Illumination's Ruminations
Eye humble poet ruminate on Chronos and extrapolate
on quirks coincidence or fate invents to challenge counterfeit
preconceptions, toxic fumes, life rhymes with time until Death looms.
Time's second thoughts themselves consume themselves, upon themselves presume,
set plans o mice and men at naught, time lines taught, frustration fraught
as lender of the last resort whose lease on peace cannot be bought.
Time dominoes in sequency unseen by self-fufficiency,
translating into energy cusp crossroads few feel, fewer key
into to tune to roundabout synaptic, leaping in and out
neuronal pathways that without a doubt most misconceptions flout.
Wit started writ with couplets quaint that simple poets often paint
to speed ideas, draw sinner, saint, but back to drawing-board. Complaint
is respun, spins more complicated thought processes duly weighted,
some bright and airy fabricated from home-truths long anticipated
to see the light of day when called on catalyzing what seemed stalled,
or double walled those half appalled by speculations scarce recalled.
Ideas fan out in rioutous dance whose chants advance as Chance decants
causal cusps sans backward glance defying deterministic stance.
Effective consequences Cause engenders through apparent flaws -
loopholse left in pseudo laws - leave food for thought pursued or pause.
Life's fractal harmony may be perceived expanding constantly
yet most are purblind, fail to see holistic authenticity,
while what seems static, lacking steam, prepares fresh channels for life's dream
to drive horse, cart, through what most deem stable season's reasoned gleam
essential to keep even keel while spin surfing karmic wheel
through stages pre-defined that steal no thunder from the common weal,
that time band, tide's hand, deal, conceal until fate's too late to repeal.
Simplicity in outward form may sometimes mask a perfect storm
that cause, effect conspire to warm when selfdelusions misinform
as much the writer as th reader - both speaker, seeker, - led lead leader,
guiding life's ride till time-wise weeder uproots tradition's strongest cedar.
Mind, stimulated, needs to feed a train of thought outside the tracks
of easy answers' whites and blacks whose monochromatic vision lacks
the wherewithal discernment backs when in betweet line links it tracks,
then spirals out on fractal limbs as sperm, inseminating, swims
towards true goal without which dim prospects of penatrating rim's
resistance, shaking out a leg in headlong rush towards the egg
that home to hive alive should beg his flag in meioitic keg.
Life's questions in its questions lies as much as answers it supplies,
confuting those who think they're wise behind dogmatic force which flies
in smithereens when ripe and rotten, their raison d'etre is forgotten
because of logic ill-begotten, assumptions strong as candy cotton.
True vibrancy must supervise, stay pregnant with its own surprise,
cut preconceptions down to size. No yard-scale ever quantifies
or censors those who fantasize. Conformity disqualifies
most open options. Life must rise to meet new challenge or it dies.
Yet some say Death is but disguise relinquishing all former ties
from which 'spore-radical' it grows renewed with energy that flows
from ground around, above, below, same answers seeking high and low,
forever in a different guise, forever noting how time flies,
here showing signs of compromise, there, fighting tooth and nail, defies
perceived time-traps against which rise emotions that 'self' justifies -
too 'primitive' to recognize evidence of its own demise.
I, humble poet, recognize the fact that one who versifies
through old equations may not rise to prose rose crystal clear - here eyes
observe far more than meet supplies of batons, cone arrays to size
confusing schools refusing school mistinterpreting tight rules,
to flux still subject, led by fools presuming vested int'rest tools
may subjugate the greater fool content to follow fallow rules.
Verse rules are worthy in as much as keeping change in constant touch
with elasticity of thought, veracity that won't be bought,
and ears tuned into the import of experience dearly bought.
Although these lines meander through thoughts' byways adding little new
to sum of sums, some take their cue from will to distill precious dew -
implicit questions overdue for whose horizons curlicue
into a mental cul-de-sac, who can't look forwards, won't look back,
who, superficial, float, and stack the odds against survival, lack
the wish or the ability to challeng sot stability,
through blatant imbecility prefer invisibility
to second sight that would prepare for future gambits though 'a hair
divides the desert from the sown' till climate change to dune unknown
and shifting, tune uplifting grown from fertile interchange no stone
unturned leaves in the search for bone the mind may worry, never thrown
away until the mind has sown a coracle to surf alone
currents mind's wind may have blown to lead towards a speed track shown
to feed felicity unkown to those who chose veils, nails ingrown.
Poem in draft form to be expanded
(20 April 2011)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Cusps
CUSPS
Cusps convergent redivide
Unexpectedly, conceal
Spiel links. Cause, Effect, reveal
Pre-destination never. None inside
Subtle riddles read, none ride
COherently around rune wheel,
None key, tune into, Future’s weal.
