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Opportunities are seldom labeled.

quote by John H. Shield
Added by Lucian Velea
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Raising Hell

Boom
Semi automatic pulse
Psyched up for the next level
I plug you in
Make life flash before your eyes
Oh God so fixated
It's love labeled X-rated
Oh God so fixated
It's love labeled X-rated
Nonstop mentality
You better learn your lesson well
Nonstop mentality
You better know your heaven well
Before
Raising Hell x4
Boom
Anti Depressive eyes
Try to hidein an alibi
Smashed up
But feel no pain
Doesn't mean your in the game
Oh God so fixated
It's love labeled X-rated
Oh God so fixated
It's love labeled X-rated
Nonstop mentality
You better learn your lesson well
Nonstop mentality
You better know your heaven well
Before
Raising Hell x4
Nonstop mentality
You better learn your lesson well
Nonstop mentality
You better know your heaven well
Nonstop mentality
You better learn your lesson well
Nonstop mentality
You better know

song performed by Zeromancer
Added by Lucian Velea
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I'm a man

I'm a man
clothed in mystic, power and structure
labeled by the socialization
after arrival
arrival on a land
of picturesque terrain
that changes with the land holder
but I was taught
everything, nothing, something
and
not the make of the chromosomes
that I could
cry, cry, cry
and
still be a man of substance

I'm a man
clothed in mystic, power and structure
labeled by the socialization
after arrival
who did not see the same
landmark for the sexes

A man meant power
born of a woman
given different definitions,
interpretations and signals
not a biological inscription
but one cultural defined
no softness, tenderness and finesse
a man like beast is product of that mould
tagged manhood, male, dominance
and power

I'm a man
clothes in mystic, power and structure
labeled by the socialization
and if I object
a new label I hold
a man of effeminate make
yet I should be
a father who cares, cuddles, protects
a standard of immense hypocrisy
a frame fashioned in contradictions
a man, manhood
with no rationality
a man that is make for the
slaughter
a man made for the alter of sacrifice
a man who with

[...] Read more

poem by Paul Andrew Bourne
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When One Is Running Game

When one is running game,
They seldom show a shame.
There is a name to claim...
When one is running game.

When one is running game,
It comes like pouring rain.
And leaves a trail of pain...
When one is running game.

Too often,
They have botched up something someone coddled.
Too often,
They have been excused from misery...
And,
Too often they become an idolized model...
By a child who sees this as the real thing!

When one is running game,
They seldom show a shame.
There is a name to claim...
When one is running game.

Too often,
They have been excused from misery...
And,
Too often they become an idolized model...
By a child who sees this as the real thing!

Too often,
They have botched up something someone coddled.

When one is running game,
They seldom show a shame.

Too often,
They have been excused from misery.

When one is running game,
They seldom show a shame.
There is a name to claim...
When one is running game.

Too often they become an idolized model.

When one is running game,
They seldom show a shame.

Too often they have been excused from misery...
And,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Simple, Seldom and Sad

Simple, seldom and sad
We are;
Alone on the Halibut Hills
Afar,
With sweet mad Expressions
Of old
Strangely beautiful
So we're told
By the Creatures that Move
In the sky
And Die
On the night when the Dead Trees
Prance and Cry.

Sensitive, seldom and sad -
Sensitive, seldom and sad -

Simple, seldom and sad
Are we
When we take our path
To the purple sea -
With mad, sweet Expressions
Of Yore,
Strangely beautiful,
Yea, and More
On the Night of all Nights
When the sky
Streams by
In rags, while the Dead Trees
Prance and Cry,

sensitive, seldom and sad -
sensitive, seldom and sad.

poem by Mervyn Peake
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Rubaiyat Of A Robin - After Edward Fitzgerald - Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam

Jest plays with rubaiyat and, four by four,
unseals for your amusement more and more
verses together thread in rosary
unreeled to bloom till tomb will curtains draw.

Repealed are value judgement and perspective
revealed through standpoint purely introspective,
darkside concealed of moon’s yin-yang shines clear
when we’re in orbit, - option more effective.

