When people talk of the freedom of writing, speaking or thinking I cannot choose but laugh. No such thing ever existed. No such thing now exists; but I hope it will exist. But it must be hundreds of years after you and I shall write and speak no more.
quote by John Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
The Addiction To Write
THIS is my addiction: to write
my failure: sometimes i write without a direction
and my success: i am writing about everything
that happened here
without missing a thing
thru symbols and signs
when things i met are unbearable
thru stories to illustrate what
misery have others inflicted upon others
and themselves
thru poems that can speak what i do not wish
to tell you
this is my addiction: writing without a purpose
except to spend time with you
descriptive and not judgmental
letting the hours go and not imprisoning them in the
cells of my mind
accepting the fact that i am as insignificant as you
that we pass this way
and we do not really know where we are finally going
we hope that this is not just this
but that there is something beyond
we suspect but we kill it
we live each moment and so we live without fear
we are here because we are here
we step upon a path because it is a path
we think we think we always do this thinking
and it must not be for nothing
we think, we think.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Samurai culture did exist really, for hundreds of years and the notion of people trying to create some sort of a moral code, the idea that there existed certain behaviors that could be celebrated and that could be operative in a life.
quote by Edward Zwick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freedoms.
Freedom to write...
Freedom to swear.
Freedom of the right...
Here or there.
Freedom to vote...
To give your views in note.
Freedom to sing...
To wear a ring.
Freedom to talk...
About, most any thing.
Freedom to eat and drink...
Even free to not bathe, and maybe even unusually stink.
Freedom to think...
And form opinions.
Freedom to judge...
Even if someone thinks you wreak.
poem by Michael Gale
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Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is You
I don't look good in no Armani Suits
No Gucci shoes - or designer boots
I've tried the latest lines from A to Z
But there's just one thing that looks good on me
The only thing I want
The only thing I need
The only thing I choose
The only thing that looks good on me...is you
I'm not satisfied with Versace style
Put those patent leather pants - in the circular file
Sometimes I think - I might be lookin' good
But there's only one thing that fits me like it should
The only thing I want
The only thing I need
The only thing I choose
The only thing that looks good on me...is you
Ya it's you - it could only be you
Nobody else will ever do
Ya baby it's you - that I stick to
Ya we stick like glue
The only thing I want
The only thing I need
The only thing I choose
The only thing that looks good on me...is you
song performed by by Bryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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About My Very Tortured Friend, Peter
he lives in a house with a swimming pool
and says the job is
killing him.
he is 27. I am 44. I can’t seem to
get rid of
him. his novels keep coming
back. “what do you expect me to do?” he screams
“go to New York and pump the hands of the
publishers?”
“no,” I tell him, “but quit your job, go into a
small room and do the
thing.”
“but I need ASSURANCE, I need something to
go by, some word, some sign!”
“some men did not think that way:
Van Gogh, Wagner—”
“oh hell, Van Gogh had a brother who gave him
paints whenever he
needed them!”
“look,” he said, “I’m over at this broad’s house today and
this guy walks in. a salesman. you know
how they talk. drove up in this new
car. talked about his vacation. said he went to
Frisco—saw Fidelio up there but forgot who
wrote it. now this guy is 54 years
old. so I told him: ‘Fidelio is Beethoven’s only
opera.’ and then I told
him: ‘you’re a jerk!’ ‘whatcha mean?’ he
asked. ‘I mean, you’re a jerk, you’re 54 years old and
you don’t know anything!’”
“what happened
then?”
“I walked out.”
“you mean you left him there with
her?”
“yes.”
“I can’t quit my job,” he said. “I always have trouble getting a
job. I walk in, they look at me, listen to me talk and
they think right away, ah ha! he’s too intelligent for
this job, he won’t stay
so there’s really no sense in hiring
him.
now, YOU walk into a place and you don’t have any trouble:
you look like an old wino, you look like a guy who needs a
job and they look at you and they think:
ah ha!: now here’s a guy who really needs work! if we hire
him he’ll stay a long time and work
HARD!”
“do any of those people,” he asks “know you are a
writer, that you write poetry?”
“no.”
“you never talk about
it. not even to
me! if I hadn’t seen you in that magazine I’d
have never known.”
“that’s right.”
“still, I’d like to tell these people that you are a
writer.”
“I’d still like to
tell them.”
“why?”
“well, they talk about you. they think you are just a
horseplayer and a drunk.”
“I am both of those.”
“well, they talk about you. you have odd ways. you travel alone.
