Latest quotes | Random quotes | Vote! | Latest comments | Add quote

The monsters are in your own head.

quote by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Related quotes

Stand On Your Own Head

I like people, theyre the ones who cant stand
Theyre the ones who cant stand
I see smoke signals coming from them
They say we are out of furniture
Stand on your own head for a change
Give me some skin to call my own
Stand on your own head for a change
Give me some skin to call my own
You made my day, now you have to sleep in it
Now you have to sleep in it
I love the world and if I have to sue for custody,
I will sue for custody
Stand on your own head for a change
Give me some skin to call my own
Stand on your own head for a change
Give me some skin to call my own
Stand on your own head
Stand on your own head for a change
Stand on your own head

song performed by They Might Be GiantsReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Tearing Off Your Own Head

Who dries your eyes when you cry real tears?
Who knows or cares what an imitation is?
(only you do)
You can paint his nails
Make him wear high heels
Why waste time altering the hemline
(only you do)
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
Its a doll revolution
You can bat your lashes
You can cut your strings
Pull out his hair with your moveable fingers
(it looks so real)
But one wont do it so collect the set
Dress him up in pink ribbons
Put him in a kitchenette
(how does this feel? )
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
Its a doll revolution
Itll turn you around
Its a doll revolution
Theyre taking over
And theyre tearing it down
Its a doll revolution
Its a doll revolution

song performed by BanglesReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Tear Off Your Own Head

Who dries your eyes when you cry real tears?
Who knows or cares what an imitation is?
Only you do
You can paint his nails
Make him wear high heels
Why waste time altering the hemline?
Or do you?
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
You can bat your lashes
You can cut your strings
You can pull his hair with your moveable fingers
It looks so real
If one won't do it, so collect the set
Dress him in pink ribbons
Put him in a kitchenette
How does this feel?
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
What's that sound?
It will turn you around
It's a doll revolution
They're taking over
And they're tearing it down
It's a doll revolution
You can pull and pinch him
'Til he cries and squeals
You can twist his body 'til it faces backwards
Those plastic features
You could make somebody a pretty little wife
But don't let anybody tell you how to live your life
Broken pieces
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
Tear off your own head
Revolution

song performed by Elvis CostelloReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Tear Off Your Own Head (It's A Doll Revolution)

Who dries your eyes when you cry real tears?
Who knows or cares what imitation is?
Only you do
You can paint his nails
Make him wear high heels
Why waste time altering the hemline?
Or do you?
Tear of your own head
Tear of your own head
It's a doll revolution
You can bat your lashes
You can cut your strings
Pull out his hair with your moveable fingers
It looks so real
But one won't do, so collect the set
Dress him in pink ribbons
Put him in a kitchenette
How does this feel?
Tear of your own head
Tear of your own head
It's a doll revolution
What's that sound?
It'll turn you around
It's a doll revolution
They're taking over
And they're tearing it down
It's a doll revolution
You can pull and pinch him
'Til he cries and squeals
You can twist his body
'Til it faces backwards
Plastic features
Could make somebody a pretty little wife
But don't let anybody tell you
How to live your life
Broken pieces
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
What's that sound?
It'll turn you around
It's a doll revolution
They're taking over
And they're tearing it down
It's a doll revolution
It's a doll revolution
Revolution (revolution)
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head (revolution)
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head

song performed by BanglesReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Of Your Own

...personal compass of your own

you are a divine
point of creative thought
which expresses through your thinking
as you create your life experience
(and personal reality)
you are the yard stick
of your own compass
to guide you

so move on as directed
(wheresoever) by you
for you

***extract from 'patterns of life' november 2011 ebook
ntema's unique poetry (nup)

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

In Your Own Ways

You are smart in your own ways
you are lovely in your own ways
you are beautiful in your own ways
You smile in your own ways


So crazy in your own ways
The madness of your own ways
such mysterious in your own ways
Those eyes of your own ways


You inspire me in your own ways
You talk in you own ways
you love me in your own ways
You suprise me in your own ways


Your kindness of its own kind
Your love of its own loveliness
your touch of its own comfort
And your kisses of its own sweetness


There is nothing so much worth to
treasure in my own ways than the
sweet memories of your own ways
Your life in your own ways
changes mine in its own way


God must have taken His own time
for sush a creation of its own kind
With everything in its own way
I must live your way.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The New Life

