Toward Accuracy
We’re high enough that what I call fog might be cloud.
Not Everest high, or Chomuolungma, “Mother Goddess
of the World.” If we named things what they are,
our sentences would be monsoons, long rains of sound.
Morning is “the time I suspect I am a horse,” dusk
“the light which treats our shadows like taffy.”
The number of times my name changes in a day,
from “looking at the world with eyes of wood rasps”
to “feathers have replaced my bones,” rules out
the wearing of name tags: I wear a chalk board,
thesaurus, that book of whispers, of meaning sex.
“There’s a woman who smokes a cigarette
now and then, who picks tobacco off her tongue
as something moves along the fault line
of the horizon, knees pulled to her chest,
her breath wearing a dress of smoke”
is one way I think of you when I think of you.
And when I think of you, “wants to be a candle”
isn’t romantic but accurate, wicked light
leans in, away, writhes to get out of, to leap harder
into what it is.
Related quotes
High Horse
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
And get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Moonlit shadow, she starts a trippin' firelight
Jumpin' the trees lyin' across the right of way
Silvery mornin' it glistens down the valley
But she don't stop 'til we ride the night away
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
Get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Blonde braids tangle at the misty break of mornin'
Catchin' light through a dusty window pane
Lost in lust, in denial of the warnin'
She digs her heels in this stallion's flank again
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
Get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Get up on your high horse, woman
You paid the price, you get to play
Get up on your high horse, woman
You're gonna ride to the break of day
To the break of day
To the break of day
To the break of day
Get up on your high horse, woman
Get up on your high horse now
Get up on your high horse, woman
I'll make it up to you somehow
Get up on your high horse, woman
You paid the price, you get to play
Get up on your high horse, woman
You're gonna ride to the break of day
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fugue 2 / Song Of Daedalus
Call me cool as january
I walk like the breeze
And wear the world like filigree
Call me too large for life
Thats only sticks and stones
Im standing so tall
It seems that Ive grown
Call me irresponsible
Your rules of the game
Are only clouds to float above
Call me, lets do lunch
When I get time for girls
Im working on things
To astonish the world
Call me weird and laugh at me
I tell you its true
Ive found a cure for gravity
Call me mad as march
High as in hogmanay
Just watch me and weep
Im out of this maze
See the wings made of feathers, of wax and of thread
See me soar high above all the quick and the dead
Call me now
Call me stars and moon and plough
Call me lord, call me sire
Call me earth and wind and fire
Call me judge, call me shah
Call me king, call me tsar
Call me god
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Did I Really See That?
A woman on our bed wearing my gown with ma woman
Sleeping on my side of the bed?
Am I replaced?
So quick?
I thought we were going to talk
About it
Try to work it out
I cancelled all my plans
In a manner to surprise you
I didn't like the way things went
The other day
And now I get home
To find this?
A woman on our bed
Wearing my gown with ma woman on ma side of da bed
Am I replaced?
Just like that?
I thought what we had meant
Something to you
I thought we had a connection
I thought fate had brought us
Together
I thought our future
Was written somewhere
In heaven
Most of all I thought the feeling
Was mutual
For 5years I was relaxed
Thinking I'm in the right place
Where my soul belongs
Wasn't looking
Wasn't searching
Was content
And now I find
A woman on our bed wearing my gown with ma woman
On my side of the bed
Am I replaced?
Already!
I had always been loyal
You cheated more than I could remember
And I kept forgiving n forgetting
I kept loving you like you
Never wronged me
I Kept on trusting you
but to you all that was just a blur
I bet you thought I was fool
I bet you thought I'd never leave you
I bet you thought you were ma life
That's why you cheated
That's why you lied
That's why now I find
A woman on our bed wearing my gown with ma woman
On my side of the bed
Am I replaced?
