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I made a bit of a stink. At the time, it was considered very bad form.

quote by Diana Rigg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Stink!

'You stink!
Don't you know you're out of tune,
And out of rhythm.
You stink!
Don't you know you're out of tune,
And out of rhythm.
You stink!
Don't you know you're out of tune,
And out of rhythm.
Way off the beat without a syncopation given.'

All I've ever wanted from you,
Was your trust.
Although my honesty shows,
Perhaps I trust too much.

Can't you see,
I'd rather be in sync with you desperately.
But you think I should first prove,
My devotion is complete...
With a soothing approving beat you seek!

'You stink!
Don't you know you're out of tune,
And out of rhythm.
You stink!
Don't you know you're out of tune,
And out of rhythm.
You stink!
Don't you know you're out of tune,
And out of rhythm.
Way off the beat without a syncopation given.'

'You stink! '
I know this but I came without a motive.
'You stink! '
I know this but I came without a motive.
'You stink! '
I know this but I came without a motive.
'You stink!
You stink.
You stink.
You stink! '

'You stink! '
I know this but I came without a motive.
'You stink! '
I know this but I came without a motive.
'You stink! '
I know this but I came without a motive.
'You stink!
You stink.
You stink.
You stink! '

Can't you see,
I'd rather be in sync with you desperately.
But you think I should first prove,
My devotion is complete...
With a soothing approving beat you seek!

'You stink!
Don't you know you're out of tune,
And out of rhythm.
You stink!
Don't you know you're out of tune,
And out of rhythm.
You stink!
Don't you know you're out of tune,
And out of rhythm.
Way off the beat without a syncopation given.'

I get the message!
You have preferences.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One goes for it

It will be considered as treasure
If you announce it with pleasure
Adding fragrance to it if made sure
What it would be and today what we are

Even though we are far
Still we will be yaar (friend) *
I shall love and miss
But later on live with peace

Why to worry?
Why to feel sorry?
When it is holy and forever
I shall forget it never

You shall have your world
I shall have my fold
Yet friendship is divine
One must feel it fine

Not all can dream it nicely
It is purest form and lovely
One feels easy and at rest
As it is considered best

You drive home
You may be greeted with welcome
It is bond with feeling
One goes for it and always willing

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The great creators—the thinkers, the artists, the scientists, the inventors—stood alone against the men of their time. Every great new thought was opposed. Every great new invention was denounced. The first motor was considered foolish. The airplane was considered impossible. The power loom was considered vicious. Anesthesia was considered sinful. But the men of unborrowed vision went ahead. They fought, they suffered and they paid. But they won.

Ayn Rand in The Fountainhead
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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One of the aspects of form that I have been very interested in is stasis - the concept of form which is not so directional in time, not so much climactic form, but rather form which allows time, to stand still.

quote by La Monte Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Hollywood you have to be careful if you go above a six, then you're considered fat. I'm considered to be, I hope, an actress, and you can get away with a couple of extra pounds if you are trading on your talent instead of your sex appeal. I don't have time to be tortured about my weight.

quote by Anne Hathaway
Submitted by Diana Frone, MTTLC
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Protective Defense Mechanism

Those who complain about what some do...
And leave the focusing on handling their own business,
In the hands of others...
Should be ashamed.
That...
They are not.

Instead...
They seem to express a pride,
They have been absolutely accountable...
For nothing!
And those who show responsibility,
Are the ones most likely to be disrespected.

At one time these comments made,
Were considered negative and detrimental...
To the growth and prosperity,
Of inner city neighborhoods.

Today...
These comments made,
Are considered negative and detrimental...
To the growth and prosperity,
Of inner city neighborhoods.

Living in denial is still an ambition,
Many keep as a protective defense mechanism...
To prevent truth to heal and mend,
Long held ignorant wounds.
Truth for many,
Is still believed to be the enemy!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: The Old Well

The well that had given water to drink
For years and quenched the thirst of travelers;
With whose water, they’d bathed the beasts which stink,
Which flowed into the fields ‘yond for farmers.

The well that served for centuries thus,
Men and beasts and fields, not knowing their caste;
And continued to give water to us,
Perennially that was so sweet to taste.

