The threat Remains story poem
As twilight fall across the sea.
A fog was drifting steadily
Towards the shore and threatening
that it would swallow everything.
A clammy cold persistent mist
which seemed unnatural to me.
Some evil which should not exist
which was approaching rapidly.
I’m not afraid, I’m terrified
that in the fog strange creatures hide
.I have a strong presentiment
I’m certain it’s malevolent.
The local legends linger on.
Strange tales from times which are long gone.
Stories I held to be untrue
but now I’m not sure that I do.
I am no longer confident
that modern man is competent
to deal with angers he can’t see.
Lured into false security
reliant on technology.
But we still sense subconsciously
When something does not seem quite right
and we prepare for flight or fight.
I would much rather run away
but something forces me to stay
I am entranced or hypnotised
my limbs completely paralysed.
And as I watch it comes ashore
as it has often done before.
To wreak the vengeance of the sea
upon the land so silently.
That no one knows until it’s gone
that it has been and what it’s done
Whole villages have disappeared
because the fog has commandeered.
The population forcibly
and carried them beneath the sea.
Leaving no witnesses behind
no evidence for men to find.
to try and solve the mystery.
Abandoned houses by the sea
but not one living soul remains,
no single witness to explain.
But this time it is different
I’m forced to watch the whole event.
Although there’s nothing I can do
the village disappears from view.
The mist engulfs it easily.
The silence is what frightens me.
No cries of distress or alarm
just an all pervading calm.
Was it by luck, pure happenstance
an accidental circumstance.
I chose to take a moonlight stroll
to watch the breakers as they roll.
Towards the shore from out at sea
in procession ceaselessly.
I do not know but I believe
I was intended to perceive.
The creeping fog come from the sea
engulf the village silently.
So I could then bear witness
to the fact the ancient tales are true.
Though when I try to testify
they think I’m mad or that I lie.
Why should I lie what could I gain
I ask but they cannot explain.
Interviewed by psychiatrists
my “delusion” still persists
I stick to what I know I saw
I will remember evermore.
But they insist on treating me
as I if had some malady.
Some mental illness they can cure
and so they keep me in secure
accommodation I don’t need.
In case one day I might succeed
in proving that my story’s true
and that of course would never do.
They dare not check past history
which would resolve the mystery.
If they researched the local lore
they’d find the fog has struck before
though not in living memory.
They are afraid to set me free.
I know they know I’m not insane
but that I will repeat again.
The story which I know is true
a story they don’t want me to.
They much prefer to rationalise
to justify their blatant lies.
They have no explanation
of where the villagers have gone.
So they misuse authority
because they do not want be
seen to lack efficiency
So they sit back complacently.
Convinced they have successfully
prevented all publicity.
But they will find it is not so
for relatives will want to know.
What happened to their kith and kin
and then the witch hunt will begin.
Eventually they’ll get to me
I will regain my liberty
I will be allowed to tell my tale.
Despite their efforts they will fail.
I will repeat my evidence
just what I saw no more no less.
Although it seems to make no sense.
It is the truth nevertheless.
Authorities claim to protect
the public as they ought to do
It is a claim which I reject
If you believe me you will too.
16-Feb-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Related quotes
It's up to you for M lady Flora
The mist that crept in from the sea.
Advancing inexorably,
enveloped first the sandy beach.
Then well beyond the high tides reach
Invaded streets and avenues
the thoroughfares that people use.
To go about their business.
A wet and cold unpleasantness.
Which nobody had seen before
at least along that friendly shore.
Exuding sheer hostility
as if the demons of the sea.
Deciding that humanity.
had forfeited their right to be.
Had gathered there with one intent
to prove the sea omniscient.
The villagers were sore afraid
some cursed and swore while others prayed.
Though neither made much difference.
Against such mist there’s no defence.
The village disappeared from sight.
Hid by a mist as black as night.
When morning broke there was no one.
No body left to greet the sun.
Now to this day the village stands
although nobody understands.
What happened on that dreadful night
when the sea fret absorbed the light.
No one survived to tell the tale.
