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The status quo is the only solution that cannot be vetoed.

quote by Clark Kerr
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cleanness

Clannesse who so kyndly cowþe comende
& rekken vp alle þe resounz þat ho by ri3t askez,
Fayre formez my3t he fynde in for[þ]ering his speche
& in þe contrare kark & combraunce huge.
For wonder wroth is þe Wy3þat wro3t alle þinges
Wyth þe freke þat in fylþe fol3es Hym after,
As renkez of relygioun þat reden & syngen
& aprochen to hys presens & prestez arn called;
Thay teen vnto his temmple & temen to hym seluen,
Reken with reuerence þay rychen His auter;
Þay hondel þer his aune body & vsen hit boþe.
If þay in clannes be clos þay cleche gret mede;
Bot if þay conterfete crafte & cortaysye wont,
As be honest vtwyth & inwith alle fylþez,
Þen ar þay synful hemself & sulped altogeder
Boþe God & His gere, & hym to greme cachen.
He is so clene in His courte, þe Kyng þat al weldez,
& honeste in His housholde & hagherlych serued
With angelez enourled in alle þat is clene,
Boþ withine & withouten in wedez ful bry3t;
Nif he nere scoymus & skyg & non scaþe louied,
Hit were a meruayl to much, hit mo3t not falle.
Kryst kydde hit Hymself in a carp onez,
Þeras He heuened a3t happez & hy3t hem her medez.
Me mynez on one amonge oþer, as Maþew recordez,
Þat þus clanness vnclosez a ful cler speche:
Þe haþel clene of his hert hapenez ful fayre,
For he schal loke on oure Lorde with a bone chere';
As so saytz, to þat sy3t seche schal he neuer
Þat any vnclannesse hatz on, auwhere abowte;
For He þat flemus vch fylþe fer fro His hert
May not byde þat burre þat hit His body ne3en.
Forþy hy3not to heuen in haterez totorne,
Ne in þe harlatez hod, & handez vnwaschen.
For what vrþly haþel þat hy3honour haldez
Wolde lyke if a ladde com lyþerly attyred,
When he were sette solempnely in a sete ryche,
Abof dukez on dece, with dayntys serued?
Þen þe harlot with haste helded to þe table,
With rent cokrez at þe kne & his clutte traschez,
& his tabarde totorne, & his totez oute,
Oþer ani on of alle þyse, he schulde be halden vtter,
With mony blame ful bygge, a boffet peraunter,
Hurled to þe halle dore & harde þeroute schowued,
& be forboden þat bor3e to bowe þider neuer,
On payne of enprysonment & puttyng in stokkez;
& þus schal he be schent for his schrowde feble,
Þa3neuer in talle ne in tuch he trespas more.
& if vnwelcum he were to a worþlych prynce,
3et hym is þe hy3e Kyng harder in her euen;

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Americas
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Wha Is That At My Bower-Door

'Wha is that at my bower-door?'
'O wha is it but Findlay!'
'Then gae your gate, ye'se nae be here:'
'Indeed maun I,' quo' Findlay;
'What mak' ye, sae like a thief?'
'O come and see,' quo' Findlay;
'Before the morn ye'll work mischief:'
'Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay.

'Gif I rise and let you in'-
'Let me in,' quo' Findlay;
'Ye'll keep me waukin wi' your din;'
'Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay;
'In my bower if ye should stay'-
'Let me stay,' quo' Findlay;
'I fear ye'll bide till break o' day;'
'Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay.

'Here this night if ye remain'-
'I'll remain,' quo' Findlay;
'I dread ye'll learn the gate again;'
'Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay.
'What may pass within this bower'-
'Let it pass,' quo' Findlay;
'Ye maun conceal till your last hour:'
'Indeed will I,' quo' Findlay.

poem by Robert Burns
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Jock O The Side

Now Liddisdale has ridden a raid,
But I wat they had better staid at hame;
For Mitchell o Winfield he is dead,
And my son Johnie is prisner tane?
With my fa ding diddle, la la dew diddle.

For Mangerton house auld Downie is gane,
Her coats she has kilted up to her knee;
And down the water wi speed she rins,
While tears in spaits fa fast frae her eie.

Then up and bespake the lord Mangerton:
'What news, what news, sister Downie, to me?'
'Bad news, bad news, my lord Mangerton;
Mitchel is killd, and tane they hae my son Johnie.'