I know you are
I have ran out of tears
I cried for so long*difedile*
I have ran out of Forgiveness
I forgiven you more than the
Bibble Says I should
I have ran out of space for you
The place I used to keep you is shuttered
And I have ran out of love for you
What I thought was mine
Is now ours
What I thought I owned
It turned out
We own
What I thought was true to me
It was all a lie
A woman on our bed
Wearing my gown
With my woman
On my side of the bed
She can stay
I'll leave..
poem by Diopelo King
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Faithless Autumn
Bleak landscape
transcends its shoulders,
writhes in pain.
I praise the light for green haloes
and tall figures, which cast
long shadows on parched lips,
my world. The hot sand fills the eyes.
A palpalable seizure shakes the horizon.
I drift like a dry leaf
on the winds of time
the perplexities of sand dunes
and dancing smoke.
What I was striving for all life?
A metaphorical silence
spends the energy of unspoken waking.
The rich decadence of things unhappned.
The occult rules the flesh
and the music of life dies.
The names start trading the tree,
full of flowers, inarticulately
to faithless autumn.
The twigs long for mother shape
the icons will swallow
the melting grief in vain.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Wore Dark Sun glasses
The sun it was not shining and dark gray were the skies
Yet he wore dark sun glasses for to conceal his eyes
From the gaze of other people what was he trying to hide
Since to the mirror of his soul daylight he had denied.
Or maybe his eyes are sensitive to light so dark glasses at all times he must wear
Since seeing one wearing dark glasses on a cloudy morning is quite rare
In sunny weather many wear dark glasses to save their eyes from the sun's glare
On bright and warm Summer days of the sun one must beware.
This morning in the wind and rain it did seem strange to me
A young man wearing dark sun glasses out walking I did see
On such an overcast day sunglasses did seem out of place
If you cannot see a person's eyes you cannot memorize their face.
He may have eyes sensitive to light and have to wear dark glasses every day
But when I said hello to him he had nothing to say
If you cannot see a person's eyes to you that person a stranger remain
And I would not recognize his face were I to see him again.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fugue 2 / Song Of Daedalus (feat. Violin: Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg)
[Solo Violin - Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg
Vocal - Joe Jackson]
Call me cool as January
I walk like the breeze
And wear the world like filigree
Call me too large for life
That's only sticks and stones
I'm standing so tall
It seems that I've grown
Call me irresponsible
Your rules of the game
Are only clouds to float above
Call me, let's do lunch
When I get time for girls
I'm working on things
To astonish the world
Call me weird and laugh at me
I tell you it's true
I've found a cure for gravity
Call me mad as March
High as in Hogmanay
Just watch me and weep
I'm out of this maze
See the wings made of feathers,
of wax and of thread
See me soar high above
all the quick and the dead
Call me now
Call me Stars and Moon and Plough
Call me Lord, call me Sire
Call me Earth and Wind and Fire
Call me Judge, call me Shah
Call me King, call me Tsar
Call me God
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Place Of The Heart
this place is not a room for sadness
sorrow is a stranger here
and cannot stay that long
there are no sonorous eyes here
not a place for emaciated cheeks
and unshaven beards
this is not the place for mourning
no one comes here wearing the black shirt
of fasting
this is the place for passion
(not promiscuity)
this is a private place for our shared whispers
the zip-less reunion
of two souls not wearing any name tags on their bones
when you come here
it is because
you have decided to be free
from morality from the mortality of your prisoners
welcome, bare yourself, brace yourself
for another experience
someone you love shall be summoned
to completely make you
home again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Zipless Reunion By Emma Z.
