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Couples are wholes and not wholes, what agrees disagrees, the concordant is discordant. From all things one and from one all things.

quote by Heraclitus
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Happy Loving Couples

Ive just been to see my best friend
Hes got another girl
Says shes just about the best thing
In the whole damn world
And he says cant you see what the little ladys done for me
Says it like he thinks Im blind
But the things that you see aint necessarily the things you can find
Happy loving couples make it look so easy
Happy loving couples always talk so kind
Until the time that I can do my dancing with a partner
Those happy couples aint no friends of mine
People say Im too damn fussy
When it comes to girls
Happy couples say I must live
In a lonely world
Wanna be, wanna really be what my friends pretend to be
Be it in my own good time
Being kind to myself till I become one of two of a kind
Happy loving couples make it look so easy
Happy loving couples always talk so kind
Until the time that I can do my dancing with a partner
Those happy couples aint no friends of mine
You aint no friends of mine
You know what I mean
Happy loving couples
In matching lamb turtle-neck sweaters
Reading ideal homes magazine
Yeah!
Wanna be, wanna really be what my friends pretend to be
Be it in my own good time
Being kind to myself till I become one of two of a kind
Happy loving couples make it look so easy
Happy loving couples always talk so kind
Until the time that I can do my dancing with a partner
Those happy couples aint no friends of mine
You aint no friends of mine
You aint no friends of mine
You aint no friends of mine
You aint no friends of mine
You aint no friends of mine
Right, thats enough

song performed by Joe Jackson
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A Reading Of Life--With The Persuader

Who murmurs, hither, hither: who
Where nought is audible so fills the ear?
Where nought is visible can make appear
A veil with eyes that waver through,
Like twilight's pledge of blessed night to come,
Or day most golden? All unseen and dumb,
She breathes, she moves, inviting flees,
Is lost, and leaves the thrilled desire
To clasp and strike a slackened lyre,
Till over smiles of hyacinth seas,
Flame in a crystal vessel sails
Beneath a dome of jewelled spray,
For land that drops the rosy day
On nights of throbbing nightingales.

Landward did the wonder flit,
Or heart's desire of her, all earth in it.
We saw the heavens fling down their rose;
On rapturous waves we saw her glide;
The pearly sea-shell half enclose;
The shoal of sea-nymphs flush the tide;
And we, afire to kiss her feet, no more
Behold than tracks along a startled shore,
With brightened edges of dark leaves that feign
An ambush hoped, as heartless night remain.

More closely, warmly: hither, hither! she,
The very she called forth by ripened blood
For its next breath of being, murmurs; she,
Allurement; she, fulfilment; she,
The stream within us urged to flood;
Man's cry, earth's answer, heaven's consent; O she,
Maid, woman and divinity;
Our over-earthly, inner-earthly mate
Unmated; she, our hunger and our fruit
Untasted; she our written fate
Unread; Life's flowering, Life's root:
Unread, divined; unseen, beheld;
The evanescent, ever-present she,
Great Nature's stern necessity
In radiance clothed, to softness quelled;
With a sword's edge of sweetness keen to take
Our breath for bliss, our hearts for fulness break.

The murmur hushes down, the veil is rent.
Man's cry, earth's answer, heaven's consent,
Her form is given to pardoned sight,
And lets our mortal eyes receive
The sovereign loveliness of celestial white;
Adored by them who solitarily pace,

[...] Read more

poem by George Meredith
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Bangs

Bangs
Above your eyes your hair hangs
Blow my mind your royal flyness I dig your bangs
Bangs
To drape across your forehead
To swing concordant angles as you incline your head
Once with a girl I fell in love sometime ago now she had...
Bangs
Are that on which the world hangs
Im only holding your hand so I can look at your bangs
Bangs
Are like a pocket t-shirt
As casual as that while fully intentional
And in case you think Im here cause I like making chit chat
Just remember what I said the moneys under your hat
Bangs
Are that on which the world hangs
Im only holding your hand so I can look at your bangs
Bangs
Above your eyes your hair hangs
Blow my mind your royal flyness I dig your bangs
Bangs
To drape across your forehead
To swing concordant angles as you incline your head
And although I like you anyway, check out your haircut
A proscenium to stage a face that needs no makeup
Bangs
Are that on which the world hangs
Im only holding your hand so I can look at your bangs
Im only holding your hand so I can look at your bangs

song performed by They Might Be Giants
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Not at a Loss Chord - after Adelaide Anne Procter – A Lost Chord

Not at a Loss Chord

Playing one day with my organ,
I was blissful – not ill at ease -
while five fingers wandered wildly
web-cams recording each wheeze.

