I have the thermometer in my mouth and I am listening to it all the time.
quote by William Whitelaw

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thermometer
the body is a
thermometer
of the heat around
is a thermometer
of God to see how
the person has veered
from his rights and wrongs
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo

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Black Bruises II
I can ponder upon the blackness,
the garrulous of silence
placated by benign solitude
I can endure the ostracizing
listening to lulling lullabies,
listening to trembling metals,
listening to enraptured echoes,
listening to a soundless shattering,
listening to nothingness,
listening to guffawing crows,
listening to diffident clocks,
listening to the waning time;
but am I the only one listening
to these black bruised whispers?
poem by Norman Santos

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Root To Branches
Words get written. Words get twisted.
Old meanings move in the drift of time.
Lift the flickering torches. See gentle shadows change
the features of the faces cut in unmoving stone.
Bad mouth on a prayer day, hope no one's listening.
Roots down in the wet clay, branches glistening.
True disciples carrying that message
to colour just a little with their personal touch.
Home-spun fancy weavers and naked half-believers --
Crusades and creeds descend like fiery flakes of snow.
Bad mouth on a prayer day, hope no one's listening.
Roots down in the wet clay, branches glistening.
In wet and windy priest-holes. Grand in vast cathedrals.
High on lofty minarets or in the temples of doom.
I hope the old man's got his face on.
He'd better be some quick change artist.
Suffer little children to make their minds up soon.
Bad mouth on a prayer day, hope no one's listening.
Roots down in the wet clay, branches glistening.
song performed by by Jethro Tull

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Roots To Branches
Words get written. words get twisted.
Old meanings move in the drift of time.
Lift the flickering torches. see gentle shadows change
The features of the faces cut in unmoving stone.
Bad mouth on a prayer day, hope no ones listening.
Roots down in the wet clay, branches glistening.
True disciples carrying that message
To colour just a little with their personal touch.
Home-spun fancy weavers and naked half-believers --
Crusades and creeds descend like fiery flakes of snow.
Bad mouth on a prayer day, hope no ones listening.
Roots down in the wet clay, branches glistening.
In wet and windy priest-holes. grand in vast cathedrals.
High on lofty minarets or in the temples of doom.
I hope the old mans got his face on.
Hed better be some quick change artist.
Suffer little children to make their minds up soon.
Bad mouth on a prayer day, hope no ones listening.
Roots down in the wet clay, branches glistening.
song performed by by Jethro Tull

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Are You Listening
Are you listening to my words
When I say them
Do you hear me when I need you most
Sometimes I feel like you not listening
Are you deaf?
Am i not speaking clear?
If I clear my throat and speak louder
Are you listening to me
Do you hear the words from my mouth
Is my voice to low?
Maybe if I speak louder maybe even scream it
Are you listening
poem by Raesheka Antwine

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S.O.S.
Is anybody listening?
Can they hear me when I call?
I'm shooting signals in the air
'Cause I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
So I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening
Listening
I'll be standing here and I'm miles away
Making signals hoping they'd save me
I lock myself inside these walls
'Cause out there I'm always wrong
I don't think I'm gonna make it
So while I'm sitting here
On the eve of my death bed
I'll write this letter and hope it saves me
Is anybody listening?
Can they hear me when I call?
Shooting signals in the air
'Cause I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
So I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening
Listening
I'm stuck in my own head and I'm oceans away
Would anybody notice if I chose to stay?
I'll send and SOS tonight
Wonder if I will survive
How in the hell did I get so far away this time
So now I'm sitting here
The time of my departure's near
I say a prayer
Please someone save me
Is anybody listening?
Can they hear me when I call?
Shooting signals in the air
'Cause I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
So I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening
Listening
I'm lost here
I can't make it on my own
I don't wanna die alone
I'm so scared
Drowning now
Reaching out
Holding on to everything I love
Crying out
Dying now
Need some help
Is anybody listening?
Can you hear me when I call?
Shooting signals in the air
I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening?
song performed by by Good Charlotte

