Latest quotes | Random quotes | Vote! | Latest comments | Add quote

The Truth

I know there are things that can't come true
But I put that out of my mind.
I refuse to accept the impossible
I would rather I stay blind
to the truth.

I know that my ramblings with so many words
Is a substitute for concrete thinking.
But every phrase I've ever written
Has stopped me from ever drinking
in the truth.

I know my thinking is sometimes crazy
And I wonder if I'm sane?
Do others live in a fairytale
Or do they only remain
with the truth?

I know I live for the sunshine
and to listen to how the birds sing.
But every time I hear their songs
I curse everything about spring
for the truth is I'm lonely.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Related quotes

There are things that you cannot avoid

There are things that you cannot avoid
like the call-up instruction which cruelly
brings you to another world and measure you out
for whom you must become and be and stay
and you can never find escape
from violence, killing, guilt and grief.

There are things that a soldier cannot avoid
like war that cruelly let people suffer
with flames, bullets and bombs
and there are events that you cannot forget,
although you and you comrades freed the innocent
and at night it’s sweated out in dreams
and there are things that you cannot avoid.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

There Are Demons that Torment All of Us

There are demons that torment all of us. Our past struggles in coming to ourselves where our acts reflect are pain and not our core. Such demons are thought compulsions, which have become an unwelcome tradition in us. They are the ultimate distraction; they have nothing to do with anything. Just think of the ways in which the past echoes through the media during presidential campaigns. Things said and done in the candidates past that have nothing to do with anything relevant are constantly being played. The negative slander of the opposition with a portion of their past truth gets more time, money and energy than defining who one is and what one stands for. Such adds, are disinformation, they have nothing to do with the issues, and who would be best suited to be president.

A significant portion of our mind generates negative rhetoric like the negative presidential campaign adds; it spins gross distortions against itself and for its self. Even more lethal in countless ways is the positive adds that are also distortions. In both cases the mind lies to itself. Our enemies, meaning those who are jealous, envious of us or those who are threaten by us, or those who are addicted to manipulating people, will take advantage of the rhetoric we except. Such parricides will play on your vanities and exploit your weakness. The artful ones will do both.

Superficially the parasites sharaid themselves as a friend, as a stable alliance, as someone you trust, confide in, as a wife. They will appear to be your most genuine supporter who defends you from the negative distortions from your self and from others. But they are not there to support you, all they know is betrayal, for the ones who they are closest too betrayed them. Many times they have identified with the parent or parents or person who betrayed them. As a defense they will not admit how hurt they are and how awful their childhood and life is. They were brought up in a world in which there was the appearance of love, but not real love. They perpetuate this illusion and people who could potentially really love them get caught up in the gravity of their illusions, in their atmosphere; it is a planet of denial and deception where not real caring grows but contempt, where no real love can grow. Where potential love withers and fades unless freeing itself from this insidious sneer.

Such people, cannot really help you, they cannot even help them selves. They can not give to you what they themselves to not have, love, genuine compassion, sincerity.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Things that get better with age

There are not too many things
In this world
one can count on

To get better with age
As the clock
ticks sublime

But, for me, there are three
That I always
can count on

One is friendship,
another is a lady
who loves you and

The Bee Gees,
who just get better
...with time...

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

There Are Poems That Tear The Soul

There are poems that tear the soul
And leave us gasping for breath
They make us recall
Our losses in life
And our disappointments
They hurt us with their Beauty
And we do not know
What to do with them.

Like people we loved once
Who are far away
And like times in our life
Which were happy
And now are recalled in regret
There are poems that tear the soul
And leave us wondering
Why all this pain is life
And why there is
So much we will never know or have
Though we long for and would die for.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

There are times that I am at peace

There are times
that I am at peace, in tranquillity
with the world surrounding me
even with my enemies
who in a godlike way
judged me, stole my life
my job from me
with a certainty of the perfect correctness
of their actions and decisions
without having all the facts, without walking
in my shoes, without judging me on merit.

There are times
when the world seems a friendly place,
where I see great beauty
in the way that the world functions,
in every shrub, every flower and tree.

