or buried to decompose in time whether am all bones or ashes I wish to be laid to rest quietly, peacefully, content, and courteously I don’t want a monument, a headstone or a marked pit. Let my dead bones that… Continue Reading “I Don’t Want a Marked Pit”
War is for the Poor
Vultures don’t feast on the caravans of the affluentFlies and worms banquet pleasurablyOn the carcasses of the vulnerable,War is for the poor.Guns and bullets prove their mightOn the harmless bodies of the poorMass graves willing to embrace their bodiesWar is for the poorWar does… Continue Reading “War is for the Poor”
Martyrs
Firm as a rock our noble martyrs stood unbending as a rod of tempered steel foreseeing the agony we (now) must feel they Necessity permitted to ignite War’s wood. Dying because they wish’d to maintain right “Strife rule in places and lands of boastful… Continue Reading “Martyrs”
Metele
They say about this time 50 months ago Boko boys own half of this town with brute-will, they spread fear and death. They had everything a monarch could ask of: Power, Territory and Wealth (even choice girls from Chibok without paying a dowry). Drunk… Continue Reading “Metele”
Recent Posts: spilledwoords
Weapon
The will to power destroys the power to will.The weapon made, we cannot help but use it;it drags us with its own momentum still. The power to kill compounds the need to kill.Grown out of hand, the heart cannot refuse it;the will to power undoes the power to will. Though as we strike we cry […]
Silent, but ….
I MAY be silent, butI’m thinking.I may not talk, butDon’t mistake me for a wall. Copyright © Tsuboi Shigeji | Translated by Geoffrey Bownan and Anothony Thwaite | 1964
Olokun
I love to pass my fingers(As tide thro’ weeds of the seaAnd wind the tall fern-fronds)Thro’ the strands of your hairDark as night that screens the naked moon: I am jealous and passionateLike Jehovah, God of the Jews,And I would that you realiseNo greater love had womanFrom man than the one I have for you! […]
Don’t Urge Me
“Entreat me not to leave you,Or to turn back from following after you;For wherever you go, I will go;And wherever you lodge, I will lodge;Your people shall be my people,And your God, my God.Where you die, I will die,And there will I be buried.The LORD do so to me, and more also,If anything but death […]
Wait Not
Wait not, fond lovershe’d not give a waiverwho took your placefind yourself another,let your memories bank not on me;your fantasies are free to roam. Wait not, fond lovershe – I dwell now inher river like a fish;she’s a taunting schemerthat wouldn’t unshackleor make me free. Desire me less in the nightturn the page, don’t writeanother […]