I know the spot vibrating,
less what I was dreaming then,
but I strummed with both will and spirit
and an “Oh My God! Amen! ”

Adrenaline flowed not vainly
from heart to crimson palm,
as it coursed both veins and spirit
with little akin to calm.

It quieted pain and sorrow,
like love overcoming strife;
it seem[en]ed orgasmic echo
to tune discordant life.

It linked all perplexèd meanings
into one perfect peace,
and trembled away into silence
although I was loth to cease.

I have sought, and I seek not vainly,
that one G spot divine,
which linked my soul to the organ
so manifestly mine.

La petite morte delightful
strikes shivering molten core,
as this little verse insightful
calls for en corps encore!

It may be that Death's bright angel
will speak in that chord again,
for it’s surely in seventh Heaven
one sings “Oh My God! Amen! ”

Parody Adelaide Anne PROCTER – A Lost Chord
8 April 2007

ROBIN Jonathan 1947_2006 robi3_1338_proc1_0001 PXY_MXX Not at a Loss Chord_Playing one day with my organ
A Lost Chord

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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When

If elephants could fry I'd be a little more optimistic
But I don't see that happening anytime soon
I don't mean to sound so pessimistic
But I don't think that cow really jumped over the moon
When will I wake up?
Why did we break up?
When will we make up?

When money grows on trees
People live in peace
Everyone agrees
When happiness is free
Love can guarantee
You'll come back to me-that's when

I'd love to wake up smiling-full of the joys of spring
And hear on CNN that Elvis lives again
And that John's back with the Beatles and they're going out on tour
I'll be the firs in line for tickets-gotta see that show for sure

When will I wake up?
Why did we break up?
When will we make up?

When money grows on trees
People live in peace
Everyone agrees
When happiness is free
Love can guarantee
You'll come back to me-that's when

When will I wake up?
Why did we break up?
When will we make up?

When money grows on trees
People live in peace
Everyone agrees
When happiness is free
Love can guarantee
You'll come back to me-that's when

song performed by Shania Twain from Come On Over
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Happy

Should be happy to be loved
Happy to be
Unburdened by the thought
I could still be lonely
I think youre the one
Everyone agrees
But some can see the face of love
And turn away in disbelief
Every time we get close
I just run
And the wind on my face
Last rays of the sun
Shine on my skin
My heart slow me down
Is all that I can feel
All that I can feel
All that I can feel
All that I can feel
Should be happy to be loved
Happy to be
With someone who knows
And understands me
I think youre the one
Everyone agrees
But some can touch the hand of love
And pull away in disbelief
Every time we get close
I just run
And the wind on my face
Last rays of the sun
Shine on my skin
My heart slow me down
Is all that I can feel
All that I can feel
All that I can feel
All that I can feel
Should be happy to be loved
Happy to be
Possessed by nothing but
A heart thats chosen freely
I think youre the one
Everyone agrees
But some can feel the grace of love
And walk away in disbelief
Every time we get close
I just run
And the wind on my face
Last rays of the sun
Shine on my skin
My heart slow me down

[...] Read more

song performed by Tracy Chapman
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Why Should I Be Concerned?

'May I ask you a question? '

Sure.

'What would you recommend I do,
If someone disagrees with something I have done? '

I would first ask whoever that is,
What is it that I've done they disagree with.
To ensure it doesn't happen again.
Or to provide a clarity as to why what was done...
Had been the way it was.

'Oh...
So you are saying I should ignore the situation.
And forget about it? '

Is that what I said?

'No...
Not exactly!
But I can understand that is what you mean! '

What was your question?

'What would you recommend I do,
If someone disagrees with something I have done? '

And how did I respond to 'that' question?