There are times where I am free
from men who take political decisions
about my future, where I am free from the military
free from the influence, the mangling of men

and then there are times when I know
how much you mean to me,
where the meaning, the sheer beauty
compassion and joy that you bring
floods me like an everlasting spring.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

There are Things we Miss

There are things we miss
by some strike of misfortune
time slips through our feeble grasp.
I am still young and finding
new things in my life.
But they are not what I want
I want...
Passion
Compassion
To have my heart race without making it
and to sweat and have my mind grow blank.
To go numb and feel weightless
even though my feet are planted to the ground.
To have the full knowledge of knowing that Im wanted.
I have been losing this sense for a while now
I feel untouched and alone
as everyone moves around me.

Like a stone on a beach I was placed
among many others all different shapes, sizes and colors.
I was placed with a thought, with a dream that
I might have a purpose.
I will sit and wait like the other stones
until opportunity comes.
I found my opportunity,
but it’s moving slowly.
Towards me or away I cant tell,
but I cant wait
No longer will I wait
I need to move
I need to act.
Time will not be merciful just for me
only because I decided to change the preset course.
There is a girl waiting for me
She must know how I feel.
May the sea guide me.
Or someone throw me.
Just get me close enough so I can let her know

I want to hold her.
Squeeze her tight,
keep her safe and warm.
Either on a couch on a cold autumn’s night.
Or in a meadow with the sun warming our skin.
It doesn’t matter
I want to experience being known
being found.
To fully know that Im cared about.
To have a sense of being where I belong.
It could be in those simple seconds,
or stretched periods that equal a life time.
I want the feeling that I never had
only ever imagined in the deepest, strongest
place in my mind.


Written: June 24,2009

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

There Are 'Rumors' That Many Are Fed Up With It!

A desecration allowed,
To outrageously disgrace...
Values of our respectful ancestors,
Should not have been permitted at all...
To have taken place,
To cause foundations to fall...
For purposes of renovating,
A facelift degenerating.

Crediting the feeding of greed,
Would be too easy to relieve many...
Of their irresponsibility.
Or those rushing to unload,
An accountability...
Few have chosen to behold.

But is greed alone,
That had been condoned...
The only factor,
One disowns a pride and dignity.
With a scolding tongue unfolding,
Obscenities...
That would come to destroy,
All of humanity?

Is one's lack of consciousness,
So intimidating...
That the onslaught of thoughtlessness,
Would diminish the minds...
Of a once advance society,
Into a helpless and disturbing swirling whirpool...
To create a decadence to breed,
Leaving the majority...
As so incline to be defined,
To become the ones observed as fools!

Who's game of pocket pool is this?
That goes unchallenged with a fixation...
Those onlookers are afraid to disqualify.
And would be stunned if suggested,
This game played with their lives...
Should be dismissed as requested.

'There are 'rumors' that many are fed up with it! '

Can those of intelligence,
Become the people blamed for this decrement?
And who championed the voices,
To extradict the demise of common sense?
And who took it amongst themselves to quiet the ones,
Who spoke against the implementation of misdeeds done?

Or,
How about this...
The rising of a steadfast ignorance.
That has all convinced...
The only way to move forward,
Is to repetitively visit...
The stagnating hold of a total darkness,
Considered by those without vision...
As the absolute experience of a bliss,
That is missed.

'There are 'rumors' that many are fed up with it!
But choose many do to keep their 'rants' private.
In a whispered and unheard silentness,
Continued to be done...
And kept as their 'secret' wish! '

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Quatrain #85 - There are records that we keep hidden.........

There are records that we keep hidden in our mind and heart
of certain actions we have all done right from our life's start.
Binding us like a many knotted string coiling around our stem of life
causing us to live unnaturally and thus experience troubles and strife.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

There are times that the walls

There are times that the walls
of the bedroom wants to fold in,
when sheer loneliness becomes too much
and the power of love focuses on loss
as if nothingness wants to fill the whole body
and we are stripped naked by it,
when it concentrates on love that still survives,
lingers while death have robbed us
and we yearn for something new,
for someone unknown.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

There are thousands that act both selfless and brave

There are thousands that act both selfless and brave,
some feel the planet's agony as they love beyond death,
others labour for what is right and good in what they sense
but with great incompetence man lives his mortal life,

some look as visionaries at a world beyond mere sight,
others dwell in the wonders of human form and grace
and in all of this we dwell in the darkest kind of night,
while we live, laugh and cry as members of the human race

and yet there is loveliness in what we experience,
in what we see and act upon and feel at times
as we hope and love and are caught in passion,
as if mere man was destined for something much more.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

There Are Arms That Tick Tock On My Clock

I'm not blocking out your knock on my door,
No more,
No.
No more,
No.