Rolled form performs rôle midwife to perception,
sprung tongue in cheek, tweaks sense of imperfection
or willingness to leach between the lines,
impeach entrenched ideas of self-[s]election.

This prose arose as stream deprived of section,
where ‘dip at will’ will still sustain inspection,
the current’s sense, at odds with current views
ignores round holes, square pegs, top-down direction.

Here there’s no fear of critics’ peer rejection,
contention treated with due circumspection
intention is to mention for retention
an overview or clue to extrospection.

Life’s curtains are a veil through which few see,
as many haste taste-waste eternity,
mixed up, ignore life fixes finite sum
to/through infinite opportunity.

Can “Truth” exist? all ask, who seek its core,
we, modest, etch our words to sketch the score,
diverse the verses which converge to link
reflections mirrored many times before.

Vast content, style, a while, united are,
aim at soul stimulation, nothing bar,
to pleasure, treasure, or discard at will
as minds outreach to other minds on par.

Meditating, we shed light on what
tomorrow’s tot may factor into ‘bot’ -
the poet’s lot, forgot, to help all think
ahead of time, enhance life for a lot

Some seek Nirvana, Faith speaks more than “how”.
Others reject Salvation’s wraith, - w[h]ine “now”.
Verifying facts? Inventing dreams?
Each furrow-burrows with a different plough.

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Break Free! - Have a Ball!

Time to break free, one's cup of tea may not be to all taste,
past history's stale news, let be, haste, challenge chased, no waste!
Song bird of time migrates, sublime rewarding melody,
wide wings unfurl, from spiral twirl, soar to true rhapsody.

Time to escape, dropp nightshade drape, spring sprightly sings fresh air,
shed strings, red tape of every shape, fresh future fair prepare.
Shift key, click mouse, write waltz like Strauss, carouse in harmony,
drown frowns, don't grouse laze louse round house, spurn tale_spin gravity.

Discard hard times, from prose to rhymes switch life that pain shrugs off,
see light, delight quite free from fright, breathe out and fight rough cough!
Ignore moods poor, pain reign's downpour, sore thumb, fools dumb who bore,
far more expect, hope's scope elect, reject despond's dark core!

Time to rebound, life’s boat aground goodbye waves tidal waves,
from hurts that hound heart thought strung, bound, a clear approach now braves
life’s slings and arrows, narrow minds, discovers empathy,
that brings marshmallows, wide wings hallows, sheds self-sympathy.

From sleepy head, depressed in bed, leap up, cheered frame of mind,
misfortune's sped away, ahead, lies joy; leave lies behind.
Dread, pain vain bled, is shed instead success unbolts faults’ door,
so have a ball, reverse free fall, displace dark doubts with SURE!

Don't hedge your bets, glad sad regrets turns topsy-turvy soon,
don't sit on fence in self defence, self-confidence is boon.
Let inner fire inspire desire, suspicions set at rest,
all you require, adore, admire, won't cloy, - enjoy with zest.

From vain complain move on again, see sea’s brimfull of fish,
go take your pick as lips you lick so wickedly delish.
Look sharp! Don't carp, distress or mess up opportunities
chance offers all, go have a ball, refreshed prioritease!

If once distraught in heart or thought, trust must fuss dust displace,
move on to more - unseen before - let better bad replace.
From inner trial advance and smile, past tears, fears fast forgot,
prick cloudy pall, go have a ball and call each shot!

Hope's heart's at ease when spirit frees harp's soul from sharks, sharp spears,
DO as YOU please and by degrees all darkness disappears,
bread butters fly, sun spo[r]ts in sky, relearn to laugh a lot,
keep on the ball, leap each grey wall – bold, spurning blow cold, hot!

Link one to one, new tale begun, soon shadow shades dissolve,
don’t stumble, run! don’t cry, have fun! hands on luck’s clock revolve.
mosquito bite quite fly-by-night seems past controversy
compared to light solutions bright that crush adversity.