'It doesn't matter...
Since I know what I will do next time! '

So you are not concerned with resolving the issue?

'Why should I be concerned?
They will think what they want anyway! '

Then why ask the question?

'I just wanted to know what 'you' would do!
And what you suggest doesn't apply to me.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Thespis: Act II

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

GODS

Jupiter, Aged Diety
Apollo, Aged Diety
Mars, Aged Diety
Diana, Aged Diety
Mercury

THESPIANS

Thespis
Sillimon
TimidonTipseion
Preposteros
Stupidas
Sparkeio n
Nicemis
Pretteia
Daphne
Cymon

ACT II - The same Scene, with the Ruins Restored

SCENE-the same scene as in Act I with the exception that in place
of the ruins that filled the foreground of the stage, the
interior of a magnificent temple is seen showing the background
of the scene of Act I, through the columns of the portico at the
back. High throne. L.U.E. Low seats below it. All the substitute
gods and goddesses [that is to say, Thespians] are discovered
grouped in picturesque attitudes about the stage, eating and
drinking, and smoking and singing the following verses.

CHO. Of all symposia
The best by half
Upon Olympus, here await us.
We eat ambrosia.
And nectar quaff,
It cheers but don't inebriate us.
We know the fallacies,
Of human food
So please to pass Olympian rosy,
We built up palaces,
Where ruins stood,
And find them much more snug and cosy.

SILL. To work and think, my dear,
Up here would be,

[...] Read more

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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If I was Two and Twenty - after Algernon Charles Swinburne- A Match and Thomas Hood - A Catch

This time around is given,
as was the one before,
sins punished, sins forgiven,
who knows what 'lies' in store
in trace race mortals draw
till they withdraw, hence driven,
despite pride's battles striven,
life's finite thread is riven,
we wane, the pain is keen.
This time around is given,
till, wrinkled, we withdraw.

If I was two and twenty,
with soul mate just eighteen,
we'd pleasures taste aplenty
nor censorship, nor sentry
in future evergreen
ignoring landed gentry,
dirt urban elementary,
all options opened gently,
by temporal re-entry
stream energy dream clean.
If I was two and twenty,
life's partner just eighteen.

Then we might blow pollution
to smithereens and seed
some carbon-free solution,
climactic revolution
defeating human greed,
then growth would flow unending,
before, behind, here bending,
straightforwardly defending
minorities agreed
on aims and attributions
all nurturing shared need.

If life were what the rose is
without the thorns to boot,
true loves would link together
through bright or stormy weather
where heart with heart reposes
in bliss, each kiss new root.
From story uneventful
discarding trumps resentful
to glory existential
we'd dance to magic flute.
Door open never closes,
vain envy could confute.

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Marriage Of The Same Sexes

Marriage is not about opposite sexes
coming together for tax breaks
Marriage is for two souls to evolve
spiritually and become great.
Couples are a microcosm of how
we all relate.
If we come from the heart we can add
to the collective consciousness of happiness
not hate.
It's far better same sex married couples are happy
no matter what,
then have opposite sex married couples
hurting each other by kicking each other's butts?

Written by Christina Sunrise on May 14,2012

poem by Christina Sunrise
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Tatters

Some couples live in harmony
Some do not
Some couples yell and scream
Some do not
But what you said was something
That I cant forget
It echoes in my head
Like a bullet made of lead
Some people yell and scream
And some do not
Some people sacrifice their lives
And some do not
Some people wait for sleep
To take them away
While others read books endlessly
Hoping problems will go away
I know youre hoping everything
Works out
Neither one of us is
The type who shouts
You sleep in the bedroom
While I pace up and down the hall
Our baby stares at both of us
Wondering which one of us to call
I guess its true that not
Every match burns bright
I guess its true
Not all that I say is right
But what you said still bounces
Around in my head
Who thought this could happen to us
When we first went to bed
Im told in the end
That none of this matters
All couples have troubles
And none of this matters
But what you said
Still echoes in my head
And Im still in the hallway
Downstairs sleeping alone instead
I know you dont care
But heres my last thought
Not that it matters
But heres the last thing I thought
Our little thing is lying
Here in tatters
And you my dear
Dont have any manners
Sad to leave this way
To leave it all in tatters

[...] Read more

song performed by Lou Reed
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Same Sex Marriages

Marriage is not about opposite sexes

coming together for tax breaks

Marriage is for two souls to evolve

spiritually and become great.

