Saints have no moderation, nor do poets, just exuberance.

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Good Poets and Bad Poets

Some poets get awards and think they are good poets.

Some poets never get awards and think they are bad poets.

Some poets think they are good poets only in their own mind

Some poets think they are bad poets in somebody's else mind.

Some poets think they are good poets in somebody else mind.

Some poets think others think they are good poets but they don't in their hearts.

Some poets think they are good poets in their hearts but not in anyone else's mind.

All are insecure, except those who get security from the opinions of others and that, alas, doesn't last and isn't real.

Some poets have left the entire scene and live only in their mind.

Some poets take criticism and don't mind.

Some poets avoid criticism and do mind.

Some poets write poetry to get love.

Some poets love to write poetry.

Some poets are ahead of their time, in their mind

Some poets spend a lifetime feeling like failures in their mind

Some poets live only after they die.

Some poets have much to say but can't articulate

Some poets retreat, believing others don't understand

So which one of these am I?

I guess I am all of these and none of these

and no matter what my description

I intend to keep doing what I do:

Write. Right

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Thomas Paine

Moderation in temper is always a virtue; but moderation in principle is always a vice.

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The point of drinking in moderation is that sometimes you don't drink in moderation.

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A little more moderation would be good. Of course, my life hasn't exactly been one of moderation.

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In the world of poetry there are would-be poets, workshop poets, promising poets, lovesick poets, university poets, and a few real poets.

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Saints In Hell

They laughed at their gods
And fought them in vain
So he turned his back on them
And left them in pain
Now here come the saints
With their banners held high
Each one of them martyrs
Quite willing to die
Wake the dead, the saints are in hell
Wake the dead, theyve come for the bell
Cover your fists
Razor your spears
Its been our possession
For 8,000 years
Fetch the scream eagles
Unleash the wild cats
Set loose the king cobras
And blood sucking bats
Wake the dead, the saints are in hell
Wake the dead, theyve come for the bell
We are saints
In hell
We are saints
In hell
Were going down
Into the fire
Were going down
Into the fire
The streets run with blood from the mass mutilation
As carnage took toll for the bell
Abattoir, abattoir, mon dieu quelle horreur
For a time is was like second hell
Saints in hell
Saints in hell
The battle is over, the saints are alive
How can we all thank you, we felt so despised
Saints in hell
Saints in hell
Saints in hell
Saints in hell
Saints in hell
Saints in hell
(fade)

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The Lives Of The Saints

The lives of the saints are very good
Because the saints takes care of their health and Hygiene very well
The saints always changes their clothes everyday because they transpire Very fast in heaven due to the heat that is turned on in the winter in Heaven
Yes it gets very hot in heaven that sometimes they have to open the Windows just a bit so they can get some fresh air
And heaven is home to the saints
But the saints love living in heaven because there is no noise or Violence
During the day the saints leaves heaven and come down to earth to Help in a food bunk and they get paid for their work

poem by Aldo KraasReport problemRelated quotes
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The Lives Of The Saints Ii

The lives of the saints are very good
Because the saints takes care of their health and Hygiene very well
The saints always changes their clothes everyday because they transpire Very fast in heaven due to the heat that is turned on in the Winter in heaven
Yes it gets very hot in heaven that sometimes they have to open the Windows just a bit so they can get some fresh air
And heaven is home to the saints
But the saints love living in heaven because there is no noise or violence
During the day the saints leaves heaven and come down to earth to Help in a food bank and they get paid for their work

poem by Aldo KraasReport problemRelated quotes
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Thomas Paine

A thing moderately good is not so good as it ought to be. Moderation in temper is always a virtue, but moderation in principle is always a vice.

Thomas Paine in The Rights of Man (1792)Report problemRelated quotes
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Thomas Paine

A thing moderately good is not so good as it ought to be. Moderation in temper is always a virtue, but moderation in principle is always a vice.

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Thomas Paine

A thing moderately good is not so good as it ought to be. Moderation in temper is always a virtue; but moderation in principle is always a vice.

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There Is A Poetry Of Exaltation And Exuberance

THERE IS A POETRY OF EXALTATION AND EXUBERANCE

There is a Poetry of Exaltation and Exuberance-
It comes from souls and sounds greater than mine-
I can hear such Poetry
But I cannot echo it.

What would humans be
If we could not recognize
‘Greatness’ in others
We ourselves will never have?

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T.S. Eliot

Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different.

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All Saints Day

Here comes sue and she looks crazy
Skipping down the hillside gaily
Looking like the flowers that bloom in may
Wont you make your reservation?
I will meet you at the station
Wont you come and see me, all saints day?
Follow my lead, it is no wonder, I seem to be so high
Living my dreams the way I ought to
As the days go rolling by
See me strolling through the meadow
With you baby by my side
Wont you come and see me, all saints day?
See the streamline blue horizon
With you baby by the way
Wont you come and see me, all saints day?
You can make your reservation
I will meet you at the station
When you come to see me, all saints day
When you come to see me, all saints day
When you come to see me, all saints day.

