I felt like poisoning a monk.
quote by Umberto Eco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Inspiration
He died from a massive
insult to the brain,
from alcohol poisoning: Dylan Thomas.
I say he was already dead
and couldn't stand to go on breathing.
So he put an end to it the only
way he knew how.
Poisoning: slow, so if you're reluctant
you can bide your time and ease into it
You know, cross that line between living
and dead.You can do it and not even
be aware that you've done it.How easy.
The only question is why?
But I already know why.
New York City...the where.
I know: the how
and the why
and the where.
He was really murdered you know.
He was condemned by committee
and sentenced to death by poisoning.
There was a general consensus to refuse to mourn
the death of a child by fire.
poem by Midnights Voice
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The first jazz pianist I heard was Thelonious Monk. My father was listening to an album of his called 'Monk's Dream' almost every day from the time I was born.
quote by Benny Green
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Child Of Vision
Well, who do you think youre foolin?
You say youre havin fun,
But youre busy going nowhere,
Just lying in the sun.
You tried to be a hero,
Commit the perfect crime
But the dollar got you dancing
And youre running out of time.
Youre messin up the water
Youre rolling in the wine
Youre poisoning your body
Youre poisoning your mind
You gave me coca-cola
You said it tasted good
You watch the television
It tell you that you should.
song performed by by Supertramp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spank It
1-hey sped!
2-hey what?
1- what you wanna do?
2- I wanna spank!
1-spank what?
2- spank my little monk!!
1-to the left
2- to the right!
1&2- spank it up and down all night!
1- spank the monk!
2- spank, spank the monk!
1- spank the monk!
1&2- spank spank, the monk!
song performed by by Eagles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Gambler
The Gambler stopped a monk
dwelling on spiritual plane,
And exclaimed, "Oh! monk
we both are exactly same
So I think we both of us
deserve equal name and fame.
Monk replied, "Gambler! I put
self not a pelf at stake,
And drink bitter poison
for God's sake
Only fool would say our
lives are same
For you a game is life
for me a life is game.''
Dr Hitesh C Sheth
27/12/2009
poem by Hitesh Sheth
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An Education
What I had for you was admiration
What I gave you was respect
What I made you was my mentor
What I felt for you were the best of feelings
What I got back was the worst insult of my lifetime
Too painful to hear
Too bitter to swallow
Poisoning my good heart
The biggest regret to be optimistic
And trust easily not able to accept
An education only a person like you can give
poem by RR. Srimanchantha
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All around me insisted that my doubts proved only my own ignorance and sinfulness; that they knew by experience they would soon give place to true knowledge, and an advance in religion; and I felt something like indecision.
quote by Maria Monk
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Only Monk Keyed
The monk...
He has the key!
Does that make him,
The only monk keyed who sees?
Inspired by:
Mr. Duncan Wyllie
'Hi Duncan,
Thought I would have some fun with your poem,
'He Sees'.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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White Hair
i let the years pass on my busy days
this and that
those and there and here
contemplation is a monk and he has not come
my door is open
and the crowd came in. Leaves of years keep
falling like it is caused by the cyclone
of my moving forward onward
this and that and those and there and everywhere
until one moment when the last white hair fell
and then i shudder
to all these and that and those and there and here
and nowhere
and nothing, until the monk in saffron cloth came
asking me
if i am finally going.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Jacksons, Monk And Rowe
Sister 4 and brothers 3
Hanging off the family tree
Practising for getting old
Do you want your fortune told
Theyre looking for you high and low
Now theres nowhere for you to go
So youll just have to come out and face the music
Jacksons, monk and rowe
Long ago when we were kids and we cut your hair to bits
As we carried off like spoils the heads wed smash right off
Your dolls
But the wind is changing you know
Are you sure of your friends and your foe
Have you got what it takes to carry it off
Jacksons, monk and rowe
As the sun beats down and life begins to complicate
Will we both incinerate
If we touch that brass name-plate
Messrs. all, noble sirs
Highly paid solicitors
Find enclosed my signed divorce
Sad proceedings you endorse
The burden of pity will show
In the people we used to know
Have you got enough strength to carry it off
Jacksons, monk and rowe
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jacksons, Monk & Rowe
Sister 4 and brothers 3
Hanging off the family tree
Practising for getting old
Do you want your fortune told
Theyre looking for you high and low
Now theres nowhere for you to go
So youll just have to come out and face the music
Jacksons, monk and rowe
Long ago when we were kids and we cut your hair to bits
As we carried off like spoils the heads wed smash right off
Your dolls
But the wind is changing you know
Are you sure of your friends and your foe
Have you got what it takes to carry it off
Jacksons, monk and rowe
As the sun beats down and life begins to complicate
Will we both incinerate
If we touch that brass name-plate
Messrs. all, noble sirs
Highly paid solicitors
Find enclosed my signed divorce
Sad proceedings you endorse
The burden of pity will show
In the people we used to know
Have you got enough strength to carry it off
Jacksons, monk and rowe
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not Fitting In Despite All Those Years
sometimes you envy
the monk in maroon peacefully
crossing the street
somewhere in Ho Chi Minh
or even an earthen bowl half-filled with water
with a jasmine flower floating
upon a very still world
you like to take the brush and some water colors
to paint all these
but it is a little crowded world you have there
there is simply no time for wasting
it's a fast paced lifestyle
the lifelessness of the to and fro
the unstoppable flow
trying to accomplish almost everything
without meaning.