Couples are a microcosm of how we all relate.

If we come from the heart we can add

to the collective consciousness of happiness not hate.

It's far better to see same sex marriages

couples be happy no matter what

then seeing opposite sex married couples

hurting each other by kicking each other's butts.

Written by Suzae Chevalier on May 14,2012

poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Marriage Equality For Same-Sex Couples

New Zealand Prime Minister John Key
to vote in favour of a bill to allow marriage equality
for same-sex couples because it won't

impact on his relationship with his wife?

Key has correctly unlocked the issue
this is an individual conscience choice
not party political politicking choice!

Mr Key who spoke on Radio Live
declared he would use a conscience vote
to vote in favour of a bill allowing gay

and transgender couples to get married.
Moslem Dean Smith cynically
believes 'He's just trying to get votes.'

Terence Craddock impartially
said 'buying votes or not the possibilities
for gay and transgender couples

wishing to get married
is huge and heartfelt,
think about it, this is not

a party issue,
it is a conscious
vote issue.'

Ashleigh Sandy Ghozali accurately
affirmed 'Prime Minister John Key
is genuine about his support

for marriage equality
for all new zealanders.'
Terence Craddock replied

'Good, have to respect genuine views;
if we ever as an entire species,
are to learn to live with each other in peace;

we will need to respect differences,
and live and let live,
respecting other people's rights.'

Hypocrites make a big issue out of homosexuality.
Jesus faced mob eager to execute a woman caught in adultery.
Did Jesus not say 'Let him without sin cast the first stone'?

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Ballroom-A Pantoum

'And gilded couples all in whirling trance
Follow holiday revel begun long since.'
-Sylvia Plath, 'Cinderella'

The orchestra begins a new melody.
The crystal chandelier dims; red velvet curtains part.
Guests sip white wine and champagne, and
scores of couples begin to dance.

The crystal chandelier dims; red velvet curtains part
as the violins and cellos play their song.
Scores of couples begin to dance:
Men in tuxedoes, and ladies in scarlet gowns.

As the violins and cellos play their song,
dancers twirl on the white marble floor.
Men in tuxedoes and ladies in scarlet gowns
fill the grand palace hall with applause.

Dancers twirl on the white marble floor;
guests sip white wine and champagne and
fill the grand palace hall with applause.
The orchestra begins a new melody.

poem by Kimberly Kastner
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A Vision Of Doom

I stood upon a hill. The setting sun
Was crimson with a curse and a portent,
And scarce his angry ray lit up the land
That lay below, whose lurid gloom appeared
Freaked with a moving mist, which, reeking up
From dim tarns hateful with some horrid ban,
Took shapes forbidden and without a name.
Gigantic night-birds, rising from the reeds
With cries discordant, startled all the air,
And bodiless voices babbled in the gloom-
The ghosts of blasphemies long ages stilled,
And shrieks of women, and men's curses. All
These visible shapes, and sounds no mortal ear
Had ever heard, some spiritual sense
Interpreted, though brokenly; for I
Was haunted by a consciousness of crime,
Some giant guilt, but whose I knew not. All
These things malign, by sight and sound revealed,
Were sin-begotten; that I knew-no more
And that but dimly, as in dreadful dreams
The sleepy senses babble to the brain
Imperfect witness. As I stood a voice,
But whence it came I knew not, cried aloud
Some words to me in a forgotten tongue,
Yet straight I knew me for a ghost forlorn,
Returned from the illimited inane.
Again, but in a language that I knew,
As in reply to something which in me
Had shaped itself a thought, but found no words,
It spake from the dread mystery about:
'Immortal shadow of a mortal soul
That perished with eternity, attend.
What thou beholdest is as void as thou:
The shadow of a poet's dream-himself
As thou, his soul as thine, long dead,
But not like thine outlasted by its shade.
His dreams alone survive eternity
As pictures in the unsubstantial void.
Excepting thee and me (and we because
The poet wove us in his thought) remains
Of nature and the universe no part
Or vestige but the poet's dreams. This dread,
Unspeakable land about thy feet, with all
Its desolation and its terrors-lo!
'T is but a phantom world. So long ago
That God and all the angels since have died
That poet lived-yourself long dead-his mind
Filled with the light of a prophetic fire,
And standing by the Western sea, above
The youngest, fairest city in the world,

[...] Read more

poem by Ambrose Bierce
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A Prayer

'Mid the discordant noises of the day I hear thee calling;
I stumble as I fare along Earth's way; keep me from falling.