'Neer fear, sister Downie,' quo Mangerton;
'I hae yokes of oxen, four-and-twentie,
My barns, my byres, and my faulds, a' weel filld,
And I'll part wi them a' ere Johnie shall die.

'Three men I'll take to set him free,
Weel harnessd a' wi best of steel;
The English rogues may hear, and drie
The weight o their braid swords to feel

'The Laird's Jock ane, the Laird's Wat twa,
O Hobie Noble, thou ane maun be!
Thy coat is blue, thou has been true,
Since England banishd thee, to me.'

Now, Hobie was an English man,
In Bewcastle-dale was bred and born;
But his misdeeds they were sae great,
They banished him neer to return.

Lord Mangerton then orders gave,--
'Your horses the wrang way maun a' be shod;
Like gentlemen ye must not seem,
But look like corn-caugers gawn ae road.

'Your armour gude ye maunna shaw,
Nor ance appear like men o weir;
As country lads be all arrayd,
Wi branks and brecham on ilk mare.'

Sae now a' their horses are shod the wrang way,
And Hobie has mounted his grey sae fine,
Jock his lively bay, Wat's on his white horse behind,
And on they rode for the water o Tyne.

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Lang
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Kinmont Willie

O have ye na heard o the fause Sakelde?
O have ye na heard o the keen Lord Scroop?
How they hae taen bauld Kinmont Willie,
On Hairibee to hang him up?

Had Willie had but twenty men,
But twenty men as stout as be,
Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont taen
Wi eight score in his companie.

They band his legs beneath the steed,
They tied his hands behind his back;
They guarded him, fivesome on each side,
And they brought him ower the Liddel-rack.

They led him thro the Liddel-rack.
And also thro the Carlisle sands;
They brought him to Carlisle castell.
To be at my Lord Scroope's commands.

'My hands are tied; but my tongue is free,
And whae will dare this deed avow?
Or answer by the border law?
Or answer to the bauld Buccleuch?'

'Now haud thy tongue, thou rank reiver!
There's never a Scot shall set ye free:
Before ye cross my castle-yate,
I trow ye shall take farewell o me.'

'Fear na ye that, my lord,' quo Willie:
'By the faith o my body, Lord Scroope,' he said,
'I never yet lodged in a hostelrie--
But I paid my lawing before I gaed.'

Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper,
In Branksome Ha where that he lay,
That Lord Scroope has taen the Kinmont Willie,
Between the hours of night and day.

He has taen the table wi his hand,
He garrd the red wine spring on hie;
'Now Christ's curse on my head,' he said,
'But avenged of Lord Scroope I'll be!

'O is my basnet a widow's curch?
Or my lance a wand of the willow-tree?
Or my arm a lady's lilye hand,
That an English lord should lightly me?

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Lang
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Revolution

More calm than a heartbeat that flat lines
Quiet like a dark street under the moonlight
A phrase of action that's been screamed from the guts of men
Ever since they're first experienced
Injustice, prejudice, discrimination
A word louder than a gunshot
And softer than a baby's laugh, it will pass
Just like it always has. Until it spits off the lips of
The next man who's had it up to here.
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head?
Is that what it takes to make a solution
solution
not the first or the last to imagine it
Acknowledge the concepts, question and grasp it
Rebel against the I, and bring down the self.
Mutiny me! overthrow you
Rebellion starts within, the time is now
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head?
Is that what it takes to make a solution, solution
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head?
Is that what it takes to make a solution
Your Revolution
Purple skies, Devil eyes, Hypnotize
Little lies, Compromise, Fireflies
Samurias, Parasite, Fly by night, After light, Materialize,
Look alive, Stereotype, Do with die, lullaby, black and white
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head? your revolution
Is that what it takes to make a solution, solution, your revolution
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or at least it's been said, your revolution
Is that what it takes to make a solution?
Your Revolution
No resolution -Your Revolution
what's your solution? -Your Revolution
And no substitution -Your Revolution
And no resolution -Your Revolution
not your solution

song performed by P.O.D.
Added by Lucian Velea
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Giving Up On Status

Giving up on status felt once automatic.
And representing 'bling' people use to own...
With a flaunting about and publicly shown.

