A Tease Ate At Ease
Forty-five fragile film frames flickered fast,
Offered fragile existential fantasy.
Rehearsal? repetition? f[o]ray fancy-free?
Timed role’s played only once before cold blast.
Youth spins loaded dice, Styx stones cast, fall forecast,
Fickle fate finesses foresight finicky.
Iconoclastic? idyllic? lottery
Voids mortal cyphers’ sore core scores. Vacuum vast.
Emphemeral existence fades fast. Past
Youth clings, sings, rings prime passed preparing Lethe -
Exit pursued by bare Life’s absurdity.
A tease ate at ease? Flea’s frieze freeze, picked, nicked, repast.
Rose scent sent doom dissolves all errors paid,
Stage gauged age paging, gloom’s page terror greyed.
Forty-five frames flicker fast,
Opt out of final fantasy.
Rehearsal over, piper’s fee
Toxic toxin tolled. Cold blast.
Yearned remission ends, soon past.
Fate finesses finicky
Ideals as lethal lottery
Vacuums mortal coil at last.
Expunges wishful-thinking fast
Deadlines loom, dread signs tomb see
Aware of hope’s absurdity.
Yet fear flees further fears die cast.
Self-indulgence pointless proves.
A tease? at ease? last ga[s]p removes.
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Polyacrostic - A Final Act I Play... and Yet
A FINAL ACT I PLAY... AND YET
ALL FADES INTO NOTHINGNESS AT LAST,
FADES fast, flame flame attracts, itself devours.
INTO Time’s vacuum hours suction hour –
NOTHINGNESS: the frame for fame when Past
AT journey’s end the Future meets to cast
LAST dies with Fate – which late or early sours.
ASHES CHILLING TIME’S IMMORTAL POWERS:
CHILLING bigot, priest, iconoclast.
TIME’S melting pot’s a plumbless well, repast
IMMORTAL, tasteless still, which overpowers
POWERS of perception, leaves life’s flowers
LOST and blighted ‘neath the blast, soon passed.
AND yet Youth’s fountain springs, denies ‘too late’.
YET Hope fears’ dupes would prove, Love knows no date!
polyacrostic sonnet 21 November 1991
robi03_0486_robi03_0000 BSX_DKZ
© Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Skull Ring
(feat. The Stooges)
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Money
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Fancy things
The touch of a hand in the wasteland
you're walking asleep and dreaming cheap
A bird's wing don't beat for free
You're freezing cold and your family
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Money
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Fancy things
Fingers on fire to do what's bad
Ring on the finger is a skull man
Strong as a bar of steel
Weakness is that you can't feel
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Money
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Fancy things
My life is dirtied, my mind is loaded
I'm feeling and breathing and fighting
To see
People get ready now
Baby come on give your heart to me
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Money
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Fancy things
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Feelings Fail to Flabbergast - 1968
Future today, tomorrow: past,
love's piper must be paid at last,
where two's no longer company
one's crowded out, one too many
fights pseudo superfluity
self-confidence at sea, aghast.
Too late is hell. Seek, rather, fast
to try new track, exile, outcast
unworthy partner, fake. Break free
from falsehood lacking harmony's
far better far than fragility
stretched out by thin elastoplast.
Life's boat cannot advance half-mast,
an appetite scorns cold repast,
‘alone' keeps credibility
preparing for fresh melody
by banishing futility
when feelings fail to flabbergast.
Causal love-links multicast
play games, dream's downfall seemed forecast
to herald heartbreak threnody
yet somehow primes rhyme's melody,
prime-time until eternity
mocks mortal bombast vain as vast.
(3 March 2010)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For Mel (villanelle)
The one who should have lived has gone so fast.
The old ones, in their dotage, linger on –
they, with no future, live only in the past.
And we who can but sit, dumb and aghast,
scarcely believe that while the sun still shone
the one who should have lived has gone so fast.
Six decades older, surviving to their last
few days or years, together but alone,
they, with no future, live only in the past.
At least she kept on living to the last,
but should have had a future. She has none.
The one who should have lived has gone so fast,
and they, for whom so many years have passed,
are unaware that one they loved is gone.
They, with no future, live only in the past,
mark time until the final trumpet blast,
and never know the respite they have won.
The one who should have lived has gone so fast.
They, with no future, live only in the past.
poem by Paul Hansford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When feelings fail to flabbergast
WHEN FEELINGS FAIL TO FLABBERGAST
Future today, tomorrow: past,
love's piper must be paid at last,
where two's no longer company
one's crowded out, one too many
fights pseudo superfluity
self-confidence at sea, aghast.
Too late is hell. Seek, rather, fast
to try new track, exile, outcast
unworthy partner, fake. Break free
from falsehood lacking harmony's
far better far than fragility
stretched out by thin elastoplast.
