Flattery is all right so long as you don't inhale.
quote by Adlai Stevenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am a politician
How many arrows of sarcasm are there in your armour?
Waste them upon me,
As I have lost my self-respect
Somewhere in the world of flattery,
Now I have become an object of derision in every eye,
My day begins with flattery and it ends with the same,
I am the most shameless person on the earth,
I can put anything at stake to grind my axe,
I am the one who is an eyesore to the people,
They hate me and call me filthy beast,
But it doesn't matter
As long as my interest is served,
Inspite of their hatred
In the election,
I manage their votes,
For I soften them by my servile flattery,
They will never cease hating me,
And I shall never flattering them,
For politics is my religion,
And flattery is my faith,
I am a politician.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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Sheer flattery got me into the theater. Flattery always works with me, particularly the flattery of women.
quote by Carroll O'Connor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inhale
He said:
I am a
Cigarette
For you.
Don't inhale me.
You'll get addicted.
I said:
Be
Aromatherapy
For me.
Let me
Inhale you
And get
Rejuvenated.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Baloney is flattery laid on so thick it cannot be true, and blarney is flattery so thin we love it.
quote by Fulton J. Sheen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Scent
As I lay alone late tonight I hold your pillow tight and inhale your scent.
The scent that sends my mind back to the last time we made love.
Now, as I inhale more of the scent of you I start to feel your presences.
I begin to feel soft tenderness of your kisses.
I then feel your touch stroking every inch of my body.
I also feel the motion of your hips just like I did the last night we made love.
As I take one last deep breath and inhale the scent that is the essence of you.
I feel you doing the same thing as you also lay alone without me.
The flattery of posterity is not worth much more than contemporary flattery, which is worth nothing.
quote by Jorge Luis Borges
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The World Is Mine
Inhale the joy
Inhale the fun
Now its time for me to get on top
Of the world
Inhale the music and the warmth
The crowd is ready to bring me to the top
Of the world
(chorus)
Cause the world is mine
I wont stop this time
Cause the world is mine
And Im feeling so divine
Im part of this illusive show
Time for me to get on stage
Lights fade
Tomorrow youll be at my feet
Saturated senses set me free
Its all I need
The world the world is mine
And Im feeling so divine
song performed by by Hooverphonic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nothing in the world is harder than speaking the truth and nothing easier than flattery. If there's the hundredth part of a false note in speaking the truth, it leads to a discord, and that leads to
trouble. But if all, to the last note, is false in flattery, it is just as agreeable, and is heard not without satisfaction. It may be a coarse satisfaction, but still a satisfaction. And however coarse the flattery, at least half will be sure to seem true. That’s so for all stages of development and classes of society.
Crime and Punishment in Fyodor Dostoevsky
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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He who says he hates every kind of flattery, and says it in earnest, certainly does not yet know every kind of flattery.
quote by Georg C. Lichtenberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dissed
I am quiet
The clock is slow
The teacher talks fast
I inhale then exhale
I am anxious
The clock moves faster
The teacher is writing on the board
I inhale then exhale
I am excited
The bell is about to ring
The teacher gives the homework assignment
I inhale then exhale slowly
I am nervous
The bell has finally rung
I walk out of class heading in his direction
I can barely breathe now
I am brave
I wait for him to walk my way
He sees me, I open my mouth, but he walks in the opposite direction
I am left motionless
poem by Pamela Mote
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Chosen Books
Inhale now that the books are chosen,
Turn them to inhabit them, occupying them.
There is a reason for the thinking,
A meaning to deliver to the brain.
They are stocked on the shelves,
For all in the house, always in view.
A history has emerged of truthfulness,
Nothing but the truth, nobody objects
Or instructs others.
Inside we did discover all the knowledge,
But inhale any you demand for all time.
poem by Naveed Akram
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How to breathe diamonds
A breath of diamonds
First take a small diamond
Then proceed to heat it until
It becomes extremely hot
Then carefully pour a bit of
Liquid oxygen within
A liquid oxygen proof pot
Then stir rather brisk, with
A long handled whisk… as a burn
With Lox you would not want to risk
Stir the diamond within
Watch as it dances
and revolves
Til’ the precious Ingredient
begins to soften…to melt
then dissolve
Into aromatic vapors
of carbon dioxide
So white and so pure
Then… inhale the finished dish
As deeply as you wish
And “viola! ”
You inhale diamonds
That are diamonds…
No more
poem by David Whalen
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Flattery has no place
Flattery is not friendship
And in friendship
Flattery has no place.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Are you Breathless...
Distance makes the faces blurred,
Familiar voices are less often heard…
Don’t just wait and sit alone by phone,
And wait for that call and ring tone.
Have you ever held your breath,
And felt as if you will suffocate?
Oh, what a relief it is to exhale
And then allow yourself to inhale.
I learnt a long time ago,
Everyone wants to be let go…
Love would never clip the wings,
Every heart has a right to sing…
So do I, even if I sing to myself
Don’t we all long to tune to ourselves?
