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If you refuse where you have always granted you invite to theft.

quote by Publilius Syrus
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Refuse

Everythings heaven sent
Thats what you said and went
Inside your fairy glass
Somethin you think will last
And when they crop you like a clown
You got your smile on upside down
B-baby I refuse
(I do refuse)
Uh, you can pick or choose
(I do refuse)
Find omebody else to use
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
And everythings on a whim
Thats what you said to him
Lyin in wunderlust
Are feelings you never trust
And when they pamper you with ice
I cant believe you dont think twice
Uh baby I refuse
(I do refuse)
Uh, you can pick or choose
(I do refuse)
Find somebody else to use
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
And everyone makes the play
With nothing left much to say
Theyre all in an endless line
Waiting for equal time
They keep screaming its the truth
And you keep kneelin in the booth
Oh baby I refuse
(I do refuse)
Uh, you can pick or choose
(I do refuse)
Find somebody else to use
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
Oh, I do refuse
(I do refuse)
Oh, you got nothin to lose
(I do refuse)
Find somebody else to use
(find somebody else to use)
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
I refuse
(I do refuse)
Ah, oo-oo

[...] Read more

song performed by Cars
Added by Lucian Velea
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Paying The Wrong Guys

To the artist you claim to support.
Why do you continue to rip off.
An abandon moral objective.
Just because advertisement says free.
Just buy a song or cd.
A single song, a single cd.

It is not an evil industry.
Most of artist produce their own labels.
And regardless they still receive their royalties.
Yet we still prefer the illegal activities.
The kingdom of piracy.
Just buy a song or cd.

With Google we spy everything.
Including these companies who offer premium downloads for a fee.
Outrageous as it might seem.
It's not even legal.
Write a complaint and its ignored.
The greed is even in our technology.

Theft is theft no matter the method.
Just buy a song or cd.

Theft is theft no matter the method.
Just buy a song or cd.

The money that should be going to the musicians.
And it will be just wasted in all eventualities in legal fees.
99.9% of these artist are of the middle class.
Intellectual property.
The laws haven't quite caught up.
And they probably never will.
Just do what's right.
And buy a song or cd.

Theft is theft no matter the method.
Just buy a song or cd.

Is it the generation?
Please prove me wrong.

Theft is theft no matter the method.
Just buy a song or cd.

Is it the generation?
Please prove me wrong.

Do we not understand what we are promoting?
We do have a choice.

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Refuse (Song)

burning in the blazing heat
i would tell the guitar
its time to refuse

all the souls are need in a break
going back to home
refusing the symphony
you give

time to refuse(3)
refuse refuse

life not meant to refuse
but refuse death
you refuse life

the stakes are high
id tell the guitar
its time

time to refuse

burning in the blazing heat
i would tell the guitar
its time to refuse

climb the highest tower
you were born a star
the world will know you

born that way
born to be special
yeah yeah yeah

your gonna make it
i know
i know your gonna make it

escape refuse from the paradise
refuse
You dont have to roll the dice

yeah yeah
your gonna make it
refuse! ! !

poem by Raabia Tabassum
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Sinful identity

It wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so handsomely procreated me; nor was
it my fault that the house in which I emitted my first
infantile cry; overflowed with unfathomable oceans of
glittering gold,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
baselessly rejoiced and took all their hard-earned
wealth for granted; miserably dithered in my
impoverished life to carve a philanthropically
blissful identity of my very own….

It wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so majestically procreated me; nor was
it my fault that the house in which I emitted my
first baby cry; had an endless inundation of sparkling
currency coin,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
parasitically feasted and took all their hard-earned
wealth for granted; pathetically staggered in my
diminutive life to carve a synergistically blazing
identity of my very own….

It wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so wonderfully procreated me; nor was
it my fault that the house in which I emitted my first
incoherent cry; remained perpetually embellished with
resplendently enamoring diamonds,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
derogatorily marauded and took all their hard-earned
wealth for granted; dismally stuttered in my truncated
life to carve a celestially vibrant identity of my
very own…
It wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so marvelously procreated me; nor was
it my fault that the house in which I emitted my first
nimble cry; contained every speck of prosperity on
this timeless planet,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
indiscriminately terrorized and took all their
hard-earned wealth for granted; meaninglessly quavered
in my destined life to carve a beautifully magnanimous
identity of my very own…..