Or padlock up that lock one notch...
No more,
No.
No more,
No.

I've got a life I'm living.
(And) I'm tired of sitting around,
Just to kiss.
There are arms that tick tock on my clock.

No longer into limits giving minutes benefit,
No more,
No.
No more,
No.

When I give attention I expect to get a little bit.
And more I could store!
I've got a life I'm living.
(And) I'm tired of sitting around,
Just to kiss.
There arms that tick tock on my clock.

I'm not blocking out your knock on my door,
No more,
No.
No more,
No.

Or padlock up that lock one notch...
No more,
No.
No more,
No.

I've got a life I'm living.
(And) I'm tired of sitting around,
Just to kiss.
I've got arms that tick tock on my clock.

I've got a life I'm living.
(And) I'm tired of sitting around,
Just to kiss.
There are arms that tick tock on my clock.

There are arms that tick tock on my clock!

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

The Truth of it

I know there are things that can't come true
But I put that out of my mind.
I refuse to accept the impossible
I would rather I stay blind
to the truth.

I know that my ramblings with so many words
Is a substitute for concrete thinking.
But every phrase I've ever written
Has stopped me from ever drinking
in the truth.

I know my thinking is sometimes crazy
And I wonder if I'm sane?
Do others live in a fairytale
Or do they only remain
with the truth?

I know I live for the sunshine
and to listen to how the birds sing.
But every time I hear their songs
I curse everything about spring
for the truth is I'm lonely.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

There Are The Days That The Silence Need Not Hear Itself

There are days that the Silence need not hear itself-
It rests calmly where no one is
And waits wholly alone for nothing to disturb it-
It knows what it knows and it does not know anything
But it is calm as peace as rest after satisfying love-

It knows it need not hear itself
It knows it is not
Silence waits and calls
Listens and answers
Pretends to be
And pretends not to be-

What it is really can be heard only
By those who have at one time or another have known
The infinite intimations given by the musics of Sound

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Things

There are things that
we don't want to happen
but have to accept
things we don't want to know
but have to learn
and people we can't live without
but have to let go

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

If I could know

If I could know for what reason
the whys and wherefores happen
and could know the reasons
behind all things,
I would have told you
and maybe it would have made no difference
or even matter.

Still there are things
that nobody can measure,
like the intentions
and message and feeling of a kiss,
but for the two that are doing it.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

There are bars around me

There are bars around me
and at times I cannot
break the obstruction, the things that divide

and like an animal I am caged, like an inquisitive person
I look at people, things that pass
and at times I cannot

get my eyes
to the other side of the wire which breaks every thing into bits
and I look at people, things that pass

and with every breaking day
things comprehend less, without a new beginning
to the other side of the wire which breaks every thing into bits


and I am caged without a life with you in it
and I do not know where to find someone to unlock my life
things comprehend less, without a new beginning


into eternity I serve out a jail term.
There are bars around me
and I do not know where to find someone to unlock my life,
break the obstruction, the things that divide.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Nothin In The World Can Stop Me Worryin bout That Girl

Met a girl, fell in love, glad as I can be
Met a girl, fell in love, glad as I can be
But I think all the time, is she true to me?
cause theres nothing in this world to stop me worryin bout that girl
I found out I was wrong, she was just two timing
I found out I was wrong, she just kept on lying
Now she tries to tell the truth, and I just cant believe
cause theres nothing in this world to stop me worryin bout that girl
Tell me who can I turn to, just who can I believe?
Tried to put her out of my mind, shell only cause me grief
I love that girl, whatever shes done, you know it hurts me deeply
cause theres nothing in this world to stop me worryin bout that girl
I know shes been with other fellas, why does she keep on lying?
It hurts me so when she says nothing, I really feel like dying
I ache inside until I think[? ], I know its just my pride
cause theres nothing in this world to stop me worryin bout that girl
cause theres nothing in this world to stop me worryin bout that girl

song performed by KinksReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

There are people

There are people
that claims the street as their own
and stand
at parking places on the sidewalk
and do no work
but to look after cars.