The days,
Of impressing others are over.
And addressing one's needs are now priorities.
As symbols of status have taken backseats.

Those days oppressing now more shoulder.
And the ones on bruised knees,
Have no egos to please.
Feeling as they do about necessities.

The days,
Of impressing others are over.
And addressing one's needs are now priorities.
As symbols of status have taken backseats.

Giving up on status felt once automatic.
And representing 'bling' people use to own...
With a flaunting about and publicly shown.

Those days oppressing now more shoulder.
And addressing one's needs are now priorities.
As symbols of status have taken backseats.
And the ones on bruised knees,
Have no egos to please.
Feeling as they do about necessities.

The days,
Of impressing others are over.
Felt once automatic.
But backs are turned away,
On status as a habit.

The days,
Of impressing others are over.
Felt once automatic.
But backs are turned away,
On status as a habit.

The days,
Of impressing others are over.
Felt once automatic.
But backs are turned away,
On status as a habit.

Nobody has to have it.
That status as a habit.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When I Meet God

And if the bottles no solution
Why does it feel so warm
And if that girl is no solution
Why did she feel so warm
And if to feel is no solution
Why do I feel
Why do I feel so tired
Why do I feel so broken
Why do I feel so outside
Why do I seem so blind
Im so sick of feeling
Its ruined my life
If living rough is no solution
Why does it ease my mind
If looking back is no solution
Why are we all
Nothing but children
Children inside
Why do the gods
Sit back and watch
So many lost
What kind of mother
Leaves a child in the traffic
Turning tricks in the dark
What kind of god?
I crawled around inside myself
It was a long way down
It was a mine and it was mine
And in the darkness
I saw a perfect mirror
Floating in space
When I meet god
Im going to ask her
What makes her cry
What makes her laugh
Is she just stars and indigo gas
Does she know why
Love has no end
But its dark-angel friend
Tearing women and men
Slowly apart
Stain
Dont do that
Scream
Dont do that
Fail
Never do that
Never do that
I want to go out
Dont do that

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song performed by Marillion
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cursum Perficio

Cursum perficio
Cursum perficio
Cursum perficio
Cursum perficio
Cursum perficio
Verbum sapienti (eo plus cupiunt)
Verbum sapienti
Quo plus habent} eo plus cupiunt
Verbum sapienti
Quo plus habent} eo plus cupiunt
Post nubila, phoebus
Post nubila, phoebus
Post nubila, phoebus
Quo plus habent, eo plus cupiunt
Quo plus habent, eo plus cupiunt
Quo plus habent, eo plus cupiunt
Post nubila, phoebus
Post nubila, phoebus
Post nubila, phoebus
Post nubila, phoebus
Post nubila, phoebus
Post nubila, phoebus
Iternum
Iternum
Iternum

song performed by Enya
Added by Lucian Velea
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Patience

Pacience is a poynt, þa33e,
& quo for þro may no3t þole, þe þikker he sufferes.
&Thorn;en is better to abyde þe bur vmbestoundes
&Thorn;en ay þrow forth my þro, þa33e masse,
How Mathew melede þat his Mayster His meyny con teche.
A3t happes He hem hy3t & vcheon a mede,
Sunderlupes, for hit dissert, vpon a ser wyse:
Thay arn happen þat han in hert pouerte,
For hores is þe heuen-ryche to holde for euer;
&Thorn;ay ar happen also þat haunte mekenesse,
For þay schal welde þis worlde & alle her wylle haue;
Thay ar happen also þat for her harme wepes,
For þay schal comfort encroche in kythes ful mony;
&Thorn;ay ar happen also þat hungeres after ry3t,
For þay schal frely be refete ful of alle gode;
Thay ar happen also þat han in hert rauþe,
For mercy in alle maneres her mede schal worþe;
&Thorn;ay ar happen also þat arn of hert clene,
For þay her Sauyour in sete schal se with her y3en;
Thay ar happen also þat halden her pese,
For þay þe gracious Godes sunes schal godly be called;
&Thorn;ay ar happen also þat con her hert stere,
For hores is þe heuen-ryche, as I er sayde.
These arn þe happes alle a3t þat vus bihy3t weren,
If we þyse ladyes wolde lof in lyknyng of þewes:
Dame Pouert, Dame Pitee, Dame Penaunce þe þrydde,
Dame Mekenesse, Dame Mercy, & miry Clannesse,
& þenne Dame Pes, & Pacyence put in þerafter.
He were happen þat hade one; alle were þe better.
Bot [s]yn I am put to a poynt þat pouerte hatte,
I schal me poruay pacyence & play me with boþe,
For in þe tyxte þere þyse two arn in teme layde,
Hit arn fettled in on forme, þe forme & þe laste,
& by quest of her quoyntyse enquylen on mede.
& als, in myn vpynyoun, hit arn of on kynde:
For þeras pouert hir proferes ho nyl be put vtter,
Bot lenge wheresoeuer hir lyst, lyke oþer greme;
& þereas pouert enpresses, þa33tloker hit lyke & her lotes prayse,
&Thorn;enne wyþer wyth & be wroth & þe wers haue.
3if me be dy3t a destyne due to haue,
What dowes me þe dedayn, oþer dispit make?
Oþer 3if my lege lorde lyst on lyue me to bidde
Oþer to ryde oþer to renne to Rome in his ernde,
What grayþed me þe grychchyng bot grame more seche?
Much 3if he me ne made, maugref my chekes,
& þenne þrat moste I þole & vnþonk to mede,
&Thorn;e had bowed to his bode bongre my hyure.
Did not Jonas in Jude suche jape sumwhyle?
To sette hym to sewrte, vnsounde he hym feches.
Wyl 3e tary a lyttel tyne & tent me a whyle,