Vainly humankind has tried
Explaining karma to provide
‘Real’ explanations for Life’s reel –
Gu[s]t gest jest conundrum sealed,
Ephemeral both ebb and tide.
Connections karmic can’t collide,
Unerringly rule, school, unreel
Silk threads slippery as eel,
Prepare tomorrows far and wide,
Synchronicity complied.
Crossroads' kismet none repeal,
ON even keel draw curtains, peel
Vision peripheral aside.
Evaluation don't deride -
Response-reaction’s ceaseless meal -
Ground by, from intuitive feel.
Effect? - Coincidence’s bride!
Still writ stays fitting, locks Time’s door,
Will, Wit, ways knitting, clock rhyme's store.
Independant variation of CUSPS CONVERGE
written 10 March 2011
for alternate version see below
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CUSPS CONVERGE
Cusps converge then redivide,
Unexpectedly conceal
Symphonic links Time may reveal
Perchance some day, tune runes inside,
Subtle riddles read. Who’d ride
Concentric ripples round Fate’s wheel,
ON key, in tune with Future’s weal?
Vain mankind has often tried
Effect and Cause to link, provide
‘Real’ explanations for Life’s spiel –
Gust on Time’s breeze Death, Past, fast seal –
Ephemeral both ebb and tide.
Cusps connected can’t collide,
Unique the rule to school, unreel
Silk threads which, slippery as eel,
Prepare tomorrows far and wide,
Synchronic patterns spinn, abide,
Chaos kept on even keel, …
ONe law – or flaw – none can repeal.
Vision peripheral aside
Each should Cause search and not deride
Response-reaction’s ceaseless meal
Ground by and from Fate too few feel.
Effect? - Coincidence’s bride!
Still stays writ, fit lock for Time’s sandy wall,
Will, Ways, Wit, knit knock, door, key, rhymes, and all...
Convergency men seize upon to show
One moment their superiority
Next time, when thwarted, claim 'bad luck', blame, see
Vicious circle, counterfeited flow.
Each act is judged upon what 'chance' may sow,
Responsibility depends on ends, means, meeting key
Grandeur, defeat, or opportunity,
ENigmas solved or fallow fields' dust blow.
To 'Fate' hard knocks, to 'self' praise due, view crow!
Come double standards, rewrite history
Ordaining 'hindsight' loco parentis
Unique divinity above, below.
No credibility's accorded judgement which
TERgiversation shows twixt stitch or swich.
acrostic sonnets CUSPS CONVERGE written
8 March 2005 revised with final sonnet CONVERGENT COUNTER added 27 May 2008
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Cusps Converge Poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The System Remains
Secrets deception
Answers to give their own strength
As I look into your eyes questions need
Your silence and compromise
In my mind your voice towards me is wasted time
In your life there's frustration
And we fight for your say
It's your time for creation
As your time fades away
Is there a right and is there a reason
Do they lie and blind our own eyes
We strive for life a fight in the system
Only to find they supply our destiny
Twisted Ignorance
To those he lies for his own gain
Will you side away or be blinded to mine
Do we still fight trying to seek life in a better light
In our day
Here in our life is there a chance for this place in time
So we know
Threats trades negative power in rage
In a system that still remains
Knowing what could be
As we ask alone
Will we see as one
Do we still fight trying to seek life in a better light
Here in our life is there a chance for this place in time
Is there a reason for all the wrong
We need a change in vision
Needed for us to grow
Why I was chosen you are to blame
My mission here in power is my domain
You look for the answers seeking the chance
Are questions worth giving the system remains
song performed by by ZeroHour
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Homerun - 1060
From dark to light one cry.
cot, tot, fine whine, youth tries
to rise, outshine, strength vies
to test itself far, nigh,
will ever improvise,
wings spread ahead would fly
beyond the common sty.
Ends, means, some justify
as tools to fool, win prize
refusing to downsize
goals which new goals supply,
to grow, while enterprise
won't sit, knit idly by
would flow to know, apply.
See sun at zenith high
where fair sweep cloudless skies,
fragility belies.
Self on self will rely
And thus we compromise
ourselves, each hour thereby
prepares grief leaf's demise.
Men, weak 'how, what, when, why'
seek to deny, despise
as limits while each eyes
ambitions run awry.
Most fail to realize
fame's flame soon sinks, falls shy
of promise time can't buy.
Stagnation by and by
sets in, transforms to ties
what once soared free, - denies
rights others seek would lie,
Inventing alibis
inverting truth stain, dye,
strain, pain, until sparks die.
Still time will onward fly!
