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I've always liked the minds of criminals, they seem similar to artists.

quote by Richard Linklater
Added by Lucian Velea
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Washed Away Under Work Loads

artists feel frustrated
when achieving not
when producing art not
not realizing images
in shifting vision mind

artists should
be producing art
no time for cooking
no time for cleaning
no time for hair cut

artists should not
not be able to keep up
with fermenting ideas
rain weather changes
haunting wake up calls

not creating art
is wasting artistic souls
is wasting artistic lives
in dry season droughts
withering artistic minds

work income human activities
life necessity farming for wages
dependent on salary climates
fifty sixty wage slave hours
is change devastating for artists

this drought no time for artistic activities
is crop failure starvation of artistic minds
leading to artistic suffering on massive scales
droughts are caused by lack of fertility rains
extended over long periods of wage slave times

slight brief rains slight artistic showers
is normality artistic not enough spring rains
to ground absorb artistic evaporated minds
artist is dehydrated lacking soul rejuvenations
plants animals need sustaining life waters

artists need self generated creativity waters
least art dies death of artistic dehydrations
art is main ingredient in artistic food chains
plants die from lack of water therefore animals
eating these plants will also die in drought cycles

artists true artists deprived of art wither drought dies
in mind soul lacking artistic flowering rejuvenations

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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No Recidivists

No recidivists

When clever Dr Guillotine
perfected his humane machine
for executing criminals.

It was accepted straight away
as being a much better way
of executing criminals

The state made no apology
for using this technology
for executing criminals.

The product of a brilliant brain
He was convinced it caused less pain
when executing criminals.

The guillotine’s not used today
It was a most effective way
of executing criminals.

Though not regarded as P.C
I think it proved effectively
that executing criminals

Ensured they did not re-offend
Results on which we can depend
by executing criminals.

You may see this as cruelty
Some states do not as you can see.
They still execute criminals.

10-Feb-09
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Regent's Court

Regent's court
Is the court were the police brings the criminals to be sentenced
Every singe day during the week
Some criminals caused serious offences in the city
That they need to be punished by the Regent's court
Also some of the Judges will be hard on the criminals
Because they need to pay for what they done to their victims
And the crown procecutor also works with the judges at Regent's court
But the criminals have their lawyers at the court that defends the Criminals because the criminals are their clients
When the day comes for the judges at the Regent's Court to deliver The sentence for each criminal every single day they will be there At The Regent's Court every single day giving the sentence to the criminals depending on what crime they commited like assault, Domestic violence, child abuse,
Drug trafficking, manslaughter, and murder
For first degree murder is 25 years and for the second degree murder is less

poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Interpretation of Nature and

I.

MAN, being the servant and interpreter of Nature, can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature: beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything.


II.

Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left to itself can effect much. It is by instruments and helps that the work is done, which are as much wanted for the understanding as for the hand. And as the instruments of the hand either give motion or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supply either suggestions for the understanding or cautions.

III.

Human knowledge and human power meet in one; for where the cause is not known the effect cannot be produced. Nature to be commanded must be obeyed; and that which in contemplation is as the cause is in operation as the rule.

IV.

Towards the effecting of works, all that man can do is to put together or put asunder natural bodies. The rest is done by nature working within.

V.

The study of nature with a view to works is engaged in by the mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and the magician; but by all (as things now are) with slight endeavour and scanty success.

VI.

It would be an unsound fancy and self-contradictory to expect that things which have never yet been done can be done except by means which have never yet been tried.

VII.

The productions of the mind and hand seem very numerous in books and manufactures. But all this variety lies in an exquisite subtlety and derivations from a few things already known; not in the number of axioms.

VIII.

Moreover the works already known are due to chance and experiment rather than to sciences; for the sciences we now possess are merely systems for the nice ordering and setting forth of things already invented; not methods of invention or directions for new works.

IX.

The cause and root of nearly all evils in the sciences is this -- that while we falsely admire and extol the powers of the human mind we neglect to seek for its true helps.

X.

The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety of the senses and understanding; so that all those specious meditations, speculations, and glosses in which men indulge are quite from the purpose, only there is no one by to observe it.

XI.

As the sciences which we now have do not help us in finding out new works, so neither does the logic which we now have help us in finding out new sciences.

XII.

The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to the errors which have their foundation in commonly received notions than to help the search after truth. So it does more harm than good.

