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

Continuity

Continuity
spirals itself into knots,
timed fatuity.

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

Share

Related quotes

The Knots

When a sweater is knitted,
The knots are gathered,
When the future is knitted,
The knots have to be removed,
When the knots are allowed to gather,
The future may not be clear to prosper,
When the knots are not uniformly arranged,
The sweater may not look elegant and chic,
But still serve the purpose, not as the future,
That is full of knots, yet to untangle,
To have the clear path without thorns,
Either well traveled or yet to be known,
Creating knots is fun at first,
Untie them is the task we do in future.
Those who know to tie the untie able knots,
Are victorious to the ones, who knows not,
Putting a permanent knot is the work of a feeble.
when we pull the thread of the sweaters,
we will be left with threads in pieces,
life without knots is meaningless,
life with full of knots is worthless.

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

Share

Anchorless and Engulfed

Two who each other barely knew -
though both drew down delinquency
some streets apart, are past, and few
shall etch sketch wretched memory.
Two travelled on lines parallel
while wheeled real reel of history,
banned reel ran out span's tocsin bell
tolled once to tell eternity

‘Bonjour, ma mie, je t'aime, adieu! '
The mocking bird of Destiny
nests but a moment. All falls through
before each earth-bound entity
grasp pain's pain glass a second, spell
life's sensitivity to see
things in perspective ere Death's knell
engulfs hopes in Styx misery.

Confined upon Earth's ark our zoo
builds up its bars too readily.
Why all the fuss and bother to
paint rosy hues enticingly
when threescore ten years pass pell-mell,
too few attain vain century,
and those that do weak souls would sell
for one more week's dichotomy.

Upon Life's cruise a motley crew
free choice demands, yet few feel free,
awash with superstitious spew,
how few refuse to bend the knee?
The ‘finger writes' and then farewell!
A door to which there is no key
was ever veiled when curtains fell,
'and then no more of thee and me.'

'Time out! ' Reflection's hard to chew
in context where modernity
accelerates change [st]range most rue,
soon redefines autonomy,
confines empowerment to brew
disinformation debility,
losing second thoughts' review
of truth till last breath's verity
renders verdict curlicue
on humankind's inanity.

Climate out of kilter new
climactic catastrophe
prepares, ice-melt sends shockwaves through

[...] Read more

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

Share

Save Your Generation

[Originally by Jawbreaker]
I have a present,
It is a present,
You'll have to learn to find it within you,
If you could learn,
To love it you just might like it,
You cant live without it,
Theres a million open windows,
Passing these opened windows,
Passing these opened windows,
Whaoh, Whaoh, Whaoh [x2]
There is plenty,
To critice,
It gets so easy to narrow these eyes,
But these eyes will stay wide,
I will stay young,
Young and dumb inside,
I had just begun,
To forget my lines,
Your a punk and Im tellin everyone
You could save yourself,
you could save us all,
Go on living, prove us wrong,
Your leap of faith,
Could be a well - timed smile,
Survival never goes out of style,
I have a message: save your generation,
We're killing each other by sleeping in,
Finnegan, begin again,
This one can be won,
One can become two,
Two can pick and choose,
You could be the first,
You could save yourself,
you could save us all,
Go on living, prove us wrong,
Your leap of faith,
Could be a well - timed smile,
Survival never goes out of style,
You have to learn to learn from your mistakes,
You can afford to lose a little face,
The things you break,
Some can't be replaced,
A simple rule: every day be sure you wake,
You could save yourself,
you could save us all,
Go on living, prove us wrong,
Your leap of faith,
Could be a well - timed smile,
Survival never goes out of style.

song performed by Fall Out BoyReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Time out of Mind

Losing ping of my mind,
i can't print my future.
Days glistened frustrating me,
on high hopes could not reach,
Sunshine blinks on innocent face,
I who responsible for his future
I try to rescue myself and tired,
if i am to be a sailor,
Sometimes silence and darkness makes thunder,
timed out! timed out! timed out!
So i can't print my future.