somewhere in a dream
you wish you were the monk
or even
the jasmine
and then you hit your chest with your fist
convincing yourself that at a certain hour
you can be so foolish
still not fitting in despite all those years
'how can you be a beautiful jasmine in a concrete wall?
how can you be the monk in maroon in a public market full of
swindlers and screaming spice vendors? '
amidst the mess, in the middle of the crowd
how can you be a dream?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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No More 'Scha-nookie Dookie' Made
You say you married a skunk.
And I feel more like a monk on a donkey.
All I get to hear is junk.
With lots of lumps on me you dump.
You say you married a skunk.
And I feel more like a monk on a donkey.
No more quick done rabbit humps.
With less hops from a bed that jumped.
I hear our neighbors say,
How I treat you nasty everyday.
That's your way of mutilation.
I hear our neighbors say,
What I do and how I spend my pay.
You've been putting our business in their way.
And you will pay for that one day.
Your humiliation has decayed.
And your wicked stubbornness is sick.
No matter who you get to defend your...
Schanookie dookie that you make.
You say you married a skunk.
And I feel more like a monk on a donkey.
All I get to hear is junk.
With lots of lumps on me you dump.
You say you married a skunk.
And I feel more like a monk on a donkey.
No more quick done rabbit humps.
With less hops from a bed that jumped.
And no more 'scha-nookie dookie' made.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Never Lost Hope
The fight within and,
The outside fight,
Made me a monk…..
My soul got bright!
I felt word near,
Meant nothing to me,
I needed door open
They closed to see.
But, I never lost hope…
Never did I blame
My drowing lot.
I was happy, with,
the end where I was brought.
I kept burning the light,
My soul watched it.
My heart said Yes,
With its every pure beat!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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When the Devil was sick the Devil a monk would be, When the Devil got well, the devil a monk was he.
The devil was sick, the devil a monk would be; the devil was well, the devil a monk was he.
Beggar is close to God
Begging for something is a cut
That is made at the root of your ego.
Begging for food is the deepest cut.
A monk goes begging for food,
Where he feels pride, not humiliation.
A beggar knocks the door for food,
Cursing his fate, tasting the humiliation.
Ego is active in monk, dead in beggar.
Who will get quick salvation?
04.11.2001, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Practice makes perfect
A bronze gong sounds and resonates.
The echoes slowly die away.
The ancient monk still meditates.
As he does every single day.
He falls into a trance like state.
Which he achieves with practised skill
The sound waves cannot penetrate.
His consciousness against his will.
The ancient monk sits tranquilly
.Detached from our reality.
He is content to simply be.
Enjoying the tranquillity.
Of being free from illusion
Earned by meditation.
Wednesday,25 April 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Selfish Shellfish
Deep in the briny sea
Was a monk fish monastery;
A prayerful variety
Of contemplative piety
From gentle soles to trout,
All swimmingly devout,
Where once a pious oyster
Went strolling ‘round the cloister,
And he was quietly grumbling,
His tummy it was rumbling.
He spied a tasty morsel,
A fellow shark monk's dorsal.
He lopped it with his chopper,
And hid it good and proper.
He'd eat it some time later
With peas and beans and ‘tater.
There's no way he would share it,
His stomach wouldn't bear it.
Meanwhile the poor old shark monk
Swims round and round like he's quite drunk.
To swim quite straight he needs all fins;
He twists and swerves, he dives and spins
Into a crazy cork screw loop;
His fin must be saved from the soup.
The other monks are looking
At what the oyster's cooking.
They see he has the shark fin;
They can't allow this shell fish sin
And since he is a sinner,
They confiscate his dinner,
And sew in back on shark monk's back
So he can get himself on track.
The oyster now is pleading;
Forgiveness he is needing.
He's being quite rambunctious;
He's big and plump and scrumptious,
And so the monks decide his fate
Is to be served up on a plate.
So now they all are wine-ing,
They're dancing and they're dining,
In their monastic cellar
On oyster Rockefeller.
poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
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A Crying Monk
Once there was a monk
with peaceful mind without junk.
At funeral, he usually preached,
pacifying the people with grief,
saying one would leave,
when one's life ceased,
crying and weeping was no need,
Buddha's teaching one must heed,
One's karma would lead
to either heaven or hell indeed.
One day, the monk's mother died sudden death.
He cried violently without catching the breath.
The funeral attendents consoled him,
to stop wailing and tear flowing.
He said it couldn't help,
he now experienced sorrow and grief by himself.