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Perfection is such a nuisance that I often regret having cured myself of using tobacco.

quote by Emile Zola
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Agony

And in spoonful oil
Kitchen is busy frying
Mustard and lentils two tablespoons each
And chillies hundred grams
And a pack of cigar or raw tobacco
In added two tablespoons of oil
Then to grind with lemon size tamarind, salt
To make tobacco chutney

And the water soaked tobacco
Kitchen is busy grinding
With salt and cashews handful
To make balls, be deep fried in oil
Be added to a masala tomato puree
To make tobacco kofta curry

And to the cooked rice
Kitchen is busy seasoning
With fried clove, cardamom, and cinnamon
Onion and ginger-garlic paste, salt
Sauted well with flavoured tobacco
Then to garnish with cut cigar pieces
To make tobacco biryani

Tobacco chutney, tobacco curry
Tobacco biryani..what next..
Forgotten Kitchen hurrying
To make more koftas
Be put in sugar syrup
To make tobacco jamuns

Then you see, exhausted Kitchen
Under the wildly running fan rests
Wildly coughing out
Her heart despite its rapidness
Awaiting patiently her lover
Who's been chained to her delicious cooking

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Perfection

Hush little baby, gotta be strong
cause in this world we are born to fight
Be the best prove them wrong
A winners work is never done
Reach the top number one
Perfection...
Oh perfection
You drive me crazy with perfection
Ive worn my pride as my perfection
Perfection....oh!
I was taught to be tough
That the best that you can be aint enough
Crack the whip, sacrifice
But I found out paradise had a price
I didnt know it then
But oh I know it now
You gotta work as hard at love
To make the love work out
You know this heart of mine
Had made some big mistakes
I guess that when it comes to love
I just dont know what it takes...
Chorus:
All my life Ive been driven by perfection
Pushed it to the limit every day and night
Whoa...Ive been driven by perfection
But nothins perfect when love aint right
Nothins perfect when love aint right
Gave it all played my part
I gave everything I had but my heart
Worked so hard made a name
But the loneliness inside stays the same
When love is here to today
And then its gone today
You got a list of lovers like a resume
You gotta take some times
To make it something real
I guess that when it comes to love
I just dont know how to feel
Chorus repeat
Oh perfection
You drive me crazy with perfection
Ive worn my pride as my perfection
Im goin crazy with perfection

song performed by Cher
Added by Lucian Velea
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Perfection

(desmond child/ diane warren)
Producer for bonnie, cher & darlene: desmond child
Recorded in 1987, bonnie did guest vocals on this song for cher's self-titled lp, along with 60's session queen darlene love.lyrics taken from uk cd sleeve.
Hush little baby, gotta be strong
'cause in this world we are born to fight...
Be the best, prove them wrong
A winner's work is never done...
Reach the top, number one
Perfection...
Oh, perfection
You drive me crazy with perfection
I've worn my pride as my protection
Perfection...oh!
I was taught to be tough
The best that you can be ain't enough
Crack the whip, sacrifice
But i found out paradise had a price
I didn't know it then
But oh i know it now
You gotta work as hard as love
To make the love work out
You know this heart of mine
Has made some big mistakes
I guess that when it comes to love
I just don't know what i takes...
Chorus:
All my life i've been driven by perfection
Pushed it to the limit every day and night
Whoa...i've been driven by perfection
But nothing's perfect when love ain't right
Nothing's perfect when love ain't right...
Gave it all
Played my part
I gave everything i had but my heart
Worked so hard
Made a name
But the loneliness inside stays the same
When love is here today
And then it's gone today
You got a list of lovers lookin' like a resum?br> you gotta take some time
To make it something real
I guess that when it comes to love
I just don't know how to feel
(chorus)
Oh, perfection
You drive me crazy with perfection
I've worn my pride as my protection
I'm goin' crazy with perfection

song performed by Bonnie Tyler
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Epithalamion Made At Lincoln's Inn

I

HAIL sun-beams in the east are spread ;
Leave, leave, fair bride, your solitary bed ;
No more shall you return to it alone ;
It nurseth sadness, and your body's print,
Like to a grave, the yielding down doth dint ;
You, and your other you, meet there anon.
Put forth, put forth, that warm balm-breathing thigh,
Which when next time you in these sheets will smother,
There it must meet another,
Which never was, but must be, oft, more nigh.
Come glad from thence, go gladder than you came ;
To-day put on perfection, and a woman's name.
Daughters of London, you which be
Our golden mines, and furnish'd treasury ;
You which are angels, yet still bring with you
Thousands of angels on your marriage days ;
Help with your presence, and devise to praise
These rites, which also unto you grow due ;
Conceitedly dress her, and be assign'd,
By you fit place for every flower and jewel ;
Make her for love fit fuel,
As gay as Flora and as rich as Ind ;
So may she, fair and rich in nothing lame,
To-day put on perfection, and a woman's name.

