Act Out Bit Parts as Wit Departs after John Donne Meditation XVII Nunc lento sonitu dicunt morieris
Cloud cuckoo land where bland hands band against all authenticity,
there, playing ball before thrall's shawls eliminates lucidity.
Who waits awhile, stands, serves, won't free last long without dexterity -
which in itself suspicions casts whate'er one's assiduity.
Though almost fifty years have sped since Orwell paper penned to see
what hidden time-traps lay ahead - if writ today the same would be
as relevant or more. Where fed still silent mass majority
clings to and through employment bread with slight sustainability.
Every man an island is unto himself, or so should be,
yet many abdicate their fate, cede self-respect and liberty.
Each to each together chained, suspecting self-sufficiency;
by rigid rules, conventions, penned - dumb shadows in Democracy.
When compromising breezes blend, most bend, to please society,
trends ill to curse where currents tend that set sad score for sanity.
Should stout voice shout out from closed shop hive to doubt respectability,
we flout it lest it compromise our own invincibility.
Ignoring soul-song's anguished sighs most sacrifice ability,
conforming fear cut ties, hope dies - lip-service preserves stability.
Impeached, tried, sentenced, while rich thrive and undermine equality,
most stifle stranger's signal sighs 'there's none so blind as will not see! '
In restive rows, mechanic chain, men chafe forever to be free,
it rankles, goes against the grain, God: global productivity!
Tired, tied to task, most wills expend as ciphers in some factory,
or jobless, friendless, on social skills depend meal wheels of industry.
From dawn to dusk husk men mark time imprisoned intellectually,
as tiny cogs flywheels attend - a terrifying sight to see.
Pensions devalued, most descend to penniless impotency,
health in tatters, wealth at end, as social superfluity.
Where Government sets our stipend to suit its sensitivity.
Why do annuities ascend? electoral necessity.
Should one question this and that? Ideals are incongruity
to uncommitted bureaucrat who kills with calm complacency.
Though Internet for change once whet our appetites, 'authority'
lies heavier than lead inset upon the space we'd trace as free.
Mass media most minds has fed with blatant mediocrity,
environment and climate bled by sub-committee potpourri.
The generations now instead of freedom find RFID
reduces categories read, teach each reach barred identity.
Respecting pensions, these are spread so thinly through life's lottery,
the turf is bogged, no thoroughbred may speed with legitimity.
Too far from serendipity false notes mis[t]okat life's melody,
an out of tune sad symphony, portrait: immorality.
The moral key this thesis notes is underscored by irony -
core freedoms prove illusory, sheets wind unkind mortality.
Awhile we soujourn, seek to speak, thoughts held back incessantly,
act out bit parts as wit departs, while inner phoenix spark most flee
for three score years and ten, then see chance pitch and toss cross out 'to be',
no breathing space to trace brand name race run humdrum humanity.
So here we'll end this winding thread upon a winding sheet to be,
in hope that those asleep, abed, discover more maturity
so each may maintain dignity, nor principles surrender, key
integrity and liberties restore, defend diversity.
(13 March 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Wistful Grief
Wishful thinking will not win free world.
Imperative: independent structures here
Should be supported by a vision clear,
Held high with mission statement's flag unfurled.
Forwards friends! Dark future safe seems. Whirled,
Unsure we stumble, freedoms held most dear -
Links open - fragile sink, may disappear.
The rogue Rove Eye spies all, lies. Hope lies curled,
Hides outside oversight. Self-writ frontier,
In two decades of world wide web advance,
Netiquette ignores as censors' terror dance
Knits viral trojan traffic tracing fear.
INternet technologies combine,
Guarantees essential undermine.
Great firewall of China pings I.P.
Rolls back shadow space anonymity,
Info_checkmating hopes for liberty,
Extending control's role, steamrolling the
Free ideals of true humanity.
for previous version Wishful Thin King see below
Wishful thinking will not win the world
Intense the efforts which are needed here,
Shouldered squarely, with a vision clear
Held high with mission statement's flag unfurled.
Forwards towards tomorrow we are whirled
Uncertain, while those freedoms held most dear -
Life's joy - are fragile, may well disappear.
Thin king who leans on others, who lies curled
Half hid within his self writ limits drear.
In one decade of world wide web advance
Netiquette lapses, censorship snaps chance
Kneeding path to progress free from fear.
INternet technologies combine;
Guarantees essential undermine.
(3 August 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fragile Sum
Do we remember twice two hundred years
Ago the flow through which our genes descend?
None trace the way their ancestors would wend,
Spend time and rhyme before their vale of tears.
Life’s strife is trifle, rifled hopes and fears,
A fragile sum, soon dumb, blind to its end.
But ever Man will energy expend
In self-destruction, waste, hastes till Time clears
Memory’s slate – too late regret appears.