Mine eyes are open but they cannot see for gloom of night:
I can no more than lift my heart to thee for inward light.

The wild and fiery passion of my youth consumes my soul;
In agony I turn to thee for truth and self-control.

For Passion and all the pleasures it can give will die the death;
But this of me eternally must live, thy borrowed breath.

'Mid the discordant noises of the day I hear thee calling;
I stumble as I fare along Earth's way; keep me from falling.

poem by Claude McKay
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The Minstrel; Or, The Progress Of Genius : Book I.

I.
Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar!
Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime
Hath felt the influence of malignant star,
And wag'd with Fortune an eternal war!
Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown,
And Poverty's unconquerable bar,
In life's low vale remote hath pin'd alone
Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown!

II.
And yet, the languor of inglorious days
Not equally oppressive is to all.
Him, who ne'er listen'd to the voice of praise,
The silence of neglect can ne'er appal.
There are, who, deaf to mad Ambition's call,
Would shrink to hear th' obstreperous trump of Fame;
Supremely blest, if to their portion fall
Health, competence, and peace. Nor higher aim
Had he, whose simple tale these artless lines proclaim.

III.
This sapient age disclaims all classic lore;
Else I should here in cunning phrase display,
How forth The Minstrel far'd in days of yore,
Right glad of heart, though homely in array;
His waving locks and beard all hoary grey:
And, from his bending shoulder, decent hung
His harp, the sole companion of his way,
Which to the whistling wind responsive rung:
And ever as he went some merry lay he sung.

IV.
Fret not yourselves, ye silken sons of pride,
That a poor Wanderer should inspire my strain.
The Muses Fortune's fickle smile deride,
Nor ever bow the knee in Mammon's fane;
For their delights are with the village-train,
Whom Nature's laws engage, and Nature's charms:
They hate the sensual, and scorn the vain;
The parasite their influence never warms,
Nor him whose sordid soul the love of wealth alarms.

V.
Though richest hues the peacock's plumes adorn,
Yet horror screams from his discordant throat.
Rise, sons of harmony, and hail the morn,
While warbling larks on russet pinions float;
Or seek at noon the woodland scene remote,

[...] Read more

poem by James Beattie
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Vision Of Columbus - Book 7

Hail sacred Peace, who claim'st thy bright abode,
Mid circling saints that grace the throne of God.
Before his arm, around the shapeless earth,
Stretch'd the wide heavens and gave to nature birth;
Ere morning stars his glowing chambers hung,
Or songs of gladness woke an angel's tongue,
Veil'd in the brightness of the Almighty's mind,
In blest repose thy placid form reclined;
Borne through the heavens with his creating voice,
Thy presence bade the unfolding worlds rejoice,
Gave to seraphic harps their sounding lays,
Their joys to angels, and to men their praise.
From scenes of blood, these beauteous shores that stain,
From gasping friends that press the sanguine plain,
From fields, long taught in vain thy flight to mourn,
I rise, delightful Power, and greet thy glad return.
Too long the groans of death, and battle's bray
Have rung discordant through the unpleasing lay:
Let pity's tear its balmy fragrance shed,
O'er heroes' wounds and patriot warriors dead;
Accept, departed Shades, these grateful sighs,
Your fond attendants to the approving skies.
And thou, my earliest friend, my Brother dear,
Thy fall untimely wakes the tender tear.
In youthful sports, in toils, in blood allied,
My kind companion and my hopeful guide,
When Heaven's sad summons, from our infant eyes
Had call'd our last, loved parent to the skies.
Tho' young in arms, and still obscure thy name,
Thy bosom panted for the deeds of fame,
Beneath Montgomery's eye, when, by thy steel,
In northern wilds, the lurking savage fell.
'Yet, hapless youth! when thy great leader bled,
Thro' the same wound thy parting spirit fled.
But now the untuneful trump shall grate no more,
Ye silver streams, no longer swell with gore;
Bear from your beauteous banks the crimson stain,
With yon retiring navies to the main.
While other views, unfolding on my eyes,
And happier themes bid bolder numbers rise.
Bring, bounteous Peace, in thy celestial throng
Life to my soul, and rapture to my song;
Give me to trace, with pure unclouded ray,
The arts and virtues that attend thy sway;
To see thy blissful charms, that here descend,
Through distant realms and endless years extend.
To cast new glories o'er the changing clime,
The Seraph now reversed the flight of time;
Roll'd back the years, that led their course before,
And stretch'd immense the wild uncultured shore;