Ive burned my bridges
And Im free at last
All my chains are
In the past
The new life starts here
(I was trying to get happy
I thought it was hard
Until I found that
In my own back yard
The new life starts here)
The day is wide open
The sky is blue
The world is a miracle
And so are you
The new life starts here
My papers arrived
Stamped and complete
All previous dispatches
Are obsolete
The new life starts here
I can see my way so clear
Rejoice for...
The new life starts here
Theres a war in the gulf
But it aint in my head
I just declared a state of
Peace instead
The new life starts here
(tempters and tricksters
Banging at my door
Im not fighting with them
Anymore
The new life starts here
/
Users, abusers,
Banging at my door
Im not fighting with them
Anymore
The new life starts here
Tempsters and tricksters
Wondering how
To seize my attention
They cannot touch me now
The new life starts here)
Generals, presidents
How do you do?
I can make it with or
Without you
The new life starts here
I can see my way so clear
Rejoice for...
The new life starts here
Are you under the mercy?
Are you under attack?
Are you going forward?
Are you going back?
The new life starts here
(are you coming to grips?
Are you coming apart?
Are you listening to fear?
Or to your heart?
The new life starts here
/
Are you building heaven
Or are you building hell?
When that great day comes
Will you be able to tell?
The new life starts here)
Citizen, criminal, child
Woman or man
The keys to the kingdom
Are in your own hands
The new life starts here
(God of our love
Who ignited the sun
Not my will
But thine be done
The new life starts here)
Mock the devil
Make him sweat!
He hasnt won
The battle yet
The new life starts here
(a whole new age in seven more years
A brave new age in ten more years)
Rejoice for...
The new life starts here

song performed by WaterboysReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Your Own Fate

What if you did all that you wanted;
If your hopes and dreams were flaunted,
For all the world to see and applaud! ?
Why not give yourself, instead of others, the nod-
To live your own life, unaffected by others' views! ?
Why not allow your life to be what you would choose,
Without regard for what the uninformed opine! ?
Why not live your life as I live mine:
For, by, and of myself-without prejudice,
Bias, or hate-my heart is for all, commodious.
My dreams are mine for a reason:
I do not seek and find, then alter like a season,
Because others need to assert their ignorance,
All the while under the guise of guidance
And protection-as if you could not possibly know
What is best for you-like this interference could possibly show
The altruism that they so ardently profess!
This decision, made under the throngs of duress,
Is not what is best for you, it is what is easiest for them.
Only when both your and their wants are ibidem,
Should you make a decision, of which others approve.
Though, it is not too late to rethink your stance, before you've
Lost a great and powerful feeling from your sight,
Locked away forever-as though an unending night
Of purgatory, where your afeared heart made a decision
It can never stand to live with-where the derision
Of the moment becomes more and more permanent.
All you need do is look in your heart to know where it went-
There resides the answer, as it has all the while:
Your heart is never prone to your mind's beguile!
Now that time has wend your way
And you are no longer subject to the sway
Of irrationality or the phantom of false fear,
All the answers in your heart should make quite clear,
That a glory need not die, nor does a dream need be gone-
Allow the spectre of the past to fade and a future to dawn,
Where you are no longer conflicted between this ardor
And attempts to please everyone-never again barter
With your heart, it is a losing proposition!
We both know the heights of your life's ambition:
To live the life, of which you have always aspired,
With the one person that you always admired
Fervently, and with strength that neither time nor
Distance may alter-you know that you are prime for
This moment and for this life, all you must do
Is disavow its impedance, and trust you,
And you alone, are the master of your own fate-
Do this now my beloved, before it is too late!

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Just Be A Woman

You ask me
How should I be to you ?
You ask me
To tell you what to do
You ask me
How can I make it through ?
You want me
But don't know what to do
And I just want you to
Be true

Just be a woman
Just be a woman

You ask me
How can I make you smile ?
You ask me
How can I make it right ?
But darling
Just take a look inside
The answers are within your own mind
And I just want you to be you

Just be a woman
That's all you got to do
Just be a woman

Just be a woman
Do what you got to do
Just be a woman
That's all you got to do
Just be a woman
That's all I got to say
Just be a woman

song performed by Lenny Kravitz from Are You Gonna Go My WayReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Song For Bob Dylan

