A child learns to discard his ideals, whereas a grown-up never wears out his short pants.
quote by Karl Kraus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The hitch in wisdom
I have grown enough
To discard belief in God,
Faith in soul and hopes in rituals.
I haven’t grown enough
To disbelieve my mother’s spirit.
16.04.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Mother Child
A mother is a child
She is younger than her children
That is why she learns from them
She learns the value
Of overcoming sin
Temptation passes her by
Her Children are her mentors
She teaches them while
They teach her…… Perfect
A Mother loves her child
With her life ……. Nothing more
She is burdened by love
She cares, She loves
She’s our mother
We love her
A team of the greatest
A mother and her child
One can’t live without the other
They run a race
A relay
Her love powers her
She can over come
All things
Just dig a little deeper
They are the strongest
A mother and her child
Nothing can separate their bond
Emotions pay a truce
A battle can be mended
Strongly from their hearts
She follows a God
A being not be seen
And so does her child
Her child follows her
They make her feel the love
What more could we want
poem by Dustin Bennefield
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Form Of Injustice
a tall child
is angry
picks a pebble
on his sling
and hits the
eye of the
the short
child on the
road
the eyeball explodes
blood flows
the short child
screams
the tall child
runs away
laughing loudly
he is far away now
and nowhere to
be seen
the short child keeps
on screaming
some people in the market
hear
run towards the
site
go near to ask
what happened
and then one by one
leave
to do their
respective chores
for the
ordinary day
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our child once grown
What if my wife revealed that she was pregnant by me?
However, what if our child one day chose simply not to believe?
In nine months and eighteen years, I need to answer this question.
Nine months for God and my wife to give birth to the little one.
Eighteen year for us to train them in the way that they should go.
But, it is our child choice in whom to believe once grown and outside our front door.
At home, our child shall be instructed about the consequences of their sin.
Our child will understand the punishment of God for sin in the end.
I will train our child up in the Godly way that they should always go.
I will show them the love of the wonderful God I personally know.
Once grown, by us, our child shall be shown how to live life righteously.
Regardless in whom they believe, they will always be our child to me.
How would I feel if in spite of everything I taught and showed our child?
Our child decided, once grown, to take another way in life for a while.
Although taught while young not to steal; once grown they stole any way.
Although taught while young not to lie; once grown they lied every day.
Would I abandon them as quickly as the rest of the world?
Would they still be the prized apple of your heart and still be daddy’s little boy or girl?
Still, there is always a chance our child might choose in God not to believe.
If our child does, it is not because of the lack of the right instructions from me.
I will love our child even if by their life they chose not to follow God.
Because no matter what our child is an important part of my heart.
In who to continue to believe that major choice of life shall be their own.
But, they are still our child though they choose not to believe or act right once grown.
poem by Reginald Walker
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At a Mother's Feet
At a mother’s feet is where a child sits.
At a mother’s feet is where a child listens.
At a mother’s feet is where a child hears.
At a mother’s feet is where a child learns.
He ain’t going be no damn good he is just like his daddy.
A child sitting at his mother feet listens and hears those words.
And that child learns that he is unloved at his mother’s feet.
Little Man Syndrome
He is though a very short man
To the world he must always prove himself
Tired of woman laughing when he walks by
And hates it when children calls him an elf.
When other man talks he always shouts
When other men walks he has to run
As though his disease his known to himself
As what he has is the little man syndrome.
So he goes out and buys himself a bike
And then buys a pair of high heel boots
He wants people to think he is truly a man
He even sometimes wears a small boys suit.
He has a short temper as he is a short man
Some times he tries to tell others want to do
But he gets ignored which is quite common
To the world his existence he must always prove.
He drinks and smokes to make himself feel tall
Must lie and steal at what other men do own
Always has seconds to what other other men had first
In the world of man he is always alone.
When he walks he must walk on his toes
Sadly he is shorter than all man and all child
And when he's with a woman she hunches her back
So she can help him feel tall every once in a while.
