Prisons are built with stones of Law. Brothels with the bricks of religion.
quote by William Blake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wasteland
Out into the wasteland
Out into the wasteland
No religion
No religion, no religion at all
No religion
No religion, no religion at all
No religion, no religion at all
No religion
No religion, no religion at all
No religion
No religion at all
No religion
Emissionary man amongst the heathen
Cant you see a modern primitive
I came back, Im gonna find,
Im gonna give religion
When there was, no religion at all
Im outta the wasteland
Im into this head man
Im outta the wasteland
No religion at all
Im outta the wasteland
Im into this head man
Im outta the wasteland
No religion, no religion at all
Theres a man in need of resurrection
(no religion)
Cant you see a modern primitive
(no religion)
But Im a man I need my love and
Freedom (no religion)
When there was no freedom at all
Im outta the wasteland
Im into this head man
Im outta the wasteland
No religion at all
Im outta the wasteland
Im into this head man
Im outta the wasteland
No religion, no religion at all
No religion
No religion at all
No religion
No religion at all
In vr land
The future of fun
Tell me what to do
In vr law
Computer crime
Um, so sublime
A fantasy scene
In my machine
Give me secret of life
Let me know, yeah, what I am
And you know that I could get
Outta the wasteland
Im into this head man
Im outta the wasteland
No religion at all
Im outta the wasteland
Im into this head man
Im outta the wasteland
No religion, no religion at all
Im outta the wasteland
So far from the the deadland
Ow, Im outta the wasteland
No religion, no religion yeah
Im outta the wasteland
So far from the the deadland
Yeah, Im outta the wasteland
No religion, no religion at all
No religion, no religion at all
No religion
No religion, no religion at all
No religion
No religion, no religion at all
No religion
No religion, no religion at all
No religion at all
No religion at all
No religion
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ten Thousand Poems
it is like a brick
just some bricks
day by day
and day by day
i lay those bricks
some on the brink
of breaking days
day by day
but know what
i do not get tired
laying those bricks
as always i think
of building
our future
cathedral.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beyond Our Prison Walls
our prisons are too many
the penalties imposed upon us
are heavy
everything is passed from one mouth
to another
this prison of tradition
and what we have are just kettles and
ladles
a few spoons and some
crooked forks
some moldy fats of pork
and hardened bread like bricks
upon our walls and rooms
i am tired of those other prisons
handed to us and
well kept by our respect for what
is old
the mind is the prison
and thoughts and imagination are our wings to our well deserved freedom
we do not deserve this
weakness this self imposed defeat
we are not worms
we butterflies and all these fragile wings
shall take us
beyond the tops of molded hills
beyond us
our better selves
our very own proclamations that we are not the children and heirs
of gods
but that we too
are godly creatures with divinity in our hearts
our sacrileges tattooed on our skins and bones
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Some Prisons Don't Have Walls
As I walk down this busy street
I think about your leaving
How my life may never be the same
I know I should be planning ways
To enjoy this endless freedom
Losing you has put my heart in chains.
Darling, some prisons don't have walls
Your memory won't let me go at all
I found no way out since you've been gone
Some prisons don't have walls.
Every night I turn the tv on
To break the sound of silence
For a while it takes you off my mind
Just when I feel over you reality surrounds me.
There I am right back doing time.
Darling, some prisons don't have walls
Your memory won't let me go at all
I found no way out since you've been gone
Some prisons don't have walls...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Men simply copied the realities of their hearts when they built prisons.
quote by Richard Wright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brother, Can You Spare A Dime
Once I built a railroad...made it run
Made it race against time
Once I built a railroad...now it's done
Brother, can you spare a dime
Once I built a tower...to the sun
Bricks...rivet...and lime
Once I built a tower...now it's done
Brother, can you spare a dime
Once in cocky suits
Gee, we looked swell
Full of that Yankee Doodle-dom
Half a million boots..they went
slogging through Hell
And I..I was a kid with a drum
Say, don't you remember..
They called me Al
It was Al all the time
Say, don't you remember
I'm your pal
Buddy, can you spare a dime.....
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Differentiate love
My love for you is built of passion
As the house is made of bricks.
A heap of passion is not love
As a pile of bricks is not a house.
Love is of lust;
Lust alone is not love.
20.08.2001, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Knowledge defined
Knowledge is the one built
By thoughts of some others
As bricks and yours as cement.