this place is not a room for sadness
sorrow is a stranger here
and cannot stay that long
there are no sonorous eyes here
not a place for emaciated cheeks
and unshaven beards
this is not the place for mourning
no one comes here wearing the black shirt
of fasting
this is the place for passion
(not promiscuity)
this is a private place for our shared whispers
the zip-less reunion
of two souls not wearing any name tags on their bones
when you come here
it is because
you have decided to be free
from morality from the mortality of your prisoners
welcome, bare yourself, brace yourself
for another experience
someone you love shall be summoned
to completely make you
home again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bad, Wicked World
Bad, wicked world
Bad, wicked world
They are about dressed to deceive
Conquistadores that have been sent
Bad, wicked world
Bad, wicked world
Some sell him out, some wont believe
An architect named david vincent
A man too long without sleep
He took a wrong turn and people just laughed
A ship that is not there
But he knows that it was
It made a light and a buzz
Hes really hurt because
People dont care
People think hes a creep
He will not stop, he keeps on talking
Just a tie and a suit
Hes a lonely persuader
Fist-throwing crusader
Against invaders
Wont be mute
Bad, wicked world
Bad, wicked world
Some sell him out, some wont believe
An architect named david vincent
Bad, wicked world
Bad, wicked world
They are about dressed to deceive
Conquistadores that have been sent
About once a week
Another story has leakes and hes on it
Just a suit and a tie
Will it ever end?
He hasnt got a friend
Pinkies that wont bend
He really must try
Bad, wicked world
Bad, wicked world
Some sell him out, some wont believe
An architect named david vincent
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early Works - There’s A Light
The world seems mystic and unreal
as into the night I steal
seeing shadows on the ground
of towering figures all around.
In the distance, there’s a light
of a candle burning bright
as the moon up high
shines through crevices in the sky.
Like a sleeking ghost, I wander
gazing at the shadows I ponder
in the darkness of the mystic night
and feel the call of a beckoning light.
My shadow seem to run and steal
into the mystic and unreal
as the candle lit by my love sends
cascades of light dancing on the stars above.
Date unknown.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Light A Candle
Some roads we take,
are long and dusty,
others are dark and gloomy.
It is then we need a little light
to show us the way.
Light a candle,
when the dark shadows descend,
let its light guide you
to a brighter day.
Light a candle
to see your way through,
when the world
starts closing it on you.
Lets its light be the beacon
to lead you away from distress.
Light a candle,
keep it burning bright,
and let it guide you day and night.
16 June 2007
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Jane Addams at the Hague
I. SPEAK NOW FOR PEACE
Lady of Light, and our best woman, and queen,
Stand now for peace, (though anger breaks your heart),
Though naught but smoke and flame and drowning is seen.
Lady of Light, speak, though you speak alone,
Though your voice may seem as a dove's in this howling flood,
It is heard to-night by every senate and throne.
Though the widening battle of millions and millions of men
Threatens to-night to sweep the whole of the earth,
Back of the smoke is the promise of kindness again.
II. TOLSTOI IS PLOWING YET
Tolstoi is plowing yet. When the smoke-clouds break,
High in the sky shines a field as wide as the world.
There he toils for the Kingdom of Heaven's sake.
Ah, he is taller than clouds of the little earth.
Only the congress of planets is over him,
And the arching path where new sweet stars have birth.
Wearing his peasant dress, his head bent low,
Tolstoi, that angel of Peace, is plowing yet;
Forward, across the field, his horses go.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Win The World
Written by: neil diamond and susan longacre
I never noticed when you changed your hair
Just another of those moments, I was only half there
When you wore that red dress, that was kinda up to here
I never noticed, you were wearing a tear
I was always trying to win the world
What on earth was I thinking of
One time too often, I didnt hold you enough
I was always trying to win the world
But somewhere I lost you, I never saw you
Only trying to win my love
It should have been easy, for all of those times
It would have been me there, if I knew the signs
When you wore that red dress, how could I know then
Youd wear it for me once, and never wear it again
I was always trying to win the world
What on earth was I thinking of
One time too often, I didnt hold you enough
I was always trying to win the world
But somewhere I lost you, cause I never saw you
Only trying to win my love
Somewhere I lost you, cause I never saw you
Only trying to win my love
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flick The Switch
Will you flick the switch and turn on the light,
dusk is here bringing in the night.
Without light I'm really struggling to see,
and being half blind isn't helping me.
How can you be without light in the room,
you're sitting in shadows cast by the moon?
Is it because the darkness brings you peace
and without the light your stresses cease?