Enough to make the bravest quail.
Perhaps you think I’m telling lies
But you will find to your surprise.
If you should choose to visit me
from my front window you can see.
The evidence that what say
A village empty to this day.
Nobody dares to move into
the empty village and renew
a single house in which to live.
Because of legends kept alive.
By older folks who can recall
the night the demons came to call.
If you should wish to you could buy
the whole village and you could try.
To sell the houses one by one
if you’re convinced it can be done.
I think your work would be in vain
What happened once could come again.
To local folks it is taboo
and there is nothing you can do.
but try to sell to foreigners
Who do not know about the curse.
I own the site and I would sell
quite cheaply and I’d wish you well
If you’re prepared to take the chance
There’s been a change of circumstance.
For there are profits to be made.
Maybe the mist will not invade
maybe the tales I tell aren’t true
what you believe is up to you.
I am too old to change my ways
and I prefer to end my days
believing as I’ve always done.
This village should left alone.
24-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Illogicality
In the beginning was the WORD.
So we are told but not who spoke
Which seems to me to be absurd.
I m forced to treat it as a joke.
No one to speak no one to hear
Which seems to be improbable
and fails to satisfy I fear.
I find it to be impossible
I would prefer a logical
explanation, I can
believe just might be true
But fairy stories will not do.
I’m sceptical, I need proof.
I can’t accept on faith alone
That what we’re taught must be the truth.
I think the truth remains unknown.
I can respect what you believe
I only ask you do the same.
Because I happen to perceive
A different start to the game.
Who was it spoke from whence came he?
Who created the creator.
Was he in fact pure energy?
that sprang from some stars molten core.
I only know I do not know
and I refuse to speculate.
About what happened long ago.
I am content to indicate.
I don’t believe, don’t even try.
I cite the lack of evidence.
The theory seems to fly
Into the face of common sense.
Although I do not claim to be
anything but a simple man
I must reject entirely
The claims of those who say they can.
Teach the truth because they know.
It must remain a mystery
They have no evidence to show
They have divine authority.
I’m sceptical and cynical.
I have a brain that I can use.
I am convinced it’s logical
to be determined to refuse
to accept what I was taught.
By those who know no more than me.
Although my teachers think I ought.
I will rebel instinctively
Friday,20 November 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Well wouldn't You?
The sea fret grey and clammy cold
distorts the view along the shore.
Quite effortlessly it seems to mould
the things you knew were there before.
Into new forms which seem to be
evil, hostile and threatening.
You can’t be sure of what you see.
The muffled silence deafening.
I tell myself I’m not afraid
but briskly walk towards the light.
A subconscious decision made,
adopt a strategy of flight.
You cannot fight what you can’t see.
The local legends all insist.
The souls of sailors lost at sea
are carried by the clinging mist.
They crave the warmth that they once knew.
The warmth the living still possess
and they will drain the life from you.
Their urgent need is pitiless.
Of course it’s just an old wives tale
which cannot possibly be true.
Still when I hear the foghorns wail.
I make for safety wouldn’t you.
5-Mar-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Spin Doctors for friend alex
In days of yore long, long before
the spoken word took written form.
The Bards, the guardians of the lore.
In Great Men’s halls they would perform.
Their epic tales from history
to entertain the listening host.
With tales of war and mystery
and heroes which their race could boast.
Each teller added something to,
adjusted what they had been told.
By teachers who had altered too
the ancient tales they had retold.
Each myth and legend seems to be
a twisted version of some tale.
Which was quite true originally
Our search for truth is doomed to fail.
There’s little evidence to find.
Although we can extrapolate
from different versions left behind.
These fragments we appreciate.
Contain some truth enwrapt in lies,
Driven by curiosity
embark upon an enterprise,
The ultimate futility.
Though we can guess, we cannot know.
Our theories could be correct
Events which happened long ago
change with each telling I suspect.
03/06/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Racial Memories: Perhaps Storypoem
83846A thick fog lies along the shore.
Much denser than I've seen before.
It seems somehow unnatural.
Far different from the usual.