When others get taller he grows not at all
He is the same size as when he was a child
So the very little man has little small hands
And everything or one he touches he will defile.
He thinks he is tough but that is an act
As he cowers to everyone that he will meet
He will run and hide and cant fight his own fight
As a man he isn't he cant stand on his own two feet.
When he take his picture he stands on a chair
While all others will sit as he must always stand
But no matter what he does or what he wears
Everyone know the syndrome of the little man.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Dear Dr Freud
Dear Dr Freud
You wanted kill your father
To possess your mother
Your parents wanted to kill you
To possess each other
Dear Dr Freud
When a child is born
It has to face two hired ruffians
One is the child's mother
The child' s father is the other
You call them the agents of Superego
Used with the two goons
The grown up child
Learns to live as long as he can
In a world infested with snakes and tigers wild
Call it socialisation?
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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ask Marcelino if he still remembers
when he was yet four years
and Maya was yet five on this very bed
where Maya just woke up one morning,
he kissed her.
he stole a kiss from her lips and from his
short pants, that of a child, loose and transparent
i have seen how hard his thing was
to my disbelief arising as it was from a very young boy
with milk on its tongue. And Maya too liked it.
There was no anger in her face.
Freud must be right. One cannot take for granted
the tick that sticks on the eggs of men
inflamming them.
One cannot take for granted the lust of the past.
They still haunt. They still confuse. They can still make us crazy.
Look under your pants.The difference is just the lush of the black hair.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Magdalene
She was only seventeen
In her prime of life she was lean
And her only dream was to be on the silver screen
She hailed from north of Baltimore
Her mama says she'd end up a whore
And she spent up all her dough at the movie show
She's all go go go yeah yeah
She wears her pants on her hips too low
She learned it all in magazines
She's Magdalene
Ain't it funny how the sun shines ?
She was only seventeen
She packed her bag and went to the scene
She said I'm gonna take on this town I'm gonna be the queen
She mingled like she'd been there before
She worked it till they hollered for more
Then she took off all her clothes
Now everybody knows
She's all go go go yeah yeah
She wears her pants on her hips too low
She learned it all in magazines
She's magdalene
Ain't it funny how the sun shines?
Oh no no
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Circus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Adolescent hormones…
I have a devil in my pants
With a three pronged lance
Look here? Look there?
Look everywhere?
The whores of Babylon
And the wenches of France
Are serving up a dance
In my pants, in my pants
In my pants,
Yet; my heart wants romance.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Fake Plastic Trees
Her green plastic watering can
For her fake chinese rubber plant
In the fake plastic earth
That she bought from a rubber man
In a town full of rubber plans
To get rid of itself.
It wears her out
It wears her out
It wears her out
It wears her out
She lives with a broken man,
A cracked polystyreneman
Who just crumbles and burns
He used to do surgery
For girls in the eighties
But gravity always wins.
And it wears him out
It wears him out
It wears him out
It wears...
She looks like the real thing.
She tastes like the real thing,
My fake plastic love
But I cant help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If I just turn and run.
And it wears me out
It wears me out
It wears me out
It wears me out
If I could be who you wanted
If I could be who you wanted
All the time
All the time.
song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fake Plastic Tree (acoustic Version)
A green plastic watering can
For a fake chinese rubber plant
In the fake plastic earth
That she bought from a rubber man
In a town full of rubber plans
To get rid of itself
It wears her out, it wears her out
It wears her out, it wears her out
She lives with a broken man
A cracked polystyrene man
Who just crumbles and burns
He used to do surgery
On girls in the eighties
But gravity always wins
And it wears him out, it wears him out
It wears him out, it wears him out
She looks like the real thing
She tastes like the real thing
My fake plastic love
But I can't help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If I just turn and run
And it wears me out, it wears me out
It wears me out, it wears me out
And if I could be who you wanted
If I could be who you wanted
All the time, all the time
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But the egoist has no ideals, for the knowledge that his ideals are only his ideals, frees him from their domination. He acts for his own interest, not for the interest of ideals.