Life's boat cannot advance half-mast,
an appetite scorns cold repast,
‘alone’ keeps credibility
preparing for fresh melody
by banishing futility
when feelings fail to flabbergast.
Causal love-links multicast
play games, dream’s downfall seemed forecast
to herald heartbreak threnody
yet somehow primes rhyme’s melody,
prime-time until eternity
mocks mortal bombast vain as vast.
3 March 2010
robi03_1968_robi03_0000 XXX_ELZ
When feelings fail to flabbergast poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Fast, So Numb
Movin through rough waters motel boy,
And swimming in your sleep.
How could I be so blind, mis-sighted,
Not to see theres something wounded deep.
Anyone could scratch your surface now,
Its all amphetamine
Youre blasting yourself into the present
Learn some vast indignity, stay that,
You say that you hate it
You want to re-create it
Ive been around, Ive been your lover.
I let it go at kill devil hill,
Youre coming onto something so fast, so numb
That you cant even feel.
Youre drinking the wrong dream now baby,
You do-si-do, saddo
Youre you in cartilage, shark-eyed, shock horror, all present tense,
And boy your blood is running cold.
Listen, this is now, this is here, this is me,
This is what I wanted you to see.
That was then, was that, that is gone, this is past,
You cast yourself cast, passed by, gone down fast.
You say that you hate it.
You want to recreate it.
Ive played this round, Ive played your lover.
Ive played it out to the hilt.
Youre comin on with something so fast, so numb
That you cant even feel.
You love it. you hate it.
You want to re-create it.
Now, this is here, this is me.
This is what I wanted you to see.
That was then, was that, that is gone.
That is what I wanted you to feel.
You love it. you hate it.
You spit it out, the bitter pill.
Ive been around, Ive been your lover
I let it go at kill devil hill.
Youre coming onto something so fast, so numb
That you cant even feel.
Ive played this round, Ive played your lover.
Ive played it out to the hilt.
Youre comin on with something so fast, so numb
That you cant even feel.
You played around, you played me lover,
I let it go at kill devil hill,
Youre moving so hard, so fast, so numb
That you cant even feel.
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Things Get FUNKY Fast
try to keep it shiny,
try to make it last,
every time you turn around,
things get funky fast.
try for law and order,
the die is cast
every time you turn around,
things get funky fast.
no matter how you figure,
no matter how big the blast,
bowling pins built to fall down,
and things get funky fast.
toil and trouble,
hang on what we do,
and bloodhounds,
coming after you.
the present moment,
ruled by the past,
every time you turn around,
things get funky fast.
you know I love you, baby
twine time is fine,
but I can't tell,
if you're a friend of mine.
on the deck of the ship
you're climbing up the mast,
it's hard to be hip,
things get funky fast.
poem by Richard Jarboe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To H.a.b. On My Forty-seventh Birthday
WHEN one is forty years and seven,
Is seven and forty sad years old,
He looks not onward for his Heaven,
The future is too blank and cold,
Its pale flowers smell of graveyard mould;
He looks back to his lifeful past;
If age is silver, youth is gold:-
Could youth but last, could youth but last!
He turns back toward his youthful past
A-throb with life and love and hope,
Whose long-dead joys in memory last,
Whose shining days had ample scope;
He turns and lingers on the slope
Whose dusk leads down to sightless death:-
The sun once crowned that darkening cope,
And song once thrilled this weary breath.
Ali, he plods wearily to death,
Adown the gloaming into night,
But other lives breathe joyous breath
In morning's boundless golden light;
Their feet are swift, their eyes are bright,
Their hearts beat rhythms of hope and love,
Their being is a pure delight
In earth below and heaven above.
And you have hope and joy and love,
And you have youth's abounding life,
Whose crystal currents flow above
The stones and sands of care and strife.
May all your years with joys be rifc,
May you grow calmly to your prime,
A maiden sweet, a cherished wife,
A happy mother in due time.
All good you wish me, past my prime,
I wish with better hope to you,
And richer blessings than old Time
And Fate or Fortune found my due:
For you are kind and good and true,
And so when you are forty-seven
May spouse and children in your view
Make Home the happiest life-long Heaven.