02.03.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The New Cult King
In That Dream I Recall
Pieces Of Prisons
I'm Escaping
In The Next Big Religion
I Do The Cross Thing
The Cross Thing
Which Ever Way The Wind Blows
Your Mind In Time I'm Nine
Our Lives Unwind
We Find The Wine Red Or White
Like The Days Fade Away
A Cloud Of Smoke Blurred Eyes
You're Always Brighter In The Daytime
You Fight It After Midnight
It Just Seems To Me
It's Such A Joke Every
New Walk Thru Life
Just Inherits Christ
You Should Have To Prove Something First
Something First
Prove Something
You're A Godfiend
In That Dream I Recall
Pieces Of Prisons
I'm Escaping
>From A Black Hole I Crawl
song performed by by Mushroomhead from M3
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On the other hand in London you can get an audience that desires dance to go as far as it can go: they've seen the bricks of ideas built over a period so therefore there is an acceptance of what otherwise might seem out on a limb.
quote by Siobhan Davies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The reason for this project comes from my childhood, that is clear to me. I did not have any toys. So, I played in the bricks of ruined buildings around me and with which I built houses.
quote by Anselm Kiefer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I could only remember that the days were, not bricks to be laid row on row, to be built into a solid house, where one might dwell in safety and peace, but only food for the fires of the heart.
quote by Edmund Wilson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Garden Wall
Bricks of the wall,
so much older than the house -
taken I think from a farm pulled down
when the street was built -
narrow bricks of another century.
Modestly, though laid with panels and parapets,
a wall behind the flowers -
roses and hollyhocks, the silver
pods of lupine, sweet-tasting
phlox, gray
lavender -
unnoticed -
but I discovered
the colors in the wall that woke
when spray from the hose
played on its pocks and warts -
a hazy red, a
grain gold, a mauve
of small shadows, sprung
from the quiet dry brown -
archetype
of the world always a step
beyond the world, that can't
be looked for, only
as the eye wanders,
found.
poem by Denise Levertov
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After the revolution, let us hope, prisons simply would not exist - if by prisons we mean places that could be experienced by the men and women in them at all as every place that goes by that name now is bound to be experienced.
quote by Barbara Deming
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fences
Fences are built from bricks and mortar,
Then wood is added to the list of torture.
Fenced in houses are loving and breezed,
By the winds, also the very gales that are pleased.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Angry flowers bloom!
A house is built of logs and stones,
Of tiles and posts and piers;
A home is built of loving deeds
That stand a thousand years.
-Victor Hugo
All the guns got strings
And the bullets turned
into notes,
They sing the song of happiness
that never bleeds
Jews & Arabs
Again brothers!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Everything Ages
Everything ages
Even bricks and mortar-
I was here at the beginning of this neighborhood thirty years ago
When all was fresh and new-
Now there is rust and chipped paint
On buildings that sag in tiredness-
It is not only the people
But the things of the world
Which age and die-
Time will take all
And these stones too will not be here one day.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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BROTHELS IN TORONTO June 25th,2011
It seems we may indeed have open brothels in Toronto soon,
The Charter of Rights and a lady who wanted to be immune,
Went to the Ontario Supreme Court and won her case,
So an open Toronto brothel may no longer be a disgrace.
The religious types and Toronto politicians are confused,
While some of them I think are more likely very amused,
Can’t have a brothel next door to a politician though,
The bright lights and tourists might leave the street all aglow.
The powerful media moguls of course are not amused,
They know the religious activists, whose egos might be bruised,
We should make bylaws for where brothels should and should not be,
Maybe go to Amsterdam, look in windows and walk around and see.
June 25th,2011
poem by James Bredin
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The House of Relationships
Oft the house of relationships is
Built on the land of selfishness,
It bricks are shrewdness
Plastered with cement of treacheries
Painted with color of pretensions,
The ceiling is foxy hypocrisy
And floor the opaque opportunism.
When the earthquake of
Difficulties strike that jinxed house,
The bricks of relationship falls apart
And all flee, not unlike the rats
that desert the sinking ship.
Then sisters sue sisters
And Kens attack Abels
Perhaps they are sworn
Enemies of past lives,
Who are born as
husbands, brothers and wives.
Was it in vain
cried the Christ bold
Man’s worst enemies would
Be in his own household.
Dr Hitesh C Sheth
05/08/2009
poem by Hitesh Sheth
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In the Tavernas
I wallow in the tavernas and brothels of Beirut.
I didn't want to stay
in Alexandria. Tamides left me;
he went off with the Prefect's son to earn himself
a villa on the Nile, a mansion in the city.
It wouldn't have been right for me to stay in Alexandria.
I wallow in the tavernas and brothels of Beirut.
I live a vile life, devoted to cheap debauchery.
The one thing that saves me,
like durable beauty, like perfume
that goes on clinging to my flesh, is this: Tamides,
most exquisite of young men, was mine for two years,
and mine not for a house or a villa on the Nile.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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