Brains are like sponges... If allowed to remain moist for too long they become moldy.
quote by Angela White
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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23 (skidoo)
Moldy grows the fig.
I will eat it anyway,
the moldy old fig.
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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D12
i agree
that if from the moldy
bread they
produce penicillin
what more from
'out of you '
can they bring?
you are not
the moldy bread
i supposed
i wish i am.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woman Is Fire
There was a time when Woman went out of house, house of wax was left by Woman, Woman with waxen complexion I was, I was fiery Woman, Woman's body was a wax, Woman's eyes a flammable paraffin, what Woman's mouth was: withered red apples when Woman was fired out of house. House was invisible when Woman took a fire lamp and went to cheer in the smell of fallen apples, scattered around house, our moldy house. In the cold night Woman molded her body in a candle mould to revive old fire and saw Man that gathered apple stalks from moldy apple trees. It was a lonely man, Man that made a fire with waxed paper and moldering apple stalks. Man that sat outdoors on a moldy wooden bench by that fire and drunk applejack.
Woman saw Man, Man that felt Woman's looks through apple shaped embers bursting out of fire when wet apple leaves dried. Fire was a necessity for Man, for Man made his living being a fire-eater. The fire-eater wanted fire that gives birth, of fireworks, exploding fire. Man moved a long green apple stalk through fire to burn fire more. Man took a dropp and swallowed it. Man took another dropp and spat it into the fire. Suddenly Man realized what he needed and waxed on a piece of paper: fire must drink applejack for fire is becoming moldy, and he spat what he drunk mingled with apple-tasting spit. House is moldy too, Woman remembered and woman's heart became a rotten apple.. Fire was quenching as Woman closed her eyelids, apple peels, longing for house. House may be moldy, but house is not empty. Woman molded house the like, house full of candle lights and fireflies. Woman left Man's fire quenched and remained an apple scented candle. House melts easily and hardens quickly, Woman too. Woman abandoned Man not to be melt. That is old fire in Woman, as she stalks on apple waxed earth toward house.
poem by Afrodita Nikolova
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Should Be Allowed To Think
I saw the best minds of my generation
Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim, one occurs to me
If necessary, leave paper stains on the grey utility pole
I saw the worst bands of my generation
Applied by magic marker to dry wall
I should be allowed to shoot my mouth off
I should have a call in show
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim, one occurs to me
If necessary, leave paper stains on the grey utility pole
I am not allowed
To ever come up with a single original thought
I am not allowed
To meet the criminal government agent who oppresses me
I was the worst hope of my generation
Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical
I should be allowed to share my feelings
I should be allowed to feel
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim one occurs to me
But sadly, this can never be
I am not allowed to think
I am not allowed to think
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Am I Allowed
Am I allowed
To wish not to breathe?
Am I allowed
To skip over tomorrow?
And,
Am I allowed
Not to believe,
Who it is that speaks.
Or,
Whom everybody follows?
Am I allowed
To want my own needs?
Am I allowed
Not to beg or borrow.
Am I allowed
Not to be deceived,
By who those that I know
Are low, lazy and shallow?
Am I allowed
My own company?
Am I allowed
To float or row my boat?
And,
Am I allowed
To see what I see,
Who it is that show
Not which way to go?
Am I allowed
To want my own needs?
Am I allowed
Not to beg or borrow.
Am I allowed
Not to be deceived,
By who those that I know
Are low, lazy and shallow?
Am I allowed
My own company?
Am I allowed
To float or row my boat?
And,
Am I allowed
To see what I see,
Who it is that show
Not which way to go?
Am I allowed
To wish not to breathe?
Am I allowed
To skip over tomorrow?
And,
Am I allowed
Not to believe,
Who it is that speaks.
Or,
Whom everybody follows?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stinky, Moldy Cheese
In my house there is a slice...
Of stinky cheese
In my house there is some chedder
Though staying far from it might be better
In my house there's a piece
Of stinky, moldy mozzarela cheese
In my house there are many things
But nothing can top stinky, moldy cheese
There is a whisperer who tells me many things
'Hey miss...'
'Don't go near the swiss! '
You're so lucky this cheese...
Isn't yours
poem by Kristy Wisser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Its Moldy Now
[parody of hold me now by the thompson twins]
I had a pizza,
Covered with cheese.
I wrapped it all up in aluminum foil,
Stuck it back in the freeze.
Look at my crust now,
See what I mean.
Its getting all wrinkled,
And my pepperoni is hairy and green.
Ah, cause its moldy now,
It got moldy fast.
How can i
Make leftovers last, make leftovers last?
I was so hungry,
What could I do?
I finished the pizza
And topped it all off with some mystery stew.
Now I feel kinda queasy,
Yeah, yeah, what can I say?