Oh, hear this robert zimmerman
I wrote a song for you
About a strange young man called dylan
With a voice like sand and glue
Some words of truthful vengeance
They could pin us to the floor
Brought a few more people on
And put the fear in a whole lot more
Ah, here she comes
Here she comes
Here she comes again
The same old painted lady
From the brow of a superbrain
Shell scratch this world to pieces
As she comes on like a friend
But a couple of songs
From your old scrapbook
Could send her home again
You gave your heart to every bedsit room
At least a picture on the wall
And you sat behind a million pair of eyes
And told them how they saw
Then we lost your train of thought
The paintings are all your own
While troubles are rising
Wed rather be scared
Together than alone
Ah, here she comes
Here she comes
Here she comes again
The same old painted lady
From the brow of a superbrain
Shell scratch this world to pieces
As she comes on like a friend
But a couple of songs
From your old scrapbook
Could send her home again
Aoo
Now hear this robert zimmerman
Though I dont suppose well meet
Ask your good friend dylan
If hed gaze a while down the old street
Tell him weve lost his poems
So theyre writing on the walls
Give us back our unity
Give us back our family
Youre every nations refugee
Dont leave us with their sanity
Ah, here she comes
Here she comes
Here she comes again
The same old painted lady
From the brow of a superbrain
Shell scratch this world to pieces
As she comes on like a friend
But a couple of songs
From your old scrapbook
Could send her home again
Come on
A couple of songs
From your old scrapbook
Could send her home again
Oh, here she comes, (oh) here she comes
Oh, here she comes (oh)

song performed by David BowieReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Who Are You To Call The Shots?

Who are you to call the shots? -
while this girl had her stomach in knots.
Now I have more sympathy
for women who have been beaten
to their knees.
Don't you know, just because their married
girl can get out of her situation without a nosebleed.
Lady lawyer who prosecuted a Texas girl,
will one day be in her own peril.
For what you judge about another and
think she has made her bed
will one day fall on your own head.
For God gave her husband free will
did she have a chance without herself getting killed?
Written By Christina Sunrise on March 6,2012

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Warning Bell Within Your Head

Feeling all alone and deceived
Manipulation delivered drenched in sweetness
How could you be so blinded
Cold hard facts don't exist
Just the warning bell within your head
Little things that don't make sense
All the things that haven't been said
God, have mercy upon you
You just want to scream
Insanity, confusion, repulsion
Mixed with love, kindness, cleverness
This is nothing new
You want to run but don't know how
You've lived so long within these walls
Prisoner or princess, are they the same?
Envied by so many for what they think you have
Smiling on the outside, screaming on the inside
What have you become? Barely functioning, you're so numb
Nothing left inside to give, nowhere you can turn to run
You should have looked beyond the smile
You should have listened to the warning bell so long ago
The warning bell within your head

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

In A Category All Your Own

Would I cuss you out?
Or 'will' I cuss you out?
Forgive me but...
I am not familiar at all with this request.
Can you be just a little more specific.
I don't mind doing it,
But...
You have to provide the incentive.

'So you just don't go around cussing people out?
And being offensive?
I saw that on a recent documentary.'

Of course not.
I am given something to ignite that desire.
Something that initiates the feeling.
You know...
You have to want me to cuss you out badly,
To provoke me to that point.

'I had no idea that's how it was done.
Depending on the situation,
How many cuss words could I possibly provoke you to use...
Within,
Say...
Five minutes of my nonstop ignorance that provokes you? '

You are visiting here on vacation aren't you?
And someone has become annoyed with you and sent you,
My way...
Right?
Either it is believed you are my perfect match...
Or something so disconnected in your head,
It is hoped a few of my choice words will tightened.
You are in a category all your own.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Mind Your Own Business

Words and music by hank williams, sr.
If the [d] wife and I are fussin, brother thats our right
cause me and that sweet womans got a license to fight [d7]
Why dont you [g7] mind your own business
(mind [d] your own business)
cause if mind [a7] your business, then you wont be mindin [d] mine.
Oh, the woman on our party lines the nosiest thing
She picks up her receiver when she knows its my ring
Why dont you mind your own business
(mind your own business)
Well, if mind your business, then you wont be mindin mine.
If my woman stay out til two or three
Now, brother thats my headache, dont you worry bout me.
Just mind your own business
(mind your own business)
If mind your business, then you wont be mindin mine.
If I get my head beat black and blue
Now thats my wife and my stove wood too
Just mind your own business
(mind your own business)
If mind your business, then you wont be mindin mine.
I got a little gal that wears her hair up high,
The boys all whistel when she walks bye.
Mind your own buisness blah blah, you sure wont be minding mine.
Mindin other peoples business seems to be high-toned
I got all that I can do just to mind my own
Why dont you mind your own business
(mind your own business)
If you mind your own business, youll stay busy all the time.