Fog banks which we see frequently.
It seemed to spring up suddenly.
Too suddenly for it to be
Conforming with normality.
I watch it apprehensively
I feel some how it threatens me.
I can remember all too well.
The tale the local legends tell.
Of the great fog which stole away
Whole villages or so they say.
Though local legends tend to be
Less accurate than history.
Folk memories are based on truth.
Although there is no written proof
That does not mean they can't be true.
That's why they persist as they do
That I'm afraid I can't deny
Although I am not certain why.
I half believe the tales are true
And wonder if the fog can do
What legends say it's done before.
Perhaps it has returned for more.
I think it's time for me to go.
I do not really want to know.
What will happen if should stay
My instinct is to run away.
To climb into my car and drive
My only aim is to survive.
I realise I have been dreaming.
I can see the street lights gleaming.
And that things are as they ought to be.
My mind's been playing tricks on me.
I'm safe and warm in my armchair.
Although my mind has been elsewhere.
Concocting fear filled fantasies
From half remembered memories.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Old Artefacts Reveal New Facts
This used to be a dwelling place
For members of the human race
Two thousand years or so ago.
The passing years have changed it though.
Today the archeologists
Seek to penetrate the mists.
There’s very little they can see
Which will support their theory.
The evidence lies underground
Buried; waiting to be found
By those equipped to recognise
a broken pot can be a prize.
Which might well prove they were correct
If they can find as they expect
Sufficient evidence to show
that humans dwelt here long ago.
If they are luck they will find
Amongst detritus left behind
Artefacts discarded by
The folks who used to occupy.
The houses that there used to be
Which formed a small community.
They are completely confident
.This was a stone age settlement.
The tools they found all made of stone
Except for needles made of bone.
No signs of metal to be found
Their reasoning seems to be sound.
I think that they have proved their case.
And added to their knowledge base.
I watch the time team on TV
And I am privileged to see.
The work of experts in the field
as they persuade the earth yield
the evidence for which they seek.
Each site they work on is unique.
Each find adds something to the store
Sometimes they find a great deal more.
Than what they can expect to find
They have to keep an open mind.
Sometimes great treasures can be found
Long buried in a funeral mound.
But mostly much more mundane things
a coin or two, brooches and rings.
Each find recorded carefully
Examined scientifically
The use of modern technology
can date the finds more accurately.
Than what they could do in the past
Some times the findings overcast.
Theories long held to be true
replacing them with something new.
I find the programme satisfies
My avid curiosity.
When can watch before my eyes
unfolding of a mystery.
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Racial Memories: Perhaps
A thick fog lies along the shore.
Much denser than I've seen before.
It seems somehow unnatural.
Far different from the usual.
Fog banks which we see frequently.
It seemed to spring up suddenly.
Too suddenly for it to be
Conforming with normality.
I watch it apprehensively
I feel some how it threatens me.
I can remember all too well.
The tale the local legends tell.
Of the great fog which stole away
Whole villages or so they say.
Though local legends tend to be
Less accurate than history.
Folk memories are based on truth.
Although there is no written proof
That does not mean they can't be true.
That's why they persist as they do
That I'm afraid I can't deny
Although I am not certain why.
I half believe the tales are true
And wonder if the fog can do
What legends say it's done before.
Perhaps it has returned for more.
I think it's time for me to go.
I do not really want to know.
What will happen if should stay
My instinct is to run away.
To climb into my car and drive
My only aim is to survive.
I realise I have been dreaming.
I can see the street lights gleaming.
And that things are as they ought to be.
My mind's been playing tricks on me.
I'm safe and warm in my armchair.
Although my mind has been elsewhere.
Concocting fear filled fantasies
From half remembered memories.
Thursday,13 September 2012.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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What if it were true?
Hector, Ajax and Hercules
and other heroes such as these.
All suffered from the same disease.
They thought they were invincible.
Now every one of them is dead.
I know this from the books I’ve read.
Unlike my ancient Uncle Fred.
Who thought it might be possible.
