The Dark Cloud
You exist only in your light that you created. And here the sound of your sadness cry aloud in your dark space, the shadows of witch you bare witness are people like images of the pain that exist on thee inside of you, and there you smile at thee image and call it a her, and when you get a clear view it's really images of your hurt.
poem by Clarence Williams
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Give Me Image
Enough!
Enough of this...
Self righteous ambiguity!
Fed by those seeking consciousness.
Give me image.
I have yet to have enough,
Of this 'truth-as-I-see-it-life-I-live'.'.
Give me image.
How else can it be expected,
I keep my pretensions alive and thriving?
Do not rid from me my freedom,
To exist living for images I see fit to project.
I can not bare the acceptance of the reality...
Thrown in my face I am suppose to respect!
Give me image!
Do not strip me of my need,
To seek quality delusions to please, eat and feed.
Give me image.
So that I may feel free,
To live in the midst of unending fantasies.
And aspects of threatening truth...
Disturbs my mentality!
As I witness it pursue the awakening of masses.
Pass me my rose colored glasses, please!
Enough!
Enough of this...
Self righteous ambiguity!
Give me image.
I have yet to have enough,
Of this 'truth-as-I-see-it-life-I-live'.'.
Give me image.
Let those images forever in my mind,
Find within me reason to exist!
Give me image.
And enough...
Enough of this,
Self righteous ambiguity.
Fed by those seeking consciousness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Those' Images Made
People love to treasure those images made.
Those images created to help them escape,
From depictions of reality.
And the way the displaying of it is portrayed.
People love to treasure those images made.
People love to treasure those images made.
The ones flowered to sugar without a bitter taste.
Those images glammed up to spotlight,
On a public stage.
But behind the scenes indignities can be mean.
Yet...
People love to treasure those images made.
And their minds are affixed to them to defend...
Every blemish that is openly seen.
Since people who love their images made...
Have not been conditioned on reality to feast.
People love to treasure those images made.
Those images created to help them escape,
From depictions of reality.
And the way the displaying of it is portrayed.
People love to treasure those images made,
With an excusing of detrimental flaws and pain shown.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I do not exist
I do not exist,
I do not breath,
I do not bleed
I do not hurt
I do not exist in your eyes,
not anymore,
I am far, far away, like
the stars that don't exist,
but still they shine and
you can see them far away,
but there not alive, there not
really there. Yes I am not there,
not for you, I do
not want your pity.
I do not want my broken smile
painted in your thoughts.
I do not exist, I am not there,
do not look for me, I do not
exist, I am not there, I am not there
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Images of Time
The images in my mind is like my thoughts.
Expressing my thoughts is like expressing my feelings.
Words are spoken.All my images are broken.
Broken down into pieces, which can never be made into new dishes.
Those images of past.It takes time to last.
It will last forever for met to take over.
All those images wore my past life.
But it has nothing to do with my past life.
Those images can be forgotten.But not those people.
Those people who are in your images.Can be in a real image.
When you see those people in front of you.
You like to say 'How are you'?
If they say I am fine.Then you will think of those time.
poem by Yash Pradhan
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Images Presented
The image that's presented,
Determines how impressive...
Those pretentious rush to protect.
And the image that's presented,
Has less to do with intellect.
Or competence and its effect,
Upon those expecting...
Much more than an image projected to accept.
Images old have molded.
Although repeatedly they have been sold!
Those images presented,
Represent times gone.
Those images presented,
Have been rusted so long.
Those images presented,
Do not feed!
Those images presented,
No one needs now!
Those images presented represent a decadence.
And they represent with evidence pretentions that are meant.
Those images presented do not feed.
Those images presented no one needs,
Now.
Those images presented represent a decadence.
And they represent with evidence pretentions that are meant.
Those images presented do not feed.
Those images presented no one needs,
Now.
Those images presented,
Represent times gone.
Those images presented,
Have been rusted so long.
Those images presented do not feed.
Those images presented no one needs,
Now.
Those images presented represent a decadence.
And they represent with evidence pretentions that are meant.
Images old have molded.
Although repeatedly they have been sold!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Qualified To Do
The only thing that qualifies most who are not scutinized,
Are looks of images created to project and portray...
What is wished to be perceived and believed.
And unfortunately for others who are microscoped,
Competence, looks and intelligence together,
Are rarely in the mix when images are created...
To meet expectations that rely on accountability.
This just doesn't happen when folks seek mediocrity.
Since it isn't publicly revealed,
Only images are sought to appeal.
People of intelligence present threats to the status quo!