XIII.

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Francis Bacon
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Bestowers Of Transformative Vision

pathos suffering passion
ripe within bodily experience
pathos of culture artistic expression

artists the 'I give birth to'
shape shifters people creators
bestowers of transformative vision

sentence seen is life vibration alteration
passionate in artistic creation expression
enrichers of web strand seekers beholders

artists hung upon vision quests
artists hung upon life beat heart beats
artists hung upon eyes burning in soul flame

artists historical now you see them now you don’t

poem by Terence George Craddock
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They Won't Want To Go Back

While we live our lives as best as we can,
There are those who couldn't care less,
The criminal fraternity do what they like,
We're left to pick up the mess.

Soft justice favours the criminals,
While the victims are the ones left to rot,
To turn the tide the other way,
A hard lesson needs to be taught.

Take the murderers they don't give a damn,
Jail for them doesn't hold any fears,
Three square a day free drugs and no rent,
Then back out in just a few years.

There are those who advocate killing us all,
Yet these terrorists are now cowering in fear,
Saying please don't send us to the U.S.of A.
We'd much rather do our time here.

The rapists and thief's who couldn't care less,
They'll do it day in and day out,
They show no remorse for their victims,
Then ask what are we all about.

If they mug an old man or a women,
Which results in their violent demise,
They will not be charged with their murder,
For their lawyers make out it's all lies.

We are now running scared of the criminals,
The do gooders have them in their sights,
There's money galore to be made from these thugs,
It's the innocents who have no human rights.

Society now favours the criminal,
They're much better off than us,
When we ask why there's no retribution,
We're told to stop making a fuss.

They now live in five star prisons,
We want more is what their lawyers shout,
The more we give them the more they demand,
No wonder they don't want to come out.

Soon they'll be appealing their sentences,
Telling us we need to be tough,
They're enjoying prison life so much,
Their sentences are not long enough.

[...] Read more

poem by Bri Mar
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Who reigns supreme

Who reigns supreme and guide on earth?
Kind and merciful even though we are not worth,
HE loves his creation even they make wrong move,
Not to HIS expectation and conduct bad prove,

Life and death destined from day one,
Not a day more and not a less one,
Then how do we try and assume HIS role?
When life is like bubble then what can be goal?

No one is allowed to take away the life,
Not to cut throat with double edged knife,
You may resist attempt but still not threaten,
Always name on lips even bodily beaten,

Life is precious so need protection,
Hard, punitive and stringent steps for action,
But not beheading a person or put to death,
Such steps considered inhumane and against faith,

We may advocate person to be banished,
If not capital punishment but severely punished,
If life is taken away from him then he is finished,
Then role of creator is just completely diminished,

This is humble position but not to be demeaned,
It I shard to forget when murderer not condemned,
Perpetrators find heaven and arrange less fined,
Definition for crime needs more to be defined,

One more forces has emerged to halt human abuse,
Protection for human rights, even rules criminals refuse,
One innocent is spared at cost of hundred criminals,
Such is thought and well defined rationale,

Hanged to death punishment is rarest of rare,
None may resort to crime and not even dare,
It is not for the others not to rush and take care,
Criminals brought to book and innocents spare,

Human activists may raise hue and cry,
Even human bogey outrageously try,
Their roles not limited but yardstick must apply,
Ensure purpose not defeated when charges reply,

Heinous criminals, terrorists may pretend innocence,
Tutored and public opinion may crate nonsense,
Allegations and counter allegations defeat very essence,
Hold unto last amidst lies and truth absence

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Story of Light in Daytime

I was sitting with both my best friend (mind well and dirty minds)

Mind well: Why do you? Been a few days I noticed you always anxious?
Dirty minds(suddenly jumped and danced in front of us)
Me(surprised) : Hey, you surprised me..! !
Dirty mind, he says: Forget him, forget him. I say, forget him.. lalalalaa...

Mind well (screaming) : What do you mean? !
Dirty minds: Why do you continue to keep him in mind? While you certainly feel hurt! What a fool you. (Mind my evil stare sharp)
Me: I'm...
Dirty minds: stupid people! That's right, stupid! Its still just thinking about it, expect it. Did you know he's thinking the same as you? Stupid, stupid, stupid.. lalalalalaa (dirty minds again danced for joy)

Mind well (up to me to hug me) tried to calm myself: You shut up - not noisy and ugly dancing like that in front of us.
Dirty minds: Yes yes yes because she is foolish.. Hahaha.. Silly girl! (Laughter off shrill and deafening) . Did not she already get a replacement then why still hold him in all his feelings? Huh!