poem by James Thomson
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Inaudible Melodies
Brushfire fairytales
Itsy bitsy diamond wells
Big fat hurricanes
Yellow bellied given names
Well shortcuts can slow you down
And in the end we're bound
To rebound off of we
Well dust off your thinking caps
Solar powered plastic plants
Pretty pictures of things we ate
We are only what we hate
But in the long run we have found
Silent films are full of sound
Inaudibly free
Slow down everyone
You're moving too fast
Frames can't catch you when
You're moving like that
Inaudible melodies
Serve narrational strategies
Unobtrusive tones
Help to notice nothing but the zone
Of visual relevancy
Frame-lines tell me what to see
Chopping like an axe
Or maybe Eisenstein should just relax
Slow down everyone
You're moving too fast
Frames can't catch you when
You're moving like that
Well Plato's cave is full of freaks
Demanding refunds for the things they've seen
I wish they could believe
In all the things that never made the screen
And just slow down everyone
You're moving too fast
Frames can't catch you when
You're moving like that
Slow down everyone
You're moving too fast
Frames can't catch you when
You're moving like that
Moving Too....
song performed by by Jack Johnson from Brushfire Fairytales
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dying Gipsy Smuggler
Wasted, weary, wherefore stay,
Wrestling thus with earth and clay?
From the body pass away;-
Hark! the mass is singing.
From thee doff thy mortal weed,
Mary Mother be thy speed,
Saints to help thee at thy need;-
Hark! the knell is ringing.
Fear not snow-drift driving fast,
Sleet, or hail, or levin blast;
Soon the shroud shall lap thee fast,
And the sleep be on thee cast
That shall ne'er know waking.
Haste thee, haste thee, to be gone,
Earth flits fast, and time draws on,-
Gasp thy gasp, and groan thy groan,
Day is near the breaking.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Biker
Riding
Riding Fast
It’s A Blast.
Fast
Fast Feelings
Always Always Fast.
Feelings
Feeling Adrenaline Rush
Last Last Last.
Rush
Infusion Rush Gears
Riding Changing Gears Gears Gears.
Rush
Infusion Rush Roads
Riding Changing Gears Gears Gears.
Roads
Roads Go Go
Blowing Blowing Blast.
Wind
Wind Sweeping
Sweeping Moments Last.
Never Fast
Fast Enough
Howling Howling Past.
Never Fast
Fast Enough
Howling Howling Past.
Never Fast Enough
Until You Have To Stop
Dead Quick.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Paper Cup
Wishful thinking I might be yours
Drifting on every step
Im always drawn to the dark horse
Sweet sweet, oh nothings said
And every dream, every, is just a dream after all
And everything stands so still when you dance
Everything spins so fast
And the nights in a paper cup
When you want it to last
Wishful thinking you might be mine
Every shiver sends
One breath under the bridge of sighs
Bending where the river bends
And every dream, every, is just a dream, after all
And everything stands so still when you dance
Everything spins so fast
And the nights in a paper cup
When you want it to last
And every dream, every, is just a dream after all
And everything stands so still when you dance
Everything spins so fast
And the nights in a paper cup
When you want it to last
And everything stands so still when you dance
Everything spins so fast
And the nights in a paper cup
When you want it to last
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time-crossed Lovers
Rocket ships were crossing paths at near the speed of light;
solo voyagers, boy and girl, both escapees in flight.
Brushing past, each looked within the others inner space,
pensive faces noted shipboard clocks' unequal pace.
Seemed as if each others time ran slower than their own,
pressing home how destiny had cast them off alone.
Knowing how inertial frames are relatively cast,
yet it felt as if their lives were disappearing fast.
Destinations calculated, to the heavens hurled;
onboard navigation systems, led to chosen worlds.
Ah, but love had other plans and interfered with fate;
he prepared to turn his ship while she slowed down to wait.
Recklessly, he risked the hull to brake and alter course;
months it took, with heavy strain, deceleration's force.
Further months to trace her path and match her slackened speed,
driven by an overwhelming solitary need.
Travelling apace, he docked and breached the airlock rim;
inside atmosphere was cold and one light flickered dim.
Every sense was tensed with fear, but persevere he must;
there he found her, ever patient, waiting, bones and dust.
Changing frames of reference fixed his time to deathly slow,
so she died from many years of waiting for her beau.
Special relativity is fair enough, but then,
general relativity demands one think again.
poem by Diane Hine
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Old Jimmy
With the aid of walking stick he shuffles down the side street and time has left him looking stiff and gray
And truly it can be said of old Jimmy that he is one who has known a better day
Ageless father time takes care of everybody there was a time when he could run quite fast
But now he only can walk at a slow pace and all of his better days are in the past.
He was a football hero in his heyday the best on ground in nineteen forty one
The day that his club played in the Grand Final without him the Premiership could not be won
Close to his prime and in his early twenties on looking back that seems so long ago
It's true that time leaves it's mark on everybody the man who once ran fast now walking slow.
The hard games of football he played in now on him telling he has arthritis in his painful right knee
An injury that forced him into retirement when he was past his prime at thirty three
Back in the forties and fifties he was a football hero but football heroes like the seasons come and go
And that he once was a Grand Final hero is something few young people wish to know.