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poem by Anonymous Americas
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Carrolling II-Parody Lewis CARROLL–The Mad Gardener’s Song

Carolling II

He Thought He Saw

He thought he saw new Internet
exchanging peer to peer,
he looked again and found it was
a mirage for each year
sees more control, “what rôle, ” he said,
“for values once held dear?
Some track to trace attack and get
convictions based on fear.'

He dreamt he saw spam disappear,
all consultations free,
he looked again and found it was
a spybot lottery.
“Is net neutrality”, he said,
“from rash risks viral clear? ”

He dreamt that Microsoft would steer
all trash deleted fast,
then woke to find world insincere
where independence past
was sacrificed throughout the year
to biometrics ghast.

He thought he saw a friend’s hello,
with an attachment piece,
he looked again and found it was
the porno scanning police.
“Politically correct”, he said,
“can’t guarantee release.”

He opened it, discovered though,
a trojan horse to fleece –
he looked again as data flow
declined, - mind not at peace -
and whispered with voice hoarse and low:
'when will our worries cease? ”

He thought he saw a hierophant,
who’d deal successful life,
he looked again and found it was
subpoena from ex-wife
demanding child support, he said,
“cards are cut by Time’s knife.”

He looked once more with rage and rant
and swore like a fishwife

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Alphabet Artistry

ALPHABET ARTISTRY
Able acrostic artist’s alignment adds air.
Alliteration asks acknowledgement aware,
Bard’s brain bequeaths benchmark billet, blends braid bans blare,
Beware braggarts’ boasts, banality, betrayal backstair.
Classic composition, clear content, compare
Creative couplets, compliment competent care.
Drawing descriptions deftly displayed debonair
Droll doggerel dubbed dextrous, doubts dismayed. Declare
Entertaining epistle’s extent e’er ensnare
Easy erudition evident everywhere
Fair fancy’s flight futility forbade, fine flair
Flickering forever – feeble fops fade – fan fair.
Great gifts, gainsay gameplay grandiloquent, gross glare,
Gain gleeful guests, greet gallant guy, girl, gent, goad galere.
Here he has honed his heavenly homemade highbrow
Handwritten harvest, handmade harlequinade … how?
Insight inviting idyll irreverent, ifere
Invents ideas intelligent, intent inhere
Judicious jumble joke jest judges jaded jeer,
Joins joyful jingle jamboree jacent jardinière
Kaleidoscopic knowledge knits kaross. Kowtow!
Knight’s kakemono knack karmic kudos. Know
Lines lyrical, lightheartedly linked, laid layer
Liltingly linger, lasting leisure lent lustreware
Mute melancholy! Muse’s masquerade mayor
Master musters magic meter, music made midair
Neat new needlecraft, never negligent ne’er
Neutral, negative nonsense, nonevent nowhere.
Ode’s object - open offering - obeyed order
Onomatopoeia overlayed over
Poetic passions, purposefully pent, prepare
Portrait pasquinade polyvalent poetic pair
Quick-witted quips quell quitters querulent, queer.
Quizmaster quality quite quiets querent. Quair’s
Rhymic reel responsive, readymade, reads rare
Reverberation, readily relaid repair.
Stanzas succinct, shrewd signposts sapient, should share
Such skillful stringing signals softly sent. So spare
The thesis, tested, triumphs, teasing trade that there
Takes time to twin terms taut, taught twined torsade tough to tear
Usage unexpected unpenitent, - unfair?
Unravels uniformity, unpent unaware.
Vitality, vim, vetoed vehement vaporware,
Vivacious verse’s veriloquent vent via vare
When willing writer worked with wonderment where
Weaving worthwhile wordplay wreath while weekend went west ware.
Xylophonic xenagogue xeroxes XX XY,
Xenial xesturgy xenogamy x-rays Xerxes, xanthous Xanthippe
Yet Ylem, Yggdrasil, yug yesterday, - yare

