Whitewash My Mind
Clutter, clatter…way too much chatter.
I have no idea what’s the matter;
But I do know that I’m a mess.
The world passes by and I must confess
I’m on the street corner of life afraid to cross,
Fearing traffic of new ideas will be my loss.
My focus withers with noises of each day.
Old memories dominate as new thoughts give way.
Delving deep in my fears, what do I find?
I must whitewash all that currently infects my mind.
Rinse away antiquated ideas toward a new direction.
Life rewards only those who make a right selection.
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cleanse My Mind
Clutter, clatter…way too much chatter.
I don’t even know what’s the matter;
But I do know that I’m in a mess.
The world passes by and I must confess
I’m on the street corner of life afraid to cross,
Fearing traffic of new ideas will be my loss.
My focus withers with noises of each day.
Old memories dominate as new thoughts give way.
My only hope is to totally cleanse my mind.
Rejuvenate my senses as if they are all redesigned.
Bid farewell to ideas and people not espousing change.
Work toward the positive person I now can arrange.
Rinse away old prejudice so coveted by the inept.
Live by new standards, knowing that here is kept
More precious treasure than can be found in any coffer…
It’s the happiness and peace of mind cleansing can offer.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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An Idea
An Idea can change the world, how many
things can be done from an idea, every piece
of object was an idea, sense the beginning of
time idea was the first thought created in the
mind, an idea is what surround’s every being.
But an idea is still only an idea and it can't be
felt, you cannot touch an idea or kiss it, or hold it,
ideas do not bleed or feel pain or love, an idea
cannot be seen or heard, its created in our thoughts,
but then again an idea can become real. An idea
can be what ever you which it to be, an idea can
be destructive, an idea can be brilliant, I've seen
people get killed in the name of ideas, ideas,
we walk around with a little
light bulb blinking in our thoughts, ideas.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Noises
(ian hunter/tommy morrongiello)
Noises are taking away my freedom.
Noises seem to rob me of myself.
Noises are the sound of mediocrity.
Noises ... to take that ... from out of myself.
Noises are taking away my casualness.
Noises are making me scared.
Big noises are made by big shots.
Some noises should never be heard.
Noises,
Noises,
Noises,
Noises,
Give me noises!
Noises are looking over my shoulder.
Noises are the sound of the herd.
Noises make the planet colder.
Noises are noises that should never be heard.
Noises,
Noises,
Noises,
Noises will destroy me.
Noises ...
Why not join some junky jewels, who wreck the clines on canvas fools
Who take the vapours from the mind. neo nothing. shallow kind.
A ritzy nazi owns the game, he plays at God but that was fame
And music masturbates his mind, and stones get rolled up in the slime
A new york butch becomes a blond, while changing gears while from beyond
Agree to consecrate the music makers have gotta take
Owls with trowels as big as spades, dig down among those sequined graves.
Work out their ages, turn the pages, caught in cages, locked in ages
Media momenta, who can prevent her.
Noises, noises, noises, noises
Did you find a certain street, theyre looking for thoughtless thoughts to preach
The street, the street, theyre not your drain, while waiting in the pouring rain
For your old lady out of work, brought the baby, bet your shirt
Waiting for godot did it, then whats happening the other end - rewards
And gallant knights with blunted swords
Locked away in isolation, trying to figure out why they wanna die
And thats the state of the nation.
Noises,
Noises,
Noises,
Noises, oh, oh, oh.
I love noises!
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Power of Ideas
The power of ideas are immeasurable
They are the hidden treasures which lies
Deep within each and everyone of us
When we take the time to mind them we will find
That they are more precious than diamonds
Ideas which may seem insignificant
Has tremendous power within them
They are the genesis the initiation the foundation
Of all invention and everything which
Is created by humankind
The power of ideas are immeasurable
They have got the power to move mountains
To overcome any obstacle and to make
The seemingly impossible possible
Ideas are the levers which moves and the axis
On which the world revolves
The power of ideas are immeasurable
The power of ideas...
poem by Anthony Shurland Phillander
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When Memories End
I stared down at the body in the casket.
Small, broken: her body like my soul.
Everyone bent to kiss her head;
I did not. I did not want Death
to be passed on to me. I did not want
to be ended. I had had no time.
Time to express each and every idea.
What they meant to me.