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Superlative Story

Superlative Story

I Syntaxical Sequence

II Strange Stanza Succession Starts

III Scenario Synopsis

IV Sensuality, sense, sensibility,

V Substitute Spousal Suggestions

VI Seesaw Simplicity: Seraglio Simularities Spurned

VII Solution

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I SYNTAXICAL SEQUENCE

Special scansion ‘S’ syllabic
specious solicisms scraps,
solo solving sounds strabismic,
syllogistic systole scraps.
Syllables spring, shuffle, scuttle,
skittle syntax, scintillate
syntonically sans snuffle, shuttle –
synonyms shake sides, spine straight.

Stanza stanza swift succeeding
senses sweeps, song swifter swims,
succulent succession seeding
substitutions, surface skims.
Scrupulous semantics subtle
switchback spiral, summarize,
seek solutions smart, scrolled, supple,
solve set spectrum's smallish size.

Synonymous synchronising
sympathetic symphony
scores - Socratic symbolizing –
swivelling sonority.
Scansion salvo salvo scansion
strong succeeds, succeeding sends
successors streamlined sampling surging –
sanction seems so slight, scourge spends.

Systematic symbol spreading
'sses something sacred, seeks, -

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Table Talk

A. You told me, I remember, glory, built
On selfish principles, is shame and guilt;
The deeds that men admire as half divine,
Stark naught, because corrupt in their design.
Strange doctrine this! that without scruple tears
The laurel that the very lightning spares;
Brings down the warrior’s trophy to the dust,
And eats into his bloody sword like rust.
B. I grant that, men continuing what they are,
Fierce, avaricious, proud, there must be war,
And never meant the rule should be applied
To him that fights with justice on his side.
Let laurels drench’d in pure Parnassian dews
Reward his memory, dear to every muse,
Who, with a courage of unshaken root,
In honour’s field advancing his firm foot,
Plants it upon the line that Justice draws,
And will prevail or perish in her cause.
‘Tis to the virtues of such men man owes
His portion in the good that Heaven bestows.
And, when recording History displays
Feats of renown, though wrought in ancient days,
Tells of a few stout hearts, that fought and died,
Where duty placed them, at their country’s side;
The man that is not moved with what he reads,
That takes not fire at their heroic deeds,
Unworthy of the blessings of the brave,
Is base in kind, and born to be a slave.
But let eternal infamy pursue
The wretch to nought but his ambition true,
Who, for the sake of filling with one blast
The post-horns of all Europe, lays her waste.
Think yourself station’d on a towering rock,
To see a people scatter’d like a flock,
Some royal mastiff panting at their heels,
With all the savage thirst a tiger feels;
Then view him self-proclaim’d in a gazette
Chief monster that has plagued the nations yet.
The globe and sceptre in such hands misplaced,
Those ensigns of dominion how disgraced!
The glass, that bids man mark the fleeting hour,
And Death’s own scythe, would better speak his power;
Then grace the bony phantom in their stead
With the king’s shoulder-knot and gay cockade;
Clothe the twin brethren in each other’s dress,
The same their occupation and success.
A. ‘Tis your belief the world was made for man;
Kings do but reason on the self-same plan:
Maintaining yours, you cannot theirs condemn,
Who think, or seem to think, man made for them.

[...] Read more

poem by William Cowper
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Double Helix Abecedarian - 1859 - Xylophonic Resonance

