We say we want to create beauty, identity, quality, singularity. And yet, maybe in truth these cities that we have are desired. Maybe their very characterlessness provides the best context for living.
quote by Rem Koolhaas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beauty Finds Truth In Beauty
Beauty finds beauty in beauty,
Narrowness is barred there to peep,
Conventions’ scales, cry in Time’s ashes,
Incarnated Beauty disobeys spectacles,
The packed eye sights bar out cataracts.
Biased walls of collected customs, over ruled,
Stationed liberty executes the truth.
You artist get transferred into the truth,
Beauty flowers your garden mouth.
The forms with their identity’s names,
Are prism –dropped, rays of the source same.
You plasma monitors the reflection of the two,
‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty’, -save are you who?
poem by Ray Subrata Ray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Identity Of I
Identity is not what I promise others
Identity is what I do when I am alone
Identity is what I think of others
Knowing all the hatred they've shown
Identity is what every wound reminds me
Identity is what I learn and what I pass by
Identity is what I see in the mirror
After giving my best try
Identity is what I make out of my given chance
Identity is what I accept and what I deny
No one else has control over me
Life is about me, and what I identify
poem by Abhiraj Rajadhyaksha
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As the Dawn Comes.
As the dawn comes
I remember what mama used to say
You are a man
Never you forget
The truth is that we lose our identity
As we chase the wind
I ask myself again
What my lot here is
One day I will die
What legacy will I leave then?
The truth is that we lose our identity
As we chase the wind
It has been said that
Being siblings is like waking in one room
In the morning each finds
His own way
The truth is that we lose our identity
As we chase the wind
Even saints tell their Lord
Let no human tie however dear
Prevent me from
Following the way to God
The truth is that we lose our identity
As we chase the wind.
poem by Samuel Nze
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Absence
I speak to you over cities
I speak to you over plains
My mouth is against your ear
The two sides of the walls face
my voice which acknowledges you.
I speak to you of eternity.
O cities memories of cities
cities draped with our desires
cities early and late
cities strong cities intimate
stripped of all their makers
their thinkers their phantoms
Landscape ruled by emerald
live living ever-living
the wheat of the sky on our earth
nourishes my voice I dream and cry
I laugh and dream between the flames
between the clusters of sunlight
And over my body your body extends
the layer of its clear mirror.
poem by Paul Eluard
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Me: The thief of my Identity
The thief of my Identity
To my Friends and Family
My true Identity
Is all that makes me
I stole my identity
My personality
What I live for, What I breath for
What I'd fight for, what I'd die for
If not for my soul,
I would be lost once again
For my True Identity has fled me
Fled me for another
It is the dancing shadow you play with,
The beauty you can see in yourself,
And the hostility.
It wants to see you suffer,
It is most content, when you are in despair.
When I can look into my self
and find the real Identity of my inner self,
Until then I will not blame anyone
for my misfortune
poem by Brad Combs
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In terms of an identity, an identity reflects an individuality, by definition. And, if there is a quality present, it is recognizable and it can be named. If you can't name it, it means you don't recognize it.
