Writer's Disposal
Hurt and tense are writer's slaves
So she'll slash through page by page
Burning holes with vivid tongue
Still the feeling strikes as young
Through and through this time again
Misery welcomes her like a friend
Slash and slash and through and through
She spells her feelings as if they're new
Instead of skin she beats a page
A healthy cure, sure, lest she names
These demons, the things that she writes about
That she names other names to give them doubts
Things like this she knows all too well
Her hurts and pains often etch the spell
Before she even thinks to open her eyes
She's solved her feelings with a metaphor for cries
These nameless names named through and through
She possibly could be writing of you
And name you a snake; what harm is there in that?
Proof, invalid; your name is intact
These nameless things she knows all too well
You might not know but help etch her spell
Because intended or vicious, her works are neither
You'd ask what they're about; but she might not know either
poem by Dayna Mortimore
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Related quotes
Vicious Games
I never knew
How much I loved you
I never knew
How much I cared
So I played
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
I was afraid
To go under
Afraid to see
When I closed my eyes
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
I never knew
How much I loved you
I never knew
How much I care
I just played
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
Now that youre gone
And you have left me
I had to learn
I had to learn how much it hurts
To play those vicious games
Vicious games, vicious games
Different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
Different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
Different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
Different names, different names
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vicious Games
I never knew
How much I loved you
I never knew
How much I cared
So I played
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
I was afraid
To go under
Afraid to see
When I closed my eyes
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
I never knew
How much I loved you
I never knew
How much I care
I just played
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
With different names, different names
Now that youre gone
And you have left me
I had to learn
I had to learn how much it hurts
To play those vicious games
Vicious games, vicious games
Different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
Different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
Different names, different names
Vicious games, vicious games
Different names, different names
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not Every Poem Knows How To Say Its Own Name Properly
NOT EVERY POEM KNOWS HOW TO SAY ITS OWN NAME PROPERLY
Not every poem knows how to say its own name properly-
There are poems that have no name
And poems that are named by others who have not written them-
There are poems whose names make them what they are
And poems whose names contradict and belie them-
Many poems have their first lines as their names
And these poems often are as memorable as one line only-
Great poems and good poems can be nameless
Or can have unforgettable names.
Not every poem knows how to say its own name properly -
Poems are poems are poems
And names are names are names
And sometimes they meet and are one
And live happily ever after-
But there are times when perhaps
They never should have met each other at all.
Poems have their names
And names have their poems
But sometimes they love each other
And truly are one.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Names Upon the Stage
Silently covered,
Names I never heard
Floors I never stood,
The holocaust to feel them die,
Lonely
When they cry.
Imagine ancient quilts,
And scripts upon a page.
A silver meadows shadow,
The names upon the stage.
Good to see remembered,
Tears and Life, the same.
Just to many truths,
For such an insane game.
Imagine all the people,
And scripts upon a page.
The blank parade of faces,
And names upon the stage.
poem by Sandra Osborne
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Faces & Names
Faces and names, I wish they were the same
Faces and names only cause trouble for me
Faces and names
If we all looked the same and we all had the same name
I wouldnt be jealous of you or you jealous of me
Faces and names
I always fall in love with someone who looks
The way I wish that I could be
Im always staring at someone who hurts
And the one they hurt is me
Faces and names, to me theyre all the same
If I looked like you and you looked like me
Thered be less trouble you see
Faces and names, I wish theyd go away
Id disappear into that wall and never talk
Talk, not talk
I wish I was a robot or a machine
Without a feeling or a thought
People who want to meet the name I have
Are always disappointed when they meet me
Faces and names, I wish they were the same
Faces and names only cause problems for me
Faces and names
Id rather be a hole in the wall
Looking out on the other side
Id rather look and listen, listen and not talk
To faces and names
If I had a breakdown when I was a kid
I lost my hair when I was young
If you dress older when youre not
As your really age you look the same
If we all looked the same, we wouldnt play these games
Me dressing for you and you dressing for me
Undressing for me
Faces and names, if they all were the same
You wouldnt be jealous of me or me jealous of you
Me jealous of you, me jealous of you
Your face and your name
Your face and your name
Faces and names
Faces and names
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All These Feelings
ALL THESE FEELINGS
All these feelings and their imprecise names
Joy and Sadness and Love
And Anger And Pain
And Mercy and Kindness
And Beauty and Lust
And Hunger and Sadness
And Love and Loneliness
And Anger and Peace from Pain-
Names and names
Feelings and more feelings
Life and more life
Living and feeling and not understanding
What it is
Even as it is
To the end of my days -
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I May Admit Finally That I Am Lying
in our short conversation when you ask questions
about me i may answer you some lies and then
you wonder if i am the kind of person who makes lies
to you as i wonder too if you are the kind of person deserving
to be lied by myself, and so i try to figure out the lies
i made before and how honestly you believe them and then
i sort of changing myself, and slowly revealing some of the names
i keep on using, that these names may refer to one and the same
person, which is myself, and you honestly believe me and i am
of course, guilt-stricken and then i slowly unravel other names,
other places, other circumstances, sorting out my life,
page by page, and you listen carefully, and you also tell me
there are two of you, two names, and that is the truth,
and i honestly admit, i had some lies, lies for me to survive you
and this sad world, and then i begin to answer your question
with all honesty: you will regret it, there is more pain to the truth.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Crystal Clear Man
In the poetry world,
I have been simple and humble,
Describing myself
In a few concise words
Letting my honest feelings go
Freely through my works...