So I called my physician
To wish him that hed make a house call today.
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anybody home? Anybody there?
You sent emails
And there is no reply
You sent pics and
There is nobody
Acknowledging
You sent a lot
Of poems
And you
Keep on doing
These things
Repeatedly
For what
Crazy phenomenon
You can’t just
Simply stop
Missing breakfasts
Skipping snacks
Little sleep
No exercise
Canceled walks
Refused Parties
You are
Simply engaged
In nothing
But intellectual
Masturbation
Rubbing your
Brains against
The monitor
Self strangulation
Self beatings
Inflicting a
Punishment that
You do not deserve
That
you cannot
Explain yourself
Hey, hey
Is there anybody
There?
Is there
Anybody home?
Are you there?
Answer me
I am tired.
like one mashed potato
just mashed
uneaten
unliked
moldy
and will be thrown to the garbage can.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Opportunities
I've got the brains, you've got the looks
Let's make lots of money
You've got the brawn, i've got the brains
Let's make lots of -
I've had enough of scheming and messing around with jerks
My car is parked outside, i'm afraid it doesn't work
I'm looking for a partner, someone who gets things fixed
Ask yourself this question: do you want to be rich?
I've got the brains, you've got the looks
Let's make lots of money
You've got the brawn, i've got the brains
Let's make lots of money
You can tell i'm educated, i studied at the sorbonne
Doctored in mathematics, i could have been a don
I can program a computer, choose the perfect time
If you've got the inclination, i have got the crime
Oh, there's a lot of opportunities
If you know when to take them, you know?
There's a lot of opportunities
If there aren't, you can make them
Make or break them
I've got the brains, you've got the looks
Let's make lots of money
Let's make lots of -
(aahhhhh) money
(aahhhhh)
(aahhhhh - di du da di da bu di ba)
You can see i'm single-minded, i know what i could be
How'd you feel about it, come and take a walk with me?
I'm looking for a partner, regardless of expense
Think about it seriously, you know, it makes sense
Let's (got the brains)
Make (got the looks)
Let's make lots of money (oohh money)
(let's) you've got the brawn
(make) i've got the brains
Let's make lots of money (oohh money)
I've got the brains (got the brains)
You've got the looks (got the looks)
Let's make lots of money (oohh money)
Money
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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During my time yet
I felt tired of looking around me
I wanted to scream - berate them
To break up the sound muscle
But for what the
Oh, I better remain silent, silent as long as I want
God, give me a head with a sane brains contents
Not filled with all forms of propaganda
That I can use as protective of the weakness that I have
During my time yet to leave the world
Copyright © 2012 ℠
Under Thick Smoke
We propagate and own wholly
As we have failed to understand any
What have we to do with eternal peace?
When life is comfortable spent at ease
Why do we bother about people next door?
Why to think they are black, white or poor?
I am specially suited so enjoy
Why should I put show for decoy?
It is good for public consumption
There can never be any resumption
The difference may remain forever
But still hope is alive to narrow it down, however
We are good at deceiving art
We will show bravery at the start
We may withdraw steps at any time
But may render lip services sometimes
We have learnt to live among fake surrounding
It looks hollow and offer no solution or sounding
It is just spoken at functions but not followed
Some of atrocities are still committed and allowed
Nature e has created day and light
Fear and apprehensions with the advent of night
Why some people black and white?
Why tussle over everything and fight?
It will remain so long as the nature remains
It will persist so long it has strong domain
It will not disappear at one stroke
It may remain even under thick smoke
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Their Brains in the Bottom Drawer
With some people, the more power they receive,
and the bigger boots they get,
they file away their brains in the bottom drawer.
Their brains end up where there ass should be,
and their ass where their brains should be.
This leaves everyone to wonder,
did they get a degree in stupidity.
We meet them all the time,
and we all know the old saying,
a little power goes to their head.
How many times
have we heard that said?
Little people with big notions,
well beyond their station.
Some people are born to be leaders,
some others are the righter of wrongs.
Some think they know it all,
but most of them are dumb.
They abuse the power they have acquired
in a most idiotic way,
so in the bottom drawer their brains are bound to stay.
(2 May 2007)
poem by David Harris
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Justice
justice allegedly is not arrogant
when it proclaims that
no stone shall be left
unturned
neither is it so inefficient
to take the pacing of
a snail
how do you like a blind
woman to decide your murder case?
how unupdated is the sword?
how rusty are the scales?
and how long can the hands of time
stop the moldy motion of madness?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Radha Waits
I know, you never keep up your word
by habit O' my mate.
Yet I sat in that deserted place in wait
behind a thorny bush, beside a pond
pulling the innocent grass roots
and throwing stones into the defenceless waters.
My enamoured heart
allowed me not a glum retreat.