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Remember When My Mouth Was Full
and i too remember when my mouth was full
i still wanted to talk
to you, there was this thought that keeps on bugging me
and it was for you,
that time, when my mouth was full, i wish i could talk
intelligibly, but how could i? when what i had was everything
kept within the four corners of my mouth,
sealed by the fence of my teeth, and the lock is in my tongue,
and my lips, they keep closing, keeping what palatable food was there.
i vomited. no, i did not.
i swallowed them all, Hook
line and sinker. i forgot that i am human.
i thought i was a fish. there were bubbles.
there was that river that swallowed me.
and it too did not talk,
now, i am talking to you. and you are listening.
then what? i have nothing to say.
i am empty.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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It Is Best To Be Prepared
Just because a mouth is constantly open...
Doesn't mean expectations should be raised,
That anything worthwhile comes out of it.
Would you trust one known to gossip...
With a secret,
You wished not have publicly exist?
Think about it!
Would you rely on someone,
Who has never committed to anything done?
But sit,
To give unsolicited opinions...
As if,
They have knowledge or wisdom you had not witnessed.
When someone like this gives you advice...
Don't be disrespectful by not listening.
Since you never know what is being said...
Will make you think about it more than twice.
Remember...
If you can tolerate BS?
Anything is possible.
Even a confession of ignorance.
I've done it!
And it is refreshing to become 'humblized'!
A process called 'growth' begins.
Just because a mouth is constantly open...
Doesn't mean expectations should be raised,
That anything worthwhile comes out of it.
But then again...
Never lower 'your' expectations,
That something coming out of a mouth like this...
Has not been visited by a thought process.
Connecting one day to make sense!
And you were blessed to have been made a gift of it!
The eyes and ears take over,
When the mouth is closed.
With observation and listening enhanced.
It is best to be prepared...
Anytime, any place, from anyone and anywhere!
Even birds don't fly seeking just a tree to land on.
Nor does wisdom exclusively come from those considered wise!
And 'that' took me a long time to realize,
My depth of comprehension...
Kept adding unto my understanding.
And at times my patience and tolerance I question.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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Lazy Enlightenment
now my soul speaks
now it is spoken before
it has spoken
before it has attempted
to speak
to my body to my mouth
seeing itself
in itself seeing
the beauty of the mirror
mirroring itself
upon itself
it is there
there is no question
there is no answer either
it is there
we have not seen it
we feel it
it is there listening
to us listening
to those awakened
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Not Here To Coddle Those Who Model In A Molded Moaning Done
Your gruffed up stuff,
Has gotten to be over-the-top.
And far too much.
To say I've had enough,
Is an understatement...
From a tongue I 'try' to hush.
Listening how your life is too tough,
Has made it difficult sometimes...
To keep my own mouth shut.
Take this hint from me,
Sympathies are not as freely given...
As they use to be.
And forget about 'empathy'!
'You' will not get that from me at all.
I've had enough of listening,
How your life is too tough.
And the suffering you've done,
With a daily roughness...
You can not overcome!
Why can't you hush up that 'muscle'
And muffle it?
No one 'here' wants to hear,
That continuous 'ssshhhssstuff'!
You've created that rut.
I've got a motto I choose to follow.
I'm not here to coddle those who model,
In a molded moaning of their lives...
That's done a lot!
I've had to stop.
Your gruffed up stuff,
Has gotten to be over-the-top.
And far too much.
To say I've had enough,
Is an understatement...
From a tongue I 'try' to hush.
Listening how your life is too tough,
Has made it difficult sometimes...
To keep my own mouth shut.
But I am learning.
Some lessons taught,
Are not as easy to learn as others!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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The Listening Week
This is the listening week of the year
Listening-in.
A-cock and alert is the national ear
Listening-in.
All over the land in the country towns,
From the back of the Leeuwin to Darling Downs,
Layers of 'quids' or the odd half-crowns,
They are listening-in.
On the far-flung farms they are round each set,
Listening-in.
The work and the worry they all forget,
Listening-in.
Wherever an aerial soars in space
To the Cup, or the Oaks or the Steeplechase,
To the roar of the ring and the lure of the race
They are listening-in.
In the far outback there are sun-tanned men,
Listening-in.
Where the woolshed stands by the drafting pen
Listening-in.
Old Dad's come in from the Ninety Mile;
He scored on the Cup and he wears a smile,
And he 'reckons this game is well worth while'
So he's listening in.
To the edge of the desert the sound-waves go;
And, listening-in,
Ned of the Overland, Saltbush Joe
Listening-in
Recall the giants of years long past,
And the loneliness of these spaces vast;
But they reckon that life's worth living at last
With this listening-in.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