If you park there
and ignore them
and do not
want to use their services
you immediately
become a racist in their eyes

and they will make a scene,
threaten to damage your car,
or make sure that it’s stolen
or so they tell you
since they believe
that you owe them something.

Some spray soapy water
without invitation
on the front window
of your car
when you stop
at a traffic light
and wipe it off
demanding a price.

I wonder why the education
is still lacking
since they have already
got their liberation

and just as odd
these people are ignored
by their compatriots in government
as if they do not exist,
while the country
falls slowly
but surely to pieces.

There are people
that claims the possessions
of others as their own
and at night
prowl around in the streets
shooting, stabbing
and robbing
and estranging people
from their cars.

l’Envoi
Still I wonder where
the problem lies
and would really like
both of my cars back

and I do not know
about white people
that sneak around
in black neighbourhoods at night,
hijack cars,
brake windows
and demand possessions
with loaded guns.

All that they do,
is try to make a living
or hurry away in their leaving.

{Reference: “First liberation, then education.” Political slogan of the ruling party.]

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

About To Make The Time

Well you walking on the moon
But there's nothing
No there's nothing left to do deep inside
And you can't believe it's real
Got ya thinkin' boy
(You) may be better off to stay than to slide
Lucky boy!
But now she's falling close to you
And there are things that just cannot last forever
There's nothing I can say that is possibly kind
But I'm about to make the time
Cause I'm about to lose my mind
And you think you're on the move
But there's nothing
No there's nothing left to breathe deep inside
And you say it's in the wheels
God it's stinkin' boy
Well you know that all you said was a lie
Lucky boy!!
But now she's falling close to you
And there are things that just cannot last forever
There's nothing I can say that is possibly kind
But I'm about to make the time
Cause I'm about to lose my mind
And I'm about to make the time
Cause I'm about to lose my mind
Yes I'm about to make the time
Ohhhhhh
I do it
We're gonna do it
Gotta stop and take it slow
You blew it
They're gonna screw it
Gotta stop and steal the show
You count the ways
You stop it!
And you say you're on the move
But there's nothing
No there's nothing left to do deep inside
And you can't believe it's real
Got you thinkin' boy
Maybe better off to stay than to die
Thinkin' boy
But now she's falling close to you
And there are things that just cannot last forever
There's nothing I can say that is possibly kind
But I'm about to make the time
Cause I'm about to lose my mind
And I'm about to make the time
Cause I'm about to lose my mind
But I'm about to make the time
Ohhhh!!!

song performed by ZebraReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
Patrick White