The well of our ancestors, no more used,
Lies in ruins now and is very deep;
The corpse was found of a young man who ‘as killed!
Thrown into the well and made people weep.

The well that had given sweet water to drink,
It has now snakes, stones, garbage, corpses that stink.

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life must be considered sui generis; it is not a form of energy, nor can it be expressed in terms of something else.

quote by Oliver Joseph Lodge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Medium

Medium, medium.
Waking up I smell the scent of coffee on the brew,
And I think about the amount of the sweet,
Id like to have in my cup today.
One for the two lump, three lump, four.
No half of one, no less no more.
Just give me a chance, let me make it mine.
Id like a medium blend of that piece of pie.
Not too bitter, not too sweet... medium.
Just enough to ? ? ? ... medium.
Not too bitter, not too sweet... medium.
Just enough to ? ? ? ... medium.
Dinner time just rolls around,
And I think I crave a steak but,
Im not too partial to the meat,
When its cooked too long and Im made to wait.
Not too much of the parsony,
And just enough of the spice.
I think Id enjoy a medium-rare dish with a side of fries.
Not too tender, not too tough... medium.
Not too little, just enough... medium.
Not too tender, not too tough... medium.
Not too little, just enough... medium.
Medium. medium. medium. medium. just a medium. medium.
? ? ? and I smell the pits but ? ? ? ? ? .
I couldve sworn a ? ? ? last week and scrubbed like ? ? ? .
I like to stink just a little bit,
Just to keep you on your toes yes.
The more I stink the more I think,
That you smell like a rose.
Not too pleasant, not too bad... medium.
Just enough to hold my ? ? ? ... medium.
Not too pleasant, not too bad... medium.
Just enough to hold my ? ? ? ... medium.
Medium. medium. medium. medium. medium. medium.

song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unnecessary Sadness

You may not like what I like.
For something else to feed your pleasures.
But the brighter side of life...
I'd like to move within your sight!

Ooowee...
I don't accept disorder.
Ooowee...
The kind that's found on every corner.
Ooowee...
I like the flavor of a taste,
That doesn't go to waste!

Ooowee...
I wont live undercover.
Ooowee...
And hide the truth from my own brother.
Ooowee...
Or dropp a stink bomb made just to say I gave!

We both may disagree,
If a tree cleans the air we breathe.
Or the purpose we have...
To make unnecessary sadness,
Leave us fast!

Ooowee...
I don't accept disorder.
Ooowee...
The kind that's found on every corner.
Ooowee...
I like the flavor of a taste,
That doesn't go to waste!

Ooowee...
Hee hee,
I wont live undercover.
Ooowee...
Or lie on my own brother.
Ooowee...
To leave a stink bomb made,
Just to say I gave!

You may not like what I like.
For something else to feed your pleasures.
But the brighter side of life...
I'd like to move within your sight!

Ooowee...
I don't accept disorder.
Ooowee...
The kind that's found on every corner.
Ooowee...
Or dropp a stink bomb made,
Just to say I gave.
To run and hide in the shade!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Get Me Out Of Here

(m&l - weikath)
I cant tell you how it happened
So I guess well never know
Im always late and running out of time
So I must be very slow
Someone must have smoked too much
Or is it only dust
My pals just tend to leave here in disgust
My flat is a mess same as ever before
My suits they stink like you dont wanna know
Junk to the left, trash to the right
Get me out of here I cant take it anymore
When the postman rings I stay in bed
I never make it down
My fridge must be alive inside
Its uttering funny sounds
If I dont know what time it is
I peek out if theres sun
No use anyway, my moneys gone
My flat is a mess same as ever before
My suits they stink like you dont wanna know
Junk to the left, trash to the right
Get me out of here I cant take it anymore
Get me out of here I cant take it anymore

song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Connection Machines owned by the United States government laboratories were made available to me because they were considered impossible to program and there was no great demand for them at that time.

quote by Philip Emeagwali
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Country music has changed tremendously, so what now is considered country was not considered country at that time. We were doing stuff that probably could have been called country music today, but would certainly have not have fit in at that time.

quote by Charlie Daniels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rondeau

Fleas, stink, pigs, mold,
The gist of the Bohemian soul,
Bread and salted fish and cold.