Empty our shell when race turns final bend: -
Dust through and into dust. We apprehend
Uncertain future. Here, today, Time wears.
TEMPus fugit, “why and wherefore” we
Shan’t find, behind bland smile we've lost hope's key.
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Lies Beneath?
From pulp to palpitation cycles spin.
Some trace a line or two, leaves from life's tree
imprint upon collective memory -
the music of the spheres, a melody
transcending time itself and its oubli,
provide emotions and tonality
which, although evanescent, all would win,
to find oasis of serenity, -
cool shade not shadow of humanity, -
amidst the desert of incessant din
of universal static all would flee.
The flotsam of time's bark one need not pin
down too precisely. Much dexterity
excludes from fields of vision feelings free
which life enrich with spice we sense, not see, -
like perfume on the winds of change to key
ambiance of death or dance, chance we
must find to take, create to breathe, as in
a trance we dream we age by Fate's decree....
or else we drown in ephemerity.
Page turns before most even may begin
to taste their birthright - inner harmony.
Page turns before most balance yang and yin,
they hungry hang in fear and equally
protest vain light and night's eternity.
Between expectancy, acceptancy,
receding hairline space defines 'to be'
against a background continuity
where change - to which when young they felt akin -
turns traitor, turns on former guarantee
to formalize a fress integrity
based upon another Benjamin
before whose might old generations flee.
Few understand what lies beneath life's skin,
can cause, effect, decode with probity,
can probe, decipher mo[ve]ment's mystery,
can step by step retrace through history
their story sense endowed. Most men agree
to hide behind their own effrontery
rather than face their ‘present’ destiny
whose cards tomorrow's possibility
can for today's success deal seamlessly.
Few understand to start is to begin
to undermine all false security.
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Dark Chapter
Joy has been left for a reason
Order will blind me
Hand me the chance will I take it
And play the game
No need no guilt for tomorrow
Now counting down for
Ending this task shall I torment
Standing in grace
Gone I will find myself lost
And still reach the top
Yesterday was reality
Lord I will sacrifice life
Is this fear undisguised
Standing outside a fatal scene
Walking through mist and the shadows
Close to this crossroad
Choosing the way for a future
Lies in our hands
Move on don't stop nor give up
No time, no waiting
Sentenced to reach, be a dreamer
Now hear my calls
Gone I will find myself lost
And still reach the top
Yesterday was reality
Lord I will sacrifice life
Is this fear undisguised
Standing outside a fatal scene
Hope shall guide us forever
Grant me time for our answer
Patronized, fragile dreams must stay alive
Hope shall guide us forever
Grant me time for our answer
Patronized, fragile dreams must stay alive
Think what's beyond this darkness
Waiting for answers
I will believe in my future
Dreams lies within
Bring me joy, bring me freedom
Bring me some conscience
Leave me with strength and respect
Lead me through pain
Gone I will find myself lost
And still reach the top
Yesterday was reality
Lord I will sacrifice life
Is this fear undisguised
Standing outside a fatal scene
Nothing you say, will change things
Grief from within still teach me
All of my past, in vain
Dark turns to light, turns to night-time
Seduced by a life so far from here
Now desolates from within
Bring back the joy take me back again,
Away from deception and pain
I'm aware, alone we are facing the dark
Chow me the way, guide me in the storm,
Care for me bring me some light
I am awake, alone we're waiting the dark
I am awake, alone we're waiting
Hope shall guide us forever
Grant me time for our answer
Patronized, fragile dreams must stay alive
song performed by by Zonata
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Out of Kilter
Ectopia Lentis for the poet seems
less rare than nurse's elbow, malady
affecting insight, nervous links to dreams
felled flat when facing life's fatuity,
synapses gridlocked by most mundane schemes.
Nun's vows of silence often may be seen
as experience's triumph over hope,
when prayers unanswered lie, lies in between
hope's evanescent sparks too little scope
retain before snuffed candle's choked smokescreen.
Though castle proud stands o'er uncrowded bay
it stays Time's hostage, can't stay earthquake strikes,
or climate change, sea levels havoc play
submerging value judgements, likes, dislikes,
for even vestal prim must piper pay.
Where words vocation plead, breed not blead rant,
need heed no trite event to vent despair,
forbear from prose dressed as verse rose, spurn cant,
'neath superficial polished stone compare
true motivations, self-esteem too scant.
Blind minds behind their superfluity
find ingenuity may tables turn
vice into virtue, incongruity
or role-reversal often praise may earn;
suiting both giver, given to a T.
Artistic talent which would self anoint
through sad fad trends that end before dusk falls,
is seldom selfless, often out of joint
with harmony fair, free, spends core, husk shawls,
vacuity still born to disappoint.
Time's hungry waves transform dark rocks, light grains
of untraced triumphs heedless race, vain pains.