-Shaleheen

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

Share

One Two, One Two

[kool keith]
One two one two, one two one two
One two one two, one two one two!
One two one two, one two one two!
I just step and i rap rap
Move and you clap clap
Dance and wiggle, and little feets go tap tap
Over and switch switch, change my pitch pitch
You can get down down, rock with my sound sound
As i rock freak a rhyme, blow up the town town
Mc's in the back, double trouble can learn learn
As i start to burn burn, mc's wait your turn turn
Look at me black black, don't come to me wack wack
I chew em like gum, eat your crew like a snack pack
Walk and i flex flex, check and i stop stop
Beat em on down down, suckers i rock rock
Cling on, swing on, walk and you step step
Pick up your pep pep, build up my rep rep
Move and get smacked smacked, i'm tellin you black black
I told you again, i'm clockin fat knots
("i'm the freaker, the one who freaks the funk" -- cypress hill)
One two one two, one two one two
One two one two, one two one two
("i'm the freaker, the one who freaks the funk")
One two one two, one two one two
Continue i flow flow, not stiff and i blow blow
X'll get raw raw, and travel on tour tour
Mc's they get crushed crushed, stomped in the dust dust
Mack-10 tec, every rhyme goes bust bust
Out on the west west, facing your chest chest
Let me go rock rock, people just clock clock
Girls they wet, damp panties and jock jock
Move and i swing swing, to riker's and sing-sing
Knock on your brain, picture bell go ding ding
Mc's that flow flow, i think they all so-so
Like g.i., g.i., kiddie toy named joe joe
Rappers are doodoo doodoo, deep as a voodoo voodoo
Come and don't play play, watch what i say say
Pick up your mic, i'm clockin fat knots
("i'm the freaker, the one who freaks the funk")
One two one two, one two one two
One two one two, one two one two
X'll get wreck wreck, breakin your neck neck
Your brain is the seed, like a bird i go peck peck
Don't call me no jeff-jeff, keith no sweat sweat
You can be dog dog, cat and my pet pet
As i go woo woo, yo b i'm so smooth smooth
Rhymin like wild bill, strong and i feel feel
Suckers ain't jack jack, jumpin on zapp zapp
Thinkin they funk funk, soft and they punk punk

[...] Read more

song performed by Ultramagnetic Mc'sReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Feeling Like You're Wrapped Up In Tight Knots

Feeling like you're wrapped up in tight knots.
Well you've got it.
Wanting to feel better but you're not.
Well you've got it.
You've got it and you wont give it back!
No.
Burdens carried as if they are treasures proud you pack.
Oh!

Holding on as if you can't let go,
Like something golden.
Snuggled up so close it makes a mold,
Like gold you're holding.
You wont let it slip away to live!
No.
So attached to madness,
Someone would think that you stoled it.

Holding on as if you can't let go,
Like something golden.
Snuggled up so close it makes a mold,
Like gold you're holding.
You wont let it slip away to live!
No.
So attached to madness,
Someone would think that you had stolen it.

Feeling like you're wrapped up in tight knots.
Well you've got it.
Wanting to feel better but you're not.
Well you've got it.
You've got it and you wont give it back!
No.
Burdens carried as if they are treasures proud you pack.
Oh!

Feeling like you're wrapped up in tight knots.
Well you've got it.
Wanting to feel better but you're not.
Well you've got it.
You've got it and you wont give it back!
No.
Burdens carried as if they are treasures proud you pack.
Oh!

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

Share

Transparencies: Lovers Sing To Each, Death The Veil Between Them, After Japanese Noh Theater

.for Father William Rowell


Act 1

Each stanza is a scene or theatrical screen in which the drama is eternally unfolding...


O each eye holds a temple.
Each eye curves away from each.
Each knee contains a hidden country -

paddies are green now and ready for gleaning.


Green now and ready for gleaning,
each breath moves in rhythm.
Other's hands burn the thick rushes-

Go ghostly to ashes.


Go ghostly to ashes;
an obi, a sash opening.
Slash of swords and tongue
now lashes between laps
twain to twain, torches kneel

twining knots each to each.


Twining knots each to each,
reach arms toward dormant summits.
Adore. Summon. Rumor either
to either -

That other snows are melting besides Fuji's.


That other snows are melting besides Fuji's
rush fevers to still lips grown bluer.
Blow warmly then, Awakening Fire.
Blue blushes to purple -

grapes swell in ripening arbors, the quiet pond reflecting.


Ripening arbors the quiet pond reflecting,
a pair of swans leans forward into water
through mirrored peaks rippling there,

[...] Read more

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

Share

Torquing Torus

It very rare for Richard Serra
man of steel, to sculpt in error.
The shapes that he creates evoke
dunes, canyons and ravines. Baroque
the influence of all these curves.
Perhaps Borromini deserves
some credit for the inspiration
for their expressive undulation,
although, ingratiating, lavish,
his expertise inclines to ravish
as, torquing torus with inversion,
with parasexual perversion
it transforms alchemistically steel
into raw spaces where you feel
the presence of a dying numen
within the crevasse of the lumen
where people walk and need not climb
to sense a terror that’s sublime.