song performed by Hank WilliamsReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Contented With Your Own Silence

in one instance you step out of your door
walk on the road,
keeping your gaze away from the danger side

you keep things to yourself
there is no one to share with
what story you have for the past days
when you hibernated in that room,

it is a break,
you stroll in the park
take your breath under those trees
sit upon one of those empty benches
lose your mind
upon what is obvious and
visible upon those
that do not need any
kind of scrutiny and fathoming

this the time to fish
for nothingness

you lay your hands upon the grass
it is this coolness
that makes you feel connected
to the earth

you sigh and sigh again and again
it is this exhaling that makes you a giver
rather than a taker
it makes you
comfortable like what smokers do
when (they pollute
the air)

there is a certain fulfillment
in this kind of loafing
you carry nothing and thus
you leave nothing
you are not alone
feel this solitude
there are so many of you
doing the same routine in the park
fishers of
nothingness

but i tell you
do not talk do not start a conversation with the one near you
or that one
who is walking his dog early morning
i tried it once

when you get no response
it will just make you lonelier
it is like taking a stone in your hand
and hitting your head with it

sit there,
just sit there
relax

take your time,
and simply be whole
nothing falling
apart

it is beautiful to
see
now that you are
contented with your own
silence.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Be Your Own Girl

I know youre tired of waking up on the floor
Pushed to the edge with nothing heavy to hold
Using your clothes as a blanket and a bed
Holding your hands just to lay your head
I know you dont remember ever falling down
Who picked you up, who gathered around
But you dont have to be his girl
And you dont have to be my girl
You can always be your own girl
With the sound of your feet you follow yourself to sleep
Restless and ageless and looking for somethin to keep
When you finally fall asleep youre awake in dreams
Hanging by the ankles in a skeleton ravine
I know youve kicked the lights, fell on your shoes
Punched out the colors, leaving you the blues
But you dont have to be his girl
And you dont have to be my girl
You can always be your own girl
Theres a soft melody thats ringing in my ears
Simple and slow and it always brings you here
With broken crayons youve scribbled on the wall
Shapes of nothing and shadow box them all
Your fingertips are broke and your knees dont bend
Your imagination took the worst hit and cut its skin
But you dont have to be his girl
You dont have to be my girl
You can always be your own girl
Theres a soft melody thats ringing in my ears
And its the same one you could never avoid in yours
And if you lay down you can hear from tongue to tails
About a tattooed rhythm and drumming by color wheel
Your rung is broken on the bottom of the rope
And you cant tie another, another knot of hope
And you dont have to be his girl
And you dont have to be my girl
You can always be your own girl

song performed by WallflowersReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Bogeyman

When I was a child, the Bogeyman
Lived in our water tank,
He'd grumble and rumble and growl all night,
I had my sister to thank,
She told me about his giant claws
And the great big teeth he had,
If I couldn't get to the foot of the stairs
He'd be hot on my heels - How sad!

The tank sat next to the toilet seat
In a cupboard, close to a hatch,
It used to spring open and freak me out,
There was something wrong with the catch,
I'd pull on the rusted, clanking chain
And head for the landing, stairs,
If the water had stopped, before I dropped
The Bogeyman would be there!

He was only a second behind me then,
A second of terrors and fears,
The monster that lived in my sister's brain
Has followed me, all these years,
I never could tell my Mother, or Dad,
They never would understand,
My sister said, in a voice of dread -
‘Only kids know the Bogeyman! '

We live in a world of monsters, who
Are waiting to gobble us up,
They follow behind, one second in time,
That second is all that we've got!
They pick off the stragglers, one by one,
They trip us and tear us apart,
If you're old or lame, take your eye from the game,
The monsters will rip out your heart!

So when I heard the Horologists
Were planning to hold back time,
I knew that we were in trouble then:
‘Just a second, ' they said, ‘It's fine! '
The earth has wobbled and lost just one,
It takes just one to adjust…'
I hid that night in the attic's height
At the top of the stairs, and cursed!