(16 September 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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None Of Us Are Free
(barry mann, cynthia weil, brenda russell)
You better listen my brother
cause if you do you can hear
There are voices still callin from across the years
And theyre cryin across the ocean
And theyre cryin across the land
And they will until we all come to understand
(chorus)
That none of us are free
None of us are free
None of us are free if one of us is chained
None of us are free
Well there are people in the darkness
And they just cant see the light
And if we dont say its wrong then that says its right
We got to feel for each other
Let our brothers know were here
Got to get the message and send it out loud and clear
That none of us are free
None of us are free
None of us are free if one of us is chained
None of us are free
Well its the single truth
We all need to see
That none of are free if one of us is chained
None of us are free
Well I swear to you salvation isnt very hard to find
None of us can find it on our own
We got to join together. spirit, heart and mind
All the are suffering, knows theyre not alone
None of us are free
None of us are free
If you just look around you
Youre see what I say
cause the worlds gettin smaller each passin day
Now its time to make some changes
Now its time all realized
That the truth is shinin right before our eyes
cause none of us are free
None of us are free
None of us are free if one of us is chained
None of us are free
Well its the very heart of humanity
cause none of us are free if one of us is chained
None of us are free
None of us, none of us
None of us, none of us
None of us, none of us are free
None of us, none of us
None of us, none of us
None of us, none of us are free
None of us are free
None of us are free
None of us are free if one of us is chained
None of us are free
cause its the very truth
We all need to see
That none of us are free if one of us is chained
None of us are free
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Invalidate.
The truth is like democracy
An ideal we aspire to
But it seems we can't agree.
Nor are we ever likely to.
What's true for me is not for you
What you believe I can't accept.
We hold opposing points of view.
Each one deserving of respect.
We tend to see democracy.
As rule by the majority.
Subjected to close scrutiny
It proves to be a fallacy.
Someone must wield authority.
Though sadly there are very few.
Who have the capability
and even fewer willing to.
Assume responsibility.
So we make do with second best.
But is that true democracy.
I have to say I'm not impressed.
By Ideals which I don't believe.
That we cannot possibly achieve.
One truth and true democracy.
As long as men think differently.
To tell the truth I find it odd
That men who claim to speak for God.
Can hold so many different views
Infinite in variety.
The being who created me
Saw fit to set me free.
No priest has the authority
To take away my liberty.
Wednesday,30 May 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Freedom Restoration
Land of the free
Where they know where your car is
Land of the free
Where they know where your cell is
Land of the free
Where they know your credit score
And they know your S.A.T.
Your calls are mapped
In the land of the free
Your Googles are tapped
(Well, you google for free..)
Indentured for life
To your college degree
In debt to your home
Built on pyramid loans
Free to roam the highways
With insurance approved
Free to travel the world
If your passport is not removed
Free to cover children's eyes
Hostage to advertising
Free to roam within your mind
While your soul stays in hiding
Sweet land of liberty
Whose ideals are poetry
Mouthed with no consequence
Or accountability
Built on the emptied lands
Of vanished Indians
What bears your burdens now
Land of the free?
The broken lives of felons
The broken backs of slaves
The immigrant families, torn
The toil of the uninsured.
The fat land chews the cud of lies
While liberty faints from hunger
And freedom is a homeless child
With no security number.
And now what brand of freedom
Is in such burdens found?
Would you consider restoration
At the roots and from the ground?
poem by Frank Bana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stranger in Strange Crowd
STRANGER IN STRANGE CROWD
Dreams stranger’s path divide
from crowd’s uneven t[h]read
who's tissue, issues poorly understood, through dread
is left behind, swirls second rate as flotsam on life's tide,
noise windmills, senses silent, life-blood sped,
bled white, so often fearing fear, by wisdom wide,
unblessed, unsteady set sights low instead.
Despite stress, sentiments denied, imagination set aside,
stranger story stores till head heeds heart, until desires well led
fire understanding rich allied with empathy sustaining ride.
Swift Pegasus is supplied
with neither saddle, A to Zed accoutrements life tears to shreds
when vested interests, motives pure collide.
Defy temptations of soft ride
along straight road which, comfort fed,
selects ‘safe way’, too often dreads
free choice, autonomy. Self-pride
corresponds to quest for bread.
Distrust that moment Fortune’s tide
entwines in fickle thread
conformity, convention wed.
Scorn empty homage, those who glide
through vain p[l]ain life, misled.
Survival instinct, safe homestead, a ‘living wage’, priorities
appear, as opportunities to seize as each spins finite set
tripped, snipped, then ripped by Norms with ease.
Far from madding crowd who dares assign
himself true rôle in life, who thinks,
who sifts chaff, grain, drains lees from wine, palms pearls from swine?