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Listening
Listening.
And being there for someone loved...
To do just that!
With a mind willing,
To be receptive and clear...
Of opinions sitting,
On the tip of one's tongue.
With a giving of attention,
And staying mum.
Listening to someone.
Listening is not easily done.
For those who have experienced...
A life in which peace of mind has come.
When a listening ear,
Had not been volunteered by no one.
And some who know this...
Do their best to sit with patience.
Listening with no other reason...
But to be there as is wished.
For someone who has selected you,
Just for this.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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I've Been Listening to You Bitch
How do I know what makes you happy?
I've been listening to you for years.
I've been listening to you...
Sharing your agony and fears.
I've been here listening.
And I have not been distant.
I've been listening to you bitch.
And spending a lot of my time,
Doing it.
How do I know what makes you happy.
I know what doesn't.
And knowing that,
Is enough for me to know,
It is time for me to leave.
And 'if' that doesn't make 'you' happy...
Maybe knowing I am gone,
Will make you as thrilled...
I hope.
Even if only half as much,
As I know I am going to be!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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I have invented the Thermometer style.
quote by Josef Albers

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The thermometer of success is merely the jealousy of the malcontents.
quote by Salvador Dali

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Listening Effectively
I got it...
The first time.
I got it...
The second time.
But it was after the third time,
Of understanding clearly...
What was said the first time,
I stopped listening...
To allow you to ramble on.
Hoping in the midst of you doing it...
Something in your mind would comprehend,
I am also participating in the conversation.
And doing the best I can,
To do that effectively.
'Oh...
So,
Why didn't you interrupt me...
To say that you understood? '
I tried.
But listening effectively,
Is not one of your attributes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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383
a word from you, then you stop
something choppy
i like to listen more from you
another word, cut into half
i am having a hard time
figuring out what is there
with you that wants to hold
me, i stop to listen again,
some scratches from your
tongue, some gnashing from
your teeth, i am listening still,
some more words, more of
pauses, like some commas
are constructed by you on
purpose, i am tired in this,
i am impatient, you stretch
your arms to reach me again,
as i go nearer tapping my ears,
for you, yet there is this
suppression of meaning,
i am listening still, you
close your eyes and then
open them, this time some
tears fall, like ripe drops
of rain from dark clouds,
i see, your heart is broken
and your mind cannot
understand perfectly,
your mouth haggles
with words that your
tongue cannot form
simply because love is always misunderstood.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Allegro Comodo
a word from you, then you stop
something choppy
i like to listen more from you
another word, cut into half
i am having a hard time
figuring out what is there
with you that wants to hold
me, i stop to listen again,
some scratches from your
tongue, some gnashing from
your teeth, i am listening still,
some more words, more of
pauses, like some commas
are constructed by you on
purpose, i am tired in this,
i am impatient, you stretch
your arms to reach me again,
as i go nearer tapping my ears,
for you, yet there is this
suppression of meaning,
i am listening still, you
close your eyes and then
open them, this time some
tears fall, like ripe drops
of rain from dark clouds,
i see, your heart is broken
and your mind cannot
understand perfectly,
your mouth haggles
with words that your
tongue cannot form
simply because love is always misunderstood.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Public opinion is the thermometer a monarch should constantly consult.
quote by Napoleon Bonaparte

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cold If the thermometer had been an inch longer we'd all have frozen to death
quote by Mark Twain

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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