The whole world wide has been thrust aside
By some atavistic past,
Where the monsters roam outside your home,
And the victims scream when attacked,
I sit and wait for the hand of fate
To rattle my own life's plan,
And steady the gun, ahead of the run
Down the stairs, with the Bogeyman!

David Lewis Paget

(Horologists added one second to the last
Minute, at midnight, on 30 June 2012,
to adjust Solar Time to Atomic Time) .

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
Patrick White

Not Interested In The Brand Name Of Your Audience

Not interested in the brand name of your audience.
Poetry makes its own up on the go, resonates
with the stars and the fireflies, mysteriously
marauds its own sacred shrines for the relics
of holy metaphors that can be melted down
into new sensibilities. And you, when you lose
your faith in your herbs ability to heal,
is it you that lets the medicine down,
the exhausted wavelength of an imploding star,
or is your magic just not strong enough anymore
to know when to keep its mouth shut, its grammar
like the secret name of a god, not a public convention.

It's irrelevant to me if you blood your abstractions,
mythic deflation stabbing them through the heart
to keep it from pumping the colour out of the rose
and hanging them upside down over a bathtub.
Or that your insecticidal severances have been
so cleanly disposed of like the wings of butterflies
in the mandibles of seriatim ants. The reek
of formic acid. And it's hard not to notice
that your gypsy nettles don't dance to music.
You've got your head stuck up the eye of the needle again.
Must cost you a fortune in locksmiths.
And why, when you make a confession
of all your sins of omission, does it always sound
like you're ratting someone out? Or you've got
a deathmask on you're always threatening to take off
like a crab carapace in a tidal pool with a detached claw
trying to intimate the great sea of awareness beyond
that's never heard of you, into making waves
even a shore-hugger buried in a puddle could handle?

You can make a cult of your doubt and cynicism,
snakes on the ladders and stairwells of your pretensions,
but I'm not going to be initiated into it. Just because
I was born in a sewer doesn't mean I bathed in it
every time it rained. A metaphor is a metaphor
that's looking for something to compare itself to
and picture-music isn't a drum roll at the unveiling
of a new logo for the hysterically futile fans
of your dysfunctional aspirations to make a big splash.
As if the pond were never big enough for the frog.

Your words don't touch my heart, change my life,
make a serious attempt on my life, derange me,
do anything to me, just lie there
so disconnected from my spinal cord
they're clear cut yarrow sticks that have never heard
of the Book of Changes. Lean-tos and collapsed tents
in the shadows of Stone Henge. No moon. No Taj Mahal.
You're an architect of flowers, but you don't come
with any instructions for assembly. Or even a bag of tools
to flint knap your costume jewellery into arrowheads,
you could always hurl at a turtle on the run, since
it's obvious there's nothing wildly alive in the woods
that has anything to fear from a poet who can't handle a bow
anymore than he can a lyre strung from his own gut.

No urgency in your work. No necessity, risk, danger.
Nothing lethal in the windowsill jungles you explore.
Nothing driving you like the inconsolable dead
into the unmarked grave of a black hole
that never bottoms out like a death in life experience
giving birth to a whole new universe of not two
every morning you wake up in it grateful for the chance
to teach your club-footed absurdity to dance with the bones
of distinguished skeletons who are experts
at knowing how to necro-romanticize the abyss.

When words talk to words about words
it's not because imagination has run out of poets
who aren't unsayable or self-destructive enough
to sacrifice their voices bleeding for the unattainable
so that every poem is history written by the losers,
it's because there's no visionary flash back
when you drown in your own reflection
in a narcissistic labyrinth of mirrors. No crash and burn
in your elegaic encounters with what you're missing.
Your absence doesn't leave a mark on the world
as you seek corporate applause for your trained individualism
tweaking your neuronic synapses with the reflexes
of early amphibians, one foot on shore, one in the boat
just to play it safe, a wishbone bridging both mediums
like a witching wand twitching over a watershed
with a dislocated pelvis that makes you dance with a limp
like Giovanni's frog jumping between electrodes,
or as I remember, growing up, little girls playing hopscotch
on a sidewalk chalked with the outlines of corpses
with photo ops of the brand names on their toe tags.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
Patrick White