It wasn’t the slightest in my hands to choose the
parents who had so amazingly procreated me; nor was it
my fault that the house in which I emitted my first
inaudible cry; had its foundations resting on an
insurmountable mountain of pearls,
But it would irrefutably be the greatest sin if I
savagely massacred and took all their hard-earned

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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I Refuse to Lament

I have things to lament.
You have things to lament.
I refuse to lament.
But, you stay glued to sentiments,
With contented reasons meant.

I have things to lament.
You have things to lament.
I refuse to lament.
But, you stay glued to sentiments,
With contented reasons meant.

Growing old,
You lament.
As if you're sold,
To lament.
Inviting mold,
To convince to start a pointless argument.

Growing old,
You lament.
As if you're sold,
To lament.
Inviting mold,
To convince to start a pointless argument.

I have things to lament.
You have things to lament.
I refuse to lament.
But, you stay glued to sentiments,
With contented reasons meant.

Growing old,
You lament.
As if you're sold,
To lament.
Inviting mold,
To convince to start a pointless argument.

I refuse to lament.
But, you stay glued to sentiments,
With contented reasons meant.

I have things to lament.
You have things to lament.
Why shoiuld we be here lamenting,
When lamenting makes no sense.

I have things to lament.
You have things to lament.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We Reserve The Right To Refuse Service To You

(kinky friedman, rick goldberg, j. maizel)
While traveling through the lone star state
I lost my lunch before I ate,
It happened in a pull-ahead caf. yahoo!
I felt my bones begin to crunch
I saw my name on the businessmans lunch
And the neck who owned the place stepped up to say:
hey buddy, are you blind,
Say, partner, cant you read the sign ?
We reserve the right to refuse service to you,
Take your business back to walgreens,
Have you tried your local zoo ?
You smell just like a communist,
You come on through just like a jew,
We reserve the right to refuse service to you.
Well, I walked on in to my house of god
Congregation on the nod,
Just chosen folks are doing their weekly thing.
Hear, o israel, yes indeed,
My book was backwards, couldnt read,
But I got a good rise when I heard that rabbi sing,
boruch atoh adonoi,
What the hell are you doing back there, boy ?
We reserve the right to refuse services to you,
Your friends are all on welfare
You call yourself a jew ?
You need your ticket and your tie
To zip your prayers on through,
We reserve the right to refuse services unto you.
Life from laos and cambodia
No more tears tonight they showed ya
The latest old war movies on tv.
You know its bound to escalate
So go and turn on channel eight,
Watch channel seven border channel three.
Well, I wont mind your tanks and jets and jeeps
And speaking on behalf of all my fellow creeps:
We reserve the right to refuse service to you,
Right, face, forward, move
And get the children, too.
Let saigons be bygones,
Dont you blow this world in two.
We reserve the right to refuse service to you.
Well, its just my luck that gods a texan
One big sonbitchin anglo-saxon,
Some crazy tall norwegian bore
Just to help my body shipped air-freight
From texas to the pearly gate
Just ring the bell and leave me at the door.
Ill be somewhere over jordan swinging low,

[...] Read more

song performed by Kinky Friedman
Added by Lucian Velea
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When Im Yours

(head)
Turning me on and with your eyes
Playing along and with your eyes
Coming on strong and with your eyes
You burn me
Searching to please and with your smile
Cursing with ease and with your smile
Kindle the flame and with your smile
You burn me
Id rather you told me that you couldnt care less
Than put me through numbers that feel like a test
I want you
But I gotta know that Im wanted
That I dont get taken for granted
When Im yours
Turning me on and with your eyes
Playing along and with your eyes
Coming on strong and with your eyes
You burn me
Searching to please and with your smile
Cursing with ease and with your smile
Kindle the flame and with your smile
You burn me
Id rather you told me that you couldnt care less
Than put me through numbers that feel like a test
I want you
Ill be yours to command and obey
I wont demand, but I gotta know
That Im wanted
And I dont get taken for granted
When Im yours
Break
Ill be yours to command and obey
I wont demand, but I gotta know
That Im wanted
And I dont get taken for granted
When Im yours
Ill be yours to command and obey
I wont demand, but I gotta know
That Im wanted
And I dont get taken for granted
When Im yours
Ill be yours to command and obey
I wont demand, but I gotta know
That Im wanted
And I dont get taken for granted
When Im yours
Ill be yours to command and obey
I wont demand, but I gotta know
That Im wanted

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song performed by Hollies
Added by Lucian Velea
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Amnesty Is Granted