My memories and why I stored them.
Time to learn others' ideas
and morph and shape them
until I could finally understand.
My heart raced against itself
in a race with no winner.
My breath came out in sputters and tears
flooded the casket before me.
WHAT IF I WOULDN'T HAVE TIME...
And I kissed her forehead.
Her ideas were no longer in use,
her memories erased from the Book
of Time, never to be retrieved.
I respected the loss.
My loss.
Her loss.
The world's loss.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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1. One
I am trying to find my poetic rhythm.
Pen my flow of thoughts.
Words running through my mind,
Ideas running through my mind.
Incoherent, Scattered and disjointed
I am trying to make words and ideas one
Create a world of words, in this world of chaos
Words running from one end
Ideas running from one end
On a path of collision
Ideas and words unite, one
One, the beginning
One, the universal beginning
One, the number of the gods
One, my first poem
poem by Anand Dixit
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Ideas must be put to the test. That's why we make things, otherwise they would be no more than ideas. There is often a huge difference between an idea and its realisation. I've had what I thought were great ideas that just didn't work.
quote by Andy Goldsworthy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ideas For Walls
So many things in my head, Ive always had them before
No reason to be upset, theyre just ideas for walls
Now Im standing inside, outside, which is the right side
Im standing, demanding that the nightlife be called the right life
Like putting paint on my feet & walking sideways in rows
My walls could be so complete, complete with patterns of toes
Now Im standing inside, outside, which is the right side
Im standing the left side, right side, which is the right side
Now-ideas
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
A little m for the mirror, a double u for the wall
To make things perfectly clear, a great big h in the hall
Now Im standing inside, outside, which is the right side
Im standing, demanding that the nightlife be called the right life
Is everybody confused? (no) Im making no sense at all
You want a room with a view you need ideas for walls
Now Im standing inside, outside, which is the right side
Im standing inside, outside, outside, right side
Inside, outside, which is the right side
Now -- ideas
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
Ideas
Theyre just ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Me And My Big Ideas
Me and my big ideas
Won't wash away your tears
No one else seems to mind
That I'm not that kind
Go get a volunteer
We'll pay him well my dear
He will see inside your mind
Because he is that kind
It's a southern kind of heat
The shadows crack and start to creep
Conversation drag its feet
I wish we'd both been more discret
Like light that it caught between night and day
You're stuck between me and my
Me and my big ideas
Won't wash away your tears
No one else seems to mind
That I'm not that kind
Well they love you when you're weak
Bet they hate you to see this winning streak
It's that thing we call control
There's a deep frustration
Black thoughts
That are stuck between someone's ears
Like me and my big idea
So many strings to your bow
Why not let one go
In a way this dream is over
Blown away our four leaf clover
There's no reason why
There's just me and my
Me and my big ideas
Won't wash away your tears
No one else seems to mind
That I'm not that kind
song performed by by Tears For Fears from Raoul & The Kings Of Spain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Being A Poet
I find that I can compose a poem best,
When I am out walking, or am at rest.
When I am lying in my bed at night,
I think about what I am able to write.
Or when I’m out walking, or sat on a train,
Words and ideas, all rush round my brain.
Sometimes, ideas just appear in my head,
Or may be a result of something I’ve read.
At fellow passengers, on a train, I take a look;
Some chatter away, while others read a book.
But, me, I’m sat there, quietly composing verse;
With dozens of ideas, my creative mind bursts.
If I compose lines on my way into town,
I repeat them over, until I write them down;
If they are not written down straightaway,
Around my mind, other thoughts then play.
There are many things which inspire me to write,
Such as animals, the seasons, and the sky at night.
If I try to force ideas, they just do not flow;
The poem itself, I find, just will not grow.
I like to write on a layperson’s level;
In too much information, I do not revel.
Having chosen a decent subject or idea,
I then need to get my brain in to gear.
Of a subject, I like to consider all of the aspects,
But I keep my writing simple; not too complex.
To make a poem rhyme, words I may change,
But I only use words that are within my range.
In using unfamiliar words, I can see no point;
A nice poem, tricky words, can really disjoint.
Words, within my head, I keep batting around,
Until the perfect combination, is finally found.
With poetry, I really love the creative process,
But over time, I’ve become slightly obsessed.