To find a way to stay alive
a certain method to survive
Towards this end then he would strive
Although it seemed improbable.
A coward too afraid to die.
Although he was clever guy
well versed in ancient history.
He thought he could be comfortable.
If he could find a vampire who
he thought could be persuaded to
make him into a vampire too
and grant him immortality.
I half believed when I was small
My uncle often came to call
but always late after night fall.
Which made me feel uncomfortable.
But now I take a different view.
I don’t believe his tales were true
Nor do I think my siblings do.
I think it is impossible.
By bright sunlight I am certain
but after dark I think again.
What if my uncle Fred did gain
his wish for immortality.
I hoped that he was telling lies
and so it came as no surprise.
To find one single rule applies.
Vampires do not seek publicity.
Real vampires do not advertise
They consider it’s not wise.
Although my uncle really tries
his stories cannot convince me.
I know my uncle’s very old.
And that he cannot stand the cold.
From stories that my parents told
concerning his longevity.
My father says he will not die
My mother says that’s all my eye.
But still I wonder sometimes why.
He’s lived so long. It seems to me.
Just possible he’s told the truth.
The secret of eternal youth
springs from some ancient vampires tooth.
The bite of immortality.
I know that in reality
vampires are just a fantasy.
That people can live naturally.
Far longer than seems possible.
No body knows the reason why.
Examined scientifically.
It seems that everyone must die.
No one can live eternally.
But Uncle Fred refuses to.
I can’t believe his tales are true.
He sleeps all day as vampires do.
at his age it’s permissible.
I tell myself it makes no sense
for Fred to keep up this pretense.
I have to do in self defence.
I find it much preferable.
To believing Uncle Fred
Is exactly as he said
A member of the living dead.
That would be truly terrible.
18/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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There can only be one absolute truth.
I thought I wrote but only dreamt a poem showing my contempt
For those who claim to know the truth. I realised when but a youth.
They claim divine authority but had no proof to offer me
I can’t believe that any creed can provide the proof I need.
Amongst themselves they can’t agree so they argue perpetually
Nor do they practice what they preach I think the truth’s beyond their reach
I can accept the faith you hold. I would not dare to be so bold
To think I dare to criticise what you believe. I’ve found it wise.
To tolerate whatever creed which seems to satisfy a need?
That can bring great comfort to those followers to whom it’s true
I seek for truth I cannot find; but would it bring me peace of mind
Or would I feel compelled to share the truth with all men every where
I do not think I could achieve a change in what folks now believe.
I will continue with my quest, I am convinced it’s for the best.
The knowledge gained from all I’ve read is safely stored inside my head
For me to ponder quietly. Beliefs peculiar to me
Although I know they may not be true. I think for now they’ll have to do
Until I find fresh evidence which seems to me make good sense
I believe only bodies die. The soul goes on triumphantly
Transmuted to a higher plane before being reborn again
What I believe may not be true what you believe is up to you
We will find out eventually that is a solid certainty.
24/10/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Inexplicable.
The night was cold but still and clear.
As I patrolled the riverside.
I felt a sudden twinge of fear.
Quite suddenly I was terrified.
It was a strange experience.
I saw no reason for my fear.
It went against my common sense
When I thought I saw appear.
Two figure from the distant past.
A sailor and his light of love.
Fear for the moment held me fast.
Although I tried I could not move.
The sailor struck her on the head
with some heavy implement.
To make quite sure that she was dead.
Another blow more violent.
Then he made off and left her there.
He had done what he intended to.
Whilst I was forced to stand and stare.
There was nothing I could do,
When I could move I went to where.
I had seen her body fall
Her battered body was not there.
There was no blood no sign at all.
When I regained my self control.
Of course I double checked the scene.
Then carried on with my patrol.
Convinced myself that I had been.
Confused by some trick of the light.
It's possible I might have been.
But I won't forget that night
nor what I thought that I had seen.
The memory still bothered me.
When I retired I found the time.
To study local history.
I found a record of the crime.
A woman's body had been found
Beside the waters of the Tyne.
Just left abandoned on the ground
She died in eighteen twenty nine.