Few care to recognize
sunset whet hopes defies,
dare not, with rules comply,
scope set cut down to size.
With humour grim and wry
Fate on each whim may spy.
Life's voyage does imply
page after page time tries
to crop or circumsize,
each stage a wager sly
as cause, effect, in guise
of free choice voice deny
to unborn options! Why?
Tide turns, Time's spring runs dry.
The candle burns. The wise,
the fool, fourscore, fade, rise
no more, till final cry
whose sense none can disguise.
No echo, no reply.
from light to dark, sole sigh.
(9 February 2005)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forever before Never
FOREVER BEFORE NEVER
Beneath stone slab forever lies
broker who could not devise
a way to pass on – sympathise! -
Rights Called when Death culled by surprise
And early Options exercised.
For him, for yours, bore worm supplies
answer unsought ‘neath sunny skies.
Bond Issues G[u]ilt cannot disguise,
recycle Shares of earth[l]y sighs.
Instructive Income, Prime rate wise
is Bonus gratis, - I’ll surmise:
Enjoy the day, before one dies,
life’s love true Love intensifies.
Insurance under in any guise
ignored is once will’s parchment dries.
Fee Contract, contact free, belies
fragility, no fortune buys
eternity when dock denies
soul’s sole appeal as none arise
when life’s Foreclosed, or rectifies
Mortgage Debenture - too late for cries
adventure over, severed ties.
Skeletal sods like last goodbyes
few mortals care to recognize
for Time forever forwards flies.
23 April 1990 revised 11 February 2009
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for previous version entitled On a Stockbroker see below
On a Stockbroker
Beneath this slab forever lies
a broker who could not devise
a way to pass on (sympathise) ,
the Rights that Death would exercise.
An thus it is the worm supplies
a Bond which G[u]ilt cannot disguise,
recycling Shares of earth[l]y sighs.
An Income of instruction wise
is offered gratis, - I’ll surmise:
Seek to enjoy, before one dies,
the love that Love intensifies,
assistance under in any guise
offer free beneath these skies
for Time forever forwards flies.
23 April 1990
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Piecemeal 1842 after Marion Mantel The Abode of Everlasting Peace
Mind's company no bail-out needs, foreclose
looms near yet fear and gloom must come to blows
with hope whose scope increases every day
that interplay improves what soul search shows
to sojourner whose 'Choose! ' life's trumpet blows.
till conscious core dissolves, for all one knows
is that there's 'lots to learn' before life's wick
which once o'er brimmed is trimmed by Time's gale blows.
It may be Peace per Peace should not be goal,
nor patchwork quilt unmatched to comfort soul,
serenity accompanies the Way
why seek to weigh of thought and mind blind role?
Surrender self to wealth of non events?
Abandon fear of budget free expense?
Impermanence an ultimate release?
One questions causal links where self defence
is deemed a changeling spinning Time and Place
as prison for lost mind that seeks its place
though absence, presence, circle, square are one
begun and ended leaving little trace.
Freedom may be found within life's play
today submerged by fate of yesterday
for future must survey an empty seat
and meet another straying from the Way.
Though many paths to Rome may lead, not one,
perhaps life's karmic cycle may be spun
by mind which 'fearful thief' finds definition
outside experience, game itself is fun.
Thus 'heaviness' is cerror, out of bounds,
as mind proceeds through mind by leaps and bounds,
rebounds from challenge, rising to embrace
new challenge though rise, fall are mirage hounds.
These seem to dream to seamstress, dream to seem
reality which sifts from milk its cream,
we butter bread with head as much as hands
while inklings chitter chatter, teem then team.
For absence of control need not mean void,
for voids are mean if meaning men avoid
the search from perch to parch, from lurch to arch
triumphant, animated eclipsoid.
There are no fancy laws for mind rich, pure,
which energy converts from sinecure
to weaving sheaving, leaving grieving yearn:
mortality, in time, provides self cure.
(18 January 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Creativity Continued
The first line of the poetry came visiting one day
And hit me with alacrity and wouldn't go away.
It stayed with me the whole day long, repeating in my mind
And finally, I'm not that strong, I let the verse unwind.
I made some coffee, then returned and read the poem through,
Regretting what I once had spurned and thought of what to do.
How could I make this poem great, transform it, make it shine?
What precious thoughts could I create? I needed help divine.
I bowed my head and simply prayed, for love to lead me well,
Forgiveness for each time I strayed, delayed what I should tell.
The prophet as the psalmist knows the duties I forgot,
The poet must receive his prose, strike while the iron's hot.
Revitalised, with hope renewed, by faith, I wrote once more,
The second verse improved my mood and thrilled me to the core.