Michael Kimmelman reviews a retrospective exhibition of Richard Serra of sculptures at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, “Man of Steel, ” NYT, June 1,2007) :
That second floor at the Modern, by the way, is the show’s tour de force. A high, huge and like so much of this museum, totally unlovable space, it was conceived for housing Mr. Serra’s sculptures. Kirk Varnedoe, the Modern curator, came up with this idea, and the museum saw his plan through after his death. The resulting space is antiseptic, unfortunately, and too much of a barn for showing anything else, but it looks fantastic now. At one end is “Band, ” a 70-foot-long steel undulation, absent an inside or outside, forming four cavities. On the other end is “Sequence, ” which links two immense spirals. In between is “Torqued Torus Inversion, ” a pair of mirrored enclosures whose forms Mr. Serra has said may partly relate to his fondness for curvy Chinese bronzes…
These shapes and experiences are new. That’s about the best, and the rarest, compliment you can give to any artist. Mr. Serra’s “Torqued Ellipses” and “Torqued Toruses” and other recent works like “Band” and “Sequence” have their origins in work he did 40 years ago in rubber and lead, as this retrospective handsomely affirms, but these are nonetheless unprecedented variations on the theme of dumbfounding spirals and loops. The public’s perception of Mr. Serra’s work has also obviously changed from the bad days of “Tilted Arc, ” a quarter-century or so ago. That same vocabulary of curved, giant metal walls, once vilified as art-world arrogance, is now better understood and broadly admired. This is how radical art operates. In Mr. Serra’s case you can also call it democratic art because it sticks to pure form that requires no previous expertise to grasp. There’s no coy narrative, no insider joke or historical allusion or meta-art theme. There’s none of what Mr. Serra disdainfully calls, in the show’s catalog, “post-Pop Surrealism, ” by which he lumps together all contemporary art that leans for a crutch on language and Duchamp. In that catalog interview he was talking with Kynaston McShine, one of the show’s two curators. (The other is Lynne Cooke.) Mr. Serra famously looked at Borromini churches in Rome before he started torquing steel, but his work is not “about” Baroque architecture any more than it’s about Jackson Pollock or Barnett Newman or Donald Judd, whom he also looked at and learned from early on. The art is about the basic stuff of sculpture, isolated and recast: mass, weight, volume, material. What matters in the end are your own reactions while moving through the sculptures, at a given moment, the works being Rorschachs of indeterminate meaning….
A filmmaker I met in Bilbao, Spain, wandering through Mr. Serra’s sculptures there, likened the experience to movies. He thought the paths Mr. Serra devised within the works, between curving walls of steel, which suddenly jog, then arrive, unexpectedly, at cavities or enclosures, were like plot twists with surprise endings. Except there are no beginnings or endings in the sculptures. A novelist who has written about the Holocaust said the high, curving steel walls leaned over him threateningly, leading him until he became disoriented and lost, into what he felt were penned-in spaces, bringing to mind a concentration camp. The art scared him, he said, but he also loved it. Kant called this feeling “the terrifying sublime, ” which is “accompanied by a certain dread or melancholy.” Awe and fear mingle with pleasure. The concept was applied to mountain climbing, and Mr. Serra’s new works on the museum’s second floor, perhaps not coincidentally, evoke canyons, dunes, crevasses and ravines. The industrial steel walls, in uncalculated rusty orange and velvety brown, evoke natural terrains; the spaces through which the sculptures move people are akin to spaces in nature.


6/1/07

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

Share

Ire On Cross Sect_I_On Spire Pyre

Black books some find
grant ease of mind
responsibility
remove behind
dark veil and blind
bewailing liberty.

Life should be led,
shared, free from lead
respectability,
What lies ahead?
Hell? lies, instead
seems crass conformity.

Lip service paid
by man or maid
to bias, bigotry,
replace game played,
joy unafraid,
with sects that narrow be.

Turn more to hope
for increased scope
throughout life's comedy,
beware time's rope
that hangs who grope
for creeds rarely agree
on godhead fair
with love to spare,
or core divinity.
Seek self - truth's there -
'ware cupboards bare,
wraith faiths' fatuity.


23 April 2010

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

Share

Out of Kilter

Ectopia Lentis for the poet seems
less rare than nurse's elbow, malady
affecting insight, nervous links to dreams
felled flat when facing life's fatuity,
synapses gridlocked by most mundane schemes.