Your Own Life Is The Way

Your own life is the way
whether it charm itself through the woods
like a small snail
or kick the stars up like dust
along the Road of Ghosts
or hang back like the sea
enduring its own weather
waiting for the next loveletter
to arrive like a sail
over the event horizons
of so much unopened junkmail.
But you're a long way off
and deeper in darkness
than you realize
if you're using a searchlight
to look for a star.
There's no reason
to keep showing up
at the wrong address
like a bad definition
of who you are.
You go looking
for the meaning of things
as if meaning were precious and rare,
baby teeth under a pillow
or lost wedding rings
through the noses
of unmarried skulls.
You chase your own tides
back out to sea
and then go ask the waves
trembling in their tidal pools
like children you've frightened
about the meaning of water.
But when they tell you
your mouth hangs open
like a grail in the hand of a drunk
who's sure she just drank poison.
You want to pry
the petals of the flowers open
before they're ready to bloom
as if you were unwrapping your presents early
although nothing's been hidden from you,
cloaked, eclipsed, or covered by a lie.
You paint the window you sit at
all the colours of a parrot
to enhance the clarity
of your longing for stars,
or scare yourself to death
with things you can see in the night
like someone who's been left behind
like a key under your own doormat.
The return journey goes faster than the first
as you progress backwards
looping like a planet
through all the stations of your youth
into the second innocence of awareness
knowing how deeply the soul
can be soiled by the truth
of things as they are
and how, sometimes
to the baffled astonishment of the purists
it takes a little dirt to wash it off;
which is to say, you're human.
Not one reason for everything.
You keep ploughing the same broken record
like a season stuck in a groove
never leaving anything long enough to itself
to germinate and bloom.
Even when the moon
walks on your waters
tapping its white cane
at the curb of every wave
to show you how to master
your own blindness
with your own light in the darkness
of why you won't open your eyes and look,
you cover your face with your hands like a book
you fell asleep reading.
But you can't wake up from a dream
you're not having.
You can't look into life
like a window from the outside
or arrange your eyes
like lenses in a telescope
to view things at arms length.
I know how hard
you've been looking for enlightenment
and the agony of your disappointment
that you can't pull the sword from the stone
or the apple from the seed like autumn.
You account the waste
of time, energy, aspiration,
and want to burn the whole orchard down
like a bride widowed in her wedding gown.
But the fire you set
like a last blossom on a dead branch
goes out like a torch in your own reflection
and you're lost in the woods at night
without a road going in any direction.
You thought you'd hang around
with the constellations,
but there you are
whenever you kick the earth
like a stool away from your feet
dangling like a streetlamp in space
with only go slow and stop
the three expressions
that ever cross your face
like birds hoping they're heading south.
And I don't want to sound mean or unkind,
or suggest that I know
how stars taste to the blind,
or that you're not a fury of insight,
a blazing chandelier, a broken mirror,
but when you cry
you launch your tears like submarines
into your own paranoid depths
to listen to what the others
are saying about you now
and you deploy your emotions like spies
to keep an eye on the opening night projections
you're trying to groom into a movie
where everything comes true
all at once
in a stunning climax of you
holding out like a bridge at the fall of Rome.
Let go. Give up. Let the barbarians across
that you've abused
with the severity
of your savage passions for years.
Abandon the walls
you've beaded like a rosary of skulls
around your imperial frontiers.
How can the frowning jewels
of a dying civilization
dragging itself by the heels
like a corpse through the night
compare with the more imperfectible delights
of leaving the mindstream to its own devices
as if it were wise enough all alone
to make its own circuitous way home
like blood returning to the heart
while we, who don't know the answers,
throw our swords back into the lake
as if we were surrendering to water.
We could feed the demons
of our startling immensities
all those doves you sent out looking for land
that came back like cornerstones of quicksand.
We could stop trying to square the circle
like college dropp outs
trying to corner the rain
and forgo the blinding lucidity
of what we think we know
for the darker esprit
of being swept far out to sea
like two castles effaced by the undertow
of an abyss even the light can't cross.
We could lower our bridges
and open our gates
and liberate our prisons
as if we were making love
like two more bad little reasons to live.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
Patrick White

You Say You've Taken All The Tension Out Of Your Life

You say you've taken all the tension out of your life,
but to me you've just planed a mountain range
into a parking lot. Your sacred syllable is flatlining
like a synonym for death, and your eyes,
o those eyes were so blue once
I could have made a cult of the colour
and happily sacrificed myself on the altar
of a sky burial where the angels reverted to ravenous birds,
but now they're one way windows on a braille runway
for blind aliens on the Nazca plateau.