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Jamie Telfer

It fell about the Martinmas tyde,
When our Border steeds get corn and hay
The captain of Bewcastle hath bound him to ryde,
And he's ower to Tividale to drive a prey.

The first ae guide that they met wi',
It was high up Hardhaughswire;
The second guide that we met wi',
It was laigh down in Borthwick water.

'What tidings, what tidings, my trusty guide?'
'Nae tidings, nae tidings, I hae to thee;
But, gin ye'll gae to the fair Dodhead,
Mony a cow's cauf I'll let thee see.'

And whan they cam to the fair Dodhead,
Right hastily they clam the peel;
They loosed the kye out, ane and a',
And ranshackled the house right weel.

Now Jamie Telfer's heart was sair,
The tear aye rowing in his e'e;
He pled wi' the captain to hae his gear,
Or else revenged he wad be.

The captain turned him round and leugh;
Said--'Man, there's naething in thy house,
But ae auld sword without a sheath,
That hardly now wad fell a mouse!'

The sun was na up, but the moon was down,
It was the gryming o' a new fa'n snaw,
Jamie Telfer has run three myles a-foot,
Between the Dodhead and the Stobs's Ha'

And whan he cam to the fair tower yate,
He shouted loud, and cried weel hie,
Till out bespak auld Gibby Elliot--
'Wha's this that brings the fraye to me?'

'It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead,
And a harried man I think I be!
There's naething left at the fair Dodhead,
But a waefu' wife and bairnies three.

'Gae seek your succour at Branksome Ha'.
For succour ye'se get nane frae me!
Gae seek your succour where ye paid black-mail,
For, man! ye ne'er paid money to me.'

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Lang
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Sex Is Not The Enemy

No evolution
Sometimes it depresses me
The same old same
We keep repeating history
The institution curses curiosity
It's our conviction
Sex is not the enemy
A revolution
Is the solution
A revolution
Is the solution
I won't feel guilty
No matter what they're telling me
I won't feel dirty and buy into their misery
I won't be shamed cause I believe that love is free
It fuels the heart and sex is not the enemy
A revolution
Is the solution
A revolution
Is the solution
True love is like gold
There's not enough to go around
But then there's god and doesn't god love everyone?
Give me a choice
Give me a chance to turn the key and find my voice
Sex is not the enemy
A revolution
Is the solution
A revolution
Is the solution
Sex is not the enemy
A revolution

song performed by Garbage
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Solution

No need to wonder - do you belong?
No need to worry
You can be strong
Dont disbelieve it
Let your fears go
There must be more to this life
And we all know
Deep inside
The solution
Staring you down
Looking for
The solution
Bringing you round
Round and round we go
Round and round we go
The past can haunt your future so
Shadows are falling look out below
Voices are calling echoes unknown
There must be more to this life than we all know
Looking for
The solution
Staring you down
Deep inside
The solution
Bringing you round
Giving it out
Giving it out
Do the best that you can do
Giving it out
Giving it out
Its all up to you
Giving it out
Giving it out
Do the best that you can do
Giving it out
Giving it out
Its all up to you
Its all up to you
Over and under and down we go
(down we go)
Caught at the crossroads - which way to go?
(path unknown)
Choosing the right path?
Only you know
Looking for
The solution
You hold the key
Deep inside
The solution
Set yourself free

