Of three things the devil makes a salad: advocate's tongues, notaries' fingers, and a third that shall be nameless.
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The devil makes his Christmas pies of lawyers' tongues and clerk's fingers.
Devil's Advocate... Prêcher le faux...
DEVIL'S ADVOCATE
'Two roads converge', said he, but she
on other bandwidths meditates
prior to stating priority,
strategic plans contrary fates.
So spins Time's wheel: here amity,
there love, confront as second states
mock head's tale. Linearity
unlocks no door but generates
confusion self-sustained which key
free-will acclaims, anticipates
tomorrow's brighter destiny
may map Life's lost co-ordinates.
Will often will shrug off restrictions,
still, seldom still: Man's contradictions.
Author notes
Prêcher le faux pour savoir le vrai
French: literally preach a lie to discover the truth
linearity... in one dimension or corresponding to a fixed thought, act or time-frame
27 July 2008
robi03_1792_robi03_0000 SXX_JZX Devil's Advocate
Devil's Advocate poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Quest for Ecstasy
Fingers touch and entwine
until they separate and wander.
Tongues touch and taste
whilst fingers delve then linger.
A desire for much more
whilst touching excites.
The closeness of the caress
causes passions to further ignite.
Tongues combine with fingers
in the quest for ecstasy.
The taste of what was promised
brings forth pure rhapsody.
poem by Orlando Belo
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We don't need a melting pot in this country, folks. We need a salad bowl. In a salad bowl, you put in the different things. You want the vegetables - the lettuce, the cucumbers, the onions, the green peppers - to maintain their identity. You appreciate differences.
quote by Jane Elliot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Devil Inside
(a farriss & m hutchence)
Here come the woman
With the look in her eye
Raised on leather
With flesh on her mind
Words as weapons sharper than knives
Makes you wonder how the other half die
Other half die
Here come the man
With the look in his eye
Fed on nothing
But full of pride
Look at them go
Look at them kick
Makes you wonder how the other half live
The devil inside
The devil inside
Every single one of us the devil inside
The devil inside
The devil inside
Every single one of us the devil inside
Here come the world
With the look in its eye
Future uncertain but certainly slight
Look at the faces
Listen to the bells
Its hard to believe we need a place called hell
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Child Speaks...
being lost in childhood
is nothing
but meditation
often in serene atmosphere
i tune my nostrils
to absorb
the lost fragrance of childhood
and the ears
to hear
the lost voices of childhood
and memories...
where i lived with nameless grass
nameless plants...
and their nameless Flowers...
nameless colours...
i played with ants
and nameless insects...
nameless butterflies...
i lived in shrubs
as if in a wild forest
without name
without words
a child speaks...
poem by Denny M.X.
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I hope you're representing the devil's advocate.
quote by Charles Olson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mango
in my youth
i did not wait for ripe mangoes
what we experience
is that
they are better eaten raw
sour
makes our tongues twist
and want for more
makes our eyes limp
and want for more
makes our tongues salivate
wanting for more
more of raw life, green hopes,
powerful stains that
mark our puberty pangs
sour memories that make us
want life more
garnished with salt and soy
and shrimp
that makes us ask for more
raw life, slices of salivations
no incantations
pouting lips, grinning teeth.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I've Seen The Devil (And He Looks Like You)
I've watched people in this world,
do evil things to each other,
I've seen them do evil things to the ones,
that they love and cherish,
but I never understood why they did,
the things that they do,
war to me is so useless,
couldn't we just find other ways,
to settle our differences,
except for trying to talk it out,
we put guns in the arms of our young ones,
Chorus: I've Seen The Devil,
and He looks like you,
I've Seen The Devil,
and he looks like you,
I've Seen The Devil,
and He Looks like you,
but do we really know what its all about,
do we really know why we do the things we do,
like going to war with one another,
trying to beat the devil that lives inside all of us,
I see the devil every single day,
I see him on the late night news,
and I see him on the covers of our magazines,
he tells us it’s going to be alright,
and that the wars going to be over,
only if we follow him,
and his un-holy union,
Chorus: I've Seen The Devil,
and He looks like you,
I've Seen The Devil,
and he looks like you,
I've Seen The Devil,
and He Looks like you,
but I don't see why we should,
follow you and your ways,
follow your path of destruction,
follow you and your destruction of the world,
why should we follow you,
you whisper stuff in our ears,
you say it’s going to be alright,
the next war that we fight will be the war of wars,
and we'll all die a Nuclear Holocaust,
and than we'll start a new,
The world would be new,
like back then when Jesus ruled,
when the world was new,
and not filled with your evilness,
and not filled with you,
Chorus: I've Seen The Devil,
and He looks like you,
I've Seen The Devil,
and he looks like you,
I've Seen The Devil,
and He Looks like you,
ever since time began we've been fighting,
fighting a war that we could never win,
a war within ourselves,
but the people in the world,
they fill us up with religious beliefs,
which is wrong,
and which is right,
we could never win the war within ourselves,
were so fed up with this world,
that we'd kill each other,
and ourselves to find a way out,
because we'd always knew that,
the children of today and the children of now,
would soon become,
children of the grave,
children of the darkness,
they'd become Satan's little soldiers,
Chorus: I've Seen The Devil,
and He looks like you,
I've Seen The Devil,
and he looks like you,
I've Seen The Devil,
and He Looks like you,
poem by Robert Rumery
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God save us from four people: doctors, notaries, pharmacists, and bad bosses.
