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I can't get into specifics. Someday, hopefully, I'll be able to.

quote by Jason Giambi
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Endorsed Remorse

He was not shooting at the people.
He was shooting at the world.
He wasn't shooting in specifics,
It was from a random frustration...
He unleashed to unfurl.

And everytime I hear these excuses,
Made in the defense of these social misfits...
I've come to realize how quick some are,
To apply their comprehension...
For a call for all,
To forgive their embarrassments!

He was not shooting at the people.
He was shooting at the world.
He wasn't shooting in specifics,
It was from a random frustration...
He unleashed to unfurl.

And psychologists are called,
To calm a public fed on decadence.
With attention to examine...
Their lifestyles spent in ignorance,
But no one should pay at their own expense.

And with accepted intelligence,
The media gives them time to explain...
How certain people amongst them live...
Suffer from stress,
That makes them temporarily insane.

He was not shooting at the people.
He was shooting at the world.
He wasn't shooting in specifics,
It was from a random frustration...
He unleashed to unfurl.

And the business of depicting their enemies,
Continues with alerted threats.
Yet no one with this deluded mindset,
Is described as a terrorist.
With a face splashed over the news,
With a demeaning of their ethnic heritage...
Exclaimed to diminish and to disrespect.

But...
He was not shooting at the people.
He was shooting at the world.
He wasn't shooting in specifics,
It was from a random frustration...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Willing & Able

Said Im willin and Im able
Im ready 2 place my cards on the table
Ive been holdin back this feelin
4 far 2 long
Now that Im willin, its a fact
Is truly mighty strong
Like a child lost in the wilderness
till I reach my destination, I wont rest
Cuz Im willin (willin)
And Im able (able)
Im ready 2 place my cards on the table (table)
Theres some kings in my deck and a queen or 2
So u know there aint nothin,
Nothin that I wouldnt do (nothin that I wouldnt do)
It twas a long time coming,
But now that its here
All the non-believers better fear me
Cuz Im willin (willin and able)
And Im able
I got good and plenty cards
2 place on the table (table)
Been holdin back this feeling 4 far 2 long
(been holdin back this feeling 4 far 2 long)
Now that Im willing, (this feelin)
This feelin
Its truly mighty strong (truly, i... I)
Im willing (willin)
And able (able)
My vision is all clear, Im feelin kinda stable
U know I am, u know I am
Ready 2 whisper (whisper, whatcha say)
Ready 2 shout (shout, now whatcha say)
Ready 2 scream (scream, now whatcha say)
From the highest mountain top (whatcha say, whatcha say)
Lord, Im willing and able
I wanna dance and sing, somebody watch me do my thing
(willin)
(able)
(willin and able)
(willin)
(able)
(willin and able)
I wanna dance and sing, somebody watch me do my thing
(dance and sing, let me watch u do your thing)
(bring it to me)
Let me take a bite
2 see if ure ripe
Im kinda thinkin about
Takin a hunk, chunk
A piece of your love tonight

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Who would be able to think?

I. Who would be able to think?

Who would be able to think
that your eyes as pretty
as stars shining in the heaven?
Who would be able to think
how restless my heart is beating,
that you are more beautiful than I had known before?
Who would be able to think
that your eyes are so pretty?

II. Who would be able to think?

Who would be able to think
that your eyes are prettier
than the sun hidden by banks of fog,
than the stars shining in heaven,
that the tears glittering on your cheeks
comes with a deep meaning?

Who would be able to think
that your eyes are prettier
than the glowing champagne which I am pouring
that the look in them would bring me to a confession
about feelings which hide in my heart like a lizard
while we touch glasses
and who would be able to think this?

III. Who would be able to think?

Who would be able to think
that your eyes are prettier than stars,
that you bring new meaning, to stars hanging in the sky

that your tears glowing against your cheeks
comes with a deep meaning?
Who would be able to think

while we touch glasses
that you are lovelier than I could comprehend before,
that you bring new meaning, to stars hanging in the sky

and when I pour sparkling champagne
the look in your eyes, could bring me to a confession?
Who would be able to think

how restless my heart is beating,
about feelings which hide in my heart like a lizard
that you bring new meaning, to stars hanging in the sky,

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Maverick Voyages

Startling is the absence of vision.
It is clear these maverick voyages...
Have aborted from specifics.
It is as if an advancement towards the horizon,
Has been legislated to be dismissed.
And debating this,
Has led to retaliation.
And a resistance against its existence.

Maverick voyages have been declared annoyances!