Then suddenly, I thought of her, my dream girl long ago
And of true love that once could stir this heart to overflow.
But life goes on, we parted friends, I miss her now and then,
That's how it is when true love ends, but that was way back when.
The third verse shared the love we had, the sweethearts' tenderness,
The magic moments we were glad and thought God chose to bless.
Now all that's left are memories, the fragments of romance,
The peace of mind as tears decrease, no more a second chance.
The poem done and sent by mail, accepted in due course
And published so it told the tale: Two lovers and their flaws.
My broken heart has never healed, through cracks the poems rise,
Like wheat within a farmer's field, they try to touch God's skies,
They blossom in the readers' hearts, they nestle in their minds
And then, not one of them departs, for such as these are signs.
The years bring wisdom, come what may and creativity,
If we but only seize the day, to be what we must be.
For some, romance leads to respect, then children by and by.
In time, they, too, will pause, reflect, create and ask God, 'Why? '
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Acceleration Generation Regeneration or Degeneration
Terse verse rehearses Nature’s cycle sent
as curse hearse food for thought life’s answers sought
for four millenia or more - predicament
narcissistic of man shaman time-trap caught.
Face lost in crowd, once cowed, may soar unbowed
outside staged stages, mournful shadow phase,
brief briefcase hard luck history, dread cloud
forever present pillow night dismays.
Man’s no stranger to hustle bustle streets,
unrailed and yet derailed by accident,
disease, or time which harvests heartless beats
as often as those tuned to tenderment.
Rent must be paid for earthly tenement
from birth to earth berth threescore ten years taught,
taut tightrope led from dark, fed, darkness bent,
with best laid plans of mice and men cut short.
Ignore swift time rift, second-thoughts aloud,
ticked of some callendar of nights and days,
of ages rushed and crushed far more than wowed,
till Lethe drowns strife's sorrows from life's gaze.
'Unkindest cut of all' seems self-deceit's
travesty of chance earth birth has meant
for opportunities before the winding-sheet's
last laugh and rictus ends bewilderment.
The sum of knowledge - man's empowerment -
now doubles each decade, and this has wrought
scope for both hope, destruction; store saved, spent,
itself prepares fresh options, cyclic sport.
Invention, innovation, have allowed,
acceleration which might seem haste haze
to most, who'd cruise coast, choose not, will kow-towed,
or caught in fad, trend, fashion, transient craze.
Unprecedented upgrade mankind meets,
greets multi-modal gene switch tripped, yet ought
take time out, flout race, rush outface; crush cheats
new world more slave than brave, wave’s bore grave fraught.
Moore’s Law's extrapolations represent
not only chips more powerful to sport
networked communications excellent,
they challenge base assumptions 'heaven sent'.
Concern to channel causal temperament
may seem as dream to stumblers on time bought,
but bumbling being bubble bursts, has wrent
tissues, rewiring brain sheath substance - sort
of myelin, white matter supplement
to speed synaptic links as swiflty caught,
relayed, as thought by neurones excellent
whose store depends on practice or to naught
is brought by lapse which traps experiment.
Bewilderment seems signature for most
who means can't steer to ends whose causal tick
beyond the click of mice and men mere ghost
appear to veer haphazardly, fall sick,
lose sight of goals, won't strive, prefer to coast
then perish caring scarce a fiddlestick
for those behind who raise sham, futile toast
to life vain strife perpetuates - lipstick
gloss to hide loss of unused gifts they lick
to mask frustration, stress, quick nervous tic.
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tract on Attraction 2009 Version
Tract on Attraction: Action sans Reaction, Traction sans Retraction, Contract without Contraction
Which of Fate or Freewill omnipotent
presides over mice, men, their lice?
lets cat out of the bag for man, rodent,
as ‘coincidence' seals in a trice
the links in life's chain hindsight searches
for clues to life answers which slip
through the fingers of those on high perches
who mistake wraith and faith in Time's trip.
Causal links back from brink of disaster
may ignorance lead for fresh chance,
or well-meaning statistics may faster
end heartbeat that longs to advance.
Time and tide on life's ride look with laughter
soul weighed against feather askance,
what of trust, what of comfort, years after
bluster bubble burst, rust busts life's dance.
Is autonomy graved on one's headstone
when reckoning's levelled at last?
may subservience soften cast dice bone
when Book of Life's fate is forecast?
Should moral advice from friends, neigbours,
be sought though their cupboards may hide
scary skeletons fitful, their favours
depend on fears, tears, which abide?
Who'll stand tall, strip dark pall which of Lethe
is banner, both emblem and shroud?
