I see and write things first as an artist, second as a woman, and third as a New Yorker. All three have built-in perspectives that aren't neutral.
quote by Laurie Anderson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two opposite things
Man cannot conceive like woman.
Is he equal to woman?
Woman will not rape as man does.
Is she equal to man?
Man is plus and woman, minus.
They aren’t equal.
Man is a positive and woman, a negative.
They aren’t equal.
Equality is not the need of the hour.
fitting to each other.
Union is not of two equal things
But two opposite things.
Man is a tree and woman, a vine.
Clinging is assured
17.10.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The creative artist seems to be almost the only kind of man that you could never meet on neutral ground. You can only meet him as an artist. He sees nothing objectively because his own ego is always in the foreground of every picture.
quote by Raymond Chandler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Viewers are like artists.
An artist perceives, abstracts,
Concretize and present a form.
A viewer perceives, connects,
Abstracts and relate to real thing.
The beauty of the art enhances
From the style the artist employs.
The beauty of the art is understood
From the mind the viewers apply.
To be a viewer is as special as an artist.
All aren’t viewers as all aren’t artists.
14.05.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Artist
The Artist and his Luckless Wife
They lead a horrid haunted life,
Surrounded by the things he's made
That are not wanted by the trade.
The world is very fair to see;
The Artist will not let it be;
He fiddles with the works of God,
And makes them look uncommon odd.
The Artist is an awful man,
He does not do the things he can;
He does the things he cannot do,
And we attend the private view.
The Artist uses honest paint
To represent things as they ain't,
He then asks money for the time
It took to perpetrate the crime.
poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
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With any story I write, I could actually write it from three or four different perspectives, which would end with a completely different moral at the end.
quote by Tracey Emin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aren't You The Friend You Promised Me That You Were?
I'm dragging my feet
I don't understand
Why when i'm down
You wont take my hand
Aren't you friend you promised me that you were?
You've built up my trust
You've taken it all
Please don't break my heart
Please don't let me fall
Aren't you the friend you promised me that you were?
I'm treading on
And i'm getting by
Even though i just feel the need to cry
Just answer this one question that i ask
Aren't i at least worth that?
Aren't you the friend you promised me that you were?
poem by Lucy Vernezze
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A Nude Artist
A Nude Artist
he says he is a nude artist
because he is naked when he paints
such nakedness has
nothing to do with being a nude artist
a naked artist who paints a cat or a chicken
is not a nude artist
there is no nude cat
thyere is no nude chicken
just paint a naked woman
and he will be called a nude artist
an artist is not an art
he must know that
- Frog Mantra, Accents Publishing,2012 -
Â
poem by Suchoon Mo_
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The Valentine’s Day
Today is Valentine’s Day.
I love you; I want to say why.
You’re a woman.
You aren’t old.
You’re in my vicinity.
You aren’t my property.
You’re in form.
You aren’t a storm.
You’re shy.
You aren’t sly.
You’re friendly.
You aren’t deadly.
Today is Valentine’s Day
I want to say my love to you.
13.02.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I Built This House
I built this house from its foundation
It's foundation I made it strong
So that it can't be shaken
By anything
I built this house
On love
Not on lies
I built this house
I turned it into a home
And that was my vision
I built this house
Just like a wise woman
A woman who builds a house on a foundation of a rock
Not like a foolish woman
Who builds a house
On a sand
And then turns and destroys it with her hands
I won't allow anything to break it down
To break my children and my husband
With nonsense
With arguments, alcohol and unfaithfulness
So devil you better live
Cause I built this house
On top of the rock Jesus
poem by Vangile Mtyali
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I Was A Bustlemaker Once, Girls
When I was a lad of twenty and was working in High Street, Ken.,
I made quite a pile in a very little while - I was a bustle maker then.
Then there was work in plenty, and I was a thriving man
But things have decayed in the bustle making trade, since the bustle making trade began.
I built bustles with a will then, I made bustles with a wit,
I made bustles as a Yankee hustles, simply for the love of it.
I built bustles with a skill then, surpassed, they say, by none,
But those were the days when bustles were the craze, and now those days are done.
I was a bustle maker once, girls, many many years ago,
I put my heart in the bustle maker's art and I don't mind saying so.
I may have had the brains of a dunce, girls, I may have had the mind of a muff,
I may have been plain and deficient in the brain but I did know a bustle maker's stuff.
I built bustles for the slender, I built bustles for the stout,
I built bustles for the girls with muscles, and bustles for the girls without.
I built bustles by the thousands, in the good old days of yore,
But things have decayed in the bustle making trade and I don't build bustles any more.