You don't seem to look in the mirror nowadays,
is this because you're hiding from your age,
or is there something worse that's troubling you,
something I should know, that's long overdue.
I know I don't see you very often in the day,
because you have to spend time away.
Once in a while it would be nice to see you smile,
so come out of the shadows for a little while.
Or is there something you don't want me to see,
with my eyes you could hide the world from me?
There, that's much better the light's on for a change,
why can't I see you, this is uncomfortably strange?
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Julie and You and Christ
Julie was walking
down Oxford Street
with you
one of her hands
was in yours
the other was holding
a cigarette which she put
to her lips and drew on
and exhaled the smoke
and said
pushing smoke
into the world
do you think Christ
ever came?
of course
you replied
the whole calendar
of the Western world
is spilt before and after
his coming
she inhaled deeply
and stopped to peer
in a shop window
don't like that dress
it's too darn middle class
too safe
you looked at the dress
in the window
at the colours and style
would your mother where it?
you asked
she'd wear it
but I wouldn't
be seen dead in it
she said
moving you on
squeezing your hand
reminding you
of the quick grope
and sex in the small cupboard
off the ward
where she was staying
while trying to kick
the drug habit
she spread out
amongst brooms and boxes
and you there gazing at her
wondering if some domestic
would find you there
well? do you think
Christ really came?
she asked
yes
you said
he split history in two
he made people
either love him
or hate him
and want to destroy him
and what he stood for
she laughed and said
you certainly got him
under your skin
I don't think he came at all
she said
before inhaling
her cigarette smoke
I think it was all
a big joke played out
on the Jews
to get them riled
she inhaled
her cigarette smoke
and was silent
as you walked on
down the Street
it was no joke
being crucified
no joke hanging there
on that cross
you said
she pulled you
into a shop doorway
and kissed you
and said
oh forget about him
and his crucifixion
I've had enough
of the parents
ramming him
into my brain
over the years
and she kissed you again
and you looked
into her dark eyes
where you thought
many a dream comes
and drowns
and dies.
poem by Terry Collett
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Fear me not for wearing a hijab
Why are you standing so far away?
come near and fear me not for wearing a hijab (veil)
I wanna obey the Creator of the world, so that's why I 'm wearing it
I 'm a successful businesswoman and a princess in my home
I respect everyone and judge not anyone I don't know
I don't care how people look like
I look more at their hearts
I don't say anything bad because I 'm a moralist
I 'm doing my best to be in a good relationship with my Creator
and wearing my hijab is supporting me and giving me a push forward
fear me not for wearing a hijab
because my best example is Mary, mother of Jesus Christ
she is the purest woman ever on earth
and I wanna keep my chastity like her
men respect me because they know deep inside that
I 'm wearing a hijab not to seduce them,
but to make our society moralistic and ideal
fear me not for wearing a hijab because I won't do you any harm
you are one of God's creatures and I respect all God's creations
poem by Rehab Helmy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Restin Bones
Came up on a worried man, asked him if he had a light.
He reached on down, dug in his shoe, figured in his sock he might.
He asked if he could come and join, at what we was partakin in.
I says,ol soul if you got a match, you also got yourself a friend.
The smoke drew hard but laid in good, the neon gave us extra shine.
We passed around a flask of knockando, and a half litre bottle of wine.
The worried man dropped down to his knees, and let out with a somber groan.
He looked up to me and when I asked, he said,Im just restin my bones.
I looked down at him, and him up at me, then a smile rose above his chin.
He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me down, said, listen to me now my friend.
When I was your age I did it all, more than many men could do,
Now my possessions are the ones I wear on my back, and this lighter I keep in my shoe.
Thats why Im restin my bones.
Im restin my bones for the times I fell, fell and hit myself on the ground.
Restin my bones for the loneliness, of being the only genius around.
Im restin my bones for prosperity, in hopes that itll do me some good.
Im restin bones from amphetamines, see they turned teeth to balsa wood.
Im restin bones for johnny cash, cause for me and mine hes wearin black.
Ill be restin my bones for elvis, I seen him last week at the track.