There Are Masks

There are masks I will not wear,
backstage wardrobes I won't dress up in,
lives someone else can star in,
fires that will never feather my voice,
or sweep the shadows
from my palace of ice and eyes,
faces that will never hang like fruit
from any bough of my being,
daggers I won't bury in the wounds
they inflicted like mouths
the tongue has been cut out of,
dignities of desire
that will not circle the roadkill,
my wings linked to the foodchain.
My heart will never labour
like the ox of a bell under a yoke,
though I plough the starfields;
nor will I fill its rivers
with leeches and eclipses
and let it sip the blood of others
to nourish my own lust.
I will not smudge the clarity of my heat
with greenwood, not sacrifice
the hawk's eye for the ant's,
cloud the integrity of love with acrid reason.
I will not eat the days
like spoonfuls of my own ashes,
a martyr to my own orthodoxies,
trying to be true to a creed of fire
that moves underground like a root-fire
in a choir of cedars, the forbidden flame
smouldering, trying to bite its own tail,
trying to put itself out with its own tears
for the best of reasons,
for lost earrings in a coffin.
Anyone can see
you're a raven worthy of silver
who's roofing her wings with tin,
an urgent orchid with flare
trying to bloom in the shadow
of a nightshift toy factory.
Your wingspan
should be measured in horizons
from dawn to dusk; and you
free to ride your own thermals,
to slide yourself like a theshold or a love-letter
under the door of the wind,
to take the hood off your sky
and explore your own vastness,
all the bridges you built
to lie in the shadows
of the burning cherry trees,
true to your own emergency,
true to your own fingertips and eyes,
the impulse of the serpent at the gate
who whispers to you like skin
when the candles go out,
who comes to you like water to a witching wand
a root-god to the poppy
that shudders with black lightning
to be consumed like a torch in her own flames,
to drown in the black rose
of an exquisite oblivion,
naked in a moist parachute that blooms
like a smile you'd thought you'd lost.
The butterfly can't be
stuffed back into the cocoon,
the bird back into the egg,
the pearl back into the grain of sand
that grew a palace
out of the tiniest foundation stone.
Fire is not a flower of ashes
that sheds its petals twice
There are roads that disappear
like stray threads of hair
over our shoulders
even as we walk them,
every step farewell and arrival,
as time yeasts the envelope
with crucial stars that make things happen,
the wheatfield of an autumn letter
in the loaf of the hollow mailbox
rising like dawn out of a dark mouth
over its own harvest.
You can't live forever like a sentence
balked at the fang marks of the colon
you can't remember biting you.
Because life is not punctuated
any more than space,
things will follow
the promise of the serpent's tattoo
to die back into life,
the black lioness
of your passionate constellation,
not a nun at the stake
of a forbidden lust to live,
but a new moon at the opening gates
of the parenthetical secret
between two crescents.
Are you afraid
to let your life graze like wild horses
on the grasslands
of your own transformations,
do you desecrate a greater law
to obey a smaller;
would you tie your last lifeboat,
your last island full of moonlight
to the sunken pillars of a wharf
that aged like a palace,
an endless prelude
to a book of farewell
that collapsed under the weight
of its own hesitation
to read itself to the end?
Even now your foundation-stones
are turning into quicksand
and the abyss
of what you must jump into
to follow your wings
out of the barnyard
opens like a mouth
trying to clear a wishbone
or a song from its throat.
Are you afraid
to give up your collection of hats,
those skies and overturned nests you walk under,
a hawk behind chicken-wire
for a bough in the wild
without a return address?
I want to hear the nightbird sing
that dazzles the serpent
with the joy of her own being,
slowly ascending the tree like a stairwell
to seize her in the dark rapture
of his amorous coils
and drown her in tide after tide of transfiguring wine,
the secret oceans of bliss
that lie hidden
in every dropp of blood, every tear
that falls from the thorns
of the black star that burns like a rose
in the mouth of the dragon
that is waiting like wings
at her bruised heel
for her to wash off the old mythologies,
naked in the eye of the rain,
and mount the taboo and eclipse
of her own repealed desire
and fly from the graveyard firepits
of the grounded comets
praying for a match in hell
to light the pyres of their own cremations.
Ill omen or good,
the brush is loaded with red,
with roses, blood, fire,
and the sky is primed
like the virgin seabed of the canvas before you.
Staring will not paint the apple
you want to bite into,
install the serpent like a voice
in the tree that tempts you,
run the fingers of the nightwind
through your raven hair like a mad pianist
trying to tune your keyboard
to the crazed scales of the full moon.
If you want to dance naked
under chandeliers of black cherries,
alive enough to get away with yourself
don't turn your eyes to glass
and scan the heavens
like the small end of a telescope
to see if you can spot your own approach
like an astronomical catastrophe
that will burn the house down,
the matchbook flaring of a coffin
that docks like a death-boat
to take on a cargo of ashes;
but lay down one stroke of paint,
risk your own interstellar spaces once,
leap like a wounded dolphin
from the wave of the mirror once,
and life will strew stars in your path
that will awake the dreamer
like gardens in the furrows
of your salted fields.
You will stop living
like an arsonist in a volunteer fire-brigade
before the blaze of your own hunger
for heat and light
and run like a sudden thaw of honey
from the frozen hive
that wants to ride its own melting
like a forge pouring out the hot metals
of the enchanted swords
the dark magicians plunge into the stone
to sort the jesters from the crowns.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
 

Search


Recent searches | Top searches