Who will brave phrase and fable beneath the
grief stricken furrows Time's ploughed
to find behind lines of dull verses,
and puffs precommissioned for press,
life's sparkle discarding dark hearses
rehearsing love's carefree caress.
What of Spring, winging warmly to Summer,
Autumn heralding Winter's iced earth,
Hope must spurn dust dearth bye li[n]e Death's drummer
would bequeath, see[the] mirth's seasons rebirth?
Will doors open as destiny flashes
top trump card retained in life's game?
will we win, or receive forty lashes
administered transient fame?
Many fall by the way - beauty's lashes
in time close their lids, lose their name.
Many call all in vain, whose wrath rash is,
soon prostrate Fate halts hale and lame.
Why recall tortured tears on fear's faces,
in wide eyes, eyes tight shuttered in dread?
seek beyond Time's dark veil, hark rhyme's voices
turns trust to true welcome ahead.
Turn again to true origins timeless,
far from copyright stereotype,
from prose superficial and rhymeless,
from deception, the moment is ripe!
Turn to threads needing no explanation
spurning blame box so shamefully bland,
rediscover sweet seedbed sensation,
inner growth which must ever expand.
Respond, over-reach blind reaction
which limits horizons, instead,
key energy into true traction
to free voice for choice which, all said,
may find underlined elevation,
undefined undefinable, yet
as a visa free passport salvation
cedes no stamp, needs nor hedges, nor bet.
There are times when our rhymes run away with
the message sense sends, on a limb,
but heed tone-tune seed-songs we would play with
to muse on Fate's pantomime whim.
Through a watershed chapter Man's surfing
the cusp of a paradigm change,
will the challenge be met or shall serfing
be the lot of a lot who'd free range?
Be you dream, be you dreamer, redeemer,
explorer, discovering way
may two, tender, together t[r]end, team a
twinned portrait or landscape soft, fey.
Insight spurns tight classification
anticipations pre-defined,
transcends commonplace separation
living for, through, true shared open mind.
Who is string, who strum strung, who dumb stringer?
Intelligent is the design?
What means now the Ring? what dead-ringer
may surf on what surface benign
to rise and surprise Man the Maker,
no longer Miss Taker defined
who feeds on greed's ferment, the baker
of need for need, boredom resigned.
Carpe Diem or ‘follow the leader'
for threescore and ten, self deny?
contradict or obey Fate, fey feeder
of ambitions its sense should defy?
Take time out or with diligence follow
obligations that others impose
though their meanings at best echo hollow
when, mature, sensitivity flows?
Wheel turns, returns pot to skilled potter,
earns urns as Fate's karma plays out,
one more page in tale inking Time's blotter
one more stage as clock runs roundabout.
Wheel turns, driving destiny's plotter,
lays groundwork renewal throughout,
round grounds gambol beaver, coon, otter,
whose sons suns tomorrow daren't doubt.
It is not for this tale to continue,
quest request seems sufficient as here
through new search sterner stuff, tougher sinew,
rewards, helps Hope's fires to shine clear.
So we end what may well prove beginning
of some saga both pregnant, half-hid,
trusting to rainbow bridge for free-singing
enlightened, that naught need forbid.
(1 April 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Homerun
HOMERUN
From dark to light – one cry.
cot, tot, fine whine, youth tries
to rise, outshine, – strength vies
to test itself far, nigh,
will ever improvise,
wings spread ahead would fly
beyond the common sty.
Ends, means, some justify
as tools to fool, win prize
refusing to downsize
goals which new goals supply,
to grow, while enterprise
won’t sit, knit idly by
would flow to know, apply.
See sun at zenith high
where fair sweep cloudless skies,
fragility belies.
Self on self will rely
And thus we compromise
ourselves – each hour thereby
prepares grief leaf’s demise.
Men, weak “how, what, when, why”
seek to deny, despise
as limits while each eyes
ambitions run awry.
Most fail to realize
fame’s flame soon sinks, falls shy
of promise time can’t buy.
Stagnation by and by
sets in, transforms to ties
what once soared free, - denies
rights others seek would lie,
Inventing alibis
inverting truth stain, dye,
strain, pain, until sparks die.
Still time will onward fly!
Few care to recognize
sunset whet hopes defies, -
dare not, with rules comply, -
scope set cut down to size.
With humour grim and wry
Fate on each whim may spy.
Life’s voyage does imply
page after page time tries
to crop or circumsize -
each stage a wager sly
as cause, effect, in guise
of free choice voice deny
to unborn options! ... Why?
Tide turns, Time’s spring runs dry.
The candle burns. The wise,
the fool, fourscore, fade, - rise
no more, till final cry
whose sense none can disguise.