And although those who prefer to go unchallenged,
Are often the ones selecting image over substance...
To address their standards that are valued,
They are often given an attention to debate...
Without reason,
Why their insults placed upon responsible folks...
Should merit a listening to their fault finding.
The only real thing image seekers are qualified to do!
And insist with persistence their 'senses' are common.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hated Shadows
Happy people
with happy faces
Do happy things
in happy places
Little to worry
little to care
Never are sorry
never are there
Through the Viel they live
they cannot see
people around them
people like me
People Invisible
people Divisible
We are not important to happy people
we do not exist
broken shadows of broken people
Happines Glows
Shadows can not exist
With their happy lives
their happy husbands and happy wives
their happy bars
their happy cars
they shine brite
like stars
The shadows
look onto the light with envy
knowing they cannot co-exist
feel hopeless
lost
sedentary
singular
Hated.
poem by Jon Trahan
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Sunshine Estate
There is a place which I have created
It is fictional, it is mine
Called Sunshine Estate
In this place, everyone is happy
People who hurt people do not exist
So no one is hurt
In this place, everyone is simple
People who create drama do not exist
So there is never any
In this place, everyone is normal
People do not judge
So prejudice does not exist
In this place, the sun always shines
Even when it rains
So there is still a rainbow
In Sunshine Estate
Everything and everyone is perfect
and Everyone is happy
pity its just a place of my imagination
poem by Tahlia Hilton
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With Old And Aging Beliefs
The only people today left in the dark,
And feeling stupid they have lived...
In a divided separateness, isolated and apart,
Are those with old and aging beliefs...
That they can say and do anything they please,
With the spending of billions of dollars...
To create their own truth and have it unquestioned.
As if many are not awakening,
To see deception for what it is.
And as foolish as these people are,
Who refuse to leave the side of the dark...
To remain with images,
Created to inflate what does not exist.
They still insist their fall into an oblivion,
Is a temporary one.
And they can use their influence to get out of it.
As if many are not awakening,
To see deception for what it is.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Riddled With Defects
If all cults weren't divisions,
Of existing religious beliefs...
Why are just a few,
Considered illegitimate?
When every one of them,
Is a creation of someone's imagination...
Sold to sell with a telling that is bought.
And a fighting done amongst themselves,
That has nothing to do with the presence of God...
Claimed to be in their lives.
As contradictions and hypocrisy thrives.
Do we exist as images of GOD?
Or...
Have we been created to immulate the image?
Either way,
The process seems to be riddled with defects.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Little, Short Journey....
at first we may like the show of human figures, the content of their dialogues,
mostly arguments and reason, there is beauty and excitement in all these,
we soon, get bored of these human bodies and their words,
and sentences, we begin to like only their shadows against the walls
inside the caves that we create for all of them
then the shadows begin to fade, meanings diminished, we only like
to hear the sound, after all,
the sound of their fury, less their arms and heads, the sound of their joys,
less the glasses and the wine, less the cigarette puffs, images of opulence and affluence,
then we realize, we do not need the sounds of the outside world which we have already
put in that little box.
we only need a room with a window
a view of the infinite space above us
the sail boat within, the ferry without the machine,
the last ride to the other border, the fog kissing the water.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Night Piece, To Julia
Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
The shooting stars attend thee;
And the elves also,
Whose little eyes glow
Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.
No Will-o'-th'-Wisp mis-light thee,
Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee;
But on, on thy way,
Not making a stay,
Since ghost there's none to affright thee.
Let not the dark thee cumber;
What though the moon does slumber?
The stars of the night
Will lend thee their light,
Like tapers clear without number.