Loves an hourglass.
It goes out wide then it comes in closer.
It drifts away leaving empty shattered moments.
Who said that love could last forever.
Im growin tired of feelin like I do.
As we drift apart.
Little secerts come between us.
As we sail away.
Feelin comfort in the distance.
You said that love would last forever.
Neither one of us will ever surrender.
Theres a time.
Theres a place.
A change of heart.
About face.
This is about love.
Its about forgiveness.
Tell me now -
Tell me like it is.
You dont have to give -
Amnesty is granted.
Whats done is done for everyone.
Come on baby let start again right now.
Amnesty, amnesty, amnesty is granted.
Yeah, I think a lot.
Yeah I been thinkin a lot.
I been thinkin about you baby.
Lord knows Ive been thinkin about you.
Ive been thinkin that love would last forever.
Neither one of us will ever surrender.
Theres a time.
Theres a place.
A change of heart.
About face.
This is about love.
Its about forgiveness.
Tell me now -
Tell me like it is.
You dont have to give -
Amnesty is granted.
Well done is done for everyone.
Come on baby let start again right now.
Amnesty, amnesty, amnesty is granted.
Neither one of us will ever surrender.
Theres a time.
Theres a place.
A change of heart.
About face.
This is about love.
Its about forgiveness.

[...] Read more

song performed by Meat Loaf
Added by Lucian Velea
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Magic

Magic,
Can attract.
To...
Keep one mesmerized,
All their lives.
And...
Without a fantasizing it,
To...
Hynotize for somebody's,
Benefit.

Magic...
Will attract.
And...
Keep one seeking to stay hook,
As if it was a drug to eat and cook.

A magic!
Whether black or white,
Is a magic...
To not be denied,
As magic...
From another place.
Removing everything taken once for granted.

It's magic!
Whether black or white,
Is a magic...
To not be denied,
As magic...
From another place.
Removing everything one took for granted.

It's magic,
From another place.
Removing everything taken once for granted.
It's magic!
Whether black or white,
And removing everything to clear one's eyes.

Magic...
Will attract,
A magic!
Whether black or white,
Is a magic...
To not be denied,
As magic...
From places unseen.
And removing false things people claim to dream.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator

Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!

It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!

Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Metamorphoses: Book The Seventh

THE Argonauts now stemm'd the foaming tide,
And to Arcadia's shore their course apply'd;
Where sightless Phineus spent his age in grief,
But Boreas' sons engage in his relief;
And those unwelcome guests, the odious race
Of Harpyes, from the monarch's table chase.
With Jason then they greater toils sustain,
And Phasis' slimy banks at last they gain,
Here boldly they demand the golden prize
Of Scythia's king, who sternly thus replies:
That mighty labours they must first o'ercome,
Or sail their Argo thence unfreighted home.
The Story of Meanwhile Medea, seiz'd with fierce desire,
Medea and By reason strives to quench the raging fire;
Jason But strives in vain!- Some God (she said)
withstands,
And reason's baffl'd council countermands.
What unseen Pow'r does this disorder move?
'Tis love,- at least 'tis like, what men call love.
Else wherefore shou'd the king's commands appear
To me too hard?- But so indeed they are.
Why shou'd I for a stranger fear, lest he
Shou'd perish, whom I did but lately see?
His death, or safety, what are they to me?
Wretch, from thy virgin-breast this flame expel,
And soon- Oh cou'd I, all wou'd then be well!
But love, resistless love, my soul invades;
Discretion this, affection that perswades.
I see the right, and I approve it too,
Condemn the wrong- and yet the wrong pursue.
Why, royal maid, shou'dst thou desire to wed
A wanderer, and court a foreign bed?
Thy native land, tho' barb'rous, can present
A bridegroom worth a royal bride's content:
And whether this advent'rer lives, or dies,
In Fate, and Fortune's fickle pleasure lies.
Yet may be live! for to the Pow'rs above,
A virgin, led by no impulse of love,
So just a suit may, for the guiltless, move.
Whom wou'd not Jason's valour, youth and blood
Invite? or cou'd these merits be withstood,
At least his charming person must encline
The hardest heart- I'm sure 'tis so with mine!
Yet, if I help him not, the flaming breath
Of bulls, and earth-born foes, must be his death.
Or, should he through these dangers force his way,
At last he must be made the dragon's prey.
If no remorse for such distress I feel,
I am a tigress, and my breast is steel.
Why do I scruple then to see him slain,

[...] Read more

poem by Ovid
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Metamorphoses: Book The Thirteenth

