A taste for truth at any cost is a passion which spares nothing.
quote by Albert Camus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How can sincerity be a condition of friendship? A taste for truth at any cost is a passion which spares nothing.
quote by Albert Camus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Plastic Passion
Plastic passion is a hard to handle
Plastic passion is a sold out scandal
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is the ladies lover
Plastic passion is the marble mother
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a diamond delight
Plastic passion is the nadir of night
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a hycoscine heart
Plastic passion is a transparent tart
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a gold guarantee
The plastic passion is murdering me
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ode to passion
I say, too much passion in us poets,
like a touch of a thousand
saccharine taste invading our veins,
we cannot restrain, we
cannot condemned the only reason for our being,
passion is what keeps us breathing,
passion can make us see it all
different than others,
not to cease, not to die
or give-up, passion grows in our soul,
it reminds us it is there
every minute of our day,
when we need to count the hours
to get to him/her.
Passion is the sedactive to our worst day.
The essential of reason,
the way to a path,
to rivers and streams that find our dreams,
passion is a vessel making a net
reaching our heart our souls
keeping the beat louder and quieter in waves
frequencies, passion is vigor,
is a sparkle in our heart that continually
beats violently and has no outcome.
Passion is un 'Corazon salvaje'.
©ElenaToledo2011
poem by Elenushka Toledo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Where Is My Passion
Where is my passion
Far too much pain
Where is my passion
Must I love in vain?
Where is my passion
I need must know
Where is my passion
I want so much to grow
Where is my passion
Lost in your lips
Where is my passion
I feel for your kiss
Where is my passion
Lost in your eyes
Where is my passion
Release me to fly
Where is my passion
There in your hands
Where is my passion
Touch me…expand
Where is my passion
Please…be a man
poem by Fleurette Elaine Harris
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Cup of mocha
You never liked
the taste of mocha
You said it was
coffee laced
with chocolate lies
I always loved it
when the chocolate
masked the coffee
Just enough, and
let it linger nice
A lie coated truth
But, truth nevertheless...
The warm cup of mocha
Stands and grows cold
outside in
Dreams, forgotten,
lie dormant
new, old within
I stretch over the table
as across continents
To hold your hands,
to cup some warmth into;
a coffee grown cold,
a life grown old
We always shared
the mocha
you sipping
seeking the coffee
While I taste
the chocolate,
wait with the coffee
We stare athwart
Our love’s passion,
no longer an obsession
It retains within us ties,
Coffee mingled with chocolate lies
You always said
“Serve me poison,
with a smile,
I will drink it too.
Please, don’t lace it
with chocolate as with
coffee you do.”
You never liked
the taste of mocha
Yet, you always
drink it with me
As you sip,
your eyes crinkle
and I smile too, with you...
poem by O. Sudhir Janardhanan
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Killing Fields
You know the feeling
When adrenaline takes control
Can't beat the rush
That leaves a suicidal hold
Instinct spares no one
Destroying the human heart
The taste of blood
Can rip your soul apart
Devils that drive us
Do not discriminate
A state of mind
That becomes the ultimate end
Action reaction
Blood line is not immune
To the depth of human nature
Inside of me and you
A sociopath with empty eyes
and no soul
Paranoid psychotic heart of stone
My blood runs cold
Evils of passion
Can drive reason to extremes
Love
song performed by by Slayer from Divine Intervention
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Truth Through Repetition
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition
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rough repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth th
ough repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth thr
ugh repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth thro
gh repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth throu
h repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth throug
repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through
repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through
epetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through r
petition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through re
etition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through rep
tition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repe
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tion Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repeti
ion Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetit
on Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetiti
n Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetitio
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetiion
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition
ruth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition T
uth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Tr
th through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Tru
h through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Trut
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The things I love with a passion
I rock and roll with passion
I talk out my soul with a passion
I eat good food with passion
I defeat bad mood with a passion
I sleep well with passion
I weep hell with a passion
I dream endlessly with passion
I gleam ceaselessly with a passion
I aim for money with passion
I do the same for honey with a passion
I listen carefully with passion
I glisten dutifully with a passion
I search for fame with passion
I research to blame with a passion
I walk everyday with passion
I talk and play with a passion
I embrace life with passion
I face nightlife with a passion
I laugh out with passion
I chaffe about with a passion
I cook with others with passion
I look at mothers with a passion
I touch gently with passion
I clutch tightly with a passion
I work hard with a passion
I rock mad with a passion
I gear up goals with passion
I stir up roles with a passion
I make friends with passion
I take weekends with a passion
I love kissing with passion
I love teasing with a passion
I make love with passion
I take from above with a passion
If push comes to shove
Label me old fashioned
For these are things I caption
In life with all my passion
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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(V - 2009) The Truth of the Truth
The Sages and Seers
That be and have been
Cannot have seen
The truth of the Truth!