Not connecting or allowed,
Is an acceptance of diversity.
Not connecting or allowed,
Is an empathy for those in need.
Not connecting or allowed,
Is an equality of all humanity.
Not connecting or allowed,
Is an honesty believed or released.
Not connecting or allowed,
Is a hope that is wished!
However...
Balled fists prepared to strike and hit,
Is allowed to connect and inflict...
More hatred.
More resentment.
More bitterness...
Sitting in between grinding teeth that grit and spit!
Until all goodness felt,
Has been lifted to leave...
A mass obsession,
Depressed in aggressive anger!

Startling is the absence of vision.
It is clear these maverick voyages...
Have aborted from specifics.
It is as if an advancement towards the horizon,
Has been legislated to be dismissed.
And debating this,
Has led to retaliation.
And a resistance against its existence.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)

Introduction

In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.

Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.

Prologue

The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain

mixed with French Huguenots
who left their homes and belongings,
with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
Associate this then with the fact

that these people fought formidable
for seven generations
against every onslaught that they got
from savages en wild animals

becoming marksmen, riding
and taming wild horses
with one bullet per day
to hunt a wild antelope,

who migrated right across the country
over hills in mass protest
and then you have
the most formidable adversary
and then let them fight

in a natural wilderness
where the hunter,
the sniper and horseman excels
and any enemy is at a lost.

Let them then also be patriotic
into their souls,
believe in and read
out of the word of God

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Book III - Part 03 - The Soul is Mortal

Now come: that thou mayst able be to know
That minds and the light souls of all that live
Have mortal birth and death, I will go on
Verses to build meet for thy rule of life,
Sought after long, discovered with sweet toil.
But under one name I'd have thee yoke them both;
And when, for instance, I shall speak of soul,
Teaching the same to be but mortal, think
Thereby I'm speaking also of the mind-
Since both are one, a substance interjoined.

First, then, since I have taught how soul exists
A subtle fabric, of particles minute,
Made up from atoms smaller much than those
Of water's liquid damp, or fog, or smoke,
So in mobility it far excels,
More prone to move, though strook by lighter cause
Even moved by images of smoke or fog-
As where we view, when in our sleeps we're lulled,
The altars exhaling steam and smoke aloft-
For, beyond doubt, these apparitions come
To us from outward. Now, then, since thou seest,
Their liquids depart, their waters flow away,
When jars are shivered, and since fog and smoke
Depart into the winds away, believe
The soul no less is shed abroad and dies
More quickly far, more quickly is dissolved
Back to its primal bodies, when withdrawn
From out man's members it has gone away.
For, sure, if body (container of the same
Like as a jar), when shivered from some cause,
And rarefied by loss of blood from veins,
Cannot for longer hold the soul, how then
Thinkst thou it can be held by any air-
A stuff much rarer than our bodies be?

Besides we feel that mind to being comes
Along with body, with body grows and ages.
For just as children totter round about
With frames infirm and tender, so there follows
A weakling wisdom in their minds; and then,
Where years have ripened into robust powers,
Counsel is also greater, more increased
The power of mind; thereafter, where already
The body's shattered by master-powers of eld,
And fallen the frame with its enfeebled powers,
Thought hobbles, tongue wanders, and the mind gives way;
All fails, all's lacking at the selfsame time.
Therefore it suits that even the soul's dissolved,
Like smoke, into the lofty winds of air;

[...] Read more

poem by Lucretius
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When I Am 65

When I am 65
Every day will be a blessing from God
When I am 65
I hope that I will still be able to see with my eyes
When I am 65
I hope that I will be able to hear well with my ears
When I am 65
I hope that I will still be able to talk
When I am 65
I hope that I will be able to walk long distances
When I am 65
I hope that I will still be able to look after myself
When I am 65
I hope there will be somebody that will take care of me
When I am 65
I will be retired
When I am 65
I hope that I will not be isolated and lonely
And I hope that friends will be around for me
When I am 65
I hope to be able to see my nephew more
And I hope that he will come here to see me
When I am 65
I will have gray hair
And I will look more handsome
When I am 65
I won’t be able to do nothing about aging
I will age with time
When I am 65
I will receive my little pension
When I am 65
I will be a senior citizen
When I am 65
I hope that I will still have my brilliant mind working

poem by Aldo Kraas
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter LXXXI: Ability

Bisa karena biasa
Bisa karena terpaksa
Bisa karena berkuasa
Bisa karena dewasa
Bisa karena memang bisa
Bisa karena punya asa

Able because get used
Able because get forced
Able because have power
Able because already mature
Able because really talented
Able because keep a hope

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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The Patron Saint Of Liars And Fakes