You talk like a tourist guide
with a photo-shopped cheeriness
in the same tone of immaculate voice
as if genesis were beginning all over again
with a logo in the mouth of a vociferous abyss.
I believe in your natural kindness,
those summers of feeling so much like August
out in the fields of an abandoned farm,
where the light kissed the fieldstones on the forehead
as sweetly as it did the eyelids of the wild flowers.
I believe in the integrity of your search,
the sincerity of your confusion, the sway
of your compassion for cellular tissue
over the ideological abstraction of the living details
extracted by vampiric points of view.

Life is messy, soiled, tantrically spoiled,
and even when the moon spices the wine
with love potion number nine, most of the time
we're still drinking out of a dirty cup,
but I know you're not blind to the rapture
of the fireflies showing off to the stars,
or the waterlilies shining like a starmap in a swamp.
You see the green candelabra of the maple saplings
rooted in the decay of the mothering stump.
I know there's love in you. I've gone
pearldiving in your sea. And whatever
the coral reefs that rip the hull
out of your moonboat now, I've seen
that great Atlantean heart of yours
and its irrepressible buoyancy
rising to the surface like a breaching whale.

You don't need a broom to sweep
the mirages of an encroaching desert off your stairs.
You don't need to cherry-pick your delusions
to accommodate a school of gerry-mandered gurus.
Just let your thoughts roost like birds at dusk
in the black walnuts for the night, and rinse
the stardust off your wings in the Milky Way,
or the Pleiades if you want to take a bird bath
before you dream at cruising altitude without a flightplan
or course correction, of bettering the world we are,
by washing it off like a smear on a myopic mirror
that's impatiently elitist about its perfection,
though everytime we do, we're sure to leave,
even if we have the rainbow body of a Tibetan rinpoche,
a galactic rim of human rime around the tub.

Delusion is the doorway to enlightenment.
Samsara is nirvana. Noumena, phenomena.
Even a mirage, a feature of real water,
however many times its been reflected
like the echo of a dragon in the valley
that's inexhaustibly as deep as the mountain
is insurmountably high. Sweet one,
sometimes the mind might be a chandelier
of fireflies making up the dance as the wind blows,
but it's definitely not a crystal skull
goose-stepping to Deutschland uber alles
to spiritually cleanse the world of aberrant translucencies
that move more like the wavelengths of mindstreams
among the symbologies, than the autobahn
among its traffic signs, or road kill
along the dangerous fast lane highways
to the artificial paradise of an inert motel
in a gaseous state. Why throw out the garden
and keep the gate at attention like a Roman legion?
There are no locks or lost keys, one-winged hinges
that have to be retrieved from the river
we threw them in like a tribute of silver swords
when we first stepped into the open out of the void,
or endless pages of grass to part
like the Book of Total Knowledge, Volume L,
like the bloodied waters of the Red Sea
or the civil war we declare on ourselves
like ambassadors in chains, trying to secure a freedom
that was already ours indelibly
long before we were born to live it creatively
in the vaster spaces we return to on the inside
with heart, with immense heart,
like the fruits of the earth
we've all come here to gather
with the worms and the birds, the wasps,
the raccoons, the groundhogs and the humans

to deepen our awareness, to sweeten our insight,
to feel the bliss of an expanding universe
taking a great cosmic risk in the darkness
like the first time with a lover,
that the path to enlightenment begins here
and leads everywhere to the windfall at our feet.

Who insults the feast by bringing
a loss of appetite to the table as a spiritual gift
and though you don't read the menu,
ask for a guest list to make sure you're
seated above the salt of the earth in the right place?
Shakespeare suggested we assume a virtue
if we have it not and make a habit second nature.
One of the chief uncharacteristics of enlightenment is
it can't be abused because it doesn't have a face to lose
and there's nothing to imitate except a second head
growing on top of your own, you don't know whether
to crown or stick pins in like the eyes of a voodoo doll
to confuse the issue of taking full advantage
of this as it is, like a singing bird in an apple tree,
the light and the rain and the flaws in our song, in bliss.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
 

Search


Recent searches | Top searches