Old Jimmy slowly shuffles down the side walk a mere shell of the man he used to be
In forty one he starred in the Grand Final when he was near his prime at twenty three
And father time has left his mark on Jimmy and time 'tis said for anyone doesn't wait
And the grim reaper will take the king and pauper and the grim reaper will take the football great.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Rainy Day
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Those Legs That Once Could Run So Fast
Those legs that once could run so fast feel heavy now and slow
He sure is not the man he was some forty years ago
He played football with his young mates he drank till pub closing time
But that was many years ago when he was in his prime,
On looking back the decades time seems to have gone fast
He had his good days one must suppose though nothing seems to last
And time catches up on all of us though some with hair dye cover their gray
But Mother Nature on us all does have the final say,
Forty five years ago he was the hero of the local Football team
In the cup final he kicked the winning goal a boost to his self esteem
By his team-mates he was shouldered from the field of play the cheers for him rang loud
And thinking of his glorious hour still makes him feel so proud
And now at night he sits at home with his ageing and forgetful wife
And time is catching up on him one might say such is life.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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New Year's Eve
Another full-orbed year hath waned to-day,
And set in the irrevocable past,
And headlong whirled long Time's winged blast
My fluttering rose of youth is borne away:
Ah rose once crimson with the blood of May,
A honeyed haunt where bees would break their fast,
I watch thy scattering petals flee aghast,
And all the flickering rose-lights turning grey.
Poor fool of life! plagued ever with thy vain
Regrets and futile longings! were the years
Not cups o'erbrimming still with gall and tears?
Let go thy puny personal joy and pain!
If youth with all its brief hope disappears,
To deathless hope we must be born again.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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Dawns Decay
each babe wakes to earths new dawn,
mistaking new for what is worn,
futures cast before they're born.
childhood cheer renews life's sheen,
repainting vistas last past seen,
brightens futures grey cast screen.
childhood cheer gives way to teen,
early brightness now unseen,
noon sun slides to evenings scene.
adults wallow in the past,
spying dusk - horizon sat,
futures span is failing fast.
the current moment caught at last,
the future spent, the past fades fast,
no escape from deaths grim grasp.
poem by Christopher Withers
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Rocket Ride
Lady space, you like the way
I make you feel inside
Take a rocket ride
From the start you wanted to fly
I got the rocket and you want the ride
Take a rocket ride
Baby wants it fast, baby wants a blast
She wants a rocket ride, she wants a rocket ride
Baby wants it fast, baby wants a blast
She wants a rocket ride, she wants a rocket ride
Lady space, you better wake up fast
Countdown is comin on
Take a rocket ride
The gravity that used to hold you down
Just dont exist no more
Take a rocket ride
Baby wants it fast, baby wants a blast
She wants a rocket ride, she wants a rocket ride
Baby wants it fast, baby wants a blast
She wants a rocket ride, she wants a rocket ride
Come on, grab a hold of my rocket
Baby wants it fast, baby wants a blast
She wants a rocket ride, she wants a rocket ride
Baby wants it fast, baby wants a blast
She wants a rocket ride, she wants a rocket ride
Babys on her knees, baby wants to please
She wants a rocket ride, she wants a rocket ride
Babys on her knees, baby wants to please
She wants a rocket ride, she wants a rocket ride
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red book - The Rule Is You Must Say How You Really Feel.
Reading the red book. It tries to explain the rules of life. Never too fast, never too fast, it says it won't last. Burnt by the past. Some new so close to you. You must get to know them. Its a game you can slowly win. Bury your true feelings.
Reading the read book. It tries to explain the rules of life. Never to fast, never too fast. It says it won't last burnt by the past. We are all wearing masks. Time to take them off. Stop hiding behind your walls. It cost us all. It will be your down fall. Just another phone call. Meeting the face behind this stall. It has come to a sudden halt.
Reading the read book. It tries to explain the rules of life. Never too fast, never too fast. It says it won't last. Burnt by the past. Are we trying to hard? Are we faking this march? Are you trying to hide something underneath? Are you look for a little relief? Do you want me, and are afraid to say it? Denying our insides. They can't be alive. They just can't. And go back to the old dance.
Reading the red book. It tries to explain the rules of life. Never too fast, never too fast. It says it won't last. Burnt by the past. Memories ignite, previous passions locked up so tight. Are you willing? Are you giving in to obvious feelings. Let me know. And I won't go. Please stop the fruadlent show. Its faking thats so heart breaking. Is your heart aching? How can I make you understand this is your one and only chance. So please lets dance.
Reading the red book. It tries to explain the rules of the past. Never too fast, never too fast. It says it won't last. Burnt by the past. I have been burnt by the past.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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