And you frolic patricians,
Sons of those senators, wealth's deep oceans ;
Ye painted courtiers, barrels of other's wits ;
Ye countrymen, who but your beasts love none ;
Ye of those fellowships, whereof he's one,
Of study and play made strange hermaphrodites,
Here shine ; this bridegroom to the temple bring.
Lo, in yon path which store of strew'd flowers graceth,
The sober virgin paceth ;
Except my sight fail, 'tis no other thing.
Weep not, nor blush, here is no grief nor shame,
To-day put on perfection, and a woman's name.

Thy two-leaved gates, fair temple, unfold,
And these two in thy sacred bosom hold,
Till mystically join'd but one they be ;
Then may thy lean and hunger-starvèd womb
Long time expect their bodies, and their tomb,
Long after their own parents fatten thee.
All elder claims, and all cold barrenness,
All yielding to new loves, be far for ever,
Which might these two dissever ;
Always, all th'other may each one possess ;

[...] Read more

poem by John Donne
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Images-Perfection Ever Flames, An Endless Supply of Moths

As I am,
I'm perceived Perfection
upon my ivory pedestal
in brilliant light
crystalline.

But these are my prison walls
Uniques Glow
is Perfection's Pall
which exiles me from that outer world
of reality.
I cannot mingle there.

My existence is constrained.

As bright as my Radiant Glow,
upon approach
to your world
I would dim
and be destroyed.

We can talk you and I
in Perfection's Harmony
but the moment you gain
my speaking voice,
my thoughts,
all is taken from Perfection's Shelf
and another less perfect me appears.

Nothing will compare
to me as I was.
Should I
in coming to you
destroy that Perfection which is now so dear?

Conundrum.

Corporeal life
is Kryptonite
yet mental isolation is too numbing.
I am Beauty in the light
but unavailable;
forever Uncoming.

Sometimes
Beauty is torture
we ourselves inflict
to escape our worldly life.
But since its shape

[...] Read more

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Losing the war of tobacco..

Losing the war of tobacco..
I'm losing the war that has consumed my life.
Tobacco is my war that I fight along side
Tobacco is in the life I live in
Tobacco is the war I'm losing
Tobacco has consumed my life

poem by Joe Johnson
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Tobacco

The Indian weed, withered quite,
Green at noon, cut down at night,
Shows thy decay; all flesh is hay,
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.

The pipe that is so lily-white,
Shows thee to be a mortal wight;
And even such, gone with a touch,
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.

And when the smoke ascends on high,
Thinke thou beholdest the vanity
Of worldly stuffe, gone with a puffe,
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.

And when the pipe grows foul within,
Think on thy soule defil'd with sin,
And then the fire it doth require.
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.

The ashes that are left behind,
May serve to put thee still in mind,
That unto dust return thou must.
Thus thinke, then drinke tobacco.

poem by George Wither
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Rage & Then Regret

Was it rage or regret
Or the love I was feeling
In this age - whos perfect... are you?
Wasnt made to forget
This moment worth stealing
Was it rage or regret or the two
Every morning when I wake up
Wake up dreaming then... wake up dreaming
Build a temple from your fragrance
Build a chapel in your heart
Do you really understand
Do you feel the need to try
Do you even care for me
Do you ever wonder why
Rage and then regret
bout as real as real can get
Rage and then regret
Through the violence the angry silence
Does our love, grow strong or die
A parachute or a pilots license
Do we fall in love or fly
Do you really understand
Do you feel the need to cry
Do you even care bout me
Do you ever wonder why
Rage and then regret
bout as real as real can get
Rage and then regret
The harder we come
The harder we fall
The harder it is to stand tall
The more that we fight
The more that we brawl
The more were alike - thats all... thats all
Rage and then regret
bout as real as real can get
Rage and then regret
Rage and then regret
bout as real as real can get
There are things you dont forget
Anger cools to idle threats

song performed by Abc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Rage And Then Regret

