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Libertine!

Some think me lewd
Some think me mean
Some think me crude
Ah yes…
I’m just a libertine!

ROTMS

poem by Ray Lucero
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Libertine

When she walked in the room
You could faint from the strong perfume
And she said her name was libertine
In my ear, a voice said dont be a fool stay clear,
Better stay away from libertine
Stay away from libertine
Stay away from libertine
Stay away from libertine
So I stayed out of view
But my eyes couldnt come unglued
I was hypnotized by libertine
So in time I broke down and I lost my mind
Then I made a move on libertine
Stay away from libertine
Made a move on libertine
Stay away from libertine
I made my move on libertine
And I waited all night
til the timing was right
For another man was reaching for her hand
But he went to the phone
And when I got her alone
It just wasnt the same
Tell me whats in a name?
She made me drunk with her charms
Then she left on her husbands arm
And I got the shaft from libertine
I was weak and I know just from whence I speak,
Better stay away from libertine
Stay away from libertine

song performed by Utopia
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tacky Lacking Couth

Why are you making this song so sad?
It is a happy tune...
But you're making me mad.

Why are you making this song so sad?
It is a happy tune...
But you're making me mad.

Don't know why you wanna be,
Crude and hard.
Exposing fangs like a viper.
And breathing like you're crazy.

Don't know why you wanna be,
Big and bad...
And tacky lacking couth.

Don't know why you wanna be,
Crude and hard.
Exposing fangs like a viper.
And breathing like you're crazy.

Don't know why you wanna be,
Big and bad...
And tacky lacking couth.

Why are you making this song so sad?
It is a happy tune...
But you're making me mad.

Why are you making this song so sad?
It is a happy tune...
But you're making me mad.

Don't know why you wanna be,
Crude and hard.
Exposing fangs like a viper.
And breathing like you're crazy.

Don't know why you wanna be,
Big and bad...
And tacky lacking couth.

Big and bad...
And tacky lacking couth.

Don't know why you wanna be,
Crude and hard.
Exposing fangs like a viper.
And breathing like you're crazy.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Horreur sympathique (Sympathetic Horror)

De ce ciel bizarre et livide,
Tourmenté comme ton destin,
Quels pensers dans ton âme vide
Descendent? réponds, libertin.

— Insatiablement avide
De l'obscur et de l'incertain,
Je ne geindrai pas comme Ovide
Chassé du paradis latin.

Cieux déchirés comme des grèves
En vous se mire mon orgueil;
Vos vastes nuages en deuil

Sont les corbillards de mes rêves,
Et vos lueurs sont le reflet
De l'Enfer où mon coeur se plaît.

Reflected Horror

From that sky, bizarre and livid,
Distorted as your destiny,
What thoughts into your empty soul
Descend? Answer me, libertine.

— Insatiably avid
For the dark and the uncertain,
I shall not whimper like Ovid
Chased from his Latin paradise.

Skies torn like the shores of the sea,
You are the mirror of my pride;
Your vast clouds in mourning

Are the black hearses of my dreams,
And your gleams are the reflection
Of the Hell which delights my heart.

— Translated by William Aggeler

Sympathetic Horror

From livid skies that, without end,
As stormy as your future roll,
What thoughts into your empty soul
(Answer me, libertine!) descend?

— Insatiable yet for all
That turns on darkness, doom, or dice,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Sed Non Satiata (Unslakeable Lust)

Bizarre déité, brune comme les nuits,
Au parfum mélangé de musc et de havane,
Oeuvre de quelque obi, le Faust de la savane,
Sorcière au flanc d'ébène, enfant des noirs minuits,

Je préfère au constance, à l'opium, au nuits,
L'élixir de ta bouche où l'amour se pavane;
Quand vers toi mes désirs partent en caravane,
Tes yeux sont la citerne où boivent mes ennuis.

Par ces deux grands yeux noirs, soupiraux de ton âme,
Ô démon sans pitié! verse-moi moins de flamme;
Je ne suis pas le Styx pour t'embrasser neuf fois,

Hélas! et je ne puis, Mégère libertine,
Pour briser ton courage et te mettre aux abois,
Dans l'enfer de ton lit devenir Proserpine!

Unslakeable Lust

Singular deity, brown as the nights,
Scented with the perfume of Havana and musk,
Work of some obeah, Faust of the savanna,
Witch with ebony flanks, child of the black midnight,

I prefer to constance, to opium, to nuits,
The nectar of your mouth upon which love parades;
When toward you my desires set out in caravan,
Your eyes are the cistern that gives drink to my cares.