Getting back up,
Every time I stumbled...
There has been the time
When I wrote a poem
Without any rhyme,
Getting nice comments
Or some no so kind...
Nevertheless, I realized that wisdom
No necessarily improve with age,
Specially, when one's image
Dangerously at stake,
However, some people are funny,
Some people are so obviously fake
That they are only good on stage...
With their signatures stamped
In the bottom of a lost page,
In the dark, they just remain...
Their limited knowledge
They can't expand,
Dying lonely, frustrated
And without fame
Since, in the real world,
Some people might look alike,
But they are not the same..
There are names in my mind
I can no longer record,
Names lost in time,
Names lost in space...
But, you will never succeed
In driving me insane,
That is the truth, indeed..
I am letting you know
How I really feel...
Now I am left alone
Without a choice,
But, to let the music plays...
COPY WRITE©2009
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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The Stewards of Destruction
The bird was routed from its nest
by the growl of a tractor’s roar.
Slash and burn, closer it came,
a tank in Mankind’s war.
The macaw soon was homeless
as its tree was knocked to earth.
Slash and burn, some peasants came
And hacked for all their worth
Elsewhere too, the Forest bears
brute evidence of man.
Slash and burn, the trees are gone
Crops planted there by hand.
Some miracle medicinals
Are forever lost down there
Slash and burn, fates’ wheel turns
Homo “sapiens” doesn’t care.
The habitats are dying
Their inhabitants are too.
Slash and burn, will man cause
his own extinction too?
poem by John F. McCullagh
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I'm very influenced by landscapes, not so much the way places look as the way the names sound. In this country we've got so many cultures, and the place names - the Spanish names and the Indian names, which are so incredibly musical.
quote by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Names Are Special
My names are special, extra special and more,
The need for food is increased by the age and maturity.
Names laugh and cry like certain cookery ingredients
For a rich dish, or a casserole, or a pudding.
Food is eaten from the day that was the first
To the last and final day of your period on this world.
You must accept those with surnames,
And let no snake interfere, just let no adder crawl.
The devils hide their names,
But do not and do not copy them
For your names are not hidden,
For people need you and their attention is on you.
Names are revered, and their calling is exact,
May you leave us and join the brigade of Life.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Hatin' On Someone
I'm starring at your car right now
I'm Thinking about all the things
I could do to it
I could
Egg your car
Scratch up the paint
Slash your tires
Spray paint your windows
I got to be honest it's tempting
Cause you really hurt me
It shouldn't matter what you do or say
But guess what it does
I usually would of let this go
But you really hurt me bad
And I'm sick of being so hurt
So Now I'm staring at your car
With a dozen eggs to throw at it
I have keys to scratch it up
I have a knife to slash your tires
And spray paint for your windows
Now you will have fun cleaning that up
So maybe next time you'll think twice
Before you hurt someone like me
Or maybe I just declared war
But either way it made me feel better
It's just to bad your car
Had to take the beating for you
I Want My Name So Much To Be A Name
I WANT MY NAME SO MUCH TO BE A NAME
I want my name so much to be a name-
But when I am gone
What will that name mean to me?