Was I transported back in time?
On that cold evening long ago
.Was I a witness to that foul crime?
I cannot say I do not know.
Though I remember vividly.
The murder scene I thought I saw.
A trick of light most probably.
Though I shall wonder evermore.
Tuesday,07 February 2012
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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One fine Day: perhaps for J T Ellison
The sea lies millpond calm and still, obedient to the Goddess’ will.
She has decreed it must be so and thus the ocean far below.
Represses its own urgent needs and to the Goddess’ will accedes.
Its gleaming surface satin smooth. It has no choice to tell the truth
The mistress of both sea and sky.Sees no good reason to say why.
She chose serenity tonight; she rules the sea and has the right
to give instructions to sea which must obey immediately.
Sometimes she lets the breakers roar as they approach the rocky shore.
The daily tides which ebb and flow, she will allow to come and go.
Although there is no urgency she knows of their necessity
The high tide will sweep clean the beach and leave behind its furthest reach.
A tide line marked by oddities which have been carried on the seas
From here and there and everywhere. Jetsam which can be foul or fair. Beachcombers will explore to see what treasures they can take for free.
Though they prefer the aftermath of some fierce storm that shows the wrath of the ocean in angry mood. Because they have long understood.
The treasures which they hope to find, an angry sea will leave behind.
A tranquil night produces less of valuables that will impress.
The early birds who comb the beach above the high tides which can reach much further when theres been a storm and far exceed their usual norm.
Tomorrow morning they will find the sea has not left much behind.
But they will still search carefully because they think that there might be
some treasure they have missed before. When they have searched the sandy shore
Beach combers are a hopeful breed, they know one day they will succeed.
Grow rich beyond their wildest dreams their heads are full of madcap schemes
of what they’ll do as wealthy men but keep on searching until then.
It has been known before today that some beachcombers came away
with golden doubloons by the score which they discovered on the shore.
I do not claim this can’t be true. I think such finds are rare and few.
I have researched the evidence and find that most is sheer nonsense.
But local legends long endure although no one can say for sure.
That any treasure ship was wrecked along this coast but I suspect.
That it makes little difference, dreamers aren’t known for common sense.
8-Jan-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Silent Eloquence for M lady Dee Daffodil
They say dead men do not tell tales.
This once was true but not today
Forensic science rarely fails.
Technology has shown the way.
We re-examine evidence
long thought to be of little use.
Our scrutiny is so intense,
that criminals are bound to lose.
Although they think they’re free and clear.
No one can tie them to their crime,
we’re dogged and we persevere.
We do not rush, we take our time.
Some criminals who still walk free
will soon discover that we can
prove their guilt indisputably.
In variably we get our man.
We have the latest gadgetry
we can recover D.N.A
from tiny fragments easily.
Eventually then you will pay.
The full price for your evil deed
although you think you’ve got away.
We will persist til we succeed.
We’re on your track and there we’ll stay.
We’ll forge a chain of evidence
that proves your guilt beyond all doubt
Then you will pay for your offence.
As in due course you will find out.
When you are brought before the court
No doubt you will plead not guilty.
You aren’t as clever as you thought.
You thought you’d got away Scott free.
Although Dame Justice may be blind.
She is prepared to listen to
any evidence we can find.
That pins the blame squarely on you..
Dead men can speak eloquently
and do when we investigate
assisted by technology
You can’t escape it is too late.
23-Jan-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Do I Lie?
You can’t believe all that you see.
Because it’s on the internet,
does not mean automatically
that it is true. Do not forget
that anyone can claim to be.
A recognised authority.
In their attempts to influence
beliefs held by their audience.
Their version of reality
which they present with clarity
Examined scientifically
by anyone that’s curious
enough to take an interest.
Who wants to put it to the test.
If you are wise you cross refer
with other sources and compare.
To check on their veracity
and you will find quite frequently.
It’s someone’s half baked fantasy.
You have to use your common sense
interpreting the evidence.
It may be true I can’t deny
that is a possibility
but then again it may not be.