Nun's vows of silence often may be seen
as experience's triumph over hope,
when prayers unanswered lie, lies in between
hope's evanescent sparks too little scope
retain before snuffed candle's choked smokescreen.

Though castle proud stands o'er uncrowded bay
it stays Time's hostage, can't stay earthquake strikes,
or climate change, sea levels havoc play
submerging value judgements, likes, dislikes,
for even vestal prim must piper pay.

Where words vocation plead, breed not blead rant,
need heed no trite event to vent despair,
forbear from prose dressed as verse rose, spurn cant,
'neath superficial polished stone compare
true motivations, self-esteem too scant.

Blind minds behind their superfluity
find ingenuity may tables turn
vice into virtue, incongruity
or role-reversal often praise may earn;
suiting both giver, given to a T.

Artistic talent which would self anoint
through sad fad trends that end before dusk falls,
is seldom selfless, often out of joint
with harmony fair, free, spends core, husk shawls,
vacuity still born to disappoint.

Time's hungry waves transform dark rocks, light grains
of untraced triumphs heedless race, vain pains.

(16 September 2009)

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

Share

Symbiotic Symphony

Slim beauty, fair hair sun-bright cloud
about her billows, surface calm
masks deep emotions, soul uncowed,
search newly blessed by soothing balm.
She wandered, lonely, through the crowd,
observing all, yet often seemed
both close and distant, head unbowed,
epitome of dreams she’d dreamed.

Sweet symbiotic symphony
awaiting liberating call,
preparing serendipity,
would nonetheless retain high wall
until discovering within
an infinite capacity
for stretching wings devoid of sin,
freed from former opacity.

Perpetual priority
protecting family until
each child - Ambre, Axel, Alice and Camille -
could thread autonomy and will
to flourish confident and be
emancipate - though never still -
from ignorance, fatuity.

Priority number two: to join
to present questions answers which
might mint fresh happiness' bright coin
a future fair, shared feelings rich
that none could question, none purloin,
an idyll oasis to stitch
nest nurturing til kids conjoin.

Deceptive calm! Her mind must try
to comprehend and then translate,
so children share, none e’er run shy
of fighting prejudice and hate.
Though world be harsh, though time swift fly,
empowered troupe she'd teach instate
an energy none misapply
true joy, fresh focus liberate.

Mistrusting superfluity
she scans horizons far beyond
face values, gilt annuity,
both mass hysteria, mass despond.
With natural ingenuity
imagination's magic wand
ingenuous spells melody

[...] Read more

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

Share

Remember folks. Street lights timed for 35 mph are also timed for 70 mph.

quote by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Remember folks stop lights timed for 35 mph are also timed for 70 mph.

quote by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
Byron

Oh, thou, in Hellas deemed of heavenly birth,
Muse, formed or fabled at the minstrel’s will!
Since shamed full oft by later lyres on earth,
Mine dares not call thee from thy sacred hill:
Yet there I’ve wandered by thy vaunted rill;
Yes! sighed o’er Delphi’s long-deserted shrine
Where, save that feeble fountain, all is still;
Nor mote my shell awake the weary Nine
To grace so plain a tale - this lowly lay of mine.

II.

Whilome in Albion’s isle there dwelt a youth,
Who ne in virtue’s ways did take delight;
But spent his days in riot most uncouth,
And vexed with mirth the drowsy ear of Night.
Ah, me! in sooth he was a shameless wight,
Sore given to revel and ungodly glee;
Few earthly things found favour in his sight
Save concubines and carnal companie,
And flaunting wassailers of high and low degree.

III.

Childe Harold was he hight: - but whence his name
And lineage long, it suits me not to say;
Suffice it, that perchance they were of fame,
And had been glorious in another day:
But one sad losel soils a name for aye,
However mighty in the olden time;
Nor all that heralds rake from coffined clay,
Nor florid prose, nor honeyed lines of rhyme,
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.

IV.

Childe Harold basked him in the noontide sun,
Disporting there like any other fly,
Nor deemed before his little day was done
One blast might chill him into misery.
But long ere scarce a third of his passed by,
Worse than adversity the Childe befell;
He felt the fulness of satiety:
Then loathed he in his native land to dwell,
Which seemed to him more lone than eremite’s sad cell.

V.