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0005 Totally Boring Poem

I’m totally bored by:


poems that sound like other poems

poems that try to sound unlike any other poems

poets who never take risks

poets who think that taking risks
makes them good poets

poems with 'meaning'

poems with no meaning

poets who slag off other poets
as if that achieves something

poets that tell you that rhyme
is not for an age but for all time

poets that tell you that rhyme is outmoded and boring

poets who think that the poetry of 'the past'
is greater than that of 'the present'

poets who think that the poetry of 'the present'
is greater than that of 'the past'

poems that tell you the poet's the first to discover sex

poets that tell you they’re the best sex you’ll ever have
although you’ll never meet them to find out

poets that tell you they’ve been dumped

poets who've never known love and being dumped

poets who are ambitious

poets who are unambitious

poets who tell you all about higher things

poets who reject higher things

poets who think life’s just a joke

poets who think life’s no joke

poets who sit on the fence

poets who have no sense of balance

poets who despise 'the middle ground'

poets who talk about technique

poets with no technique

poets who just throw down their thoughts

poets who 'work up' their poems to a self-satisfied polish

poets who list what they like (who cares?)

poets who list what don’t like (who cares?)

poets who write about extreme states

poets who think they’re immune to extreme states

poets who tell you why they’re bored

poets who have opinions

poets who seem to have no opinions at all

poets who have boring opinions to air - why choose poetry?

poets who comment on others' poems
as if it's the last word

poets who never bother to comment
on others' poems

poets who don't love poetry passionately

poets who tell you they 'love poetry passionately'

poets who – oh I’m too bored to go on reading this,

how about you?

I suppose you have boring opinions too?

another time perhaps


and oh yes I'm most of all bored by
those who waste their precious time on this earth
being bored


well I feel better for that.

how about you?

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We As Poets

We as poets must command a sacred accent over a language of our choice,
We as poets must gift the minds of a failing generation,
We as poets must demand a clear explanation and a fair occupation,
We as poets must dissolve into particles and dust if we have not known enough,
We as poets must destroy the living standards of low quality,
We are to be the poetry of utmost perception and suffering.

poem by Naveed AkramReport problemRelated quotes
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On this subject I do not which to think, or speak, or write, with moderation. No No Tell a man whose house is on fire to give a moderate alarm tell him to moderately rescue his wife from the hands of the ravisher tell the mother to gradually extricate her babe from the fire into which it has fallen but urge me not to use moderation in a cause like the present. I am in earnest I will not equivocate I will not retreat a single inch and I will be heard.

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We Are Saints

I’ve been sanctified, set apart, for God’s service from the start,
The very moment that I believed, when Christ’s Spirit I received,
I was indeed, set apart by God, while still upon this earthly sod,
Sealed by the Spirit of Christ, for God’s purpose within this life.

All believers are God’s holy ones, truly set apart, by God’s Son,
Becoming saints while on earth, through the power of New Birth,
Indeed, not by the choice of men, but when we were Born Again,
We’re true saints of The Living God, led on earth by Christ’s rod.

Saints, according to God’s Grace, for His purpose on this place,
To have an impact, in this world, as His Truth we fervently herald,
Truth that states we are saints, regardless of what religion paints,
Saints, chosen by Christ The Lord, truth, that by many is ignored.

We are saints, as God has willed, with His purpose to be fulfilled,
Not simply saints for another time, but on earth by God’s Design,
Separated from this world’s plan, to be used by The Son of Man,
In spreading the Gospel of Christ, while in this present earthly life.

We’re not saints for just above, but here by God for sharing love,
The love of His Saving Gospel, as this for believers is God’s will,
To fill with saints the Church of God, those upon this earthly sod,
Then we can spend Eternal Life, saints together with Jesus Christ.

(Copyright ©01/2012)

poem by Bob GottiReport problemRelated quotes
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A poor pen

Pen is

Not great...

On the paper...

poet write at

Moon+ sky...

Stars...

Earth and sea...

All are in poets

Hand only

At poets hand...

Poets is think...

Poets dream...

Thats all

pen is very poor

Noock out...

undrestad to try...

Try too under stand....

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0329 Holy Shit (2)

everything in Creation
is as holy as its Creator
how could it be otherwise?

the cow
has been the centre
of the Vedic culture
these last few thousand years
fed with love
and yielding milk and calves

and cowpatties
which when dried
provide the fuel which
the saints say is the best
for use as the domestic fire

of food it is said
the first part supports the body
and the second part the soul
while the third part falls
to support the earth

Wordsworth found immortality
amid the daffodils
but see here in the next field –
the cows are grazing as peacefully
as poets

poets who see the world
in awe and wonder
as the supreme machine
whose every part
is wholly of the whole

mind how you tread
this ground is holy

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