Its up to you must decide
Before you can be satisfied
If it is truth or falsity.
I think it’s best to check it out
Discard it if there’s any doubt.
As for myself I’m cynical
I find some claims are comical.
But you can choose what you believe.
My words could be meant to deceive.
27/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Either or: both can't be true fpr Joe Poewhit
No one canprove that God exists.
No one can prove that God does not
and yet the arguments persists.
I do not know which view is true.
Nobody does apparently.
What you believe is true for you.
What I believe is true for me.
I think the evidence suggests
we should agree to disagree.
Accept the possibility
that either viewpoint could be true.
God could be fact or fantasy.
Why should we argue fruitlessly.
An argument no one can win.
God must remain a mystery,
Tuesday,22 December 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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anything is possible For M'lady Tara
I’d been driving since early morn
and some where I had gone astray
I was weary and travel worn.
I had to find a place to stay.
A good nights rest, a hearty meal
would make a new man out of me
I hoped the road would soon
reveal a wayside inn or hostelry.
I had not seen another soul
since I had left the main highway.
This single track seemed to unroll
in front of me in some strange way.
I was too tired to concentrate
I was fatigued and needed rest
I knew the hour was growing lat
and I decided it would be best
To book into the first hotel
or bed and breakfast I could find.
Either one would suit me well
I did not care I would not mind.
Just then I saw some way ahead
a building with a sign outside.
When I got closer I could read.
Be welcome stranger step inside.
I parked my car just off the track
and boldly knocked upon the door.
Which slowly opened just a crack
then gradually a little more
Until at last it opened wide.
That doors gey stiff, a sharp voice said.
An ancient lady stood inside.
I asked her if she had a bed.
I have two rooms and they’re both free
the season hasn’t started yet.
So come you in where you can see
It is not often that I get.
A visitor at all these days
not since they built the carrigeway
She fanned the fire into a blaze.
She was quite certain I would stay.
She showed me to a cosy room
and said she would prepare a meal.
An oil lamp would relieve the gloom.
It seemed that I had struck a deal.
I did not care how much it cost
I had to eat and needed rest
I told her that I had got lost
and had decided it was best
To find some place to spend the night
before I had an accident
She said she thought that I was right
and I should bide the night content.
Tomorrow was another day.
I ate my meal and went to bed.
How long I slept I cannot say
When I awoke I found instead.
Of being warm and dry in bed
I was outside beneath the sky.
My old suit case pillowed my head.
Now I will wonder til I die.
If it was merely some strange dream
created by my tired mind.
Or had I entered some time stream
to find what I needed to find
Which took me back to yester year.
When folks lived at a slower pace
The memory is crystal clear
although I could not find a trace.
There was no record anywhere
to prove the house had ever been.
Officials thought me mad I fear
when I described the house I’d seen.
I had it researched thoroughly
By local experts in this field
But they found no more trace than I
At last I gave up forced to yield.
Admit my search had been in vain
Although it defies common sense
the memories which I retain
are not a matter of pretence.
I do not often share this tale
which I believe to be quite true.
I know quite well that I should fail
If I attempt to convince you.
I know from past experience.
Though there are some but very few.
Who listen to me with patience
and can admit it could be true.
Some things can never be explained
although they are improbable.
I only know that I’ve retained
Belief that all is possible.
31-Jul-08
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Idle thoughts
Chaos ruled the nothingness.
Only potentiality
existed in the timelessness
The universe was yet to be.
We cannot know the primal cause
which overcame the entropy.
Forced it to take a different course.
It must remain a mystery.
From nothing came reality
A fully orchestrated plan
Which could not happen possibly.
So says the finite mind of man.
So we build up hypotheses
and legends trying to explain
Rejecting others theories
Though there is nothing we can gain.
Arguments based on ignorance
are bandied freely to and fro.
If we found the truth by chance
it’s probable we would not know.
We know the universe exists.
We can’t deny the evidence
and yet the legends still persist
Though logically they make no sense.
Did God create the universe
and if so who created God
I do not wish to seem perverse
but I confess I find it odd.