Sometimes I find myself talking in rhyme;
That I am a poet, this must be a sure sign.
Of my finished poems, I often feel proud;
One day, I’ll be brave and read them aloud.
Into my swirling head, ideas continue to pop;
I love writing poetry and never want to stop!
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Not Conscious Of Its Acceptance
I have an idea!
Let's all pretend,
What is happening,
Isn't.
'Is that the best you can do?
We've been doing that for years.
That's how we got into this mess.'
Well...
Let's all pretend,
To be disconnected from it.
The mess.
'There is just one problem.'
What is it?
'How can we excuse our involvement,
Without acknowledging...
We were not conscious of its acceptance? '
I have another idea.
'What is it? '
We can always say,
We didn't exist when the 'mess' was implemented.
'I have an idea.'
Good!
Let's hear it.
'Why don't you keep your ideas to yourself.
And implement a nonthinking process.
I'm willing to bet,
'That' will be accepted.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ideas
Some of my best ideas come
When I least expect them
When I am without a pen to jot them down
I try to keep them in memory
But they become blurred
They become disjointed and lost
Consigned to frustration
Wanting to remember that spark
Which lit my mind into life
I sometimes find a segment of them
Those ideas which come to me
And fashion something out
Only it never looks right
It doesn’t have the feel I’d like
I guess some things are not to be
I guess I keep talking
Hoping I’d stumble across them
Some of my best ideas come
Then I least expect them
What I have learnt in my short life
Its always good to carry a pen
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Past, Present and Future
Preamble:
Thoughts and ideas like those of a sage
(or are they memories of a bygone age?)
flash in my mind now and set the stage
of what there soon again may likely be
when for a while here we become free
and without any clouds the horizon see.
----------
The past is always there to look back and reflect upon
not to live in as a prisoner that seeks no escape from.
The present is the current moment where we are now
always looking for a direction which to go somehow.
The future is what we can all really make it out to be
if in our mind we're strong and clear in what we see.
**************************
poem by George Krokos
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Me & My Big Ideas
Me and my big ideas
Wont wash away your tears
No one else seems to mind
That Im not that kind
Go get a volunteer
Well pay him well my dear
He will see inside your mind
Because he is that kind
Its a southern kind of heat
The shadows crack and start to creep
Conversation drag its feet
I wish wed both been more discret
Like light that it caught between night and day
Youre stuck between me and my
Me and my big ideas
Wont wash away your tears
No one else seems to mind
That Im not that kind
Well they love you when youre weak
Bet they hate you to see this winning streak
Its that thing we call control
Theres a deep frustration
Black thoughts
That are stuck between someones ears
Like me and my big idea
So many strings to your bow
Why not let one go
In a way this dream is over
Blown away our four leaf clover
Theres no reason why
Theres just me and my
Me and my big ideas
Wont wash away your tears
No one else seems to mind
That Im not that kind
song performed by by Tears For Fears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Follows The Sun (Revised)
Follows The Sun
Amazing, unique, individual, what we
see of the world is derived from wearing
coloured glasses
Some derive beauty & comfort in scary
events, others hate wonderful ideas
that soar me high into the sky
Some change everything into appalling
experience - others find illumination
in the meanest event
Shifted my focus, looked at all view-
points at once, concluded emulating
positive, inspiring people is best
Negatives come naturally - a dream
is easily crushed by revealing it to
dissenting opinions
I treasure fragile ideas, seeking minds
predisposed to see life positively,
respecting disillusioned people
Frequently depressed - but focus grows
problems, I change perspective, trail
the sun on the horizon
No matter how dark or determined
the bad things can seem - life has
changed so wondrously since
I adopted the magnificent plan of
reaching for the light like a flower
follows the sun…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Breaking Free
A new life, for myself, I need to weave.
I need some oxygen, so as I can breathe.
From these chains, I need to break free;
I need the chance just to be totally me.
I need to escape now, from this prison cell;
Escape from this existence, I know so well.
Afraid of the world, in my corner, I cower;
I'm just like a bud, that's waiting to flower.
I can't go on like this forever and ever;
The storms in life, I will need to weather.
By your actions, my life has been affected;
I'm just like a child: my life is protected.
Sometimes it feels like I am suffocating.
For the perfect moment, I am still waiting.
You know that one day, I will go away;
Here, forever more, I just cannot stay.