No echo, no reply...
from light to dark, sole sigh.
9 February 2005
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Homerun Poem © Jonathan Robin
see also Homespun
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HOMESPUNBirth Mirth Worth Girth Dearth Earth Berth
From dark to light – one cry, homespun.
Cot, tot, fine whine, youth vies at last
to rise, to shine, – strength tries so fast
to test itself far, nigh, to run
above the common sty or scrum,
tries stratagems devised to cast,
with sun at zenith high, shade vast, ...
ignores Time fleeting by. The sum?
Who fools are, who are wise, succumb.
Who true, who in disguise, outlast
the dreaded drum’s surprise, stand fast
can further innings try? Soon dumb!
Come night, tomb stark, done, lie forgot, – time spun
From light doom dark one sigh, poor lot, – rhyme done!
20 January 2005
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see also Homerun
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Homes pun Poem © Jonathan Robin
:)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just Wait For Life
Let time be time while time can be
For mind gives way to mind
And thoughts of will, free will, turn free
Progression says all stop, reform
Renew, rethink, redeem, renorm
And change is change while change can be
For thoughts all change the thoughts we see
And all is not what all can be
For all is what I make of me
And you, for we're all connected
Fate is false while false
Til' will is urged and redirected
Like rhymes which change
Life is broken, fixed, and broken
Renewed reawoken,
Words they change, all semantics,
They restate the love, sorrow, fear,
Strike and make you rise to your feat
All change it changes life and need
It is all it is, reform, progressive static
It's magic, music, boom bam to the beat.
(2011)
Samvel Aleksanyan © All Rights Reserved
Of Mice And Men
The fire burns on
and all that drives me on
till all is gone except
the simple plans of mice and men
Back when I was just 17
I thought that I knew everything
I could make it in this scene
To be a rising star that only gleamed
When all the answers disagreed
With the questions held for me
I was legal now at 21
I knew the way the world should run
My God, just look what I had done
Simply drunk and having fun
Looked for friends but I found none
All alone at 21
The fire burns on
and all that drives me on
till all is gone except
the simple plans of mice and men
At 25 I was suprised
That I was even half alive
somehow I managed to survive
I found my bodys' doing time
In my back a hundred knives
All from my friends at 25
And now as Gabriel sounds my warning bell
I'd buy your life if you would sell
and you would too if less compelled
So live your life and live it well
Theres not much left of me to tell
I just got back up each time I fell
The fire burns on
and all that drives me on
till all is gone except
the simple plans of mice and men
The fire burns on
and all that drives me on
till all is gone except
the simple plans of mice and men
song performed by by Megadeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Timeless Visions
Try to rape your mind with your drugs and your guns
And try to change the world, for your time will never let go
Of all of the industries of hate, all of the industries of crime
All of the industries ov time
They leave you once again
They rip apart your mind
They steal up all your time
They never ever let go
We always left, so live it up
All in the back they scrape apart the flesh on your mind
They never believe in treachery
They never opened their mind
They are the ones who steal your life
They are the ones who get out of sight
We are just here to live our lives
They always win the war with their pride
They all live in death
They all shine in it
They are death unleashed to the world
They all breath undone in your head
Tomorrow's time is your past alone in being
And dying is your past, a lie
Feel the pain, the cross on your back
Now, die, we'll feel the pain on your mind
On the edge, on the edge, on the edge
You'll melt away
You'll fade away
Life is a double edged sword for you to choke on
And cry some more
No vision, no light, no nothing, empty inside, no time
Just a void eating up your mind for space and time, no one realign
Your mind is junk but you just eat it up
No feeling no light feel your head after all this time
You run with these ideas to explain your disposition.
song performed by by Velvet Acid Christ
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Channels
CHANNELS
Each second spins, dissolves, fresh mesh to weave
flesh minutes in strange sequence, interlace
the hours which daily years refresh to race
ganesh unknown.
Each thought wave ripples outwards to conceive
a cause/effect relationship few trace
and fewer find the time to interface
with the unsown.
Yet all makes sense where channels to receive
decode what static seems to those who’d lace
the edges of their cells of time and place
together thrown
while Time itself, intending to deceive,
here tosses coin, replaces tail with face,
there spin repeats, initial choice erase
with cards unshown.
What some receive as Gospel, strong believe,
others hold as heresy, disgrace.
Black, white, day, night, lack insight to replace
with hid what’s shown.
On ignorance credes feed when doubters cleave
to certitudes where, insecure, they chase
from fount to font minds blind or lower case,
can’t call their own
an attitude where tolerance would leave
for others understanding, living space
to foster common interest with good grace,
not pick a bone.