Through those two great black eyes, the outlets of your soul,
O pitiless demon! pour upon me less flame;
I'm not the River Styx to embrace you nine times,

Alas! and I cannot, licentious Megaera,
To break your spirit and bring you to bay
In the hell of your bed turn into Proserpine!

— Translated by William Aggeler

Sed non Satiata

Strange goddess, brown as evening to the sight,
Whose scent is half of musk, half of havanah,
Work of some obi, Faust of the Savanah,
Ebony witch, and daughter of the night.

By far preferred to troth, or drugs, or sleep,
Love vaunts the red elixir of your mouth.

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Baudelaire
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The Bling Side

They want to see,
That bling side for them to begin.
With a start for them that has no end.
And hoping their lives,
Will sparkle bright.
With a sheen seen...
From outer space at night.

They hope that bling side to blister and glow.
From angles that exposes,
Their studded gold teeth glimmering...
In a bold gold that shows.

That want that bling side to begin...
With goose bumps too,
That never end.
With expensive sneakers costng fortunes.
To brag likes fools...
Like selfish spoiled children do!

To then dress as fools.
Act rude with a crudeness.
With a flaunting of lewd attitudes.

That want that bling side to begin...
With goose bumps too.
To then dress as fools.
Act rude with a crudeness.
With a flaunting of lewd attitudes.
And killing any sense that may be left within them.

They want to see,
That bling side for them to begin.
With a start for them that has no end.
And hoping their lives,
Will sparkle bright.
With a sheen seen...
From outer space at night.

They want that bling side to begin...
With goose bumps too.
To then dress as fools.
Act rude with a crudeness.
With a flaunting of lewd attitudes.
And killing any sense that may be left within them.

To live,
Or not to have...
A future.
One that has firm roots.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Quatrains Of Life

What has my youth been that I love it thus,
Sad youth, to all but one grown tedious,
Stale as the news which last week wearied us,
Or a tired actor's tale told to an empty house?

What did it bring me that I loved it, even
With joy before it and that dream of Heaven,
Boyhood's first rapture of requited bliss,
What did it give? What ever has it given?

'Let me recount the value of my days,
Call up each witness, mete out blame and praise,
Set life itself before me as it was,
And--for I love it--list to what it says.

Oh, I will judge it fairly. Each old pleasure
Shared with dead lips shall stand a separate treasure.
Each untold grief, which now seems lesser pain,
Shall here be weighed and argued of at leisure.

I will not mark mere follies. These would make
The count too large and in the telling take
More tears than I can spare from seemlier themes
To cure its laughter when my heart should ache.

Only the griefs which are essential things,
The bitter fruit which all experience brings;
Nor only of crossed pleasures, but the creed
Men learn who deal with nations and with kings.

All shall be counted fairly, griefs and joys,
Solely distinguishing 'twixt mirth and noise,
The thing which was and that which falsely seemed,
Pleasure and vanity, man's bliss and boy's.

So I shall learn the reason of my trust
In this poor life, these particles of dust
Made sentient for a little while with tears,
Till the great ``may--be'' ends for me in ``must.''

My childhood? Ah, my childhood! What of it
Stripped of all fancy, bare of all conceit?
Where is the infancy the poets sang?
Which was the true and which the counterfeit?

I see it now, alas, with eyes unsealed,
That age of innocence too well revealed.
The flowers I gathered--for I gathered flowers--
Were not more vain than I in that far field.

[...] Read more

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Satan Absolved

(In the antechamber of Heaven. Satan walks alone. Angels in groups conversing.)
Satan. To--day is the Lord's ``day.'' Once more on His good pleasure
I, the Heresiarch, wait and pace these halls at leisure
Among the Orthodox, the unfallen Sons of God.
How sweet in truth Heaven is, its floors of sandal wood,
Its old--world furniture, its linen long in press,
Its incense, mummeries, flowers, its scent of holiness!
Each house has its own smell. The smell of Heaven to me
Intoxicates and haunts,--and hurts. Who would not be
God's liveried servant here, the slave of His behest,
Rather than reign outside? I like good things the best,
Fair things, things innocent; and gladly, if He willed,
Would enter His Saints' kingdom--even as a little child.

