Quotes about buried, page 4
Six Feet Under
In the morning I wake up
And in the night I sleep
Since the day that I was born
Repeat, repeat, repeat
Brought to this life
Born to this life
Where was I before?
Non-existent? not at all?
Will I ever know?
Today is my birthday
And I get one every year
And some day...
Hard to believe
But Ill be buried six feet underground
Subconsciously motivated natural instinct
Alter nature for the pleasure
Orthocycline
Flirt with conception
Slow the cycle
Will the baby grow?
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song performed by Gwen Stefani
Added by Lucian Velea
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Traces Of Sadness
Verse 1:
He walked through the neon light
His future's 'bout to burn
His face was a mask of violence
He'd just reached the bitter end -
That point of no return
There was nothing left to reach
Chorus:
Just traces of sadness
(All the tears remained uncried)
Just echoes of madness
(All his fantasies had died)
He buried his daydreams
(But the nightmares stayed alive)
(Addiction's like a fence)
(That keeps away your second chance)
When the road to freedom ends
Verse 2:
Drinks and drugs and all the rest
He walked that one way street
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song performed by Vanilla Ninja
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Forgive You
(Shut up)
For all the anguish,
And degradation
For every time I needed truth
And you were faithless
But disappointment, self-deprecation
But living a lie for fantasize and you could save me
I need my cross like a blanket
And misery is comfort
I can hardly stand to blame myself for filling prophecy on you
And in the end I decided
I guess I felt I deserved it
I should kiss your dirty lips for bringing me my clarity
And how did you just make me see?
How your lies have buried me
But I forgive you
Lord I must forgive you
So I
I feel so high
Just let it go we would
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song performed by Darren Hayes
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Missionary - Canto Fourth
Far in the centre of the deepest wood,
The assembled fathers of their country stood.
'Twas midnight now; the pine-wood fire burned red,
And to the leaves a shadowy glimmer spread;
The struggling smoke, or flame with fitful glance,
Obscured, or showed, some dreadful countenance;
And every warrior, as his club he reared,
With larger shadow, indistinct, appeared;
While more terrific, his wild locks and mien,
And fierce eye, through the quivering smoke, was seen.
In sea-wolf's skin, here Mariantu stood;
Gnashed his white teeth, impatient, and cried, blood!
His lofty brow, with crimson feathers bound,
Here, brooding death, the huge Ongolmo frowned;
And, like a giant of no earthly race,
To his broad shoulders heaved his ponderous mace.
With lifted hatchet, as in act to fell,
Here stood the young and ardent Teucapel.
Like a lone cypress, stately in decay,
When time has worn its summer boughs away,
[...] Read more
poem by William Lisle Bowles
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Courtship of Miles Standish, The
I
MILES STANDISH
In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims
To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling,
Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cordovan leather,
Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Captain.
Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands behind him, and pausing
Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons of warfare,
Hanging in shining array along the walls of the chamber, --
Cutlass and corselet of steel, and his trusty sword of Damascus,
Curved at the point and inscribed with its mystical Arabic sentence,
While underneath, in a corner, were fowling-piece, musket, and matchlock.
Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,
Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;
Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already
Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November.
Near him was seated John Alden, his friend and household companion,
Writing with diligent speed at a table of pine by the window:
Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon complexion,
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Courtship of Miles Standish
I
MILES STANDISH
In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims
To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling,
Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cordovan leather,
Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Captain.
Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands behind him, and pausing
Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons of warfare,
Hanging in shining array along the walls of the chamber, --
Cutlass and corselet of steel, and his trusty sword of Damascus,
Curved at the point and inscribed with its mystical Arabic sentence,
While underneath, in a corner, were fowling-piece, musket, and matchlock.
Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,
Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;
Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already
Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November.
Near him was seated John Alden, his friend and household companion,
Writing with diligent speed at a table of pine by the window:
Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon complexion,
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Our Riches
We came onto this earth and we met money!
But we will die one day and leave it all;
Because i have never seen a rich person being buried with his or her money!
Our riches of this world,
The rich are not even buried with their best car! !
So if we are rich today,
Let us use it wisely to help the poor around us;
Because we will all die one day without the riches following us.
The poor will always be around us,
So it is better to gain heaven than hell!
And it is better to love one another than hate,
For we cannot be buried with all our riches!
And it is better to give than to receive.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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U.S. Election 2008 - What as supposed to be cocomity and cooperation following rancor
Don't get your hopes up
There are hachets
Buried barely below the surface
We all know where they are
Prison guards search for hidden weapons
Each and every day
They know they are there
For when the next fight breaks out
Larger political weapons
Are easier to find
We all watched the ceremonies
Where we buried them
Their handles were left
Sticking out just in case
We'll need them again and
Forget where we buried them
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poem by Tom J. Mariani
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The Hate That Destroys The World
when hate arrives with silent fury like a
tsunami,
so many lives are broken
so many houses are buried beneath
the muddy waters
have pity for the little girl
who was playing with her doll
when your gigantic waves
buried her alive,
that little boy was climbing the apple tree
to gather the ripe ones
mothers were frying bacon in the kitchen
as fathers went to work all day
in the ceramics factory
it was your hate that washed and buried them
all alive
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hill of the Foreskins
what was the moment of coition like?
come Zariba let down your gates
turn turtle all you captives of the flesh
square suns
walled in by darkness from the crypt
young bodies stripped to make a mock of time
toy beauty dipped in feral wine
bones buried in the Wood
bones buried in the gold of Sun
bones buried in the very gates of War
(great searching of the gates)
impatient earthquake
shuffles all the pack
redeals the reds the golds the blacks
birdlike and blackened
secret as a door
[...] Read more
poem by Harry Crosby
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