THE chiefs were set; the soldiers crown'd the
field:
To these the master of the seven-fold shield
Upstarted fierce: and kindled with disdain.
Eager to speak, unable to contain
His boiling rage, he rowl'd his eyes around
The shore, and Graecian gallies hall'd a-ground.
The Then stretching out his hands, O Jove, he cry'd,
Speeches of Must then our cause before the fleet be try'd?
Ajax and And dares Ulysses for the prize contend,
Ulysses In sight of what he durst not once defend?
But basely fled that memorable day,
When I from Hector's hands redeem'd the flaming
prey.
So much 'tis safer at the noisie bar
With words to flourish, than ingage in war.
By diff'rent methods we maintain our right,
Nor am I made to talk, nor he to fight.
In bloody fields I labour to be great;
His arms are a smooth tongue, and soft deceit:
Nor need I speak my deeds, for those you see,
The sun, and day are witnesses for me.
Let him who fights unseen, relate his own,
And vouch the silent stars, and conscious moon.
Great is the prize demanded, I confess,
But such an abject rival makes it less;
That gift, those honours, he but hop'd to gain,
Can leave no room for Ajax to be vain:
Losing he wins, because his name will be
Ennobled by defeat, who durst contend with me.
Were my known valour question'd, yet my blood
Without that plea wou'd make my title good:
My sire was Telamon, whose arms, employ'd
With Hercules, these Trojan walls destroy'd;
And who before with Jason sent from Greece,
In the first ship brought home the golden fleece.
Great Telamon from Aeacus derives
His birth (th' inquisitor of guilty lives
In shades below; where Sisyphus, whose son
This thief is thought, rouls up the restless heavy
stone),
Just Aeacus, the king of Gods above
Begot: thus Ajax is the third from Jove.
Nor shou'd I seek advantage from my line,
Unless (Achilles) it was mix'd with thine:
As next of kin, Achilles' arms I claim;
This fellow wou'd ingraft a foreign name
Upon our stock, and the Sisyphian seed
By fraud, and theft asserts his father's breed:
Then must I lose these arms, because I came

[...] Read more

poem by Ovid
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A Guideline To Readers

if you really want to be with me
i can sacrifice your presence like a lamb burned so the gods may smell the reality
of the smoke of death and pain and
sorrow

we can be together in all these realities
the first pact is: acceptance
you see what you get and you get what you see
as simple as that
no tricks no magic
plain hands nothing rubbery or plastic

we do not expect anything
in here there is no disappointment of what should have been or ought to be
anyway
the agreement reached is the voluntarism of our two wills
you invite yourself
and i invite you to invite me in return

we live in one house with only one door the getting in
we have two windows our two views on every matter presented by nature everyday
the sun in the morning the moon at night and some stars as bonus or the wind
and the trees, all these cliches of reality less the complicating ones those
sophistication of
sophistry and those fingers of an octal arguments
we are tired we ought to know better than tired

we make a river of course to justify our thirst for bridges
and some boats for easy rides
the paddles can come later when we are ready to learn to swim
whatever that
comes first in our mind shall all be welcome guests
no barrier no social mores no restrictions no exclusions
that is the rule here
openness of the roof and soon there will be no roof even

then we have a garden of grass and stones delineated well by the aid of
the grace of our imagination
more words that do not really help
but we tolerate it anyway to keep things going like a line of cars waiting for the go signal

did you hear the drivers sing? did you notice the silent passengers afraid that
we will cheat them into these useless endeavor to keep on talking
though
we really mean nothing?

stupidity is a trail a tail of the rainbow where actually there is no pot of gold out there
it is trail that we all are taking now and yet
we refuse to stop we refuse to recognize that we are all fools
who take pride that we are the only ones who change our minds

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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With No Regrets That Can Take My Breath

Oh...
I am a fighter!
With a decision made long ago,
How it was I will live my life.
On my terms.
Knowing I would have to sacrifice.

I have had no doubts about it.
And will do what I feel is right,
For me.
With a living of my life to be,
My own.

I've turned away from those things I can't use.
I've turned away those things I refuse.
I've turned away from everyday headaches.
I've turned away from anything petty,
To get me fed up and upset.

I've turned away from anything petty.
I've turned away from everyday headaches.
I've turned away those things I refuse.
I've turned away from those things I can't use.

Oh...
I am a fighter!
And will do what I feel is right,
For me.