Was it rage or regret
Or the love I was feeling
In this age - who's perfect... are you?
Wasn't made to forget
This moment worth stealing
Was it rage or regret or the two
Every morning when I wake up
Wake up dreaming then... wake up dreaming
Build a temple from you fragrance
Build a chapel in your heart
Do you really understand
Do you feel the need to try
Do you even care for me
Do you ever wonder why
Rage and then regret
'Bout as real as real can get
Rage and then regret
Through the violence the angry silence
Does our love grow strong or die
A parachute or a pilot's licence
Do we fall in love or fly
Do you really understand
Do you feel the need to try
Do you even care for me
Do you ever wonder why
Rage and then regret
'Bout as real as real can get
Rage and then regret
The harder we come
The harder we fall
The harder it is to stand tall
The more that we fight
The more that we brawl
The more we're alike - that's all... that's all
Rage and then regret
'Bout as real as real can get
Rage and then regret
Rage and then regret
'Bout as real as real can get
There are things you don't forget
Anger cools to idle threats

song performed by Abc
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Pipe and Can

I

THE Indian weed withered quite;
Green at morn, cut down at night;
Shows thy decay: all flesh is hay:
   Thus think, then drink Tobacco.

And when the smoke ascends on high,
Think thou behold'st the vanity
Of worldly stuff, gone with a puff:
   Thus think, then drink Tobacco.

But when the pipe grows foul within,
Think of thy soul defiled with sin,
And that the fire doth it require:
   Thus think, then drink Tobacco.

The ashes, that are left behind,
May serve to put thee still in mind
That unto dust return thou must:
   Thus think, then drink Tobacco.

II

WHEN as the chill Charokko blows,
   And Winter tells a heavy tale;
When pyes and daws and rooks and crows
Sit cursing of the frosts and snows;
   Then give me ale.

Ale in a Saxon rumkin then,
   Such as will make grimalkin prate;
Bids valour burgeon in tall men,
Quickens the poet's wit and pen,
   Despises fate.

Ale, that the absent battle fights,
   And frames the march of Swedish drum,
Disputes with princes, laws, and rights,
What 's done and past tells mortal wights,
   And what 's to come.

Ale, that the plowman's heart up-keeps
   And equals it with tyrants' thrones,
That wipes the eye that over-weeps,
And lulls in sure and dainty sleeps
   Th' o'er-wearied bones.

Grandchild of Ceres, Bacchus' daughter,
   Wine's emulous neighbour, though but stale,

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous
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I'd Like To Teach The World To Smoke

(parody of 'I'd Like To Teach The World To Sing')

I'd like to build the world an addiction
And furnish it with pain
Grow tobacco leaves and more tobacco leaves, people's got smoking on the brain
I'd like to teach the world to smoke
In perfect harmony
And grasp it slowly round the neck, laughing as it choked

I'd like to see the world for once
All addicts a gasping, choking mix
And hear them echo through the hills Oh, where's my latest fix

(That's the song I hear)
I'd like to teach the world to smoke (that the world sings today)
In perfect harmony

I'd like to teach the world to smoke
In perfect harmony

I'd like to build the world an addiction
And furnish it with pain
Grow tobacco leaves and more tobacco leaves, people's got smoking on the brain
I'd like to teach the world to smoke (that the world sings today)
In perfect harmony
I'd like to strangle it in my arms and make my company money
(That's the song I hear)
I'd like to see the world for once
All addicts a gasping, choking mix
And hear them echo through the hills Oh, where's my latest fix

(That's the song I hear)
I'd like to teach the world to smoke (that the world sings today)
In perfect harmony

(Sydney, Australia - 2007)

poem by Alessandra Liverani
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Bad Habits & Infections

Come to me like Im the doctor
Say you need someone to talk ta
You want advice go ask your mother
One bad turn deserves another
cause Ive been cursed with your infection
Makin my head hurt makin my eyes burn
Youve taken me in the wrong direction
And left me there with no protection
Bad habits can be cured by cutting
Them out
Infections can be cured by cutting
Them out
Maybe youll find a friend up in the
Rainbow room
If you can dodge the drinks that
Theyve been throwing at you
Anyway, your boyfriend should be
Coming home soon
Then you can hide your life away
Bad habits can be cured by cutting
Them out
Infections can be cured by cutting
Them out
Come to me like Im the doctor
Come to me like Im the doctor
Come to me like Im the doctor
I am the doctor
I am the doctor

song performed by Hall & Oates
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Dirty Little Secret