Mind well asked me: Yeah right he said. I agree and I know it, you've got someone better than him, why are you still double your heart? What is against you about him? While the new arrivals he is better than he that old?
Me(only able to look at both my best friend without the energy of heart) . I throw away my eyes from them, staring blankly existing floor..

Mind well: Follow your heart. Because he is 'the voice of your Lord' - he'll lead you to the peace of your heart..
Dirty minds (replied) : Yaa she is right.. Forget him. Once again, forget about him, stupid girl. Take care of the new arrival, get rid of him a long time because you will not need it anymore.

Me: My best friend! (I cried) Now I know what to do now! And who I care about now! Yes yes yes, I know now - I know it now..
I grab the hands of dirty minds I took him to dance..
Dirty minds try to tease me: Heyy, take your hands out of my hands, clever girl! Hahaha.. We were laughing and dancing together.

My smile is back now - I will see any peace with you, O, my new lover. Thank my Lord for blessing me.

Copyright © 2012

poem by Sari Mavi
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Please Please Please

Please please please
No more melodies
They lack impact, they're petty
They've been made up already
Please please please
No more maladies
I'm so tired of crying
You'd think I was a siren
But me and everybody's on the sad same team
And you can hear our sad brain screaming
Give us something familiar*
Something similar
To what we know already
That will keep us steady
Steady
Steady going nowhere
Please please please
No apologies
At best they buy you time
Until you next step out of line
Please please please
No more remedies
My method is uncertain
It's a mess but it's working
And maybe if you tried it out
You won't like it when you're crying out
Give us something familiar
Something similar
To what we know already
That will keep us steady
Steady, steady
Steady going nowhere
Please please please
No more melodies
They lack impact, they're petty
They've been made up already
Please please please
No more maladies
I'm so tired of crying
You'd think I was a siren
But me and everybody's on the sad same team and
You can hear our sad brain screaming
Give us something familiar
Something similar
To what we know already
That will keep us steady
Steady, steady, steady, steady
Steady going nowhere
Please please please
No apologies

[...] Read more

song performed by Fiona Apple
Added by Lucian Velea
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Canto the Sixteenth

I
The antique Persians taught three useful things,
To draw the bow, to ride, and speak the truth.
This was the mode of Cyrus, best of kings --
A mode adopted since by modern youth.
Bows have they, generally with two strings;
Horses they ride without remorse or ruth;
At speaking truth perhaps they are less clever,
But draw the long bow better now than ever.

II
The cause of this effect, or this defect, --
"For this effect defective comes by cause," --
Is what I have not leisure to inspect;
But this I must say in my own applause,
Of all the Muses that I recollect,
Whate'er may be her follies or her flaws
In some things, mine's beyond all contradiction
The most sincere that ever dealt in fiction.

III
And as she treats all things, and ne'er retreats
From any thing, this epic will contain
A wilderness of the most rare conceits,
Which you might elsewhere hope to find in vain.
'T is true there be some bitters with the sweets,
Yet mix'd so slightly, that you can't complain,
But wonder they so few are, since my tale is
"De rebus cunctis et quibusdam aliis."

IV
But of all truths which she has told, the most
True is that which she is about to tell.
I said it was a story of a ghost --
What then? I only know it so befell.
Have you explored the limits of the coast,
Where all the dwellers of the earth must dwell?
'T is time to strike such puny doubters dumb as
The sceptics who would not believe Columbus.

V
Some people would impose now with authority,
Turpin's or Monmouth Geoffry's Chronicle;
Men whose historical superiority
Is always greatest at a miracle.
But Saint Augustine has the great priority,
Who bids all men believe the impossible,
Because 't is so. Who nibble, scribble, quibble, he
Quiets at once with "quia impossibile."

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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Don Juan: Canto The Sixteenth

The antique Persians taught three useful things,
To draw the bow, to ride, and speak the truth.
This was the mode of Cyrus, best of kings--
A mode adopted since by modern youth.
Bows have they, generally with two strings;
Horses they ride without remorse or ruth;
At speaking truth perhaps they are less clever,
But draw the long bow better now than ever.