Your name too
What will it mean
In the great distances?
Names and more names
Only G-d knows.
God has many names
And no name
And only One Name
Why should I insist so much
On my own name?
When only God can know
All the Names
Even God’s own.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Precious Me
My precious names forgive me,
In the sea of death is a police;
The watery wild begs much misery
To disappear, and concoct a little.
My names are like musical notes
Of the sea and the land and the air.
The praised names convince me
That my fathers and mothers are sound,
Some are here, some of us are then fully present.
My name is my friend for all the times,
The divine songs falter after too many times.
poem by Naveed Akram
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My Hands and Feet
My names are upon the shoulders,
Like words on a page of a book all-large;
My fixations differ on this page
For certain phrases linger, like the language.
My sons and daughters are skinning
The chicken and peeling the vegetables
With their hands and feet, working well.
My writing lately has differed extremely,
For we knit like those who see the pride.
No sums are added and no differences are kept
From the ground, from the floor.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Parsing of Senility
The names go first. That’s not
uncommon, and even among those who
are younger.. psychologists say
(how discomforted this couch, Professor Freud..)
it’s sheer selfishness; we don’t want our friends
to know our other friends..
The names go first. One learns the dodges –
‘You’ll all know each other, of course…’;
names, they’re nouns; so how far will it go?
how well can I live well, when without nouns?
Spirit lives in all things; the self exists in all;
perhaps I’ll manage with this thought.
Then, what will be next to go ? (The nurse sighs
as the impatient patient cries, ‘..want..THAT…’)
Ah, there’s the clue: pronouns simply stand for names;
first person, second, third, will merge
into one selfish self – ‘want.. that! .. hungry..! fetch!
no.. not that… that… when shall see…? ’
I’ll need a patient nurse…
So in the this nameless world, where all things are as One,
what then, the next to go?
Conjunctions would be no great loss –
no ifs or buts, as Nanny said, when an all too similar
frowning plaintive child tried bargaining…
re-punctuation, editing, those shorter sentences
which editors would beg of me – yes,
‘conjunctivitis’ was my writing’s curse…
Prepositions have had a chequered history
in languages: sometimes on the end of words,
sometimes going before them with a flag;
immigrants were never very strong on them;
I’ll pretend I’m fresh from Ellis Island…
And Mediterranean and Near Eastern hands
could learn to play their part; who would spot
if adverbs, or those adjectives so dear to poetry
turned into grand, expansive gesture? ‘Such
an effusive man..’ they’d say.. maybe I’d turn
into an opera star; the words a little blurred…
And like the poet Elisabeth Bishop, I’d have to learn
how to surrender things, with joy… and read, maybe,
with ecstasy, every printed word as new, unspoken, magical…
…And the last age, lean and slippered in
those hospital pyjamas and blankets with that rough kiss
that Rupert spoke about; ruthless, toothless age,
sans words, sans lips, sans native tongue, sans…
..now, what was that word … Oh, Nurse! Nurse! …
oh damn, damn, damn.. oh yippee! .. can still curse…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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To Know Of Impermanency
Write down on every New Year day
The names of the persons liked and disliked
And names of things desired and dropped.
To tell you about impermanency.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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All The Sadness I Can Never Write
All the sadness I can never write
And all the joy, I suppose, also,
It is more than what we can say
The feeling the endless feeling
The subtleties even of our pains-
We hint at them
We name them in general
But the feelings
The endless flow of feelings
They are beyond our words-
Even in exuberance
We are more mystery to ourselves
Than we can say-
And even in shades of names other times invent
We cannot tell the colors of our souls all truly-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Indian names were either characteristic nicknames given in a playful spirit, deed names, birth names, or such as have a religious and symbolic meaning.
quote by Charles Eastman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Patriarch
For generations of families by marriage
There are names that are given to children
It’s the names that are coupled to lineage
That builds a tree as the branches begin
Those who carry a family banner
And shoulder the name and the trust
Of courage and knowledge the giver
For all those who follow, a must
As long life will see many seasons
It’s those who are open to more
Pondering whereas, therefore and reasons
To hold a family’s treasured folklore
You, the patriarch of the family
To honor your place in the line
We move with grace and step quickly
As we thrust upward on history’s incline
(2011)
poem by Loren Page
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