Let me know that I've done wrong
When I've known this all along
I go around a time or two
Just to waste my time with you
Tell me all that you've thrown away
Find out games you don't wanna play
You are the only one that needs to know
I'll keep you my dirty little secret
(Dirty little secret)
Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret
(Just another regret, hope that you can keep it)
My dirty little secret
Who has to know
When we live such fragile lives
It's the best way we survive
I go around a time or two
Just to waste my time with you
Tell me all that you've thrown away
Find out games you don't wanna play
You are the only one that needs to know
I'll keep you my dirty little secret
(Dirty little secret)
Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret
(Just another regret, hope that you can keep it)
My dirty little secret
Who has to know
The way she feels inside (inside)
Those thoughts I can't deny (deny)
These sleeping dogs won't lie (won't lie)
And now I try to lie
It's eating me apart
Trace this life out
I'll keep you my dirty little secret
(Dirty little secret)
Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret
(Just another regret)
I'll keep you my dirty little secret
(Dirty little secret)
Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret
(Just another regret, hope that you can keep it)
My dirty little secret
Dirty little secret
Dirty little secret
Who has to know
Who has to know

song performed by All American Rejects
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This peach my teacher

This peach
that I’ve just eaten,
been graced by,
been blessed by,
been taught by,
been transformed by…

it’s as if some
Messenger of the Gods
had arrived, stopwatch in hand,
saying, everything holds in perfection
but a little moment -
as William Shakespeare noted:

so I’m going to arrange things so that
as the stopwatch ticks out
ten seconds to that moment,
you’ll reach out your hand to the fruitbowl,
take it, feel its yielding softness under velvet skin,
cut it carefully twice through the poles,
once equatorially… and as it falls apart,
spear one segment; eat…

this peach
was full of what even Rilke
could say no more than, peachness..

it was a living proof of Plato:
its perfection taught me
where essence meets experience,
where actuality meets the ideal of peach;
where a singular perfection speaks of
all perfections; where perfection
leaves from perfection, naught else but perfect…

how could such a perfect thing
have been invented by one
who does not love? Who is not love?
This peach is love itself, and I the worshipper
must needs make of myself a living God
to whom to kneel, to offer praise and gratitude
for all perfection known..

this peach my teacher.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Perfection

Your cold and poor-spirited love
Was like running water upon my hands...
I did for your love, all that I could....
As an imperfect man that I am...
I offered you just possible things...
Warmth when you were cold,
And consolation when you felt hopeless...
You search for perfection
Which you will never find...
Perfect is the rain that falls
In the spring time...
Perfect are the flowers that grow
in a real garden of love....
Perfect is the smile in a child
Who plays with toys...
Perfection is a man
Who had it all
And now is getting tired and old...
Perfection are the memories
In your heart and mind...
Perfection is something
You shall never find
On me or any other man
Since perfection is just
In your dreams and imagination...
Now perfection becomes
Just like a story untold....
How sad it is
That my love you can no longer have
Neither my hands again hold...
o! Woman, wish you good luck
In your new try...

COPY WRITE©2009

poem by Romeo Della Valle
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The Victories Of Love. Book II

I
From Jane To Her Mother

Thank Heaven, the burthens on the heart
Are not half known till they depart!
Although I long'd, for many a year,
To love with love that casts out fear,
My Frederick's kindness frighten'd me,
And heaven seem'd less far off than he;
And in my fancy I would trace
A lady with an angel's face,
That made devotion simply debt,
Till sick with envy and regret,
And wicked grief that God should e'er
Make women, and not make them fair.
That he might love me more because
Another in his memory was,
And that my indigence might be
To him what Baby's was to me,
The chief of charms, who could have thought?
But God's wise way is to give nought
Till we with asking it are tired;
And when, indeed, the change desired
Comes, lest we give ourselves the praise,
It comes by Providence, not Grace;
And mostly our thanks for granted pray'rs
Are groans at unexpected cares.
First Baby went to heaven, you know,
And, five weeks after, Grace went, too.
Then he became more talkative,
And, stooping to my heart, would give
Signs of his love, which pleased me more
Than all the proofs he gave before;
And, in that time of our great grief,
We talk'd religion for relief;
For, though we very seldom name
Religion, we now think the same!
Oh, what a bar is thus removed
To loving and to being loved!
For no agreement really is
In anything when none's in this.
Why, Mother, once, if Frederick press'd
His wife against his hearty breast,
The interior difference seem'd to tear
My own, until I could not bear
The trouble. 'Twas a dreadful strife,
And show'd, indeed, that faith is life.
He never felt this. If he did,
I'm sure it could not have been hid;
For wives, I need not say to you,

[...] Read more

poem by Coventry Patmore
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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In My Mind Am I My Enemy

If I get upset.
Regret those limits met.
In my mind am I...
My,
Enemy?