All fizzle, finish frazzled, launched with fizZ.
Zero dreams teem when spirit seems at seA
Because most adepts of philosophY
Yearn for zenith seldom dwell on ebB,
Carpe diem value, seeking sea, sun, seX.
Xylem tree of life's cannibalistiC
Desires corrupt deeds most men seW,
With survival's urge soon lost indeeD.
Events churn causal patterns, AsimoV
Viewed clearly, took as starship journey cuE
Finding worlds which may appeal to yoU,
Unknown reader from beyond Time's gulF -
Great divide between those past, those lefT -
Time travellers peruse these lines to sinG
High praise of poets who'll know no more springS.
Spontaneousl prose poem picks pensive patH
In patter pattern, feet dance to empoweR.
Rhythm harmonious, need no alibI,
Joins sense, style versatile, from mind's H.Q.,
Questions seeks, finds answers. Soujourn's hadJ
Knowledge acquires to share more than to keeP,
Pipes clear to others drifting through the darK.
Lark sings dawn's welcome song, and each man's taO
Opens connections, on life's sea a-saiL
Ma d, sad, glad, bad, for threescore years and teN
Never certain of his mortal aiM,
Nor sure to gain posthumous fame, acclaiM,
Making ends meet in hope to rise agaiN
On judgement day should trust and faith prevaiL.
Life-spans increase but trite hullabaloO
Prepares too few for winding sheet, corpse starK,
Kings, Presidents and crowd condemned to sleeP,
Quest over, in no Shah Jehan's fair TaJ,
Judge! Wonders of the world in tome or FAQ
Remain till flood or earthquake SvengalI
Identitydestroys when come their houR.
Stands Rhodes' Colossus stony eyed and higH?
Hanging Gardens, Babylon's green GrasS?
Thus earth all swallows, as the changes rinG
Glut or famine, leaves the rich berefT,
Upsets regimes, and redefines itselF.
Fresh or stale, hale, halt, Huns, Goths, AinU,
Vandals, Franks, forgotten, vain their strifE, -
Eternity mocks Boris KasparoV
When chess game lasts millenia whose speeD
Defies time travel's role-reversal floW.
Xanthic parchments, works iconographiC
Crumble! What Tyrannosaurus reX
Yet rules blue planet? Will ant, spider weB,
Be as extinct as world wide web one daY?

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Double Helix Abecedarian - Xylophonic Resonance He Licks Enigmatic

XYLOPHONIC RESONANCE HE LICKS ENIGMATIC
Kindly refer to notes. and see Temptations and Poetic Pizza Extravaganza below :)

Xylophonic Resonance
double helix abecedarian

The first line begins with A and ends with Z
the next line begins with Z and ends with A
The next line begins with B and ends with Y
The next line begins with Y and ends with B
The next line begins with C and ends with X
The next line begins with X and ends with C

A to Z top down A to Z bottom up

All fizzle, finish frazzled, launched with fizZ.
Zero dreams teem when spirit seems at seA
Because most adepts of philosophY
Yearn for zenith seldom dwell on ebB,
Carpe diem value, seeking sea, sun, seX.
Xylem tree of life’s cannibalistiC
Desires corrupt deeds most men seW,
With survival’s urge soon lost indeeD.
Events churn causal patterns, AsimoV
Viewed clearly, took as starship journey cuE
Finding worlds which may appeal to yoU,
Unknown reader from beyond Time’s gulF -
Great divide between those past, those lefT -
Time travellers peruse these lines to sinG
High praise of poets who’ll know no more springS.
Spontaneousl prose poem picks pensive patH
In patter pattern, feet dance to empoweR.
Rhythm harmonious, need no alibI,
Joins sense, style versatile, from mind's H.Q.,
Questions seeks, finds answers. Soujourn’s hadJ
Knowledge acquires to share more than to keeP,
Pipes clear to others drifting through the darK.
Lark sings dawn’s welcome song, and each man’s taO
Opens connections, on life’s sea a-saiL
Ma d, sad, glad, bad, for threescore years and teN
Never certain of his mortal aiM,
Nor sure to gain posthumous fame, acclaiM,
Making ends meet in hope to rise agaiN
On judgement day should trust and faith prevaiL.
Life-spans increase but trite hullabaloO
Prepares too few for winding sheet, corpse starK,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Walking On A Thin Line

Sometimes in my bed at night
I curse the dark and a pray for light
And sometimes, the lights no consolation
Blinded by a memory
Afraid of what it might do to me
And the tears and the sweat only mock my desperation
Dont you know me Im the boy next door
The one you find so easy to ignore
Is that what I was fighting for?
Walking on a thin line
Straight off the front line
Labeled as freaks loose on the streets of the city
Walking on a thin line
Straight off the front line
Take a look at my face, see what its doing to me
Taught me how to shoot to kill
A specialist with a deadly skill
A skill I needed to have to be a survivor
Its over now or so they say
Well, sometimes, it dont turn out that way
Cause your never the same when youve been under fire
Dont you know me Im the boy next door
The one you find so easy to ignore
Is that what I was fighting for?
Walking on a thin line
Straight off the front line
Labeled as freaks loose on the streets of the city
Walking on a thin line
Straight off the front line
Take a look at my face, see what its doing to me

song performed by Huey Lewis And The News
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Box