Why is that mankind pursues
this useless quest obsessively.
I think the questions too abstruse
For us to view objectively.
I just accept the way things are
Which seems the wisest course to me
and hasn’t troubled me so far
But then perhaps I’m just lazy.
25/07/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Denial for M'Lady Ann Beard
Why do we choose to rationalise
odd happenings we can’t explain.
The evidence of our own eyes
we all deny time and again.
I think it highly probable because
we do not understand.
Believing it impossible
we just dismiss it out of hand.
We do not really want to know
so we discount the evidence.
Which shows or merely tends to show
some humans have an extra sense.
So we pretend in self defence
that ESP is sheer nonsense..
27-Feb-09
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sidewalk Talk
Watch where you walk 'cause the sidewalks talk
And you can't keep a secret from the ground beneath you
Step very lightly on the earth below
Or before you know it everyone will know
Streets were paved with a thousand eyes
And try as you may you can't disguise
There's only two things that you can't hide from
That's you and the ground you're walking on
Chorus:
Watch where you walk, 'cause the sidewalks talk
You better watch what you do, what you do
'cause the sidewalk talk can get carried away
You better watch what you say, what you say
Think when you speak 'cause you gotta 'long the street
They can read what you say so you gotta stay away
From words that sting, words are not true
And the things you say make a fool of you
Little white lies make the sidewalk cry
And you can betray with the things you say
Words won't last when you say 'em too fast
And you've been mislead by the things you've said
(chorus)
Intermediate:
When you're living on the street
Life can be full of misery
Find a place to call your own
Make your heart into a home
You can do it, uh huh
(repeat 3 times)
You can do it
After every word there's a place that heard
Every time your shoe hits the avenue
And when you've gone they'll sing a song
Of the stories you told when you felt so bold
You better think twice when you cross the ice
Everything you do comes back to you
When you're shedding a tear sidewalks will hear
When your laughter's true they'll run with you
(chorus)
(intermediate)
You can do it, uh huh
(repeat 3 times)
You can do it
(repeat 3 times)
(chorus)
Sidewalk talk
(repeat 3 times)
Let me tell ya 'bout sidewalk talk
Sidewalk talk
Sidewalk talk
Sidewalk talk
(repeat)
Watch out for sidewalk talk
Sidewalk talk
Sidewalk talk
Sidewalk talk
Let me tell ya 'bout
Let me tell ya 'bout
Let me tell ya 'bout
Let me tell ya 'bout sidewalk talk
song performed by by Madonna
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Total Denial.
If the Messiah came again.
He would be certified insane.
Society could not possibly
allow him to preach and teach freely
I have no doubt he’d be confined
Because the powers that be would find.
That what he taught was dangerous
To every single one of us.
The rulers of the church and state
are not prepared to tolerate.
Any change to existing rules
which for years they’ve used as tools
To maintain the Status Quo
They do not want us all to know
They lack divine authority
They are not what they claim to be.
The guardians of morality
and keepers of the mystery.
They know the truth would set us free.
Of course they could not possibly.
Accept the fact that he might be
the ultimate authority.
They would decree that he must be
kept in protective custody.
No need for crucifixion.
Their method is a kinder one.
Keep him sedated constantly
which would work as effectively.
With no adverse publicity
Just dealt with bureaucratically.
We cannot say with certainty
The messiah is not presently.
Held in some institution
quite unknown to anyone.
Except perhaps the powers that be
Who act unjustly secretly.
08/08/2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Faith the Facts
Search out all things of good report.
Consider each one carefully,
things are not always as you thought.
As you will find most probably.
What you were taught to be the truth
is very often far from true.
Lessons taught you in your youth
by those you thought knew more than you.
As you mature you learn to see.
They taught you their own biased view
Which you examine critically
And then discard most as untrue.
Your old beliefs grow obsolete.
Examine all the evidence
New facts emerge though incomplete,
you then accept what makes most sense.
What you were taught no longer true.
You can’t rely on faith alone.
Although the clergy urge you to
Because too much remains unknown
Wednesday,25 November 2009
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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