What they see as Truth
Is Truth merely
It’s not really
The truth of the Truth!
The Ultimate Truth
Cannot be known
We aren’t that grown –
The truth of the Truth!
We’re part of the Truth
We’re trying to see
We’re yet so tiny –
The truth of the Truth!
Though hard and great
The pains we give
We cannot outlive
The truth of the Truth!
What’s Truth to you once
Remains not the same
So changing the game –
The truth of the Truth!
What’s Truth to a man
Is not Truth to all
That’s what we call
The truth of the Truth!
These thoughts as I pen
It’s Truth to me
It’s to me only
The truth of the Truth!
I Don't Want to Hear Another Word
I don’t want to hear another word!
Don’t even express to me another thought.
I don’t need something else to believe.
I am filled to the brim with philosophies.
I prefer to remain ignorant.
I am finally seeing that I can choose to say no,
To more information about the Infinite.
You have defined Him for me since I was a child.
And I let you.
I thought I had to.
But you cannot possibly know what He is to me.
No lines can be drawn.
He is not in any vocabulary.
Passion is something you feel.
It is something you are.
It is not in Webster’s dictionary,
Somewhere between “operate” and “star”.
God is my passion.
He is passion for me.
I am passion for Him.
He is the ocean rising up like a wave around me.
Suddenly I am lifted up off of my feet,
As His passion breaks over my head.
I am drowning in the experience of passion.
You cannot tell me how this is supposed to feel.
As this wave assaults my senses and,
Water pours into all my orifices.
You have the nerve to try and tell me what the rules are?
What the truth is?
How reality really is?
You there, standing on the shore,
Are going to tell me how I am to drown?
If you were in this ocean with me,
You and I would be one.
Not because we believe the same things,
Or are even aware of each other.
When orgasm reaches its crescendo,
We are so utterly alone,
Yet more one with
God than we have ever known.
We would be one in that we both,
Peaked with God and felt His heartbeat close to ours.
Passion is not a belief, a conviction, a truth.
Passion is an experience of Divine Love,
That changes you from the inside out.
You cannot tell someone about it.
You can only hope to survive it.
Or maybe not.
poem by Connie Crane
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Who Needs Love?
Passion and lust takes my mind
as I see you in the morning light
as my heart beats like a drum
even your breathing excites me
A passion spell have thou spun on me?
You made me offer my soul
gladly to the devil, for one embrace
one wet kiss, would be my eternal bliss.
All day, thoughts of you tease me
for when I taste you, I live again.
So long a fool, I waited for love
when all I needed was passion.
Passion from your body
warms me to the bone.
Passion from your words
engorges the vessels in my brain.
Nights in your arms, steeped in sweat
burning tensely within your body
waiting for the flood to overflow
as passion drowns the ache for love.
poem by Nicky McNeil
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Seduced By Trivia
It is easier to take a taste that is sweetened.
Once seduced by trivia it becomes a wasted effort,
To reduce it to just a meaningless hype.
After it has blown to grow in significance,
To entice one's appetite.
Since a trivia introduced to praise delusion,
Feeds less on truth.
Until truth itself becomes viewed as ineffective.