Into my life, I need to let some light.
From this place, I need to take flight.
I need to try and overcome all my fears.
I need to have my own hopes and ideas.
I now need to have my very own space;
I need to live my life at my own pace.
One day, I will be a flower in full bloom,
And that ‘one day' may come very soon.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Ideas
I came up an idea.
Every single day.
Trying to change my life in other way.
Ideas are creativity of our own.
Which gives us something to earn.
Like making a house of our own.
Your ideas or mine.
But it takes time.
For someone to take a wine
poem by Yash Pradhan
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Thoughts and ideas - (Talking through my hat)
Break and husk
thoughts and ideas that,
without reason,
I smashing them like nuts
into my head – mortar with pig iron pestle.
Lay and hatch
thoughts and ideas,
and younglings,
instead of fly,
I keep them under latch
in my head – cage of neurons,
dendrites and axons.
Knead and raise
thoughts and ideas
but let me tempted,
and without reason,
instead of bake them, I play
“of thieves and bobbies”
with bullets of dough
shot from my head – automatic gun.
Pull kernels out of
thoughts and ideas
but I put not them to spring
and hundredfold harvest to bring,
I chain them necklace
that my poor mind
who walks nomad
through my head – ballad
to put it neck
in a night with moon
and than to catch
in a fairies dance
and hungry of blue
to soar in the stars.
***
Thoughts and ideas
are shrieking through my mind
as lost migratory birds
in an autumn of rains.
Thoughts and ideas
- arrow-shaped cranes with wet wings -
fall all at once
in my head – moorland
of thistle and mud.
Bevies of ideas
and useless thoughts
surround my mind
how ravens give wheel
carrions to be
through my head - waste land
by boiling and winds.
Thoughts and ideas
go round
like a pack of wolves
with empty bellies
through my head – winter of frost,
winter of sleet
with my mind
thoroughly frozen
by fright and a biting wind.
Pick
bunches of thoughts and ideas
caressed by the sun of mind
in bacchanal vineyards
planted on encephalic hills.
I squish them
and expect to get wine
and get drunk
in my head – tavern where the smoke
knife just cut it
and air is sourbitter.
Fog of thoughts and ideas
rises from my mind
as darkness on swamps
in late autumn.
Nothing to see
not hear anything
all still is,
just the small brain
flickers in my head – gray curtain
between movement and inertia.
Slacked thoughts and ideas
are resting on benches of mind,
nothing pulling them
with hands and teeth,
I can’t them gather
at work to bring
to get something good
from my head – chaos
where it lacks a poleax
and a stump of elm.
poem by Viorel Petru Trifan
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Amazed They Are Afraid and Clueless
Why are people fearing their own demise?
What is it about their current state of self destruction,
That gives them such ridiculous hints?
I am amazed they are afraid and clueless.
And rarely do I observe anyone blind,
Asking for assistance to cross a traffic packed...
And crowded street.
While those of clear vision,
Are afraid of their own shadows.
And the quality of life they have allowed to degrade!
Formulated and based upon 'their' highbrow standards.
And dictated as ideal and righteous.
Although the deceivers and their greed,
Have scurried to taint Burj Dubai.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Cure for Poetry and the Curse of Individualism
The Mind Police came yesterday,
They kidnapped my friend and took him away,
Our house was untidy, the floor could have been cleaner,
And now he's been charged with schizophrenia.
Omitting the housework's a serious crime
As a Social Worker told me time after time -
If you want to get by you've got to conform,
Abide by the rules, fit in with the norm.
Don't talk about 'freedom' - there's no such thing,
The birds are conditioned, that's why they sing!
Writing of poetry's strictly forbidden
And if you've got talent, better keep it hidden.
I heard of a guy who had stange ideas,
(He said that good music moved him to tears!)
His home was a mess and a little bit smelly,
So I prescribed him a brand new telly.
The cure for neurosis is watching T.V.
You've got to be 'normal' if you want to stay free,
There's no room for outsiders with funny ideas -
Go down to the pub and have a few beers.
Fit in with the crowd, we're all just the same,
There's no other way so join in the game,
If you try to be different you'll get in a mess
(And if you're a rebel it's time to confess!)
This is the Age of Mind Control,
Give thanks for your Body, 'cos you ain't got a Soul! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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