I've turned away from anything petty.
I've turned away from everyday headaches.
I've turned away those things I refuse.
I've turned away from those things I can't use,
To get me fed up and upset.

Oh...
I am a fighter!
And refuse to be fed up and upset!

Oh I know that I am fighter.
And refuse to be fed up and upset!
I refuse to be fed up and upset,
With regrets that can take my breath.

Oh I know that I am a fighter.
With no regrets that can take my breath,
Away.
With no regrets that can take my breath.
With no regrets that can take my breath,
Away.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Johnnie Armstrang

Some speak of lords, some speak of lairds,
And sic like men of high degree;
Of a gentleman I sing a sang,
Some time call'd Laird of Gilnockie.

The king he writes a loving letter,
With his ain hand sae tenderlie,
And he hath sent it to Johnnie Armstrang,
To come and speak with him speedilie.

The Elliots and Armstrangs did convene,
They were a gallant companie:
'We'll ride and meet our lawful king,
And bring him safe to Gilnockie.

'Make kinnen and capon ready, then,
And venison in great plentie;
We'll welcome here our royal king;
I hope he'll dine at Gilnockie!'

They ran their horse on the Langholm howm,
And brake their spears with meikle main;
The ladies lookit frae their loft windows--
'God bring our men weel hame again!'

When Johnnie came before the king,
With all his men sae brave to see,
The king he moved his bonnet to him;
He ween'd he was a king as well as he.

'May I find grace, my sovereign liege,
Grace for my loyal men and me?
For my name it is Johnnie Armstrang,
And a subject of yours, my liege,' said he.

'Away, away, thou traitor strang!
Out of my sight soon may'st thou be!
I granted never a traitor's life,
And now I'll not begin with thee.'

'Grant me my life, my liege, my king!
And a bonnie gift I'll gi'e to thee;
Full four-and-twenty milk-white steeds,
Were all foal'd in ae year to me.

'I'll gi'e thee all these milk-white steeds,
That prance and nicher at a spear;
And as meikle gude Inglish gilt,
As four of their braid backs dow bear.'

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Lang
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Bell's Palsy I Penned stroke on stroke penned - Optimistic In...Sight

Bell's Palsy I

December turns November's page.
Assumptions artificial,
priorities age must regauge
of ease so superficial
the tenets, try to disengage
from palsy interstitial,
periphery extend sans rage
ineptly hit-and-missile.
Paralysis as passing stage
perceived though prejudicial
as challenge met we trust will wage
war on clock lock official,
ensuring both for sot and sage
return to strength initial...

II

Bell’s Palsy II – Number Seven Optic Nerve

Number seven optic nerve, now numb,
taken for granted, normally ignored,
leaves facial features slanted. Voice, not dumb,
answers questions with weak monochord.
Flesh elastic flaccid has become,
control relinquished, hanging on a word.
Vision peripheral blurred. Though rule of thumb
Provides for time-line, faculties restored,
Frustration, hope, play hide-and-seek, mind glum,
stares awry at some lop-sided smile. Record
of former glory plays back yet stays mum.
May this as an example serve, health granted
For future learning curve can’t be transplanted.

3 December 2007 revised 8 August 2008

Bell's Palsy III - Recounting Countdown

Recounting Countdown

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Bell's Palsy XIV - Dew Diligence

Bell's Palsy XIV - Dew Diligence

Dew diligence when eyelid is denied
control of wink, when blink becomes a feat
beyond the ken of mice and men, conceit
melts to humility, while cares abide.
Heartbeat accelerates to concide
with worry, movements taken for a ride
by malady haphazard striking fleet.
Fixed expression canvas could complete
as flexibility falls to one side,
focus reduced, no longer far and wide,
too close for comfort, wanders off the beat.
Pride, knocked for skittles, cannot make ends meet,
patience, once praised, stays stage-struck, sorely tried.
Fixed interest stocks soar, gilt lining’s sought
to train too slack to credit outlook taut.

5 December 2007

Bell's Palsy XV - Dissymmetry

Confusion from confusion must adjust
to face tomorrow’s out of kilter grin
with humour ‘til the specialists non-plussed
seize on season’s reason, find win-win
solution to an accident now cussed
in no uncertain terms as worms begin
to lay their weight on current state where lust
must bridled be, - who’d seek as kith and kin
one open eye, one which retains unfussed
perspective, lacks control of muscle spin
to twin both sides in unison true, just.
Dissymmetry becomes a moral gin
and handicap self-efident, untrussed
is optic nerve from verse which would begin
to laugh at luck, continue tongue in cheek
to find new way to strength transformed from weak.