Thread true to pattern, facettes fractal reeve
retinal after-image to encase
the here and now in setting far from base –
hear, how’s, tune-tone.
Each thought wave push me-pull you t(r) ies to heave
sigh of relief, - burst bottlenecks Change brace
for interlink to ink invent, deplace
accent ‘chance’ blown.
Life Lakshmi surfs on foam of make-believe,
leaves fall, leave echo (c) old, untold, embrace
the stirrings of another zeitgeist’s pace …
as challenge prone.
Second thoughts conjur hell or saving grace,
momentum gathered rushes on a-pace,
continuous, relentless, rolling race
to the unknown…
Outline sketched 12 October 2005 rewritten 14 November 2006
robi03_1328_robi03_0000 XXX_CZX
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All My Life
All my life, without a doubt I give you
All my life, now and forever till the
Day I die, you and I will share
All the things this changing world can offer
So I sing, Id be happy just to
Stay this way, spend each day, with you
There was a time, that I just thought
That I would lose my mind
You came along and then the sun did shine
We started on our way
I do recall that every moment spent
Was wasted time but then I chose to lay it on the line
I put the past away
I put the past away
I put the past away
All my life, I will carry you through
All my life, between each hour of the passing days
I will stay with you
There was a time, that I just thought
That I would lose my mind
You came along and then the sun did shine
We started on our way
I do recall that every moment spent
Was wasted time then I chose to lay it on the line
I want this all my life
I want this all my life
I want this all my life
I want this all my life
I want this all my life
I wanted this all my life
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You're Not Alone
In a way, it's all a matter of time
I will not worry for you, You'll be just fine
Take my thoughts with you, and when you look behind
You will surely see a face that you recognize
You're not alone, I'll wait till the end of time
Open your mind, Surely it's plain to see
You're not alone, I'll wait till the end of time for you
Open your mind, Surely there's time to be with me
It is the distance, that makes life a little hard
Two minds that once were close, Now so many miles apart
I will not falter though, I'll hold on till you're home
Safely back where you belong, And see how our love has grown
You're not alone, I'll wait till the end of time
Open your mind, Surely it's plain to see
You're not alone, I'll wait till the end of time for you
Open your mind, Surely there's time to be with me
song performed by by Olive
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Choice Channels Choice Channels Choice Current Version
Is Man Free Will or karmic puppet strung
upon Fate's juggling whim with sting or stung
dependant on some déjà vu song sung
by Time's wind blown?
Thus, 'What is Truth? ' if logic's made to fit
some preconceived ideas, Cartesian kit:
'The moving finger writes, and having writ
moves on' to clone
another pawn whose dawn is followed soon
by blight or boon, pride's sunny afternoon
is swift supplanted by black night. Buffoon
who would gold own!
Who seeks control, spurns writing on the wall
is often role-reversed, flight's final fall,
who takes theme 'dream supreme', who 'hears the call'
may be just drone.
What Tao to follow, what gleans win, means lose,
what grief's choice try, buy, what joy's track refuse?
Hindsight finds, binds vice voice to confuse
what's light, what's stone.
Hindsight tricks weal's wicks, drum double-bind,
dream mirage offers hesitating mind,
as what before remains, what's left behind,
hopes overthrown,
depends on more than superficial weave wound
on waft and weft success or failure found,
on pride or fall. Peak's call, cave underground,
mirth, dearth, atone.
Insight holds good when goal's perceived, race run
with trust, integrity, deception shunned,
with Fate's thread spun what seems done's just begun,
take stock alone.
Seconds spin, dissolve, fresh mesh weaves lace,
flesh minutes in strange sequence, interlace
the hours which daily years refresh to race
Ganesh unknown.
Each thought wave ripples out, conceives trump's ace
as cause/effect relationship few trace
and fewer find the time to interface
fate's seeds unsown.
All makes sense when channelled, radar's trace
decodes what static seems to those who'd lace
the edges of their cells of time and place
together thrown
Time deceives, re-edits joy, disgrace
here tosses coin, replaces tail with face,
there spin repeats, initial choice erase
with cards unshown.
What some believe as Gospel state of grace,
others hold heresy, biased debunk, debase.
Black, white, day, night, lack insight to replace
with hid what's shown.
On ignorance creeds feed, doubts cleave to base
on certanties' tease, insecure, they chase
from fount to font minds blind or lower case,
can't call their own
trust, tolerance leave or misplace
understanding, for neighbours living space
to foster common interest with good grace,
not pick a bone.
Thread pattern, fractal facettes reeve, erase
retinal after-image to encase
the here and now in setting far from base,
hear 'how's' tune-tone.