quote by Robert Fripp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mystery To Me
(berry/buck/mills/stipe)
Living in cities, living in cars
Living the way you never wanted to
Living in alleys, living it down
Living the way you always thought youd do
Shakin it up shakin it down
Shakin the way you never wanted to
Living in cities, living in cars
Living the way you always thought
Youd do
You feel so old, I feel so new
Tell me what you want me to
Do you want me to go all night
Do you want me to tell you youre all
Right
Living in cities, living in cars
Living the way you never wanted to
Lord, I feel so new
Tell me what you want me to do
And its a mystery to me
And its a mystery to me
Well your trying, trying to look so hard
But you want, but you want, but you want to go
Living in cities, living in cars
Living the way you never wanted to
Shakin it up, shaking it down
Shakin the way you always thought youd do
You feel so old, I feel so new
Tell me what you want me to do
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lonely Cities Of The Heart
As the midnight fades in boys town
And the hustle stops to glow
This urban landscape sprawls before me
And the hunger starts to grow
But something more than my daddy showed to me
How he wanted to make a man of me
Living in the lonely cities of the heart
Hiding in the shadows and searching in the dark
My mama reads me like an open book
She knows when Im up or down
But every night I stay longer
In the creole part of town
Something more than what the good lord gave to me
Something more, much more than this
Living in the lonely cities of the heart
Hiding in the shadows, searching in the dark
And it never stops, no it never stops, no one defends you now
Living in the lonely cities of the heart
(instrumental)
I can take a little pain, but not tonight again
Outside my hotel window I hear the mardi gras
Keep the candle burning bright babe, Ive come too far
As daylight creeps through the curtains I start to slip away,
And everything that seems so certain is just another day
Living in the lonely cities of the heart
Hiding in the shadows searching in the dark
And it never stops, no it never stops, no one defends you now
Living in the lonely cities of the heart
Hiding in the shadows searching in the dark
And it never stops, no it never stops, no one defends you now
Living in the lonely cities of the heart
Living in the lonely cities of the heart...
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Absence
I speak to you across cities
I speak to you across plains
My mouth is upon your pillow
Both faces of the walls come meeting
My voice discovering you
I speak to you of eternity
O cities memories of cities
Cities wrapped in our desires
Cities come early cities come lately
Cities strong and cities secret
Plundered of their master's builders
All their thinkers all their ghosts
Fields pattern of emerald
Bright living surviving
The harvest of the sky over our earth
Feeds my voice I dream and weep
I laugh and dream among the flames
Among the clusters of the sun
And over my body your body spreads
The sheet of it's bright mirror.
poem by Paul Eluard
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No One That Is Living Has A Quality Owed
No one that is living,
Has a quality owed.
No one that is giving,
Has a quality owed.
No one who is wishing,
Has a quality owed...
With nothing less,
Than solid gold.
With expectations,
Another holds...
Delivered and quick to give.
No one is living,
To demand and get.
No one is living,
Just to benefit.
No one is living...
Just to sit!
And to get.
No one that is living,
Has a quality owed.
No one that is giving,
Has a quality owed.
No one who is wishing,
Has a quality owed...
With nothing less,
Than solid gold.
With expectations,
Another holds...
Delivered and quick to give.
No one is living,
To demand and to get.
No one is living,
Just to benefit.
No one is living,
Just to sit and sit.
No matter what it is...
To receive without a risk.
And if they don't,
They throw a fit.
No one is living,
To demand and to get.
No one is living,
Just to benefit.
No one is living,
Just to sit and sit.
No matter what it is...
To receive without a risk.
And if they don't,
They throw a fit.
No one that is living,
Has a quality owed.
No one that is giving,
Has a quality owed.
No one who is wishing,
Has a quality owed...
With nothing less,
Than solid gold.
To demand and magically get.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Lonely Spider
The lonely spider reaches out
For what, you might ask?
If not to spin his web then for what?
For his identity
The identity of him
His identity...
The lonely spider calls out
For what, you might ask?
If not for his mate then for what?
For his identity
The identity of him
His identity...
The lonely spider waits
For what, you might ask?
If not for his food then for what?
For his identity
The identity of him
His identity...
'A spider doesn't have feelings! '
How should you know?
'A spider isn't that smart! '
That could be true.
'A spider can never have a real identity! '
And neither could you, or any of us
But we try to find one even if we're not looking
And thats our life... after which we die
What have we done with our life up until then?
Either we've thrown it away, gave it up, wrecked it, lived it up to the fullest, took it for granted, or got far in it.
We still had one.
It's up to us what we shall do with it
Just like the lonely spider
Who will probably just end up on the bottom of your shoe anyways
poem by Andreanna Atkins
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My Identity
So lost deep inside,
Is all that makes me.
My true identity,
Is hard to see.
To my friends and family,
I’m a different me.
I have a secret identity,
Wonder if you’ll ever see.
My thoughts and actions,
Are all that makes me,
But some things I may do,
May not describe me.