Who, intact, acts and interacts, discerning fiction, facts,
opposes expedience, authority which hoodwinks
manipulated herd unheard, which lacks
true overview impartial, thus reacts
rather than responds, its armour: chinks.
On each new generation weigh rigid systems spawned by Fate unkind.
As pawns most men play puppet parts in Time’s relay game of tiddly-winks.
Is search for self through mirrored minds
just base reflection on sight lost?
Insisting on base ‘skills’ man finds
intuitions atrophy - cost
greater than he thinks.
We must rethink, must redefine
reference frames most use today,
foresee the patterns Change will sign
as chance advances sans delay,
prints the future’s inks.
Stranger in crowd learns to disguise
rainbow to grey coats' pinstripe ways of thought,
'won't look too good nor talk too wise',
yet still attracts attention, caught
by paradox or kinks.
Stranger in crowd in any guise
knows his goal’s not what others taught,
retains ability surprise - not what they thought
[s]he thought they thought they sought.
Reward: solitude's sinks.
Learning is a process which reminds
of staged cocoon to chrysalid
endlessly repeated until hope's blinds
are drawn, we're hid, nailed neath yoke coffin lid,
‘and Lethewards do sink.’
Restraints of social intercourse
pass through a metamorphosis
soon held acceptable divorce
none dare dismiss
between who sips, who drinks
Pierian spring whose sprays revitalize
the search for source.
New challenges set minds ablaze,
speed rate man needs to change his course,
as once wild world shrinks.
It is difficult to integrate
progress, change, to leave behind
tenets once held inviolate –
the stays and props once used to bind
Earth to its own s[t]inks.
When man from monkey split, force fields
lost ground to sleight of hand although
as last recourse they’re held to shield.
Yet Information Age remoulds
our clay as on the brink
of sensing other ways to play
life’s game exist outside strife the past
epitomized, seek interplay
between odd intuitions cast
off once as missing links.
Banished be those whose actions snide emotions undermine, gainsaid
have equity and ethics shed, dropped principles, stopped bona fide
voice for free choice ahead.
Responsibilities most dread, endure more than participate,
ignore past’s lessons future spread, surrender birthright, hopes berate,
fear future watershed.
Self-born doubt, consistent scorn, provide a fertile breeding ground for fear
of validation, absent guide. Most tremble, fearing onward ride unclear,
paralysis abed.
Decades dovetail as wa[l]king dead
observing others from the side,
halt, hesitate from birth to bed,
stagnate, refusing to decide,
seem stillborn their sands sped.
Man needs advancement from inside,
excluding bias, stranger's stride
divides from superficial slide,
a different tread would thread
through life, aims flame horizons wide.
Open mind must never be denied.
Shun those whose lower standards, led
through mirage mind-sets lined with lead,
to think themselves ahead!
P.S. Persto et Praesto...
Stranger in Strange Land must learn to grock
between appearances, nor spurn, nor lock,
but key into essentials, yet stay free
as world awakens to its Future Shock.
Here high I.Q. or gift of second sight
fail in the scales however smart or bright,
if peace of mind, serenity, few find
to burnish daily bind with inner light.
Yet inner light is what Life's all about.
Who cares a curse for economic clout
as purse may fail but heart which true to self
remains, for cash cares little, conquers doubt.
27 September 1996,19 March 2005,16 December 2006 12 September 2008
robi03_1089_robi03_0000 XXX_EJX
for previous version see below
Stranger in Strange Crowd
Dreams stranger’s path divide
from crowd’s uneven t[h]read.
Second rate, silent, life-blood bled,
most fear, unblessed by wisdom wide,
set sights low instead.
Despite stress, thoughts unreplied,
imagination set aside,
stranger story stores till head
heeds heart, until desires well lead,
fire empathy allied
with understanding rich to ride
upon swift Pegasus supplied
with neither saddle, A to Zed
accoutrements life tears to shreds
when motives collide.
Defy temptations of soft ride,
along straight road which, comfort fed,
selects ‘safe way’, too often dreads
free choice, autonomy, - self-pride
reflecting quest for bread.
Distrust that moment Fortune’s tide
entwines in fickle thread
conformity, convention wed,
pays empty homage just to glide
through vain p[l]ain life, misled.
Survival instinct, safe homestead,
a ‘living wage’ priorities
appear, as opportunities
to seize as each spins finite set
cut by the Norms with ease.
Far from madding crowd who dares assign
himself true rôle in life, who thinks,
who sifts chaff, grain, drains lees from wine,
palms pearls from swine, spurns authority
politic which hoodwinks
manipulated masses blind.
Upon each generation weigh,
rigid systems spawned by Fate unkind,
pawns play puppet parts in Time’s relay
game of tiddly-winks.
Is search for self through mirrored minds
only reflection on sight lost?
Insisting on base ‘skills’ man finds
intuitions atrophy - cost
greater than he thinks.