The cause of this effect, or this defect,--
'For this effect defective comes by cause,'--
Is what I have not leisure to inspect;
But this I must say in my own applause,
Of all the Muses that I recollect,
Whate'er may be her follies or her flaws
In some things, mine's beyond all contradiction
The most sincere that ever dealt in fiction.

And as she treats all things, and ne'er retreats
From any thing, this epic will contain
A wilderness of the most rare conceits,
Which you might elsewhere hope to find in vain.
'Tis true there be some bitters with the sweets,
Yet mix'd so slightly, that you can't complain,
But wonder they so few are, since my tale is
'De rebus cunctis et quibusdam aliis.'

But of all truths which she has told, the most
True is that which she is about to tell.
I said it was a story of a ghost--
What then? I only know it so befell.
Have you explored the limits of the coast,
Where all the dwellers of the earth must dwell?
'Tis time to strike such puny doubters dumb as
The sceptics who would not believe Columbus.

Some people would impose now with authority,
Turpin's or Monmouth Geoffry's Chronicle;
Men whose historical superiority
Is always greatest at a miracle.
But Saint Augustine has the great priority,
Who bids all men believe the impossible,
Because 'tis so. Who nibble, scribble, quibble, he
Quiets at once with 'quia impossibile.'

And therefore, mortals, cavil not at all;
Believe:--if 'tis improbable you must,
And if it is impossible, you shall:
'Tis always best to take things upon trust.
I do not speak profanely, to recall

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Artists of Descriptive Depictions

Picking words with syllables heard,
To sound a beat or create a mental feast.
Artists of descriptive depictions...
Choosing from within and behind,
In minds with canvassed eyes they select.
And do their best when under some kind of duress,
It seems.
To perfect,
What is envisioned with more meaning!
Like a daydream scene internally screened,
To project upon our vision.

Is a snowflake etched,
And falling to a catching ground
As fetching?
Or as profound...
As the galloping hoofs of horses,
Pulling sleighs of joyful smiles around?
When holidays are welcomed...
Dripping with seasoned sights and sounds!
Orange with yellow brightening with hints of brown,
Introducing colors of Fall on trees standing tall.

Winter mint green,
And red adorning silver streams
Of Christmas dreams...
Soon in hearts will be found!
Decorating our imaginations.
Gifted wrapped to avoid the slightest frown.

Picking words with syllables heard,
To sound a beat or create a mental feast.
Artists of descriptive depictions...
Release an increased merriment to treat.
And our minds receive them,
To dance upon memories reminisced!
In anticipation...
Impatiently waiting,
For descriptive depictions...
To come alive before our eyes
Beholding the reality of their visits!
Capturing wonder and surprise.

Dedicated:
Writers. Poets especially.
There are quite a few 'Artists of Descriptive Depictions'
that come to mind. A few like Duncan Wyllie, Ms Theo Onken
Ms Marci Made, Herbert Nehrlich...these are just a few! So
please forgive me 'IF' I did not mention you by name.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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How Do You Use Your Gifts?

I'm using my blessings and faith,
To create identifiable miracles.
And you?
How do you use your gifts?
In the begging of stuff?
That others have?
By using their own,
Faith kept persisted.
And what they have manage to materialize,
Makes you jealous and mad?
Your selfishness is pathetic!

How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.

How do you use your gifts?
In the begging of stuff?
That others have?
By using their own,
Faith kept persisted.

How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.
How do you use your gifts?
Do you help lift other minds around.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Takes A Mind To Stop All Wars

Bloated with promoted poses,
Upheld and exposed.
And...
Picked to be the ones depicted,
To combat and end conflicts.

Images portraying bravery,
Do not end the fears...
Of the ones who have the looks,
But use them to pretend.

It takes a mind to stop all wars.
And not a muscled image given.
Minds will stop all wars,
If the cause is for peace.

It takes a mind to stop all wars.
And not a muscled image given.
Minds will stop all wars,
If the cause is for peace to leave.

Bloated with promoted poses,
Upheld and exposed.
It takes a mind to stop all wars.
And not a muscled image given.
Minds will stop all wars,
If the cause is for peace.

It takes a mind to stop all wars.
And not a muscled image given.
Minds will stop all wars,
If the cause is for peace to leave.