Once upon a time, in the land of Hush-A-Bye,
Around about the wondrous days of yore,
They came across a kind of box
Bound up with chains and locked with locks
And labeled 'Kindly do not touch; it's war.'
A decree was issued round about, and all with a flourish and a shout
And a gaily colored mascot tripping lightly on before.
Don't fiddle with this deadly box,Or break the chains, or pick the locks.
And please don't ever play about with war.
The children understood. Children happen to be good
And they were just as good around the time of yore.
They didn't try to pick the locksOr break into that deadly box.
They never tried to play about with war.
Mommies didn't either; sisters, aunts, grannies neither
'Cause they were quiet, and sweet, and pretty
In those wondrous days of yore.
Well, very much the same as now,
And not the ones to blame somehow
For opening up that deadly box of war.
But someone did. Someone battered in the lid
And spilled the insides out across the floor.
A kind of bouncy, bumpy ball made up of guns and flags
And all the tears, and horror, and death that comes with war.
It bounced right out and went bashing all about,
Bumping into everything in store.And what was sad and most unfair
Was that it didn't really seem to care
Much who it bumped, or why, or what, or for.
It bumped the children mainly. And I'll tell you this quite plainly,
It bumps them every day and more, and more,
And leaves them dead, and burned, and dying
Thousands of them sick and crying.
'Cause when it bumps, it's really very sore.
Now there's a way to stop the ball. It isn't difficult at all.
All it takes is wisdom, and I'm absolutely sure
That we can get it back into the box,And bind the chains, and lock the locks.
But no one seems to want to save the children anymore.
Well, that's the way it all appears, 'cause it's been bouncing round
for years and years
In spite of all the wisdom wizzed since those wondrous days of yore
And the time they came across the box,
Bound up with chains and locked with locks,
And labeled 'Kindly do not touch; it's war.'

poem by Lascelles Abercrombie
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Home On The Range

Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day
Home, home on the range
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day
Oh give me a land where the bright diamond sand
Flows leisurely down the stream
Where the graceful white swan goes gliding along
Like a maid in a heavenly dream
Home, home on the range
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day
Oh often at night, when the heavens are bright
From the light of the glittering stars
Have I stood there amazed and asked as I gazed
If their glory exceeds that of ours
Home, home on the range
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day

song performed by Nickel Creek
Added by Lucian Velea
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Greenland Whale Fisheries

[the pogues version]
------------------------------------------
In eighteen hundred and forty-six
And of march the eighteenth day,
We hoisted our colors to the top of the mast
And for greenland sailed away, brave boys,
And for greenland sailed away.
The lookout in the crosstrees stood
With spyglass in his hand;
Theres a whale, theres a whale,
And a whalefish he cried
And she blows at every span, brave boys
She blows at every span.
The captain stood on the quarter deck,
The ice was in his eye;
Overhaul, overhaul! let your gibsheets fall,
And youll put your boats to sea, brave boys
And youll put your boats to sea.
Our harpoon struck and the line played out,
With a single flourish of his tail,
He capsized the boat and we lost five men,
And we did not catch the whale, brave boys,
And we did not catch the whale.
The losing of those five jolly men,
It grieved the captain sore,
But the losing of that fine whalefish
Now it grieved him ten times more, brave boys
Now it grieved him ten times more.
Oh greenland is a barren land
A land that bares no green
Where theres ice and snow, and the whalefishes blow
And the daylights seldom seen, brave boys
And the daylights seldom seen.
[greenland fisheries]
------------------------------------------------
twas in eighteen hundred and fifty-three
And of june the thirteenth day,
That our gallant ship her anchor weighed,
And for greenland bore away, brave boys,
And for greenland bore away.
The lookout in the crosstrees stood
With spyglass in his hand;
Theres a whale, theres a whale,
Theres whalefish he cried
And she blows at every span, brave boys
She blows at every span.
The captain stood on the quarter deck,
And a fine little man was he;
Overhaul, overhaul! let your davit tackles fall,
And launch your boats for sea, brave boys