Leeks, and cabbage three days old,
Smoked meat, as hard and black as coal;
Fleas, stink, pigs, mold.

Twenty eating from one bowl,
A bitter drink -it's beer, I'm told-
Bad sleep on a straw in some filthy hole,
Fleas, stink, pigs, mold,
The gist of the Bohemian soul,
Bread and salted fish and cold.

poem by Eustache Deschamps
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All Things Considered

All things considered I'm doin' just fine even though
You left a hole the size of Texas deep inside of my heart
The way I feel I should be losing my mind
But all things considered
I'm doin just fine
Woke up this morning to the sound of you slammin' the door
I got served a piece of paper for breakfast that said
You don't live here no more
And the dog won't let me pet him, he just lays around
And growls at my feet
And the paper boy forgot me again
I should have stayed in bed asleep
All things considered I'm doin' just fine even though
You left a hole the size of Texas deep inside of my heart
The way I feel I should be losing my mind
But all things considered
I'm doin' just fine
Well my car broke down again right before it ran out of gas
Yeah my boss is still ringing in my head
One more time and your out on your... yeah
Well I can't wait till that five o'clock whistle blows
So I can sit in traffic all day
And end up going home alone
All things considered I'm doin just fine even though
You left a hole the size of Texas deep inside of my heart
The way I feel I should be losing my mind
But all things considered
I'm doin' just fine
All things considered I'm doin' just fine even though
You left a hole the size of Texas deep inside of my heart
The way I feel I should be losing my mind
But all things considered
I'm doin' just fine

song performed by by Yankee Grey, music by Tim Hunt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With This Understood

I agree.
I don't understand what you've been through.
But 'who' made those decisions?
None of which you made,
With the asking of my opinion.
And since you've ignored every suggestion I've made,
Why would you expect me to understand anyway?

Your life has stopped being my priority,
The moment you declared to me,
I'd be better off minding my own business.
And I am sure you remember telling me that!
Which I might as well admit had been considered,
With this understood 'after' your recommendation...
I did not have to think twice to comprehend.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poetic Experience (Number Four)

poetry lost itself,
lost it's connection,
and its ability to be
effective when it became
a secluded form, wrapped
in the academic world,
shaped by form and vague
images and intricate patterns.
but there have always been
those who walked a different
path, who dared!
for poetry to again reach
the hearts of the masses, we
have to speak their language!
we have to use images and
experiences that the common
man and woman both understand,
and have felt. we have to be real!
poetry is not a large volume
that sits on a shelf unopened...
poetry is the heartbeat of the people.
it has to taste like people, feel
like people, and stink like people!
at this late and urgent time,
it has nothing to do with praise,
with awards, or with fame...
it has to do with reaching out
into the sweat and the excrement,
the longing and the hurting, the
anger and the lostness... reaching
out and touching... i dont care if
anyone remembers my name 20 years
from now... what i care about is
whether what i write brings redemption
and healing to the human spirit!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The political object is the goal, war is the means of reaching it, and the means can never be considered in isolation form their purposes.

quote by Karl Von Clausewitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The War

There is a sound of thunder afar,
Storm in the south that darkens the day,
Storm of battle and thunder of war,
Well, if it do not roll our way.
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!

Be not deaf to the sound that warns!
Be not gull'd by a despot's plea!
Are figs of thistles or grapes of thorns?
How should a despot set men free?
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!

Let your Reforms for a moment go,
Look to your butts and make good aims.
Better a rotten borough or so,
Than a rotten fleet or a city of flames!
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!

Form, be ready to do or die!
Form in freedom's name and the Queen's!
True, that we have a faithful ally,
But only the devil knows what he means!
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lavender

while we are too busy
acting all tidy
flawless.

they drag along with them
the stink of a society
that has forgotten
what it is to stink.

they pick up
we dropp down.

hunching their backs to the dirt of culture
cleaning up after the remains
of our consumed pleasures.

we dropp down
they pick up.

they used to be merely grown men
that once towered
over gazes infant
until someone pointed to them
and we learned how to divide.

we dropp down
we dropp down.

yet every so often we will wonder;
soaked in lavender
scentless.

poem by Chris Jelens
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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