Now look inside me,
If you ever feel,
like it,
I’m no-one but me,
Never hiding my identity.
Don’t say I am hypocrisy,
Because I never showed you,
two of me.
Now please,
Look at me,
Try to see the real me.
I’m no-one but,
my real identity.
All full of beauty,
Inside me.
poem by Yisel Chong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beauty Is Truth
Natural beauty of nature
Is like a beautiful damsel.
She needs no makeup or perfume
To enhance her physical beauty-
Her beauty is truth, period.
An anonymous wildflower
Growing with delicate fragrance
Beside a forests time-worn path
Can't be anymore lovelier
If plucked and placed within her locks;
Nor her comely grace be improved.
Their "beauty is truth, truth beauty"
Apart they are most beautiful;
In concert they accent the whole.
On a Grecian urn:
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty"
All we need to know.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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In cities like New York and Austin, there's much more of a social context for music than in other places.
Facade (a tritina)
So many have come to dwell behind a panarchy mask
Lost between the delusive dimensions of identity
Unable to perceive that which is deemed real
They dare not throw aside the caparison that veils the real
Lest those that wish to deceive and to mask
Would reveal the abstersive truth of their own identity
Yet if all would but don the verisimilitude of their identity
Then the shadows cast would corrivate into the real
And no longer would there lie merit within a mask
Are you the mask of your identity or are you real?
poem by Sheri Hockman
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Well, first of all the Dominion Bureau of Statistics made a survey in the spring of 1970, which showed that on balance the difference in the cost of living between Canadian cities and American cities was 5 % to the advantage, of course, to the Canadian cities.
quote by Leonard Woodcock
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The quality of mercy (conditions apply)
The quality of mercy,
Portia declared,
the quality of mercy is
suspended during the present conflict
the quality of mercy is
not the business of a Minister of Justice
the quality of mercy is
not a matter of individual conscience
the quality of mercy is
too subtle for public discussion
or law
the quality of mercy is
only for Shakespeare and stuff
the quality of mercy is
less stimulating than revenge
the quality of mercy is
no business of yours
the quality of mercy is
no concern of religious authorities
who should stay silent
the quality of mercy is
an outdated concept
the quality of mercy is
nothing to do with forgiveness
or circumstantial evidence
or the remission of sins
the quality of mercy is
no longer a matter of pride
the quality of mercy is
no longer a mark of humanity
the quality of mercy
would be OK if Obama said so
the quality of mercy
is one hell of a hot potato
cooked in oil
the quality of mercy
droppeth as the gentle
dew from heaven
upon a broken fuselage
and it is too much
or too little
for our understanding.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Ressurect this Attitude,
Ressurect this Attitude,
Ressurect this Attitude,
This Face is all Clear in Mind,
I take the Bread of Beauty,
In all of me Iam not Asleep,
The Living MAN in me faces no World that is False,
I see the Movement,
Whilst the Movement will Create a Trod of a Great Tribulation.
There is the Beauty,
There is the Beauty that is from Inert,
The Living Man will never Die,
The Thoughts will Ressurect the Composure,
That the Beauty is all Everlasting,
Take this Bread,
That where we are there are Glory than Failing's,
I can see by a Clear Mind,
That the Thought's hold a Meaning of a New Glory.
poem by Abdul Karim
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The skill of writing is to create a context in which other people can think.
quote by Edwin Schlossberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thrown to Hit
The truth has frightened.
None knew it would be like this.
They believed truth could be dismissed.
Like a white lie told from lips.
But truth is unresisting.
It hits like a ton of bricks.
And could care less,
Who denies its existence.
And those living without it...
Now find their lives in a mess.
The hour of truth has arrived.
And recognizing it,
Catches many by surprise.
Why?
Because so many believed,
It was something they could create.
Like a lie told that is given life.
But there is nothing artificial about truth.
It will always remain solid like a rock.
And when it is thrown to hit...
It hurts!
Getting over it...
Is not as easy as getting up off the ground!
Once it lands,
Truth has a tendency to stay around.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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