And not a muscled image given,
To give and pretend.
It takes a mind to stop all wars.
And not a muscled image given.
Minds will stop all wars,
If the cause is for peace.

It takes a mind to stop all wars.
And not a muscled image given.
Minds will stop all wars,
If the cause is for peace to leave.

Bloated with promoted poses,
Upheld and exposed.
And...
Picked to be the ones depicted,
To combat and end conflicts...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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catch Them Young' I Say..

I will blend two minds and will shout aloud
To the world, ' Here is the final human mind'.
I will infuse two hundred passions in to it and will sing aloud
To the throngs, 'Here is a mind that sans no glory heard ever'.
I will invent two million ordinary mortals and will speak
To their hearts, ' Here is your role model to frame a mind still'.

I search for the minds to be blended
And many minds flash before my eyes.
I like none - 'All are too narrow', I tell.
I search for the minds once again
And many more minds flash by, none appealing.
An agony strikes me, 'Where are those great minds? '

A millenium passes,
In the drought of mothers who give birth to none great
My blending dreams remain as a mirage
And I begin to write an elegy on the death of minds.
In the inner self of my mind that can never be blended with any other
A nightmare roams with all its scaring images.

I will blend two minds one day but I will not tell about it.
Or else I will tell someone to find them and catch them.
' Catch them young', I will tell him.

poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Criminals

What if all of us are criminals?
I wonder who decides that.
What gives them the right?

We all break rules.
We all break the laws.
Some of us get caught.
Some of us don't get caught.

We all could be criminals
and wouldn't even know it.
So maybe the ones who decide
are actually the criminals in disguise.

They wear the badge of honor.
And yet they'll shoot you in the back.
So they won't have to see your face.
And I know you would do the same.

poem by Beth Ann
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Mirrors Of Our Time

THE ECONOMY is a hose.
The Government collects water from the people
and pours it into the top of the hose
and gives it back to the people.
Near the top of the hose is a hole.
A lot of the water pours out of this into a tank
marked Government which is always empty.
The rest flows down towards the people.
It passes other holes marked
Government Agencies
Government buildings
Government contingencies
Government perks
There are also holes marked
Lawyers
Accountants
Criminals.
The Government is always trying
to stop these last three holes.
Finally what is left of the water
reaches people at the end of the hose.
The people fight over it
(it is never enough) .
When they get very thirsty they start
to throw stones at the government
and threaten to sack them.
The government then reluctantly
pours more water into the top of the hose
(which they get from the people) .
Finally when the people are very thirsty indeed,
under the leadership of the
Lawyers
Accountants
and other Criminals,
they attack the tank marked Government
and break it open.
It is always empty.
Then many of the people die
(except for the Lawyers, Accountants
and other Criminals.)
The survivors go off and look for a new well,
drink as much as they can
as quickly as they can
and wait for a new Government to find them.

poem by Brian Taylor
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The Juvenile Offenders Act

The Juvenile Offenders Act gives soft-on-crime judges an out,
While the names of young criminals don’t get published throughout,
The statisticians do surveys that say everything is fine,
And it doesn’t matter who got off with a whole bunch of crime.

The people don’t have referendums nor required to vote,
And young criminals know they can get away with it and gloat,
The height of political correctness with lawyers by the score,
Nodding and waving as the criminals walk out the courtroom door.

Are we the only people in the world with these stupid laws?
As the judges, the lawyers and the pink socialists applause,
Where can we find a politician that really means what he says?
How do we go about getting binding referendums these days?

poem by James Bredin
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Our Indian Police

She is brave,
She is strong,
She is dutiful,
She is friendly,
But she has mortgaged all these qualities
To criminals and
tyrants for
money,
She is worse than prostitute,
Anybody can get her favour
By dint of money,
She traps the innocent and releases
The criminals for money,
She extorts money from people,
She can take even life for money,
Hundreds of fake encounters are
In her account,
She is a blot on law and order,
Sometimes she behaves like a broker,
Sometimes like a robber,
She is the mistress of politicians
And criminals,
She is the shield of thieves, smugglers,
And murderers,
She creates panic in the society
By means of her uniform and stick,
People have lost faith in her,
She has a few honest and dutiful officers,
But it doesn't make any difference,
For they are harrassed and
suppressed,
If she is not reformed soon,
A condition of anarchy may erupt here.

poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
Added by Poetry Lover
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