5 December 2007

Bell's Palsy XVI - To Test Frontiers

Inertia catalyzes swift reaction

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Bell's Palsy XV - Dissymmetry

Bell's Palsy XV - Dissymmetry

Confusion from confusion must adjust
to face tomorrow’s out of kilter grin
with humour ‘til the specialists non-plussed
seize on season’s reason, find win-win
solution to an accident now cussed
in no uncertain terms as worms begin
to lay their weight on current state where lust
must bridled be, - who’d seek as kith and kin
one open eye, one which retains unfussed
perspective, lacks control of muscle spin
to twin both sides in unison true, just.
Dissymmetry becomes a moral gin
and handicap self-efident, untrussed
is optic nerve from verse which would begin
to laugh at luck, continue tongue in cheek
to find new way to strength transformed from weak.

5 December 2007

Bell's Palsy XVI - To Test Frontiers

Inertia catalyzes swift reaction
testing limits unbeknownst before,
experienced elsewhere, though, we ignore
discomforts which might hamper freedom, action.
Impervious to muscular contraction,
left eyelid, lip, unable are to draw
lines which smile, frown designed, while vision poor
interferes, and adds unsought distraction.
In health, free from nervous petrifaction
few seek out illness, won’t by choice explore
the options close to those that chance, gene flaw
or accident are trapped, lose speech, sight, traction.
Fresh emphasis on disabilities
should top the list of our priorities.

5 December 2007

Bell's Palsy XVII - Temptations

Blessed externals force the mind to turn

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poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
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Bell's Palsy XVI - To Test Frontiers

Bell's Palsy XVI - To Test Frontiers

Inertia catalyzes swift reaction
testing limits unbeknownst before,
experienced elsewhere, though, we ignore
discomforts which might hamper freedom, action.
Impervious to muscular contraction,
left eyelid, lip, unable are to draw
lines which smile, frown designed, while vision poor
interferes, and adds unsought distraction.
In health, free from nervous petrifaction
few seek out illness, won’t by choice explore
the options close to those that chance, gene flaw
or accident are trapped, lose speech, sight, traction.
Fresh emphasis on disabilities
should top the list of our priorities.

5 December 2007

Bell's Palsy XVII - Temptations

Blessed externals force the mind to turn
within to test perception shared by all
who, sight curtailed, or lost beyond recall,
must grasp at straws, effect and cause discern,
too well aware temptations bridges burn.
First impressions seem attaitned, ball
‘questions aye’s and no’s’, past free-for-all
is circumcised, undertain seems return
to ‘normalcy’ which, hitherto could earn
approval’s hallmark stamp. Cramps now forestall
options infinite. Cut and dried, in thrall,
one’s tied who far and wide went, wit withdrawn
from choice unlimited as on this page
fragility highlights restictive cage.

5 December 2007

Bell's Palsy XVIII - Fragility

Ink flows as if it knows that tale once writ
cannot rephrase a passing phase whose light

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poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
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Bell's Palsy XVII - Temptations

Bell's Palsy XVII - Temptations

Blessed externals force the mind to turn
within to test perception shared by all
who, sight curtailed, or lost beyond recall,
must grasp at straws, effect and cause discern,
too well aware temptations bridges burn.
First impressions seem attaitned, ball
‘questions aye’s and no’s’, past free-for-all
is circumcised, undertain seems return
to ‘normalcy’ which, hitherto could earn
approval’s hallmark stamp. Cramps now forestall
options infinite. Cut and dried, in thrall,
one’s tied who far and wide went, wit withdrawn
from choice unlimited as on this page
fragility highlights restictive cage.

5 December 2007

Bell's Palsy XVIII - Fragility

Ink flows as if it knows that tale once writ
cannot rephrase a passing phase whose light
too soon extinguished must merge into night
where sot or sage blot page, through age unfit.
We’re puppets strung, hands wrung won’t change a bit
repeated role enforced by karmic spite.
If free-will reigns, there’s no pre-destined right
or wrong, no rung to heav’n, no roasting spit.
Through ‘accident’ or ‘fate’ fragility
in spotlight’s thrown, ‘to be, or not to be’
depends upon coincidence where rules
few follow with prescient authority.
Manage man age when palsied dry eye’s numb
is out of reach with speech deformed, near dumb.

5 December 2007 revised 17 January 2008

Bell's Palsy XIX - Moving Finger Writes

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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