You,
Can't free me!
No way.
Until,
I know...
What that freedom means,
To me!

You,
Can't free me!
No way.
Until,
I know...
What that freedom means,
To me!

If I live in doubt.
And voice this from my mouth,
From dawn until the night falls...
Am,
I...
Free?

If I get upset.
Regret those limits met.
In my mind am I...
My,
Enemy?

If I live in doubt.
Are my needs freed?
And voice this from my mouth.
Are my needs freed?
If I get upset.
Are my needs freed?
Regret those limits met.
Are my needs freed?

If I live in doubt.
Are my needs freed?
And voice this from my mouth.
Are my needs freed?
If I get upset.
Are my needs freed?

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Aim at perfection, be satisfied with excellence

Aim at perfection
But be satisfied with excellence

As absolute perfection is
Unattainable
We say in science
Absolute zero is unattainable

Perfection means zero defects
In the product or outcome
And it means zero deviation
In the process and systems employed

While excellence in performance is
Being ahead of most of others
With regard to process and
Quality of the product
And this is achievable

It is well known and established that
Imperfection and randomness
Are the essence of survival
And the nature has all its biodiversity
Because of imperfection and
Deviation from the norms

Insistence on perfection
May lead to failures
And likely win you more foes than friends

You may even leave a scar in the hearts of
Your own people and friends
If you zero in on perfection only

The fact remains
There is no perfected art
There is no perfected process
There is no perfected write
All await your touch
And improvement therefrom

You do not compromise either
As you will be struggling to
Excel all others

Target at the best
Arrive at the best possible

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Colin Clouts Come Home Againe

Colin Clouts Come Home Againe
THe shepheards boy (best knowen by that name)
That after Tityrus first sung his lay,
Laies of sweet loue, without rebuke or blame,
Sate (as his custome was) vpon a day,
Charming his oaten pipe vnto his peres,
The shepheard swaines, that did about him play:
Who all the while with greedie listfull eares,
Did stand astonisht at his curious skill,
Like hartlesse deare, dismayed with thunders sound.
At last when as he piped had his fill,
He rested him: and sitting then around,
One of those groomes (a iolly groome was he,
As euer piped on an oaten reed,
And lou'd this shepheard dearest in degree,
Hight Hobbinol) gan thus to him areed.
Colin my liefe, my life, how great a losse
Had all the shepheards nation by thy lacke?
And I poore swaine of many greatest crosse:
That sith thy Muse first since thy turning backe
Was heard to sound as she was wont on hye,
Hast made vs all so blessed and so blythe.
Whilest thou wast hence, all dead in dole did lye:
The woods were heard to waile full many a sythe,
And all their birds with silence to complaine:
The fields with faded flowers did seem to mourne,
And all their flocks from feeding to refraine:
The running waters wept for thy returne,
And all their fish with langour did lament:
But now both woods and fields, and floods reuiue,
Sith thou art come, their cause of meriment,
That vs late dead, hast made againe aliue:
But were it not too painfull to repeat
The passed fortunes, which to thee befell
In thy late voyage, we thee would entreat,
Now at thy leisure them to vs to tell.
To whom the shepheard gently answered thus,
Hobbin thou temptest me to that I couet:
For of good passed newly to discus,
By dubble vsurie doth twise renew it.
And since I saw that Angels blessed eie,
Her worlds bright sun, her heauens fairest light,
My mind full of my thoughts satietie,
Doth feed on sweet contentment of that sight:
Since that same day in nought I take delight,
Ne feeling haue in any earthly pleasure,
But in remembrance of that glorious bright,
My lifes sole blisse, my hearts eternall threasure.
Wake then my pipe, my sleepie Muse awake,
Till I haue told her praises lasting long:

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poem by Edmund Spenser
Added by Poetry Lover
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