If Im restin bones and you come along, just try and tippy toe on by.
cause when Im restin bones I hope to sleep, and maybe slip away and die.
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sacrifice storypoem
She wore a robe so white and thin
that it enhanced her nakedness.
Made of the silk which spiders spin
Epitome of gracefulness
Her hair as black as ebony,
contrasting with her rose gold skin.
Which unrestrained was flowing free
She glowed as though she had within,
her slender form of flesh and blood.
A light that would illuminate
the darkness of the world and would
without a doubt propitiate.
The Gods demanding sacrifice.
According to the High Priests rede,
only a virgin would suffice.
To satisfy his dark Gods need.
The clan believed his rede was true
And so she went quite willingly.
To pay the God What he was due
ad so ensure fertility.
of flocks and crops, increase their yield.
Improve the clan’s prosperity
In truth the High Priests rede concealed
his innate taste for cruelty.
She lay upon the altar stone
and showed no slightest sign of fear.
The high Priest bared his blade of bone
and then although the sky was clear.
A bolt of lightning from the blue
struck down the priest as he deserved.
The Goddess had decided to
insist her rules should be observed.
The maiden lived and she became
in course of time the high priestess.
She governed in the goddess’ name
Rewarded for her faithfulness.
The wicked high priest had to die
because he had led the clan astray.
A truth that no one can deny.
The high priestess would lead the way.
The Goddess would protect the clan
as long as they obeyed her laws.
Though she would strike dead any man
whose bad behaviour gave her cause.
The Mother Goddess would supply
sufficient for her children’s need.
As long as they lived righteously
and followed her High Priestess’ lead
The willing sacrifice became
the chosen of the true Goddess
and now held power in her name.
Authority to curse or bless.
She serves her clan still faithfully
as she was always willing to
Speaks for the Goddess honestly,
does as the Goddess bids her do.
Willing to die to serve her clan.
The Goddess decreed that she should live
to implement the goddess’ plan.
And claimed the life she chose to give.
She’d live a life of servitude
as guardian of the sacred lore.
A mother to the multitude
who looked to her to keep the law.
Chosen to be a sacrifice
Which she accepted willingly
the goddess changed things in a trice
which she could do quite easily.
Though she would sacrifice her life
to serve the clan for all her days.
Forgo the chance to be a wife
to follow in the goddess’ ways.
6-Dec-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That One Blue Candle
(danny okeefe/vince melamed)
Turn out the light
Darkness makes me sentimental
Warm breeze wraps around us
And theres comfort in your voice
On second thought
Please leave on that one blue candle
Life reveals your secrets
And it gives my eyes a choice
All the shadows dance upon the walls
Love is all thats left to say
As the glow from that one blue candle
Softly lights the way
And tomorrow when the world returns
And the shadows of the night depart
Will the light from that one blue candle
Still be burning in our hearts?
By candle light
These moments slowly melt together
And well make love last forever
This time its only us
All the shadows dance upon the walls
Love is all thats left to save
As the glow from that one blue candle
Softly lights the way
And tomorrow when the world returns
And the shadows of the night depart
Will the light from that one blue candle?
Still be burning in our hearts
Still be burning in our hearts
Still be burning in our hearts
song performed by by Tiffany
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Footsteps (Killing F(r) iends On Paper)
The sound of
footsteps
in the gravel
behind you
makes you turn.
Your eyes widen
and your jaw drops
as does your
smoking cigarette.
You stare at me
for a second
or two.
You are not smiling
and though
your mouth moves
it speaks no words.
Gunshot breaks this silence
as your head explodes
in a cloud of red mist
and bone.
I smell gunpowder.
Look down
on your headless torso,
picks op stained
still smoking cigarette,
noticing for the first time
the shotgun in my hand.
My brain is numb.
Voice
sounds strange
and distant
as I call
the Cops.
I feel the wind
I see the sun
I taste metal
I hear the birds
...but not the
2nd gunshot
poem by Carsten Thomsen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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