My hoping eyes didn't like a disjoint
with the wiggling country path
in that dim crescent light.
The Moon's melting down;
The white jasmines in my bridle were wilting down.
A mischievous zephyr whispered into my ears
"He won't come dear;
better you go. How long you wait? "
Wiping the sweat on my forehead, I cussed and hissed,
"Oh any long; I'm sure I hear his footsteps at any time;
engulfs me, in just a moment, his masculine scent.
Shut up O' unromantic wind.
Throw your advice at some lifeless stump
or spill on some unfeeling dump.
My deep inner desires are still moist.
My throbbing bosom is warmer than ever.
I wait for him, I wait for him; any long; any long"
Yet I fear,
since I know you never
keep up your word O' mate.
poem by Sathya Narayana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Crazy Jane On God
That lover of a night
Came when he would,
Went in the dawning light
Whether I would or no;
Men come, men go;
All things remain in god.
All things remain in god.
Banners choke the sky;
Men-at-arms tread;
Armoured horses neigh
In the narrow pass:
All things remain in god.
All things remain in god.
I had wild jack for a lover;
Though like a road
That men pass over
My body makes no moan
But sings on:
All things remain in god.
All things remain in god.
Before their eyes a house
That from childhood stood
Uninhabited, ruinous,
Suddenly lit up
From door to top:
All things remain in god.
All things remain in god.
Oh, that lover of a night
Came when he would,
Went in the dawning light
Whether I would or no;
Men come, men go;
All things remain in god.
All things remain in god.
All things remain in god.
All things remain in god.
All things remain in god.
All things remain in god.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sponges Of The Heart....
faces do not matter now
a long time ago
a mole cannot escape
the mention
of an island
that lonely thing that
keeps us agape
about why
faces come like waves
of people that we do not
really care to know
who they are
and what they are apt to
they pass us by
and we pass them too
in that mutuality
of indifference
we are like saturated sponges
all wanting heat
to be empty again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Quandary
Never have I been glad or sad
That there was such a thing as bad.
There had to be, I understood,
For there to have been any good.
It was by having been contrasted
That good and bad so long had lasted.
That's why discrimination reigns.
That's why we need a lot of brains
If only to discriminate
'Twixt what to love and what to hate.
To quote the oracle at Delphi,
Love thy neighbor as thyself, aye,
And hate him as thyself thou hatest.
There quandary is at its greatest.
We learned from the forbidden fruit
For brains there is no substitute.
'Unless it's sweetbreads, ' you suggest
With innuendo I detest.
You drive me to confess in ink:
Once I was fool enough to think
That brains and sweetbreads were the same,
Till I was caught and put to shame,
First by a butcher, then a cook,
Then by a scientific book.
But ' twas by making sweetbreads do
I passed with such a high I.Q.
poem by Robert Frost
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Snipped At The Pith
How can they sit and accept,
Praying to be blessed
Without rejecting disrespect?
What are they protecting in devotions met?
There's too much emphasis on forgiveness...
And not on what giving respect gets!
How can they ask for more police protection?
When everyone in this condition...
Allowed this affliction to occur!
Is everyone living life on fun and lies?
Alibis and cries of abandonment?
And they say the ones who are sick,
Are the ones who leave scenes like these quick!
But fools cannot compare their ignorance with wisdom.
When they are the first to endorse their blight.
Fighting about who's wrong or right...
When both are wrong to be fighting,
With sightless vision!
How can they sit and accept,
Being blissfully ignorant
In a network that does not connect
Any form of common sense that recognizes,
It's in sync and in check! ?
They should be incensed!
Instead of nickle and diming
For a 'hit' that went to leave them,
Just where they are...
Snipped at the pith of compliance.
Stuck with a conscious...
That's been unconsciously detained!
Substandard thoughts maintained,
Remain!
Snipped at the pith of compliance.
Loving it,
And being entertained.
Burning induced seduced drugged out brains.
And complaining!
Stuck with a conscious...
That's been unconsciously detained!
Substandard thoughts maintained,
Remain!
And the gain is with the ones who choose to flee!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heart Cooks Brain
Slow walk
Its land mine
Its coal mine
Its a bad thought
On the way to God dont know
My brains the burger and my hearts the coal
Im trying to get my head clear
I push things out through my mouth I get refilled through my ears
Im on my way to God dont know or even care
My brains the weak heart, and my hearts the long stairs
Inland from vancouver shore
The ravens and the seagulls push each other inward and outward
Inward and outward
In this place that I call home
My brains the cliff, and my hearts the bitter buffalo
My hearts the bitter buffalo
We tore one down, and erected another there
The match of the century: absence versus thin air
On the way to God dont know
My brains the burger and my hearts the coal
On this life that we call home
The years go fast and the days go so slow
song performed by by Modest Mouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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