[Laughs. I have come to make my peace, to crave a full amaun,
Peace, pardon, reconcilement, truce to our daggers--drawn,
Which have so long distraught the fair wise Universe,
An end to my rebellion and the mortal curse
Of always evil--doing. He will mayhap agree
I was less wholly wrong about Humanity
The day I dared to warn His wisdom of that flaw.
It was at least the truth, the whole truth, I foresaw
When He must needs create that simian ``in His own
Image and likeness.'' Faugh! the unseemly carrion!
I claim a new revision and with proofs in hand,
No Job now in my path to foil me and withstand.
Oh, I will serve Him well!
[Certain Angels approach. But who are these that come
With their grieved faces pale and eyes of martyrdom?
Not our good Sons of God? They stop, gesticulate,
Argue apart, some weep,--weep, here within Heaven's gate!
Sob almost in God's sight! ay, real salt human tears,
Such as no Spirit wept these thrice three thousand years.
The last shed were my own, that night of reprobation
When I unsheathed my sword and headed the lost nation.
Since then not one of them has spoken above his breath
Or whispered in these courts one word of life or death
Displeasing to the Lord. No Seraph of them all,
Save I this day each year, has dared to cross Heaven's hall
And give voice to ill news, an unwelcome truth to Him.
Not Michael's self hath dared, prince of the Seraphim.
Yet all now wail aloud.--What ails ye, brethren? Speak!
Are ye too in rebellion? Angels. Satan, no. But weak
With our long earthly toil, the unthankful care of Man.

Satan. Ye have in truth good cause.

Angels. And we would know God's plan,
His true thought for the world, the wherefore and the why
Of His long patience mocked, His name in jeopardy.

[...] Read more

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Pure prejudice

A prude regards all nudes as rude
unchanging in their attitude.
Which they perceive as rectitude.
A sign of their ineptitude
They cannot see as pulchritude
the naturalness of being nude.
The will allow no latitude,
just being bare to them is lewd.
It must be sad to be a prude.
Because they have misunderstood
that being nude need not be rude
It need be neither lewd nor crude
Reluctantly I must conclude
that once a prude always a prude.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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English Language

The English language it contains thousands of words
Which includes nouns, adjectives, constants and verbs
Structuring them together to create novels or speeches
So we can speak or read or listen while a teacher teaches
And of those thousands words that we have at our command
Some are the few words that decent people have banned
Sadly those few words most people use to swear and to curse
They are crude, coarse and obscene which are used alone or in a verse.

The English language contains thousands of words
Which equals to the stars in the sky or the multitude of birds
They are used in conversation and to define who we are
Words are the building blocks from a vast reservoir
But then we have those few words that are very crude
People use them to hurt or to insult and also to be lewd
Judge a book by its cover and the people by the words they use
When we speak, speak with caution and ponder and then be a muse.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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You may think me crude, and probably I am crude, but I am not so crude as I was, for I am clever enough to see that the girl of nineteen who thought herself a genius was only an unusual girl writing her heart out.

quote by Mary MacLane
Added by Lucian Velea
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Truth

Man, on the dubious waves of error toss'd,
His ship half founder'd, and his compass lost,
Sees, far as human optics may command,
A sleeping fog, and fancies it dry land;
Spreads all his canvas, every sinew plies;
Pants for it, aims at it, enters it, and dies!
Then farewell all self-satisfying schemes,
His well-built systems, philosophic dreams;
Deceitful views of future bliss, farewell!
He reads his sentence at the flames of hell.
Hard lot of man—to toil for the reward
Of virtue, and yet lose it! Wherefore hard?—
He that would win the race must guide his horse
Obedient to the customs of the course;
Else, though unequall’d to the goal he flies,
A meaner than himself shall gain the prize.
Grace leads the right way: if you choose the wrong,
Take it and perish; but restrain your tongue;
Charge not, with light sufficient and left free,
Your wilful suicide on God’s decree.
O how unlike the complex works of man,
Heav’n’s easy, artless, unencumber’d plan!
No meretricious graces to beguile,
No clustering ornaments to clog the pile;
From ostentation, as from weakness, free,
It stands like the cerulian arch we see,
Majestic in its own simplicity.
Inscribed above the portal, from afar
Conspicuous as the brightness of a star,
Legible only by the light they give,
Stand the soul-quickening words—believe, and live.
Too many, shock’d at what should charm them most,
Despise the plain direction, and are lost.
Heaven on such terms! (they cry with proud disdain)
Incredible, impossible, and vain!—
Rebel, because ‘tis easy to obey;
And scorn, for its own sake, the gracious way.
These are the sober, in whose cooler brains
Some thought of immortality remains;
The rest too busy or too gay to wait
On the sad theme, their everlasting state,
Sport for a day, and perish in a night;
The foam upon the waters not so light.
Who judged the Pharisee? What odious cause
Exposed him to the vengeance of the laws?
Had he seduced a virgin, wrong’d a friend,
Or stabb’d a man to serve some private end?
Was blasphemy his sin? Or did he stray
From the strict duties of the sacred day?
Sit long and late at the carousing board?