And those most affected become conditioned to suspect,
Every aspect of truth with a wish to dissect it.
With a recruiting of those who have chosen to disrespect,
The presence of truth's existence...
To ensure none of it is left to have influence,
On anyone believing to be truthful is best.
It is easier to take a taste that is sweetened.
Until truth itself becomes viewed as ineffective.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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THE COST...by Talile Ali
V1
ALWAYS AVOIDED FAME
AFRAID TO PAY THE COST
LOSS OF FAMILY
FRIEND'S WHO ALL ARE LOST
THERE IS NO DENYING
THE NEED TO SERVE IS STRONG
THE COST OF SERVICE EXPENSIVE
THAT'S NOT TO SAY IT'S WRONG
CHORUS
BUT IT'S THE COST
IT'S THE COST
GOTTA PAY THE PIPER
OR ELSE YOU'LL BE TOSSED
IT'S THE COST
V2
LOVE IS PLAIN AND SIMPLE
HEART IS STRONG AND TRUE
EPIPHANIES ARE FLOWING
WANT TO SHARE WITH YOU
SO I WRITE AND PERFORM
AND YOU SEE MY NEED
TO DO THIS HERE SERVICE
FOR EVERYONE'S THAT'S PLEASED
JAM FOR 24 BARS
CHORUS
BUT IT'S THE COST
IT'S THE COST
GOTTA PAY THE PIPER
OR ELSE YOU'LL BE TOSSED
IT'S THE COST
FADE OUT
poem by Talile Ali
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The Passion Fruits
there were too many passion
fruits in the garden
of my Papa
it is a vine that climbs
atop trees
covering them
they all fall this summer
these ripe passion fruits that most of our neighbors
know nothing about
how they taste what is their use
&
as a consequence of that ignorance
no one takes a passion fruit
for a cold refreshing juice this summer
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Little about passion
Passion kills,
Passion thrills,
Passion fills,
with a sense of purpose..........
Passion may chill,
Passion makes ill,
Passion is still,
Pain mistaken as passion........
(2 7/Jan'/'09)
poem by Mahfooz Ali
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Passion Is Power Transformative
passion creates no choice
passion productivity produce
passion desire compels excels
passion is power transformative
passion is creation seductive
passion is emotive abilities
passion is mind romance
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Pledge Of Freedom
if the cost of freedom
be my hand or my foot...
cut them off, take them,
let it be so.
if to see equality,
you must take my eyes,
pluck them out,
they are yours!
if the price of compassion
be the scars on my back,
then so be it.
if my body be the bridge
you must cross to find the truth,
then i lay it down!
if my heart in your hands
be the cost of responsibility,
then i give it!
for i cannot go there...
without you!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Baby
Words that were spoken in the anger
of youth only half truth.
Touched by the chilbride
while
deep inside her lie real truth.
He was the passion of the spring
he was the baby.
And half forgotten in the passing
of time.
The real crime brother and brother
with backs to each other
the war sign.
and in the passion of the spring
came the baby.
Come back
mama
mama sing him a song.
Tell him all that was wrong
tell him all that you had that was bad.
Tell him all that was good mama.
You know that you should mama
remember the good mama.
And with the light that you show
let him grow
let him go
let him go
let him go
let him
let him
let him go.
Words that were spoken in the anger
of youth only half truth.
Touched by the chilbride
while
deep inside her lie the real truth.
He was the passion of spring
he was the baby.
He was the passion of the spring
he was the baby.
And in the passion of the spring
came the baby.
And in the passion of the spring
came the baby.
The baby yeah
the baby yeah.
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Startling Is The Sharpness Of Its Shocking Knock
Sugar-coating realities,
Has left mentalities...
Desperately searching,
For alternatives to provide...
A familiar taste upon which to feed.
And the high cost in maintaining delusions,
Is getting closer everyday to losing an effectiveness.
A delivery of unwrapped packaged facts comes,
On those doorsteps unfamiliar with truth.
And startling is the sharpness of its shocking knock.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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