For he through Sin’s long labyrinth had run,
Nor made atonement when he did amiss,

[...] Read more

poem by from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1818)Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
Byron

Canto the First

Oh, thou, in Hellas deemed of heavenly birth,
Muse, formed or fabled at the minstrel’s will!
Since shamed full oft by later lyres on earth,
Mine dares not call thee from thy sacred hill:
Yet there I’ve wandered by thy vaunted rill;
Yes! sighed o’er Delphi’s long-deserted shrine
Where, save that feeble fountain, all is still;
Nor mote my shell awake the weary Nine
To grace so plain a tale - this lowly lay of mine.

II.

Whilome in Albion’s isle there dwelt a youth,
Who ne in virtue’s ways did take delight;
But spent his days in riot most uncouth,
And vexed with mirth the drowsy ear of Night.
Ah, me! in sooth he was a shameless wight,
Sore given to revel and ungodly glee;
Few earthly things found favour in his sight
Save concubines and carnal companie,
And flaunting wassailers of high and low degree.

III.

Childe Harold was he hight: - but whence his name
And lineage long, it suits me not to say;
Suffice it, that perchance they were of fame,
And had been glorious in another day:
But one sad losel soils a name for aye,
However mighty in the olden time;
Nor all that heralds rake from coffined clay,
Nor florid prose, nor honeyed lines of rhyme,
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.

IV.

Childe Harold basked him in the noontide sun,
Disporting there like any other fly,
Nor deemed before his little day was done
One blast might chill him into misery.
But long ere scarce a third of his passed by,
Worse than adversity the Childe befell;
He felt the fulness of satiety:
Then loathed he in his native land to dwell,
Which seemed to him more lone than eremite’s sad cell.

V.

For he through Sin’s long labyrinth had run,
Nor made atonement when he did amiss,

[...] Read more

poem by from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1818)Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
Byron

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto I.

To Ianthe:

Not in those climes where I have late been straying,
Though Beauty long hath there been matchless deem'd;
Not in those visions to the heart displaying
Forms which it sighs but to have only dream'd,
Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seem'd:
Nor, having seen thee, shall I vainly seek
To paint those charms which varied as they beam'd --
To such as see thee not my words were weak;
To those who gaze on thee what language could they speak?
Ah! may'st thou ever be what now thou art,
Nor unbeseem the promise of thy spring,
As fair in form, as warm yet pure in heart,
Love's image upon earth without his wing,
And guileless beyond Hope's imagining!
And surely she who now so fondly rears
Thy youth, in thee, thus hourly brightening,
Beholds the rainbow of her future years,
Before whose heavenly hues all sorrow disappears.

Young Peri of the West!-'tis well for me
My years already doubly number thine;
My loveless eye unmov'd may gaze on thee,
And safely view thy ripening beauties shine;
Happy, I ne'er shall see them in decline,
Happier, that while all younger hearts shall bleed,
Mine shall escape the doom thine eyes assign
To those whose admiration shall succeed,
But mixed with pangs to Love's even loveliest hours decreed.

Oh! let that eye, which, wild as the Gazelle's,
Now brightly bold or beautifully shy,
Wins as it wanders, dazzles where it dwells,
Glance o'er this page; nor to my verse deny
That smile for which my breast might vainly sigh,
Could I to thee be ever more than friend:
This much, dear maid, accord; nor question why
To one so young my strain I would commend,
But bid me with my wreath one matchless lily blend.

Such is thy name with this my verse entwin'd;
And long as kinder eyes a look shall cast
On Harold's page, Ianthe's here enshrin'd
Shall thus be first beheld, forgotten last:
My days once number'd, should this homage past
Attract thy fairy fingers near the lyre
Of him who hail'd thee, loveliest as thou wast,
Such is the most my memory may desire;
Though more than Hope can claim, could Friendship less require?

[...] Read more

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

Share
George Meredith

Alsace-Lorraine

I

The sister Hours in circles linked,
Daughters of men, of men the mates,
Are gone on flow with the day that winked,
With the night that spanned at golden gates.
Mothers, they leave us, quickening seed;
They bear us grain or flower or weed,
As we have sown; is nought extinct
For them we fill to be our Fates.
Life of the breath is but the loan;
Passing death what we have sown.

Pearly are they till the pale inherited stain
Deepens in us, and the mirrors they form on their flow
Darken to feature and nature: a volumed chain,
Sequent of issue, in various eddies they show.
Theirs is the Book of the River of Life, to read
Leaf by leaf by reapers of long-sown seed:
There doth our shoot up to light from a spiriting sane
Stand as a tree whereon numberless clusters grow:
Legible there how the heart, with its one false move
Cast Eurydice pallor on all we love.