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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The First Time
My senses are heightened
As adrenaline pounds through me
Using my veins
In a personal
Pulsating
Selfish way.
That makes it seem my heart will
Break out of my chest
And,
Dance before my eyes.
Every hair on my body has risen
Expectantly, waiting for you.
I lean towards you
Like soft green grass
Dancing in the breeze.
Breathe
Eyes dilated
Pupils fixated into tiny points.
Searching
Looking
Knowing
As I inhale your sent.
A flood of emotions
Engulf me
Crash against me like waves.
A Tsunami
Hitting pebbles on a beach.
I will be swept away in the moment
Engulfed in your arms
Crushed by your mouth
As it consumes me.
Your tongue has me enslaved.
In your iron grip
My waist is anchored by your hands.
My hips begin to undulate
In some primal dance
That seems to be buried somewhere within me.
I share a secret
That escapes as a sigh in your mouth.
This secret was hidden somewhere within me
Waiting for you to unlock it.
This spell is ancient
It has captured me.
You have my full attention
All senses attuned to you.
I crave the sweetness of your mouth
Your sent
You remind my flesh of its purpose.
Remind my heart why it beats.
Remind me why I breathe.
As I breathe you in
Exhale.
Remind me why I'm alive
Inhale.
Remind me
Exhale.
Who I am
Inhale.
Tell me again and again
Exhale.
Why it is
Inhale.
Why I think
Exhale.
I love you
And forget to breathe.
poem by Rabia Minhas
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Sonnet 114: Or whether doth my mind, being crowned with you
Or whether doth my mind, being crowned with you,
Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery?
Or whether shall I say mine eye saith true,
And that your love taught it this alchemy,
To make of monsters, and things indigest,
Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble,
Creating every bad a perfect best
As fast as objects to his beams assemble?
O, 'tis the first, 'tis flattery in my seeing,
And my great mind most kingly drinks it up;
Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing,
And to his palate doth prepare the cup.
If it be poisoned, 'tis the lesser sin
That mine eye loves it and doth first begin.
poem by William Shakespeare
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A Cigarette
A Cigarette
Dawn, yes and the mist, what else do you
expect on lake Martin early and summer?
Swamp cypress dripping with Spanish moss.
I have stopped rowing, water swirling around
Oar blades, the silence is absolute I dare not
Inhale, a bird shrieks, the lake shudders
An evil thought has entered Paradise, I hear
The faint noise of outboard motors,
The moment of ethereal stillness has gone,
I lit a cigarette inhale deeply, exhale and blow
Rings a pure delight into morning air.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Unattached to a Dollar Sign
When one has before soaked,
And bathed in flattery...
It is difficult to rekindle,
That first impression given.
The feeling that comes,
When someone likes what another has done...
Is much more rewarding,
Than a packed house of applauding patrons.
Let me reword that.
Because a packed house of applauding patrons...
Is very rewarding.
Especially if they are paying patrons.
And the bows come tremendously deep in gratitude.
However...
When one has before soaked,
And bathed in flattery...
It is difficult to rekindle,
That first impression given.
The feeling that comes,
When someone likes what another has done.
That feeling...
Is 'almost' like,
A packed house of applauding 'and' approving patrons.
Whether they pay or not.
It is the love that is expressed.
'And the cashed checks...
That come next! '
Do you have a single thought,
Unattached to a dollar sign?
Do you?
'Please...
Save that for your next performance.'
Inspired by:
Alvin 'Junn' Wilson
Long Beach, California
'Keep those struggles fresh and vunerable.
It's the vulnerability that keeps a performing artist
connected. And broke! LOL...You know I know! '
Love ya...
Larry
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Welcome Last Exhale
When most of the breath has left my frame
and not much lies inside
I'll remember when my breath was on fire
as I lay at night by your side.
Lucky to be granted a long life
or unlucky for I'm alone.
Only my remembrance to comfort me
for 'tis all I own.
Once I owned the world with you.
Now, I own despair.
Tears do flow on silent nights
as into space I stare.
I catch a glimpse but soon its gone,
my memory fragile now.
Tomorrow if I come awake
and the Gods allow
I'll pray to leave and find you
and maybe I'll inhale
a long deep breath once again
with a welcome last exhale.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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More Than Just Exposure
More than just exposure.
My needs are to connect.
There is no flattery blinding me.
My mission is totally circumspect.
Prudent are my movements.
Precise are the intentions meant.
Forward is my pace.
Whatever it takes...
To replace the commonness,
Of accepted waste.
More than just exposure.
My needs are to connect.
There is no flattery blinding me.
My mission is totally circumspect.
Totally I choose to remain focused,
On what it is I must do next.
To afford that progress.
No matter the difficulty of those steps.
One affected with a purpose,
Is challenged by obstacles...
That allows little time,
Found to rest and reflect.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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