[...] Read more

song performed by Pogues
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Candidate

Ye idler things, that soothed my hours of care,
Where would ye wander, triflers, tell me where?
As maids neglected, do ye fondly dote,
On the tair type, or the embroider'd coat;
Detest my modest shelf, and long to fly
Where princely Popes and mighty Miltons lie?
Taught but to sing, and that in simple style,
Of Lycia's lip, and Musidora's smile; -
Go then! and taste a yet unfelt distress,
The fear that guards the captivating press;
Whose maddening region should ye once explore,
No refuge yields my tongueless mansion more.
But thus ye'll grieve, Ambition's plumage stript,
'Ah, would to Heaven, we'd died in manuscript!'
Your unsoil'd page each yawning wit shall flee,
- For few will read, and none admire like me. -
Its place, where spiders silent bards enrobe,
Squeezed betwixt Cibber's Odes and Blackmore's Job;
Where froth and mud, that varnish and deform,
Feed the lean critic and the fattening worm;
Then sent disgraced--the unpaid printer's bane -
To mad Moorfields, or sober Chancery Lane,
On dirty stalls I see your hopes expire,
Vex'd by the grin of your unheeded sire,
Who half reluctant has his care resign'd,
Like a teased parent, and is rashly kind.
Yet rush not all, but let some scout go forth,
View the strange land, and tell us of its worth;
And should he there barbarian usage meet,
The patriot scrap shall warn us to retreat.
And thou, the first of thy eccentric race,
A forward imp, go, search the dangerous place,
Where Fame's eternal blossoms tempt each bard,
Though dragon-wits there keep eternal guard;
Hope not unhurt the golden spoil to seize,
The Muses yield, as the Hesperides;
Who bribes the guardian, all his labour's done,
For every maid is willing to be won.
Before the lords of verse a suppliant stand,
And beg our passage through the fairy land:
Beg more--to search for sweets each blooming field,
And crop the blossoms woods and valleys yield,
To snatch the tints that beam on Fancy's bow;
And feel the fires on Genius' wings that glow;
Praise without meanness, without flattery stoop,
Soothe without fear, and without trembling, hope.

TO THE AUTHORS OF THE MONTHLY REVIEW.

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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The Ballad of the Elder Son

A son of elder sons I am,
Whose boyhood days were cramped and scant,
Through ages of domestic sham
And family lies and family cant.
Come, elder brothers mine, and bring
Dull loads of care that you have won,
And gather round me while I sing
The ballad of the elder son.

’Twas Christ who spake in parables—
To picture man was his intent;
A simple tale He simply tells,
And He Himself makes no comment.
A morbid sympathy is felt
For prodigals—the selfish ones—
The crooked world has ever dealt
Unjustly by the elder sons.

The elder son on barren soil,
Where life is crude and lands are new,
Must share the father’s hardest toil,
And share the father’s troubles too.
With no child-thoughts to meet his own
His childhood is a lonely one:
The youth his father might have known
Is seldom for the eldest son.

It seems so strange, but fate is grim,
And Heaven’s ways are hard to track,
Though ten young scamps come after him
The rod falls heaviest on his back.
And, well I’ll say it might be caused
By a half-sense of injustice done—
That vague resentment parents feel
So oft towards the eldest son.

He, too, must bear the father’s name,
He loves his younger brother, too,
And feels the younger brother’s shame
As keenly as his parents do.
The mother’s prayers, the father’s curse,
The sister’s tears have all been done—
We seldom see in prose or verse
The prayers of the elder son.