We must rethink, must redefine
reference frames most use today,
foresee the patterns Change will sign
as chance advances sans delay,
prints the future’s inks.
Stranger in crowd learns to disguise
rainbow to grey coats' pinstripe ways of thought,
'won't look too good nor talk too wise'
yet still attracts attention, caught
by paradox or kinks.
Stranger in crowd in any guise
knows his goal’s not what others taught,
retains ability surprise -
not what they thought [s]he thought they thought they sought, -
exits solitude's sinks.
Learning’s a process which reminds
of staged cocoon to chrysalid
endlessly repeated till blinds
drawn, we are hid ‘neath coffin lid,
‘and Lethewards do sink.’
Restraints of social intercourse
pass through a metamorphosis
soon held acceptable divorce
none dare dismiss
between who sips, who drinks
deep knowledge spring whose sprays
revitalize the search for source.
New challenges set minds ablaze,
speed rate man needs to change his course,
as once wild world shrinks.
Its difficult to integrate
evolutions which leave behind
tenets once held inviolate –
the stays and props once used to bind
Earth to its own s[t]inks.
When man from monkey split, force fields
lost ground to sleight of hand although
as last recourse they’re held to shield.
Yet Information Age remoulds
our clay as on the brink
of sensing other ways to play
life’s game exist outside strife the past
epitomized, seek interplay
between odd intuitions cast
off once as missing links.
Banished be those whose actions snide
emotions undermine, gainsaid
have equity and ethics shed,
dropped principles, stopped bona fide
voice for choice ahead.
Responsibilities most dread,
endure more than participate,
surrender birthright, hopes berate,
ignore past’s lessons future spread
as watershed.
Self-born doubt, consistent scorn, provide
a fertile breeding ground for fear,
men squat beside an onward ride unclear
of validation, which can’t guide,
Decades dovetail as wa[l]king dead -
observing others from the side,
stagnate, refusing to decide.
Most hesitate from birth to bed
seem stillborn their sands sped
Man needs advancement from inside,
excluding bias, - stranger's stride
divides from superficial slide
a different tread would thread
through life, horizons wide
aims at, will not be denied
like those whose lowered standards led,
through mirage mind-sets lined with lead,
to think themselves ahead!
P.S. Persto et Praesto...
Stranger in Strange Land must learn to grock
between appearances, nor spurn, nor lock,
but key into essentials, yet stay free
as world awakens to its Future Shock.
Here high I.Q. or gift of second sight
fail in the scales however smart or bright,
if peace of mind, serenity, none find
to burnish daily bind with inner light.
Yet inner light is what Life's all about.
Who cares a curse for economic clout
as purse may fail but heart which true to self
remains, for cash cares little, conquers doubt.
27 September 1996,19 March 2005,16 December 2006 see below ‘Search’ initial and alternate version of this poem and ‘His Place is Precious’
Search
Is the search for self through mirrored minds
only a reflection on sight lost?
Concentrating on base ‘skills’ man finds
intuitions atrophy - the cost
is greater than he thinks.
Man must think again, must redefine
the frames of reference most still use today,
anticipating patterns Change will sign
as chance advancements which won’t brook delay,
to print the future’s inks.
Far from the madding crowd who can assign
himself a goal in life, true rôle to play?
Who can sift chaff from grain, drain lees from wine,
palm pearls from swine, avoiding interplay
politic which hoodwinks
the masses whose manipulation blind
hard on each generation’s hopes does weigh,
as if all pawns were, spawned by Fate unkind
to play pale puppet parts in Time’s relay
game of tiddly-winks.
Learning is a process which reminds
one of stages - cocoon to chrysalid -
endlessly repeated till the blinds
are drawn, until we’re nailed beneath a lid,
‘and Lethewards do sink.’
Yet the restraints of social intercourse
are passing through a metamorphosis
which soon shall be accepted as divorce
that no-one will be able to dismiss
between who sips, who drinks
deep the spring of knowledge whose fair sprays
revitalize the system’s search for source.
Today new magic sets the mind ablaze!
The speed at which mankind is changing course,
as the once wild world shrinks,
is difficult to integrate, the ways
conceptions will evolve and leave behind
tenets once inviolate, the stays
and props the passing age employs to bind
itself to its own stinks.
When man and monkeys’ trees split, fields of force
lost ground to sleight of hand from day to day,
although the former shield stayed, last recourse.
Yet as the information age remoulds our clay
it seems we’re on the brink
Of consciousness of other ways to play
the game of life outside that strife the past
epitomized, exploring interplay
between internal motivations cast
off once as missing links!
27 September 1996
His Place is Precious
Turn from temptations of soft ride
along straight road of safety, comfort, ease, well fed,
where peace eternal, free from pride,
appeals, - appears an easy answer when all’s said.