Then Julia let me woo thee,
Thus, thus to come unto me;
And when I shall meet
Thy silv'ry feet,
My soul I'll pour into thee.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Images
I think images are worth repeating
Images repeated from a painting
Images taken from a painting
From a photo worth re-seeing
I love images worth repeating
Project them upon the ceiling
Multiply them with silk screening
See them with a different feeling
Images, oh, images
Images, oh, images
Some say images have no feeling
I think theres a deeper meaning
Mechanical precision or so its seeming
Instigates a cooler feeling
I love multiplicity of screenings
Things born anew display new meanings
I think images are worth repeating
And repeating and repeating
Images, oh, images
Images, images
Im no urban idiot savant
Spewing paint without any order
Im no sphinx, no mystery enigma
What I paint is very ordinary
I dont think Im old or modern
I dont think I think Im thinking
It doesnt matter what Im thinking
Its the images that are worth repeating
And repeating, oh, images
Images
If youre looking for a deeper meaning
Im as deep as this high ceiling
If you think technique is meaning
You might find me very simple
You might think that images boring
Cars and cans and chairs and flowers
You might find me personally boring
Hammer, sickle, mao tse tong
Mao tse tong
Ooohhh, images, images
Images
I think that it bears repeating
The images upon the ceiling
I love images worth repeating
And repeating and repeating
Images, images
Oh, images, oh, images
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For The Love Of Big Brother
Like a train passing in the distance
Black bird in flight
I hear you call
And even though theres no one
Dark shadows move across the wall
I still hear the echo
Of your footsteps on the stairs
Still recall the images that
Seem to live out there
First you see my fingerprints
Like skeletons of leaves on the wall
People changing places
I stand for a moment
And its gone
I still hear the echo
Of your footsteps on the stairs
Still recall the images that
Seem to live out there
Like a train passing in the distance
Black bird in flight
I hear you call
And even though theres no one
Dark shadows move across the wall
I still hear the sound of
Conversations from the hall
Look to see whos coming
But its nothing
And theres no one there at all
(no one there at all)
song performed by by Eurythmics
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Indelible Images
Idelible Images
That first day of school
That first friend
Indelible Images
That first play
That first fight
Idelible Images
That first graduation
That first car
Idelible Images
That first drunk
That first sober
Idelible Images
That first love
That first forget
Idelible Images
That first death
That first realization
Indelible Images
poem by Scott Tetreault
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Thee, Thee, Only Thee
The dawning of morn, the daylight's sinking,
The night's long hours still find me thinking
Of thee, thee, only thee.
When friends are met, and goblets crown'd,
And smiles are near, that once enchanted,
Unreach'd by all that sunshine round,
My soul, like some dark spot, is haunted
By thee, thee, only thee.
Whatever in fame's high path could waken
My spirit once, is now forsaken
For thee, thee, only thee.
Like shores, by which some headlong bark
To the ocean hurries, resting never,
Life's scenes go by me, bright or dark,
I know not, heed not, hastening ever
To thee, thee, only thee.
I have not a joy but of thy bringing,
And pain itself seems sweet when springing
From thee, thee, only thee.
Like spells, that nought on earth can break,
Till lips, that know the charm, have spoken,
This heart, howe'er the world may wake
Its grief, its scorn, can but be broken
By thee, thee, only thee.
poem by Thomas Moore
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Painting Words
IMAGES SPRING FROM NOWHERE,
BUT BEAR A KNOWN DESIGN.
NO BRUSH OR PAINT IS MY WARE
THOUGH PAINTINGS DO SEEM MINE.
MY CANVAS BREATHES ALIVE
AS WORD AND IMAGE MERGE.
FROM NOTHINGNESS I STRIVE
TO CAPTURE EACH NEW SURGE.
PEN SWATHES, LIKE BRUSH STROKES,
FASHION WORDS, ONE-BY-ONE,
UNTIL MIND’S EYE EVOKES
IMAGES CLEAR AS THE SUN.
ALL WHO VIEW THESE WORKS
WILL FIND IT’S NOT ABSURD
TO FEEL THE POWER THAT LURKS
BEHIND EACH PAINTED WORD.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Although images of perfection in people's personal lives can cause unhappiness, images of perfect societies - utopian images - can cause monstrous evil. In fact, forcefully changing society to conform to societal images was the greatest cause of evil in the twentieth century.
quote by Dennis Prager
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Paradox of Joy...
a boy was hurt
but he could not just be a boy forever
a man too is hurt
but he could not just be a man forever
and so the hurt or whatever you name it
pain, grief, trauma
psychosis
or simply sadness
with the poetic twist of a gentle lamentation
cannot be forever that boy or that man
there is something divine in all these
gifts as you may wish
there is something that polishes that rough stone
turn it into a very precious diamond
like the story of the clam and
its pearl
that sadness exist
but sadness cannot be sadness forever
hope, that is the wish
there is no permanence in all of these
wait, from this door to the stair and to the horizon of a black line
someone comes, it is something bringing everything for you
exalt, exalt
in extreme silence....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Inside The Cave
we are witness to the shadows in the cave.
Not to be mislead we touch each others' hands.
When we open our eyes we become more confused.
There are more shadows born when we begin to speak.
We are always patient. We imagine soon, always, the
soon in the shadows. Light created more shadows.
We fear it sometimes. We begin to mistrust it.
We are still inside this cave with all the shadows
of ourselves. We do not like to move, we are mocked
We are imitated by our shadows inside the cave.
Tomorrow is the exit. We become friends of the Light.
Then we become free.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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