But let me to the parable
With eyes on facts but fancy free;
And don’t belie me if I tell
The story as it seems to me—
For, mind, I do not mean to sneer

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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Never Deeply Appreciative

Seldom do transitions come,
With a subtlety elusive and delicate.
Some come like an eathquake,
That disturbs and shakes...
Those asleep to awaken.

Seldom does a shock,
Comes to prepare those aware of it...
To block and stop.
With an alternative...
To figure out in accepted procrastination.

And seldom is that which is rare,
Will await patiently for comparisons to make.
Like a love that is given with friendship.
With an existence given...
A disrespect to regard as one chooses.

Seldom do transitions come,
With a subtlety elusive and delicate.
Some come like an eathquake,
That disturbs and shakes...
Those asleep to awaken.

The existence of them given,
Has meaning and purpose.
To ignore the effect...
Is to be totally unconscious.

And those who are...
Totally unconscious,
Are never deeply appreciative of anything!
Only to compensate for their dissatisfactions...
With the aid of excuses to solicit and sell.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In my other life ~ ~ ~ Song Lyric's

In my other life, I marched troops in formations
I manned the gun and turned them into men
In my other life, I had so many wayward women
They broke me down and made me, what I am

They showed me roads that men seldom travel
They taught me things can work only if, you try
That losing could mean your really winning
They showed me sorrow, and taught me, how to cry

In my other life, I consumed minds recreations
I made peace with myself, these insecurities, could not stand
In my other life, I lived with incarcerations
They broke me down and made me, what I am

They showed me roads that men seldom travel
They taught me things can work only if, you try
That losing could mean your really winning
They showed me sorrow, and taught me, how to cry

In my other life, I worked hard to make a living
I gave up my recklessness, and vowed never, to give in
In my other life, I was married and had children
There broke me down and made me, what I am

They showed me roads that men seldom travel
They taught me things can work only if, you try
That losing could mean your really winning
They showed me sorrow, and taught me, how to cry

In my other life, I was drawn to the Truth and His resurrection
I confessed my sins, by faith believed and made Him, my Lord
In my other life, I learned to die to self and surrender
Conviction broke me down; the Blood made me, what I am

He showed me a narrow road men seldom travel
He gave me grace to change, in the Sweet, by and by
That losing could mean your really winning
He showed me His love, the price He paid, the reason why

He showed me His love, the price He paid, the reason why

Words & Music by Gene Gamble/Two-G’s Music © 1995

poem by Gene Gamble
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Against Stale Current

Essential is it to unite
to pressing questions answers which
may open roads to knowledge, might
prepare fulfillment shared and rich.

Unused to being understood,
his insight into others bores,
the trees he sees, ignores not wood
nor would - for blinkers he abhors.

A sense of purpose has withstood
positions frozen, - chosen doors
open on mission, inner good
opposing pride and rotten cores.

Against stale 'current', with hale stream
of light and life he'd soar serene,
is it surprising that such gleam
untouched remains, unshared.

(25 December 1997 robi03_0859_robi03_0000 XXX_JXX)

Lonely One Wanders
Lonely, one wanders through cowed crowd,
awaiting some supportive rays,
with warmth, complicity endowed -
beamed circlet lighthouse dream replays.
Absent present, head in cloud,
through surface calm true strength displays
both strong emotions, soul unbowed,
balm soothing offers, hope relays.

One threads paths strange, by most unploughed,
transforming fallow fields in ways
astonishing to assets vowed
as fertile, fruitfulness which stays
abundant, want, waste disavowed.
Prosperity which rich repays
time, trouble, taken, cries aloud
for friendship solitude allays.

Perception, seldom understood,
with insight into others bores,
trees, wood unsawed seen, both bad, good,
subjective blinkers lack bed, board.
Enlightenment misdeeds withstood,
to ploughshare turns destructive sword,
should’s soon converted into would,
hermit crabbiness abhorred.

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Savvy Minds Seize Opportunities

equal not often opportunities
opportunities lacking required degrees
of savvy as strike out scenarios

trajectory implies reality conflicts
prospect improvement requires changes
savvy minds utilize world opportunities

poem by Terence George Craddock
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