Nameless Rain
Its raining again outside
And all the witches have to hide
And I stare out the window
And wonder if anyone knows
The name,
Of any single dropp of rain.
Nameless rain,
Do you ever get lonely?
Nameless rain,
Whats your name?
The clouds have huddled above us
As they seem to follow us
And I sit here in pain
Thinking of the rain,
Rolling down my window today.
Nameless rain,
Do you ever get lonely?
Is this a game you play?
To fall here everyday
Did you ever have a name?
Do you ever scream in pain?
Oh, nameless rain.
Are you cursed to fall forever?
For the crimes that you endeavored
If you washed us all away
Would you fall anyway?
Nameless rain,
Do you ever get lonely?
Nameless rain,
Whats your name?
poem by Blaine McCanless
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Word Salad
Like veggie salad tossed here and there
Random words mix up good meaning
Spiced up musings everywhere
The taste of which is quite confusing.
So I looked and read classic poetry
Perchance there find some gourmet score
Hoping my diligence gets the recipe
For the word salad I am looking for.
Salads taste nice with a little dressing
And thrown about words may hit some cue
I guess I could never do salad writing
So I stick to rhyme in the poems I do.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Salad is Incompatible with Life
Yes, my waist is fifty inches -
Big for me because I'm short.
And yes, I like my cheddar cheese
When partnered with a vintage port.
Okay, okay, that double cream
Is always served with pud,
And cake and biscuits with my tea
Are just no bloody good
For my poor hardened arteries,
But see my point of view,
Please dear wifey if you please,
A Salad makes me spew!
I'd rather eat a bowl of air
Than crunch away on greens;
Drink water from the toilet bowl
Or nibble on my jeans!
But salad! Are you there?
You know it makes me snappy -
So let me fill my face with grub,
Stay fat, and die young happy!
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Frenzied Fingers Run Amuck
When I get you into my arms
I can't control the things that I do.
Fingers grab the hair on your head.
Fingers caress the small of your back.
Fingers travel down your spine
and back up again.
Fingers reach to all corners of your being,
quietly unnoticed at first,
but more frenzied with passing time.
Wild fingers travel your soul
with frenzied action that is hard to stop.
Uncontrollable fingers run wild
until you beg them to stop.
But even then, there's no counting on it.
These fingers like to run wild.
Whenever I place my fingers on you,
frenzied fingers run amuck.
Truth And Justice.... (Part Two)
do i advocate violent overthrow of
the government? .... no!
but i do not advocate the abuse of
the individual either.
we need to arm ourselves with the
weapons of peace, reason, and understanding...
we need to see things as they are!
and we need to reach down deep inside,
and pull out the fortitude to stand...
for a freedom that is equal in all ways.
we need to take our anger at hunger,
homelessness and joblessness...
and turn it into a plow...
we need to plow the fields of parity!
whether we do it the right way,
or the wrong way....
something will be done!
the load has become too much,
and the stink too foul!
we will change!
be a part of it...
or be overcome by it!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Language Of Love
I want your flesh and blood
And to feel your heart pumping hard
I want to tell my story to your eyes
I want to watch you react
To me baby
Maybe I'm dreaming
I got to do something
We may be on the same planet
Living in different worlds
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devil's playground
Hear the church bells ring
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
She's my great obsession
And the girl likes me too
I think she has the wrong impression
She thinks I want to be friends
Maybe I'm dreaming
I better do something
We might be on the same planet
But talk different tongues
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devil's playground
Hear the church bells ring
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
She thinks I want to be friends
Maybe I'm dreaming
I better do something
We may be on the same planet
Living in different worlds
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devil's playground
Hear the church bells ring
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Petri-dish
Your love is like salad in a salad Petri-dish,
But, bounded in the myth of paradise! !
However, the pivoting labour of your muse acts like flaccid breasts;
And, tomorrow is the opening of your hot meal to the masses,
For, you are very much noted in this village.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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301
sweet chocolates
who will ever resist
sweet chocolates
we take with
our bare fingers
handing these
chocolates inside
our mouths melting
sweetly these
chocolates in
our tongues
putting heaven
sweet chocolate
so sweet inside
our mouths
playing with
our tongues
guilt food and
sin how do you
really love the
sweetness inside
our mouths
melting with
our tongues
these sweet
chocolates of
hidden sins
burning our souls.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Chocolates
sweet chocolates
who will ever resist
sweet chocolates
we take with
our bare fingers
handing these
chocolates inside
our mouths melting
sweetly these
chocolates in
our tongues
putting heaven
sweet chocolate
so sweet inside
our mouths
playing with
our tongues
guilt food and
sin how do you
really love the
sweetness inside
our mouths
melting with
our tongues
these sweet
chocolates of
hidden sins
burning our souls.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If I may say
Love comes and goes and it rarely lasts these days
That's one of the things that makes me sad if I may say
It becomes more and more difficult to find a true friend these days
That's one of the things that makes me sad if I may say
Too often siblings fight each other for property these days
That's one of the things that makes me sad if I may say
Greed and desire are what many people nurture these days
That's one of the things that makes me sad if I may say
Moral and ethic less and less people care these days
That's one of the things that makes me sad if I may say
Too many dubious actions and decisions I have seen these days
That's one of the things that makes me sad if I may say
With paper-white mind and evil thoughts astray
How much I yearn for my childhood life left behind so far away.
poem by Henry Chen
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