Distrust that moment when the tide
of Fortune, at the flood, entwines in fickle thread,
enticing - sickled Time at side -
man with her siren song: by lust, ambitions, led.
The silent seconds, spendthrift, greedy glide: -
dovetail decades to centuries for waiting dead,
so few of whom dared seek inside
earth’s secret soul. Seemed stillborn when their hour was sped.
All those who strive to hitch a ride
at the expense of others, led
by selfishness unjustified
accounts must render overhead.
Whate’er the reasons that decide
the insolence of the individual; - bled
by fears, or blessed by wisdom wide,
or, hope denied, twisting in heat fond heart or head,
his place is precious. Don’t deride
the diff’rences that oft divide his awkward tread
from those who, superficial, slide
through life, - those most behind who think themselves ahead!
10 October 1981
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Time Trap
Juxtaposition in an active mind:
unstretched potential and a spirit free
seek space to taste then test eternity,
leaving wasted years far, far behind.
Intense the need for speed, choice voice must find,
before too late, - an opportunity
tuned to new horizons’ patterned key.
Before too late... life its own double bind
sees night light follow as Time’s skeins unwind,
as most is swallowed, soon forgotten, - we,
today ahead, tomorrow sped, can’t flee
Nature’s mortal paradox designed.
Whether open, closed, the intellect
self justifies through merge-urge to project...
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ire On Cross Sect_I_On Spire Pyre
Black books some find
grant ease of mind
responsibility
remove behind
dark veil and blind
bewailing liberty.
Life should be led,
shared, free from lead
respectability,
What lies ahead?
Hell? lies, instead
seems crass conformity.
Lip service paid
by man or maid
to bias, bigotry,
replace game played,
joy unafraid,
with sects that narrow be.
Turn more to hope
for increased scope
throughout life's comedy,
beware time's rope
that hangs who grope
for creeds rarely agree
on godhead fair
with love to spare,
or core divinity.
Seek self - truth's there -
'ware cupboards bare,
wraith faiths' fatuity.
23 April 2010
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Freedom
Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!
Such a sweet word!
But it can’t be presented as an award
even by our Lord.
Freedom is the main value of human life
but to get it you have to go through a strife.
Freedom is when you have a choice,
when you can hear your own voice.
You choose friends, books, teachers, films….
The rest is just program which you can’t change
but only manage this program to arrange.
The rest is just an illusion
with a lot of confusion.
Illusion of freedom, illusion of safety
generates violence and cruelty in our society.
But…anyway…with every right choice
you get more knowledge and life experience,
you get freedom without anyone interference.
One can feel free even in prison
being there for some reason.
But… having paper and a pen
that one can write a fantastic novel or a poem.
Flying in the dreams on ones own wings,
that ones heart a beautiful song sings.
At the same time a warden curses his slavery life,
he has no wish for any strife.
Freedom is a free will,
freedom is a free space,
when you don’t feel you are in a race.
You can’t take freedom from the shelf.
Freedom is an ability to be yourself
and act your own way.
But…let’s see what happens today!
Just have a look around!
So many crazy slogans can be found:
to legitimize prostitution,
to legalize abortions,
to allow marriage for homosexuals, ….
Are they cute or intellectuals?
The demand appeared to carry a gun.
But…freedom is when you don’t have to run
skinning the bullet late in the park
but enjoy your walk even when it’s dark,
even late at night and without a fright.
The free distribution of methadone
tells that our morality has gone.
We are not surprised to see those demands
but we are often indifferent to the slogans:
for free medical service,
for free education,
for eliminating starvation,
for the absence of homeless,
for a help to the defenseless.
Our society is going mad.
If only my dad could see all that!
He fought for freedom of our Land
but not for those crazy demands.
Food and Agriculture Organization
found the way out of starvation.
The experts from FAO believe
the insects will help the problem to relieve.
Insects, they say, have as much proteins
as any meat or any fish.
Don’t they deceive those naives?
Won’t it be funny to have such dish?
About a milliard of people on Earth
suffer an extreme hunger.
It seems the time has come
and we’ll have an insects monger.
We say that everything has a price.
So, we’ll soon eat not rice but mice.
Social phenomenon:
People are also goods as clothes and foods.
You can tell me: But it’s not my funeral!
No, my dear!
Though you have your own urinal,
though you have your own nightie
we all live in one society.
Sigmund Freud used to say:
“Most people do not really want freedom,
because freedom involves responsibility.
And most people are frightened of responsibility”.
One woman said:
“Sometimes it’s pleasant
to change freedom for dependence.
I will show him my love ability,
he will show me his confidence.”
Yes! We are all against violence,
we all see freedom in our own way.
The question of freedom is so important today.
Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!
Such a sweet word!
It can’t be presented even by God.
Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Forbidden Territory for M lady Kelly Houseman
I tend my gardens on the moon
The far side which the earth can’t see.
Although I fear that very soon
astronauts will visit me.
I’ll hide my gardens from their eyes.
This is a place they should not be.
This is no time for compromise.
I will repel them forcibly
I value highly solitude
and my hard won serenity
I disdain men’s attitude.
They’re lacking in maturity.
A member of an older race
I’ve paid my dues and earned the right
To protect my own living space
which I keep hidden out of sight.
Intruders I won’t tolerate
I will destroy them instantly
and leave no trace as to their fate.
If they intrude impudently.
I tend my gardens on the moon
with loving care contentedly
and ask from fate one single boon.
No astronaut should bother me.
I live alone because I choose
Preferring my own company
for others I have little use.
In perfect self sufficiency.
13-Aug-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Fallen is Star - 1053 - 2008 Version of Downfall
Fallen is star which once brightly,
once clear from sheer firmament shone,
no trace now remains as Time lightly
grieves over life's leaves ever gone.
Whoever would compromise slightly
with principles life's staff has spun
must offer impression unsightly
some pity, some spurn, and most shun.
Ideals threading vision so knightly
no gleam still retain - what begun
in trust unembellished rusts, rightly
forgotten, ignored or undone.
No point in requesting politely
what became of game, quest, aim, fête's fun;
in tatters Fate scatters forthrightly
all trace of race no-one has won.
Though today some may say hale and sprightly
‘tomorrow holds promise' - yet none
would relinquish life's tether held tightly
soon Time spills, boon lies still, distance run.
(22 October 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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See Who I Am
Is It True What They Say
Are We To Blind To Find A Way
Fear Of The Unknown
Cloud Our Hearts Today
Come Into My World
See Through My Eyes
Try To Understand
Don't Wanna Lose What We Have
We've Been Dreaming
For Who Can't Deny
It's The Best Way Of Living
Between The Truth And The Lies
Chorus
See Who I Am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A Way
The World Is In Our Hands
This Is Not The End
Fear Is Withering The Soul
At The Point Of No Return
We Must Be The Change We Wish To See
I'll Come Into Your World
See Through Your Eyes
I'll Try To Understand
Before We Lose What We Have
We Just Can't Stop Believing
Because We Have To Try
We Can Rise Above The Truth And The Lies
Chorus
See Who I Am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A Way
The World Is In Our Hands
See Who I am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A way
The World Is In Our Hands
This Is Not The End
Hear The Silence
Reach Out My Blame
Will Our Strength Remain?
If The Power Rise
Chorus
See Who I Am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A Way
The World Is In Our Hands
See Who I Am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A Way
The World Is In Our Hands
This Is Not The End
song performed by by Within Temptation
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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See Who I Am
Is It True What They Say
Are We To Blind To Find A Way
Fear Of The Unknown
Cloud Our Hearts Today
Come Into My World
See Through My Eyes
Try To Understand
Don't Wanna Lose What We Have
We've Been Dreaming
For Who Can't Deny
It's The Best Way Of Living
Between The Truth And The Lies
Chorus
See Who I Am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A Way
The World Is In Our Hands
This Is Not The End
Fear Is Withering The Soul
At The Point Of No Return
We Must Be The Change We Wish To See
I'll Come Into Your World
See Through Your Eyes
I'll Try To Understand
Before We Lose What We Have
We Just Can't Stop Believing
Because We Have To Try
We Can Rise Above The Truth And The Lies
Chorus
See Who I Am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A Way
The World Is In Our Hands
See Who I am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A way
The World Is In Our Hands
This Is Not The End
Hear The Silence
Reach Out My Blame
Will Our Strength Remain?
If The Power Rise
Chorus
See Who I Am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A Way
The World Is In Our Hands
See Who I Am
Break Through The Surface
Reach For My Hand
And Shout Out That We Can
Free Your Mind And Find A Way
The World Is In Our Hands
This Is Not The End
song performed by by Within Temptation
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rainbow Vision
RAINBOW VISION
Anticipating liberty
judgemental values leave behind!
Empowerment, responsive, free,
mocks conformity confined.
Expanding opportunity
detests blind vested interest bind,
uniform security,
empty options predefined,
unquestioning stability,
finds vital freedoms undermined.
Intelligence refutes decree,
autonomy seeks, nothing binds.
Open source as course sounds sweet,
spurns tunnel vision parakeet.
Subservience to hierarchy
often atrophies the mind,
obedience to authority
self-serving, stamped and countersigned,
frequently turns misery,
cramps principles of any kind,
as bullet-backed absurdity
sees joy and self-respect unwind.
The search for serendipity
rejects priorities assigned
which free-will weaken covertly, -
behind closed doors cogs ruthless grind.
Bias tends to self-defeat,
Leaves truth uncomfortable to meet.