I’m the only friend you
have.”
“yes.”
“they talk you down. I’d like to defend you. I’d like to tell
them you write
poetry.”
“leave it alone. I work here like they
do. we’re all the same.”
“well, I’d like to do it for myself then. I want them to know why
I travel with
you. I speak 7 languages, I know my music—”
“forget it.”
“all right, I’ll respect your
wishes. but there’s something else—”
“what?”
“I’ve been thinking about getting a
piano. but then I’ve been thinking about getting a
violin too but I can’t make up my
mind!”
“buy a piano.”
“you think
so?”
“yes.”
he walks away
thinking about
it.
I was thinking about it
too: I figure he can always come over with his
violin and more
sad music.
poem by Charles Bukowski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is You
I don't look good in no Armani Suits
No Gucci shoes - or designer boots
I've tried the latest lines from A to Z
But there's just one thing that looks good on me
Chorus
The only thing I want
The only thing I need
The only thing I choose
The only thing that looks good on me...is you
I'm not satisfied with Versace style
Put those patent leather pants - in the circular file
Sometimes I think - I might be lookin' good
But there's only one thing that fits me like it should
Chorus
The only thing I want
The only thing I need
The only thing I choose
The only thing that looks good on me...is you
Ya it's you - it could only be you
Nobody else will ever do
Ya baby it's you - that I stick to
Ya we stick like glue
Chorus
The only thing I want
The only thing I need
The only thing I choose
The only thing that looks good on me...is you
song performed by by Bryan Adams from 18 Til I Die
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Poets
You speak for the lakes, the trees and the birds
You say what they'd say if they had the words.
Make PEACE and be proud, choose well every choice
Speak HOPE and speak loud, you are Nature's voice.
Speak with respect now, for jungles and streams,
Speak for all wildlife and dream giant dreams.
Speak with great courage, speak up and speak out,
Write with a whisper or write with a SHOUT!
Stand up young poets for clean air and rivers,
Free verse or lyric; your message delivers...
Truth to the future citizens of earth,
Speak of your freedom your friends and self worth.
Speak for tomorrow and though you're still young,
Speak for the Forest, your pen is her tongue.
The world waits to hear your songs still unsung
Words posses power, you can write the wrongs
Teach us and lead us with Poems and with songs.
Speak now for nature, for trees and for birds,
Defenders of Earth choose carefullly your words!
poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
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Didn't Care
You didn't care,
when I was alone,
fighting with,
me in your absence.
You didn't share,
your laughter, grief,
your sojourn...
I knitted a sweater,
for you,
with white and
sky blue.
You didn't come in winter.
Still now, it's with me.
You know, I have in my hair,
a flash of silver white!
Soon, I'll need spec,
to read your poems.
Oh! I forgot to tell,
you one thing, hmm.silly
though, no won't tell,
you will laugh then.
Everyday, I write a poem
thinking of you!
You told once, my poems
are rubbish!
But, believe me, I write,
squeezing my blood,
from my love for you!
If you won't talk,
well, I'll be speaking
aloud, rather, under,
the gulmohar tree,
under its bunch of
red flowers, or,
under any leafless tree,
one which you will prefer...
But, we must meet..
someday,
any day,
as it has been
fixed by God!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Are persons people?
and he says
you don’t write poetry to please people, you know
that’s with a comma after people
you write poems to please you
with shock lines like I still treasure
our first condom oh my love
to show that you’re cool and hip
but she says why write poems at all
if they don’t please people
men have such egos I suppose
it’s because they can’t have babies
but who are people anyway, how
many persons make a people or
how few persons and are they
a random mix or is there like
a recipe, some of this lot some of that
he says people who know about these things
like poetry but how do you know
which are the people who know
I’m not sure I know he knows for a start
and she says well ordinary people
so what then do you slide up
to a bus queue when there’s no
bus in sight and say look you’re
ordinary people I’ve been looking for you
yeah watch them give you a nasty look
and skedaddle pretending they remembered
they were due some place else
I’m beginning to wonder if people really exist
I mean as such but I’ll have to stop there
my PC says it’s run out of virtual memory
that’s another thing I don’t understand
maybe people are just a virtual memory too
I’m beginning to wonder if anyone knows
what *people* should think about poetry
maybe they should just write it throw it away
see who picks it up and not never nohow talk about
other *people’s* poetry
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Physical Poetry
The physics of poetry
is best explained in a mind experiment
in the construction of this very poem.