I'm holding out and I'm holding on to every letter and every song
I pulled myself out of the day we ever had to meet
Are you through with me?
So
And when it all goes to hell
Will you be able to tell me sorry with a straight face
And when it all goes to hell
Will you be able to tell me sorry with a straight face
I'm all ears and I'm all scars to hear you tell me
"Boys like you, you try too hard to look not quite as desperate."
Well I'm hanging on
But I still know the way to make your makeup run
So
And when it all goes to hell
Will you be able to tell me sorry with a straight face
And when it all goes to hell
Will you be able to tell me sorry with a straight face
And when it all goes to hell
Will you be able to tell me sorry with a straight face
And when it all goes to hell (take this to your grave )
Will you be able to tell (Ill take it to mine) me sorry with a straight face
And when it all goes to hell
And when it all goes to hell
And when it all goes to hell
And when it all goes

song performed by Fall Out Boy
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All I Ask

Stumbling down a road lined with signs
It's obvious I'm in the wrong direction
But I won't stop now you know I feel fine
Just looking for some affection
And all I ask is to be able to hold on longer
And all I ask is to be able to walk on water
Walk on water
I figure it won't be long it won't be hard
Just gotta get my feet back on the ground
Just gotten a hold of some unlucky cards
And I have yet to make another round
And all I ask is to be able to hold on longer
And all I ask is to be able to walk on water
Walk on water
No one lent a hand, no one laid a look upon me
Invisible to everything but blame
No, and no one cared to tell, no one dared to believe in anything
And left me to drown in this pain
And all I ask is to be able to hold on longer
And all I ask is to be able to walk on water
Walk on water

song performed by Vanessa Carlton
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Christmas-Eve

I.
OUT of the little chapel I burst
Into the fresh night air again.
I had waited a good five minutes first
In the doorway, to escape the rain
That drove in gusts down the common’s centre,
At the edge of which the chapel stands,
Before I plucked up heart to enter:
Heaven knows how many sorts of hands
Reached past me, groping for the latch
Of the inner door that hung on catch,
More obstinate the more they fumbled,
Till, giving way at last with a scold
Of the crazy hinge, in squeezed or tumbled
One sheep more to the rest in fold,
And left me irresolute, standing sentry
In the sheepfold’s lath-and-plaster entry,
Four feet long by two feet wide,
Partitioned off from the vast inside—
I blocked up half of it at least.
No remedy; the rain kept driving:
They eyed me much as some wild beast,
The congregation, still arriving,
Some of them by the mainroad, white
A long way past me into the night,
Skirting the common, then diverging;
Not a few suddenly emerging
From the common’s self thro’ the paling-gaps,—
—They house in the gravel-pits perhaps,
Where the road stops short with its safeguard border
Of lamps, as tired of such disorder;—
But the most turned in yet more abruptly
From a certain squalid knot of alleys,
Where the town’s bad blood once slept corruptly,
Which now the little chapel rallies
And leads into day again,—its priestliness
Lending itself to hide their beastliness
So cleverly (thanks in part to the mason),
And putting so cheery a whitewashed face on
Those neophytes too much in lack of it,
That, where you cross the common as I did,
And meet the party thus presided,
“Mount Zion,” with Love-lane at the back of it,
They front you as little disconcerted,
As, bound for the hills, her fate averted
And her wicked people made to mind him,
Lot might have marched with Gomorrah behind him.

II.
Well, from the road, the lanes or the common,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning
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Broken Chances

My Love,

I don't know how you're going to get this,
But it is my last word on this Earth.
Just what ever you do sit alone and read this.
I want you to be at the lake where you gave me my first kiss,
I want you to sit by the tree that held us, and read this.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were my love, my only one person who always made me smile,
You held my hand through so many things, so many firsts.
You were my light you were my smile
And you told me the three deadly words,
The words that always kill, but first make you smile.

I have sewed my mouth shut, so you will never see me smile.

I would melt at the sound of your voice,
I would just sit and listen just to know you were really there,
I would call when you weren't home, just to hear your voice.
My wish every day was to hear you say 'I love you',
To hear your voice.

I have glued my ears so I don't have to listen to your lies.

I remember the feeling of your hands running through my hair,
You'd weave your fingers through it to comfort me,
Sometimes I would act sad just to feel your fingers in my hair,
I would silently smile and melt in your arms.
I remember your fingers running through my blond hair.

I have cut my hair so I can never remember that feeling.

U can see you standing looking at me with your sparkling eyes,
I always see you,
I can never see past those deep eyes,
I can see you smile at me, see your hands reach for mine.
I can still see your eyes.