20 March 2009
robi03_1870_robi03_0000 SXX_EJX
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Alcuin - 0293 2005 Version
Awhile pray pause who, passing by the way,
Lines read, reflections fragile, seedling's clay.
Can you wring from my fate what your's may be?
Unwound my watch, soon your's spun history!
In spite of this world's gifts, Time's ticks won't stay.
Now here, then there sped, bed from care carefree.
And can you for my fortune care today,
Leaves turn to trace if I was sad or gay?
Care you a fig? How long in memory,
Unused, the trace of what Life was to me
In yours may stay, int-urned - all fades away,
Naught human may defy Eternity.
"Are there still Gods who souls with feathers weigh? "
Life's stings some cling to, just for one more day.
Chance led my dance, the rest is best set free,
Unsightly glance, dust in dust locked. No key
Is there unless, perchance, through D.N.A.
Nature's template may decoded be.
(16 March 2005)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pandora's Box Unlocks
With prosperous public to politics wed,
privacy's threatened, it can't be gainsaid.
Consumer protection is often misled
by headlines enticing and small print widespread.
Set in strip lighting, or spoken, or read,
through radio, T.V., broadcasted in bed.
Nor ever has Internet, spammed, been immune,
text message records, repeats, slick slogan, tune.
Printed in polychrome over our head,
in so many senses, for senseless fathead,
over the airwaves judiciously spread
from high ultra-violet to low infra-red,
pasted on posters in blue, black, or red,
advertisement squares all our savings have bled.
The first time I set eyes upon square screen
was for the Coronation of the Queen,
the room was packed with neighbours far and wide,
sardines with scarce a breathing space inside.
But that was almost sixty years ago,
since then from novelty we've seen it grow
from monochrome to tri-di spy immersion
subliminal for and against subversion
to cover acres as necessity
acting for good and ill till cecity
swallows sight, with insight's déjà vu
quite compromised, disinformation too
blatant to ignore which rumour pours
upon mass and seeps through skin deep pores
polluting much, for such appears a lot
of Public Mission with both words forgot.
It's difficult to talk about the 'box'
ignoring all its spread in fact unlocks.
Here 'News' from global village in real time,
there sights and sounds of peaks men mean to climb.
Convergency has helped it piggy-back
on Internet that some folk love to hack,
as streaming waves however they're defined,
all senses of the term, we must remind
ourselves that impacts follow paths to logic strange
as here they help and there their feeds derange.
One thing is certain, advertising space
has cut attention spans yet leaves slight trace
of passing through collective consciousness
to leave John Doe in quite a pretty mess.
This essay could continue till each cow
comes home, they roam on many pastures now,
the arguments both pro and con should be
well integrated in convergency
of multi-media, cinema, and web,
3D, HD, and acronyms that ebb
and flow as progress further progress seeds,
information saturation succeeds
in drawing in the crowds five hours a day
to kill extended time on crime, sport, play,
perhaps to compensate for empty mind
that dare not look to future nor behind,
but lives from day to day as series shower
debilitating plots that seem to flower
to fill the void most would avoid to fill
in ways that build rich character fulfilled.
Heroic couplets on the television
seem odd conveying theme, yet the decision
stems from the ways the human mind has grown
to integrate disinformation sown
as if quite part and parcel of their days
on Earth, to comfort loneliness. Displays
of wars abroad or terrorists at home
distract the brainless brains once wont to roam
from more important things, priorities
once held essential, now old-fashionned tease.
One can no longer speak on television
as media in itself without precision
that information channels multiplied
with much which borrows begs from other side,
as radio upon the Internet
cannot be severed from flash films, and yet
the question could perhaps be re-assessed:
will future influence be worst or best
when all is said and done, in fifty years
a fairer answer may with laughter, tears,
or some of each, an explanation offer
apart from that of draining public's coffer.
An overview essential seems to be
when broaching impact that stems from T.V.
upon our daily lives that seem to flee
from societal responsibility
as individual decision making
appears to be upon the point of breaking.
(12 April 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of Global Warming And Climate Change
Of Global warming and climate change we read of and hear
The changes in our natural environment gives us reason to fear
Of what does lay ahead for the children of today
We've brought climate change forward by centuries it does seem that way.
The polar ice caps are melting at an alarming rate
Our polluting of our natural environment not something to celebrate
To combat global warming we've left it a bit late
As a species we may well have sealed our own fate.
The burning of fossil fuels and carbon emissions have gone on for too long
On what causes climate change the experts have never been wrong
What we do to Nature in kind she repay
Global warming a threat to human existence many experts now say.
War and terrorism as a threat to humanity seems little at all
When compared to climate change it's impact seems small
Humans not known to learn from mistakes of the past
We must change our ways and we must change them fast.
poem by Francis Duggan
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