quote by John Buchanan Robinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the city
As a child in the afternoons
I walked home
barefoot along a sand road
with a short sleeved shirt and short pants
and the red brown sand
burnt my feet
but the air was bright blue,
I smelled the Lucerne of the field,
sometimes took a short cut through the stream,
birdcalls were like music
and the whole world belonged to me
and in everything
I could see the Lord’s works
and knew that I was serving
a loving Father.
l’Envoi
Now I walk with hand made shoes
in a designer suit
on concrete streets
from my car to the lift
then on thick carpets
to my office
and in the background
I can hear the air conditioner
and somewhere life
has lost its soul.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fake Plastic Tress
Her green plastic watering can
For her fake chinese rubber plant
In the fake plastic earth
That she bought from a rubber man
In a town full of rubber plans
To get rid of itself
It wears her out
It wears her out
It wears her out
It wears her out
She lives with a broken man
A cracked polystyrene man
Who just crumbles and burns
He used to do surgery for girls in the eighties
But gravity always wins
And it wears him out
And it wears him out
And it wears him out
She looks like the real thing
She tastes like the real thing
My fake plastic love
But I cant help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If I just turn and run
And it wears me out
It wears me out
And it wears me out
If I could be who you wanted
If I could be who you wanted all the time
song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Much time has passed since the first colonists came to rocky shores and dark forests of an unknown continent, much time since President Washington led a young people into the experience of nationhood, much time since President Lincoln saw the American nation through the ordeal of fraternal war — and in these years our population, our plenty and our power have all grown apace. … Yet, as our power has grown, so has our peril. Today we give our thanks, most of all, for the ideals of honor and faith we inherit from our forefathers — for the decency of purpose, steadfastness of resolve and strength of will, for the courage and the humility, which they possessed and which we must seek every day to emulate. As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words but to live by them. Let us therefore proclaim our gratitude to Providence for manifold blessings — let us be humbly thankful for inherited ideals — and let us resolve to share those blessings and those ideals with our fellow human beings throughout the world.
quote by John F. Kennedy
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Fake Plastic Trees (live)
Radiohead cover
her green plastic watering can
for her fake chinese rubber plant
in the fake plastic earth
that she bought from a rubber man
in a town full of rubber plans
to get rid of itself
it wears her out
it wears her out
it wears her out
it wears her out
she lives with a broken man
a cracked polystyrene man
who just crumbles and burns
he used to do surgery for girls in the eighties
but gravity always wins
and it wears him out
and it wears him out
and it wears him out
she looks like the real thing
she tastes like the real thing
my fake plastic love
but i can't help the feeling
i could blow through the ceiling
if i just turn and run
and it wears me out
it wears me out
and it wears me out
if i could be who you wanted
if i could be who you wanted all the time
song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Messages
Must a poet's word bring forth
a liturgy of high ideals?
Or is it just as important
to speak of how one feels?
Ideals are what we reach for.
We mostly come up short,
but still the reaching's important
which we never should abort.
Still my poet's mind must care
and create the scenes I see,
the world in pain that's everywhere
must be penned by me.
All cannot be rosy
although I wish it were.
And so these words I offer you
make me a messenger.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Children Are Always Your Children
In your eye’s the child
never ends,
nor should it
Oh the limbs grow,
the body matures to adulthood
But in your eye’s and heart
the child remains
The laughter though a deeper tone
Still holds that
joyous golden ring
of Christmas presents
or a birthday game
The hair now full and Silky
Still holds the urge
to touch and stroke
The smile though older
still makes the heart leap
The body may be
tall and lithe and grown
But in your eyes the outline
of the child is still seen
Though they are grown and flown
Never does a day pass
without the same worry
how are they, where are they
though they may be grown
In your eyes the child never ends nor should it
poem by Bill Mitton
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As a general thing, when a woman wears the pants in a family, she has a good right to them.
quote by Josh Billings
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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