I have cut my eyes out so I can never again fall into your deceiving eyes.

You made my heart race with butterflies, with hope.
I gave you my heart to keep, you said you'd never break it,
You gave me the one thing i needed ti keep going; hope.
And I fell for the traps, I gave you EVERYTHING.
I ave you all the hope I held in my heart, my soul.

I have stabbed my heart, just so you can't shatter what's already broken.

You became my life, you became my love, my everything.

[...] Read more

poem by Bethany Maxwell
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A Little Boy Thanking His Mother

When I was born I could not see,
Thank You Mom because of you, I am able to see.
When I was born I could not hear,
Thank You Mom because of you, I am able to hear.
When I was born I could not eat,
Thank You Mom because of you, I am able to eat.
When I was born I could not walk,
Thank You Mom because of you, I am able to walk.
When I was born I could not speak,
Thank You Mom because of you, I am able to speak.
Thank You Mom. Thank You.

poem by Garvitkumar Choraria
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Sadness and Happiness

I will not be able to say what I really want to say
And I am sad about it

I will not be able to see all I want to see
And I am sad about it

I will not be able to visit even the closest neighbors in the universe
And I am sad about it

I will not be able to read all I want to read
And I am sad about it

I will not be able to love as much as I would want to
And I am sad about it

I will not be loved as much as I would want to
And I am sad about it

But I lived
And I am happy about that

poem by Dejan Stojanovic
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Sailboat

As each grass grows and blows, so it is how each soul in life must grow, which goes like a sailboat.
Life is like a sailboat in that you are traveling on trouble waters as you embark on your journey, and throughout your journey as deep and uncertain as the waters are for a sailboat, the same fate lies in the journey of life.
No matter how straight the gate of life is, one will always face troubling waters.
Some days may be sunny and great to sail, while other may be rainy and dark.
But just as a sailor is able to maneuver through troubling waters and is able to dodge rocks and waves; we too possess those entities to be able to be rocked and stay steady like a sailboat.
But at the end of the day we are able to look to the sky and see the clouds and know that the unmoved mover is the reason for any progress through the struggle.
Being able to look from the higher land above, we then can see from where we have come.
As unsuspected as it may seem, sailing through all the struggles, we can now see the beauty of life from the other side looking in

poem by Coker George
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The Odyssey: Book 19

Ulysses was left in the cloister, pondering on the means whereby
with Minerva's help he might be able to kill the suitors. Presently he
said to Telemachus, "Telemachus, we must get the armour together and
take it down inside. Make some excuse when the suitors ask you why you
have removed it. Say that you have taken it to be out of the way of
the smoke, inasmuch as it is no longer what it was when Ulysses went
away, but has become soiled and begrimed with soot. Add to this more
particularly that you are afraid Jove may set them on to quarrel
over their wine, and that they may do each other some harm which may
disgrace both banquet and wooing, for the sight of arms sometimes
tempts people to use them."
Telemachus approved of what his father had said, so he called
nurse Euryclea and said, "Nurse, shut the women up in their room,
while I take the armour that my father left behind him down into the
store room. No one looks after it now my father is gone, and it has
got all smirched with soot during my own boyhood. I want to take it
down where the smoke cannot reach it."
"I wish, child," answered Euryclea, "that you would take the
management of the house into your own hands altogether, and look after
all the property yourself. But who is to go with you and light you
to the store room? The maids would have so, but you would not let
them.
"The stranger," said Telemachus, "shall show me a light; when people
eat my bread they must earn it, no matter where they come from."
Euryclea did as she was told, and bolted the women inside their
room. Then Ulysses and his son made all haste to take the helmets,
shields, and spears inside; and Minerva went before them with a gold
lamp in her hand that shed a soft and brilliant radiance, whereon
Telemachus said, "Father, my eyes behold a great marvel: the walls,
with the rafters, crossbeams, and the supports on which they rest
are all aglow as with a flaming fire. Surely there is some god here
who has come down from heaven."
"Hush," answered Ulysses, "hold your peace and ask no questions, for
this is the manner of the gods. Get you to your bed, and leave me here
to talk with your mother and the maids. Your mother in her grief
will ask me all sorts of questions."
On this Telemachus went by torch-light to the other side of the
inner court, to the room in which he always slept. There he lay in his
bed till morning, while Ulysses was left in the cloister pondering
on the means whereby with Minerva's help he might be able to kill
the suitors.
Then Penelope came down from her room looking like Venus or Diana,
and they set her a seat inlaid with scrolls of silver and ivory near
the fire in her accustomed place. It had been made by Icmalius and had
a footstool all in one piece with the seat itself; and it was
covered with a thick fleece: on this she now sat, and the maids came
from the women's room to join her. They set about removing the
tables at which the wicked suitors had been dining, and took away
the bread that was left, with the cups from which they had drunk. They
emptied the embers out of the braziers, and heaped much wood upon them