Our fervid heart has filled that Book in chief;
Our fitful heart a wild reflection views;
Our craving heart of passion suckling grief
Disowns the author's work it must peruse;
Inconscient in its leap to wreak the deed,
A round of harvests red from crimson seed,
It marks the current Hours show leaf by leaf,
And rails at Destiny; nor traces clues;
Though sometimes it may think what novel light
Will strike their faces when the mind shall write.

II

Succourful daughters of men are the rosed and starred
Revolving Twelves in their fluent germinal rings,
Despite the burden to chasten, abase, depose.
Fallen on France, as the sweep of scythe over sward,
They breathed in her ear their voice of the crystal springs,
That run from a twilight rise, from a twilight close,
Through alternate beams and glooms, rejoicingly young.
Only to Earth's best loved, at the breathless turns
Where Life in fold of the Shadow reclines unstrung,
And a ghostly lamp of their moment's union burns,
Will such pure notes from the fountain-head be sung.

Voice of Earth's very soul to the soul she would see renewed:

[...] Read more

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

Share

Grave Retrospective

Possessions' progression obsession
poor more, more than best less, must draw
conclusions mistaken, impression
that wealth over health sets the score
for worth on our earth where aggression's
too often condoned by the law,
where success seems a sterile succession
of trangressions that ravage rapports.

This seems tantamount to retrogression
where blunderbuss plunder makes war
where arrogant ego expression
is excuse for abuse all abhor.
Who lusts for a trophy procession
to celebrate, victory's roar,
finds vain remains reign, dispossession,
cyclic atrophy squanders life's store.

Where vice is held virtue, concession
signals weakness, destruction in store,
where thinly disguised indiscretion
pours rewards upon traitor or whore,
where equity's lacks intercession
from power base raw's bloody maw
it is hard to ignore the suppression
of freedom, true rue rotten core.

Where equity finds no reflection
in the eyes of corrupt judge explore
when and how most lost sense of direction,
surrendered control, and deplore
political moral defection,
dereliction of duty, closed door,
or puppet string rigging election,
democracy hard to restore.

Once life's flow more than permanence counted,
Nature guided intemporal tide,
no need for race, steed to be mounted,
no seed but would blossom beside
scheme stream of unconscious connections
as each was in all, all in each, -
no need for trace, gain, greed, projections,
for constrictive force frontiers of speech.

Once no part of the whole was discounted
as second-class link in life's chain,
each link was completely accounted
as interdependent to gain
from Time time to evolve, never static,

[...] Read more

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

Share

Leftovers

LEFTOVERS

We know that we were meant to be -
we know we feel we feel we know.
Once free, at sea now, few find key
decoding life’s vibrating flow
‘until no more of me and thee’
is sought within united glow
of what forgotten history
omitted from Man’s archives - so
little left to memory.

Today here, see tomorrow flee,
earth's limbo, over, only crow
enjoys leftover pickings – tree
of life’s vain strife. No merry-go-
round but mirror fragility.
For fleeting hour before we go
who tunes into the mystery
of life’s timed rondo fast and s[l]ow
with some degree of certainty?

The past: lost in primaeval sea,
whose glory stony strata show
has hardened like an artery
fossilized when vertigo
toppled pride's ride which paid fee
for crass complacency. Below,
find species seeking primacy
that suffered an extinctive blow,
untuned to evolution's key.

Grim future looms. Eternity:
climactic challenges' gloom grow
daily greater globally,
imbalance plain to friend and foe.
Origins enigma, we
beyond time spectrum seek although
no proof forthcoming teaches free
will span from slime of long ago
to rhyme sublime humanity.

25 June 2005 revised 16 January 2008

robi03_1289_robi03_0000 XXX_ENZ

for previous version see below

LEFTOVERS

[...] Read more

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

Share

Participation Requires

Everyday we awaken,
To a freshness awaiting us...
That has been already made.

Each Sunrise and Sunset,
Comes created...
To be the best as it gets.

Only mindsets are falsely timed,
To move and become upset...
In regretted backward steps.

But nothing experienced,
Here on Earth...
Is created to deliver to anyone regret.

Only mindsets are falsely timed,
To move and become upset...
In regretted backward steps.

With wishes to replace the unknown yet to face.
Choosing to separate from nature,
And isolate an agenda to initiate one's fate.

Everyday we awaken,
To a freshness awaiting us...
That has been already made.

And participation requires,
An observance to digest this...
As we live and obey without delay.

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

Share
 

Search


Recent searches | Top searches