[...] Read more

song performed by Yes
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Solution

No need to wonder - do you belong?
No need to worry
You can be strong
Dont disbelieve it
Let your fears go
There must be more to this life
And we all know
Deep inside
The solution
Staring you down
Looking for
The solution
Bringing you round
Round and round we go
Round and round we go
The past can haunt your future so
Shadows are falling look out below
Voices are calling echoes unknown
There must be more to this life than we all know
Looking for
The solution
Staring you down
Deep inside
The solution
Bringing you round
Giving it out
Giving it out
Do the best that you can do
Giving it out
Giving it out
Its all up to you
Giving it out
Giving it out
Do the best that you can do
Giving it out
Giving it out
Its all up to you
Its all up to you
Over and under and down we go
(down we go)
Caught at the crossroads - which way to go?
(path unknown)
Choosing the right path?
Only you know
Looking for
The solution
You hold the key
Deep inside
The solution
Set yourself free

[...] Read more

song performed by Yes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Many Seek Status

To acknowledge that I 'am'
Who I 'am' and in the 'now'
Of my life!
Is for me a major achievement.
And one I live excuse free.
One based upon truth and honesty!

Many seek status.
Like an apparatus to mask.
Perhaps with hopes,
An acceptance is passed.
Or something that is approved...
As a test or a task.

If a status is proclaimed,
With wishes to keep one connected.
The time will not be long...
Until someone comes along,
To define that status wrong!

And pursued at the expense,
On one's identity...
That is compensated usually,
To eventually dispense.

To acknowledge that I 'am'
Who I 'am' and in the 'now'
Of my life!
Is for me a major achievement.
And one I live excuse free.
With a peace of mind,
I am glad to find...
Based upon truth and honesty!

And anyone who does not see it that way...
It is okay.
I am not going to debate it!

I am not in the pursuit of status!
To attract materialistic dreams.
With shine, sheen or gleam.

As a first time passenger on my journey...
I seek only God to please.
With deeds.
And a gratefulness to do so.

Many seek status!
And perhaps,
For them...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bureaucracy defends the status quo long past the time when the quo has lost its status.

quote by Laurence J. Peter
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ever Ready to Protect You

I will deliver you from the hands of the wicked my love,
And i will redeem you from the hands of the terrible!
Because my heart yearns for you always,
So keep in touch and let me know your status-quo! !

This is like the joy of the mind,
And like the joy of your muse in the land of beautiful flowers;
Because i am ever ready to protect you my love,
So keep in touch and let me know your status-quo.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The status quo

The wise despise the fools
And the fools ignore the wise.
Both like the status quo
For different reasons.
Man is after woman
And woman is slippery.
Both like the status quo
For different motives
09.08.2010

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Reluctant

RELUCTANT

Much need to feed, reluctant to be fed,
A paradox where intellect detracts.
Unlocking former fears dulls doubt’s attacks,
Desire draws trumps, lumps crumple, heart instead
Exposes double bind behind mind led
Combatting déjà vu's stark whites and blacks.
One wonders why self-confidence she lacks
Regarding sensuality two thread -
Rough past perhaps cost counted, mirage bled.
Idyll awaits as life's flow interacts
Exchanging sentiments, repairing cracks,
Response, reactions spurned, tunes heart to head.
As nurture helps true sentiments take root,
Seed sown may blossom, fair boughs bear full fruit.

Mediocrity can’t be her cup of tea.
Alert intelligence seems well aware
Urge to expand won't simply stop and stare,
Doubts must flout through shared transparency
Exploring wave lengths to which few can key.
Control, when role-reversed helps heart prepare
Open options, sloughs defensive layer,
Refutes old walls, heeds shackled spirit’s plea.
Renascent quest for self-acceptancy
Inhibitions shed is inner prayer -
Emancipation, self-fulfilling dare -
Requires heart’s hopes stir mind’s integrity
Affording comfort outside status quo,
So happiness may shared emotions know.

21 July 2004 revised 15 October 2008
robi03_1044_robi03_0000 ASX_MXX
for previous version see below

Reluctant

Need to feed, reluctant to be fed,
Is paradox where intellect attracts.
Comb[in]ing 'cause/effect' for hidden tracks
Opens patterns which help thInk ahead.
Leaving double bind behind, mind's led

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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