[...] Read more

poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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Are They Children Of A Lesser GOD?

the children of this country should be happy as can be
for they do not have to live in such poverty.
most at least have clothes on their backs
a bed in which to sleep, and food
even if it's only once a day.
and they're taught how to pray.

we are much better off than other countries
around the world.
but try to tell that to the hungry boy or girl.

we are a nation from all walks of life
and have fought so that freedom can ring
and to our national anthem sing.

our children dream of things that they could be
because in this land, dreams can come true.
so let us now see what we can do
to help our brothers' me and you'.

the other child dreams of a warm bed
and a roof over their head.
a bath to wash off the dirt of the day away
a family member with whom they could stay.

clean clothes, clean socks, something which
they have not got.
food set on a table, and someone to help
them if their not able.
to be able to go to school, and learn the golden rule.
to be able to play in the streets
instead of digging in cans for something to eat.

to be able to see a doctor when they're not well
instead of being 'sent to hell'.
to be able to see love in an adults face
and not have to hide in fear and disgrace.

because they were abused by someone who did
not care, whether they lived or died.
and always told the same old lies.

are they children of a lessr GOD?

no! ! for GOD gave us all those rights
and we as adults have to stand up and fight.

stop the abuse in third world nations
let them see GODS creations.
stop the wars, stop the abuse

[...] Read more

poem by Louis Rams
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Tea for Sympathy

can you be able to love
without dream
can you be able to own
without understand
you will never take
you will never care
I'm only a name
you will never run
you will never look around
my shadow far from your heart

can you be able to care
but never reach
should I hate
to make you understand
without talk
without try
only emotion
you just say
can't get it right
just erase me here

can you be able to promise
but your heart's tired
can you be able to protect
without see me
I realize
I really know you
you only hide
you will never care
you will never understand

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto II

THE ARGUMENT

The Saints engage in fierce Contests
About their Carnal interests;
To share their sacrilegious Preys,
According to their Rates of Grace;
Their various Frenzies to reform,
When Cromwel left them in a Storm
Till, in th' Effigy of Rumps, the Rabble
Burns all their Grandees of the Cabal.

THE learned write, an insect breeze
Is but a mungrel prince of bees,
That falls before a storm on cows,
And stings the founders of his house;
From whose corrupted flesh that breed
Of vermin did at first proceed.
So e're the storm of war broke out,
Religion spawn'd a various rout
Of petulant Capricious sects,
The maggots of corrupted texts,
That first run all religion down,
And after ev'ry swarm its own.
For as the Persian Magi once
Upon their mothers got their sons,
That were incapable t' enjoy
That empire any other way;
So PRESBYTER begot the other
Upon the good old Cause, his mother,
Then bore then like the Devil's dam,
Whose son and husband are the same.
And yet no nat'ral tie of blood
Nor int'rest for the common good
Cou'd, when their profits interfer'd,
Get quarter for each other's beard.
For when they thriv'd, they never fadg'd,
But only by the ears engag'd:
Like dogs that snarl about a bone,
And play together when they've none,
As by their truest characters,
Their constant actions, plainly appears.
Rebellion now began, for lack
Of zeal and plunders to grow slack;
The Cause and covenant to lessen,
And Providence to b' out of season:
For now there was no more to purchase
O' th' King's Revenue, and the Churches,
But all divided, shar'd, and gone,
That us'd to urge the Brethren on;
Which forc'd the stubborn'st for the Cause,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
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You'll never be able to win!

You’ll never be able to win
Unless you are ready to change
Your current goal is protection
And our goal is revenge

You’ll never be able to win
Unless you are ready to change
You’re treating Arabs as slaves
We call you bad names in exchange

You’ll never be able to win
Unless you are ready to change
And putting people at risk
Is always considered derange

You’ll never be able to win
Unless you are ready to change
The country that split in halves
Not country, but something strange

You’ll never be able to win
Unless you are ready to change
Free Israel, free Palestine
It something that we can arrange

Our ancestors lived in peace
When they were not at war
For a piece of a Golden Fleece
For estate on a seashore

But our clash is the worst
Since there is one outcome
We’ll drag all planet Earth
Into the tram - tararam.

poem by Slava Olchevski
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