Many were the models worn once; but mine were unique, tis said,
No rival design was so elegant as mine; I was a bustle maker bred.
I was a bustle maker born once, an artist through and through,
But things have decayed in the bustle making trade
And what can a bustle maker do?
I built bustles to enchant, girls, I built bustles to amaze,
I built bustles for the skirt that rustles, and bustles for the skirt that sways.
I built bustles for my aunt, girls, when other business fled,
But a bustle maker can't make bustles for his aunt when a bustle maker's aunt is dead.
I was a bustle maker once, girls, once in the days gone by,
I lost my heart to the bustle maker's art, and that I don't deny.
I may have had the brains of a dunce, girls, as many men appear to suppose,
I may have been obtuse and of little other use
But I could make a bustle when I chose.
I built bustles for the bulging, I built bustles for the lithe,
I built bustles for the girls in Brussels and bustles for the girls in Hythe.
I built bustles for all Europe once, but I've been badly hit,
          Things have decayed in the bustle making trade
                    And that it the truth of it.
poem by Patrick Barrington
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Heroes and heroines
A woman cannot write
How a woman looks
As a man does about her.
A man cannot write
How a woman feels
As a woman does about her.
Authors’ heroines and
Authoresses’ heroes
Suffer at their treatments.
06.11.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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You are not an artist,an artist creates. You do not write your own songs. End of debate.
A very bad day
It’s been a bad day
So dark words I’ll write
Of ill omens, bad thoughts
And the absence of light
Of the beat of dark wings
Of things that aren’t right
And of things
That go bump in the night
Maybe tomorrow
I can carry the fire
Perhaps tomorrow will be
Just a bit more bright
What made this day so
One has no need to know
It’s been a bad day
So dark words I’ll write
poem by David Whalen
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Complex ~Your Weakness
your complex has been set on the day you were born
enviroment, family and things you were given
having been built up what you are today behind them
rich, poor and average in many ways
when people in all the things come together
what do you think can be neutral of all those
until then you would believe you are the happiest above all
and you might also learn that would be poisonous of your life
if you believe what you are too much
well-known-happiness to you takes advantage of your life enviroment
be prepared for the fact that your happiness can have no meaning outside
the complex that you have had since you were born
can be substances that not only strangle you but also that light you up
that also warm surroundings up
Perspectives
We all tend to look at the world
from different perspectives,
mainly good or mainly bad.
Most perspectives are trained
on the bad and the good is pushed aside.
You read in the newspapers almost everyday,
and all the time the bad is all you hear.
The good deeds done are just merely shoved aside.
27 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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If you hear a person talking good about things that aren't in you, don't be sure that he wouldn't also say bad things about things that aren't in you.
The First Artist and Author.
The first artist painted the sky with colors, such beauty,
Look at those sunsets, and the mountains, such reality;
The mountains, have shadows, of splendor that only the Master can do,
Yes! It's God who was the first Artist, and He also taught me too.
The first great artist painted the colors on the sea,
Blues, greens, aquas, Only one could do this you see;
And when there is a storm near, the sea goes so dark blue,
Yes! God is the first great artist, to paint it for me and you.
The first great Artist, loved to teach David to write poetry,
And also king Solomon, writing words of such beauty;
Oh such magnificent works, of color and in each word,
Yes! There is only one who could do this it is the Lord.
Then. We see in every rainbow, and in each shell as well,
Look at the colored sands, and in every bird, it does tell;
Then look at each animal, and also the petals of each flower too
Then as you look at these, , give Thanks for doing it for me and you.
poem by Margaret Haig
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A Mouse Is Killed Today
a mouse is killed today
by an artist
who got mad because
the mouse ate his painting
of the nude woman
that evening while he got so furious
the mouse was at his hole
on the floor eating his usual cheese
the artist mumbled and murmured
and grumbled
and the mouse heard it
and called it
slapstick poetry
a doggerel,
the artist was not able to hold his temper
anymore
got an armalite and shot the hole with the mouse in it
in the name of art
the artist invokes his right to kill the mouse
he says it was
' clearly an artistic expression
and protected by the First Amendment.'
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I said, to be a New Yorker you have to live here for six months, and if at the end of the six months you find you walk faster, talk faster, think faster, you're a New Yorker.
The world balances
The weak cannot forgive the strong.
The hare cannot spare the hunter.
The woman cannot rape a man.
The ovum cannot swim to sperms.
Man and man aren’t equal.
Man and woman aren’t equal.
So balancing is to exist.
The world balances to exist.
06.02.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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