[...] Read more

poem by William Cowper
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Big Trouble at the North Pole

"Red alert"
Issued by Mrs. Claus:
"Big trouble at North Pole because;
"Santa and his elfin boys,
Quit production of the toys"
"Seems they drank to much wine n' beer
Christmas cancelled ‘til next year"

ROTMS

http: //youtu.be/EQ3Gm-JlESc

View ROTMS writings, images and video at;

rotms.blogspot.com

poem by Ray Lucero
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Handy Andy

"Handy Andy" (He's nicknamed):
A guy who builds homes n' fixes stuff
"No jobs too big or small" it's proclaimed
This hands-on guy is "No cream puff"
Let's not argue, and let's not bandy
Need something done?
Call "Handy Andy"

ROTMS

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poem by Ray Lucero
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Red Pill

The "Blue pill" induces blissful sleep
Administered by hearts black as coal
The "Red pill" shall set you free;
From global elite who want your soul

"Inform yourself,
Free your mind"

ROTMS

View ROTMS writings, images and video below at;
rotms.blogspot.com

poem by Ray Lucero
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Safe Harbor

When fear fills my being
When I cannot go on
When disquiet I'm fleeing
"Darkest before dawn"

Beloved;

Thy heart is my bastion
Where I feel safe n' warm
Thou art safe harbor
Protected from storm

Move swiftly beloved;
Come be by my side
Open thy arms
Take me inside

Save me once more
Sweet one, I adore

ROTMS

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rotms.blogspot.com

poem by Ray Lucero
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So Within, So Without

"Opposites attract" is quite true
Of this there can be little doubt
When I look at me and see you
(And don't like what I see)
I prove "So within, so without"

ROTMS

http: //youtu.be/odifqe_8Ers

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rotms.blogspot.com

poem by Ray Lucero
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The Lesser of Two Evils

"The lesser of two evils" is but a game
Played ‘tween twin-factions of corruption
It matters not whom two "Parties" name
Fed-Agenda continues sans interruption

ROTMS

(Vote your conscience, write in vote)

http: //www.activistpost.com/2012/06/lesser-of-two-evil s-con-game.html

View ROTMS poems, images and video at;

rotms.blogspot.com

poem by Ray Lucero
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~inspiration~

The future is in the hands of our young
As the world of their parents has failed
A song of peace n' prosperity shall be sung
When true nature of invention they unveil

ROTMS

Inspirational video;
http: //youtu.be/XOLOLrUBRBY

View ROTMS writings, images and video at;
rotms.blogspot.com

poem by Ray Lucero
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~midnight Bandit~

Well it finally happened;
A raccoon sneaked in through the cat door and ate all of Neferkitti's food!
The late night bandit bolted through the cat door just as I switched on the light in the laundry room.
Now we'll need to keep the cat door closed at night and deal with Neferkitti's frustration of not being able to go out and come in as she pleases. Is this fair to the cat? Is it fair to us? Maybe the raccoon thinks it has as much right to live here as we do. Maybe it doesn't want to be a "Second class citizen" who envies the sweet deal that Neferkitti has; Free medical and dental, central air and heat, a seemingly inexhaustible supply of food, and two doting humans who apparently have nothing better to do than to cater to her every need! Talk about a welfare state! Maybe the raccoon wonders why there isn't a little more compassion for another intelligent, furry mammal whose brothers and sisters have lived in these Oregon woods a lot longer than some upstarts from Portland who moved here to be closer to nature.

ROTMS

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rotms.blogspot.com

poem by Ray Lucero
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~trillion Dollar War~

"Ours is not to question why"
So many soldiers n' contractors die,
In a hostile Country far away
As a once great Nation begins decay

ROTMS

Here a few more numbers to keep in mind as we approach the 2014 deadline for withdrawal of US combat forces:

68,000: The number of US troops still stationed in Afghanistan.

117,227: The total number of Department of Defense contractors working in Afghanistan.

34,765: The number of US citizens working as contractors in Afghanistan.

9,355: The number of civilian casualties in Afghanistan since Obama took office.

18,553: The total number of civilian casualties since the war started.

1491: The number of US troop casualties in Afghanistan since Obama took office.

2121: The total number of US troop casualties since the war started.

$385,600,000,000: The estimated financial cost of the war in Afghanistan to the US taxpayer since Obama took office.

$557,300,000,000: The estimated financial cost of the war in Afghanistan to the US taxpayer since October 7,2001.

View ROTMS writings, images and video at;

rotms.blogspot.com

poem by Ray Lucero
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