As I write the question becomes
what is the word-next and its origins?
Now what word-next can be
is a question of probabilities;
since if I choose rhyme as my scheme
and since the words which will rhyme are finite
and not infinite
the only question then becomes
which one of these will I choose.
Now if I choose a word-next outside
rhyming
then I risk not making poetic sense
since writing a gibberish word,
or one not related to the whole,
would be judged word-next nonsense.
Now we ask who or what in the brain
is making these two decisions
is it me or is it something mysterious;
is it drawing upon the past and memory
or from an instantaneous present
or even perhaps from my future?
Or is it just random choices I make
without even understanding them?
But suppose it is something we call
consciousness which exists
in the brain-cloud of cells which
can with millions of possibilities
produce a entirely new idea
which by definition
can come to exist
like language itself
and produce something never before said;
and now is being compiled in the brain
in this very instant and brought into existence.
That is humans have with language
the ability to create sentences
which have never before existed,
spoken or written because some languages have
enough words in them to make these permutations
near infinite and hence new ideas possible therewith.
Suppose the same is true of the human mind
and human senses make possible from this
this exercise we call
the idea.
So beyond the physical aspects of the brain
there must be a non-physical aspect we call
consciousness, the spiritual, or whatever
word we choose as its name.
Now the other half of the transaction
is even more amazing:
I just made up a new idea
never been expressed before
and can talk to you about it
and given enough clues
it becomes something you understand
and you yourself can write
a poem about.
This must be trans-consciousness
which is now a double miracle
nobody understands.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Some Took The Words Away
Poor head
Can hardly move my lips for speaking
I said
So, what is this thing I cannot explain?
I'd blame all the things I feel but can't quite place
Perhaps they're written on my face
Someone took the words away
Why don't you speak up and say what you mean?
Summon my powers of conversation
I talk to myself,
I'm fine
When you're around,
Then I decline the invitation
It's strange to finally find myself so tongue-tied
A change has come over me
I'm powerless to express
Every thing I know but cannot speak
And if I try my voice will break
Someone took the words away
Someone took the words away
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If the word gets out, if the perception exists that by speaking to a CBS journalist you are, therefore, inevitably, immediately speaking to the police, I don't think there's any doubt but that people won't talk. And, therefore, the public won't learn.
quote by Floyd Abrams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Be Wetin I Be!
THERE WAS NOT A WAR WHERE SOLDIERS DID NOT EXIST,
THERE WAS NOT A DEVIL, WHERE A GOD DID NOT EXIST,
THERE WAS NOT A FIRE THAT DID NOT BEGET SMOKE,
THERE WAS NOT A SKY WHERE A CLOUD EXISTED NOT,
THEN WHY SHOULD THERE BE I, WHEN I DID NOT EXIST?
I HAVE CEASED TO BE BEFORE BEING,
I HAVE CEASED TO EXIST BEFORE I EVEN EXISTED,
THEN, OF WHAT NEED IS THE PESTILENC?
IF THERE NEVER WAS ANY TO BE PESTERED,
FOR I AM NOT TO BE,
THEN LET ME CEASE TO BE,
THAT MY PEACE MAY BE,
THUS AND THEN, MAY I HAVE BEEN!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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Universal Freedom Is......
Freedom from hunger and freedom from pain
freedom from loss and so freedom from gain.
Freedom to give and freedom to share
freedom from want and that of despair.
Freedom to think and freedom to know
freedom to achieve and freedom to grow.
Freedom from bondage and freedom of liberation
freedom from ignorance and any unknown situation.
Freedom to come and freedom to leave
freedom to stay and freedom to conceive.
Freedom from struggle and freedom of ease
freedom to enjoy and the capacity to please.
Freedom from failure and freedom of success
freedom from denial and freedom of access.
Freedom from illusion and freedom of reality
freedom to become what we are in actuality.
Freedom to live and freedom to die
freedom to laugh and freedom to cry.
Freedom to speak and freedom to listen
freedom to act based on a wise decision.
Freedom from hate and freedom of love
freedom of below and freedom of above.
Freedom of the past and freedom of the present
freedom of the future and what it can represent.
Freedom from war and freedom of peace
freedom to begin and freedom to cease.
Freedom from sickness and freedom of health
freedom from poverty and mishandled wealth.
Freedom from wrong and freedom being right
freedom of the day and freedom of the night.
Freedom to choose and freedom to reject
freedom to imagine what there is to expect.
Freedom from lust and freedom from greed
freedom from anger and freedom from breed.