[...] Read more

poem by Joel Barlow
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Pharsalia - Book VI: The Fight Near Dyrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits. The Witch Of Thessalia.

Now that the chiefs with minds intent on fight
Had drawn their armies near upon the hills
And all the gods beheld their chosen pair,
Caesar, the Grecian towns despising, scorned
To reap the glory of successful war
Save at his kinsman's cost. In all his prayers
He seeks that moment, fatal to the world,
When shall be cast the die, to win or lose,
And all his fortune hang upon the throw.
Thrice he drew out his troops, his eagles thrice,
Demanding battle; thus to increase the woe
Of Latium, prompt as ever: but his foes,
Proof against every art, refused to leave
The rampart of their camp. Then marching swift
By hidden path between the wooded fields
He seeks, and hopes to seize, Dyrrhachium's fort;
But Magnus, speeding by the ocean marge,
First camped on Petra's slopes, a rocky hill
Thus by the natives named. From thence he keeps
Watch o'er the fortress of Corinthian birth
Which by its towers alone without a guard
Was safe against a siege. No hand of man
In ancient days built up her lofty wall,
No hammer rang upon her massive stones:
Not all the works of war, nor Time himself
Shall undermine her. Nature's hand has raised
Her adamantine rocks and hedged her in
With bulwarks girded by the foamy main:
And but for one short bridge of narrow earth
Dyrrhachium were an island. Steep and fierce,
Dreaded of sailors, are the cliffs that bear
Her walls; and tempests, howling from the west,
Toss up the raging main upon the roofs;
And homes and temples tremble at the shock.

Thirsting for battle and with hopes inflamed
Here Caesar hastes, with distant rampart lines
Seeking unseen to coop his foe within,
Though spread in spacious camp upon the hills.
With eagle eye he measures out the land
Meet to be compassed, nor content with turf
Fit for a hasty mound, he bids his troops
Tear from the quarries many a giant rock:
And spoils the dwellings of the Greeks, and drags
Their walls asunder for his own. Thus rose
A mighty barrier which no ram could burst
Nor any ponderous machine of war.
Mountains are cleft, and level through the hills
The work of Caesar strides: wide yawns the moat,
Forts show their towers rising on the heights,

[...] Read more

poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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Abrasive Waves (Revised)

Belligerent discourse, each statement
aggressively confronts, an aggravated
inflexion rasps pugnaciously, grating
voice deepens ostentatiously for each
pretentious word at end-of-phrase

Drawn out vowels – discordant notes
create nerve-quaking noise, grows
exasperation in already aching ears,
words exploding in my mind until I’m
speechless with dismay

Only physical separation can dissipate
this callous cacophony, prevent it from
breaking in abrasive waves…

[ORIGINAL]

Belligerent talking, every statement
an aggressive challenge, an irritated
inflexion becoming a rasping sound,
lowering this grating voice for each
significant word at the end of a phrase

Drawn out vowels in discordant notes
become a nerve-wrecking noise, creating
a feeling of such exasperation my ears
start to hurt, exploding in my mind
until I am speechless with dismay

Only physical distance can shut out this
callous cacophony breaking in
abrasive waves…

poem by Margaret Alice Second
Added by Poetry Lover
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