Freedom from jealousy and freedom from pride
freedom from within and freedom from outside.
Freedom of always not having anything to hide.
Freedom from space and also freedom from time
freedom from attachment and freedom from crime
Freedom to work and freedom to play
freedom to believe and freedom to pray.
Freedom to experience a rebirth someday.
Freedom from the body and freedom from the mind
freedom from the ego and freedom from being blind.
Freedom of transcendence being of the spiritual kind.
Universal freedom is eternal and infinite bliss
we should all therefore be able to realise this.
poem by George Krokos
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Hope At It's Strongest
Hope is the thing that keeps us going
Hope is a poem without any words
Hope is what follows us everyday
Hope is the light that sparks our eyes
Hope that it will all get better
Hope that you will find love
Hope that people will be kind
Hope that you will stay alive
Hope is the strongest thing of all
Hope will allow us not to fall
Hope will rise against anything
Hope is like a fiery ring
Hope never stops
Hope is always there
Without it we would be lost
Without out it we would not care
poem by Laura Random
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Same Thing Over
You say you're going to turn a leaf.
But it's the same thing over.
You say you're going to release your grief.
But it's the same thing over.
You say no more to jumping through hoops.
You say you're going to do what you choose.
You say you're going to be free and loose...
But it's the same thing over.
You say you're picking up more speed.
But it's the same thing.
You say new rhythms you now beat.
But it's the same thing.
You say more of life you will see...
But it's the same thing over.
You say more of life you will see.
But it's the same thing!
It's the same thing.
Same thing you will bring into your life,
Until it's over.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Real Thing
La la la
Love is the real thing
You know
Love is the real thing
La la la la
La love
La la la
Love is the real thing
You know
Love is the real thing
La la la la
She is waiting
In the office
For the bell to go
She is thinking
Of their meeting
Just a month ago
Now shes running
Through the people
Everyone so slow
Now he holds her
And he loves her
He tells her so and
La la la
Love is the real thing
You know
Love is the real thing
La la la la
La love
La la la
Love is the real thing
You know
Love is the real thing
La la la la
By the nightfall
They have driven
From the world they know
Shes so happy
Theyre together
And their love will grow
And when you feel your chance has come
Whos going to throw it all away
And if theres someone left behind
You have to say that
La la la
Love is the real thing
You know
Love is the real thing
La la la la
La love
La la la
Love is the real thing
You know
Love is the real thing
La la la la
La la la
Love is the real thing
You know
Love is the real thing
La la la la
La love
La la la
Love is the real thing
You know
Love is the real thing
La la la la
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Closest Is Always The Most Fun
I like to do this irrational thing
Some spirit of irony beckons me forward
Into this folly and fun, so onward I charge, onward I fling
My heart's words into this inked paper, praying they are ignored
Because the subject I write of is right there
Yep she's right there
Right here
This is when and why I choose to write
Because she is right there
So I write, I like to write as she watches
In complete ignorance; or that's the idea
Maybe she does know, but probably not
No one can read my handwriting, no one can read my thought
She won't see through the metaphor
How could she know it's her, she'd never it is her who it's all for
I play this fun game of risk and love
Throw my inhibition and write when she's on my right
Haha, I can write whatever I want and no one
Will eve know, surely I have won
Surely they will not see it's about them
I even tell them I am writing
I even allude to what I am writing
So roll the dice, pick a card, buy a stock
Let's take the risk
I'll do it and you'll never know
Irony calls to me to make it more and more
Obvious, you don't even notice me
I dare you to notice this
I dare you.
poem by David Knox
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I think the thing that has made it possible for me to write personal songs and sing them year after year is the sensibility for good writing. Just opening your veins all over the paper is not necessarily going to be interesting. I wanted to speak to people.
quote by Shawn Colvin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I Move A Step Forward
there is something that i notice with us
when i make a step forward
you do the same
when i make a turn, you do the same
i don't think that you are my shadow
because you look so real
that i am even tempted to touch you
though i am afraid sometimes
that you may not like it at all
now i stopped doing a thing
and wanted even to stop thinking
and here you are still doing the same thing
i am definite i am not you and you are not me
for we are two different entities
facing each other and perhaps wanting to
be the same and fuse as one
are you my dream? are you my wish not to be alone?
why can't we talk? who knows if we have the same mothers?
who knows if i am your twin and mother did not tell us?
when i die, please, to complete this story,
will you also die with me?
I doubt you.Therefore, you exist.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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