Thought waves pushmi-pully, surge, merge,
heave sigh of relief, burst bottlenecks embrace
Change interlink to ink invent, deplace
accent ‘chance' blown.
Surf foams with make-believe, fears future's face
leaves fall, leave echo [c]old, untold, embrace
the stirrings of another zeitgeist's pace
as challenge prone.
Second thoughts conjur hell or saving grace,
momentum gathered rushes on a-pace,
continuous, relentless, rolling race
to the unknown.
[19 June 2012]
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Question Anyone
We have in life
a surfeit
of those who step to the mark
to declare
what should and can be done.
Ideas pour
from their open mouths
enunciating in grave tones
and solemn decrees
making claim
to the Wisdom
of the Knowledge Tree.
Regard these not
or follow those
who claim Secret Lore
and urge 'follow me.'
Hard Truth:
Every one claims answers
but cannot tell you what is the question;
every one thinks their answer
if true for them
is also true for you;
from that silly stance recoil.
Every sage can tell you what to do
but none can identify the first step.
All can see the path to follow
but none can answer
if a first step
is consistent with several paths which may follow.
None can answer
if you deny their answers offered,
(which are commonly either or choices)
but note life most often shows either/or
most often is neither/other.
None can tell you what is scientific about the scientific method.
None can separate in a simple sentence the difference between
book learning and common sense.
No sage alive can claim to know why Progress Now
has crashed so low-
despite all the Smart Ones
gone before.
Why is it that ignorance always fills the void
that Knowledge leaves?
Why are there always a surplus of answers
but few good questions?
I don't know
but I know what I don't know
hopefully,
that makes me one step ahead
of those who know the answer
before the question.
I think
those that always know
what they think they know
without ever asking
what is the question
that their knowing
is the answer to-
don't know
anything.
Best to smile faintly,
turn
and leave.
In life,
deep wisdom states:
we must learn to ask our own questions
so that answers are our own answers
drawing upon our own experience.
Ask not what the wise think
but ask instead
what questions did they ask
when it counted
as now,
at the brink.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Door Removed, Window Unshuttered 1743
Tired men react to role-reversing reel,
Harsh judgement pass upon deceptions deep.
Exit by bear pursued few locks will keep
Door closed, and shuttered windows soon reveal
Only introspection that will weep
On dust of love's rejection past. We feel
Remorseless fate exacts a price too steep.
Rise through regrets which may disguise surprise
Events which Cause/Effect invents to try
Most patience, represent in other guise
Other guy's advance to Chance defy.
Vain complaint when heart new part may chart,
EDition true heals smart, stamps vis[t]a's start.
Windows open, idem doors, draft draught,
Ideas interlink transparently,
New horizons, visibility.
Dreams, once distant, closer draw, light shaft
Opportunity accepts as raft
Which on life's stream surfs forward looking, free,
Undulating through waft/weave waves we
Never knew we knew before. Life laughed.
Sadness dissolves, pain's soothed. Pane mind may craft
Hearing tastes few see, paradox, at sea,
Unleashes flash synaptic energy,
Turns bias topsy-turvy. Joy's witchcraft
TERrain prepares: once blind, mind focus finds,
REDrawn perception redefines, unbinds.
(13 May 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rondo Mirror
When tidal waves of Time mock Fame,
have waved goodbye to humankind,
what which remains may, deep in rime,
deep-frozen stay until Change find
strange species with an unknown name,
whose mores no human finds sublime,
set out, new universes tame.
Alternative galactic clime
through nova warming – fun to blame -
could broil life first, then through enzyme
bacterial pride's self-acclaim
convert to carbon, methane, slime,
a vision choice, or hell-fire flame
devour the oddest pantomime
star systems witnessed, ‘sense’ proclaim.
A strange physique, another mind,
may race, chase universal prime,
act out perceived need, trace seed chain,
from ocean brine could start the grind
of evolution once again.
Survival’s rules and Nature’s game,
to change stay subject, rise or wane
as specificities within
a given eco-system kin
divide from kith through chance dance train
which tunnels out where Time once in
might delve and dig in search as sane
for A to B too toxic must remain.
'Above', 'Below' are judgements vain,
when all's one, one all must contain.
There seems no reason to explain
that rigid rules in one place gain
no standing elsewhere - truth's refrain
sounds normal here, there cries 'refrain! '
Life's laws, whatever form or frame,
appear designed to change sustain:
tenacity's successful climb
prepares ambitions which may bind
transient sentience to time -
tied to tide system whence it came.
The wheel turns, yet things much the same
remain as ever, as the blind
and seething masses, biding time,
exploited still, will try to find
answers until fresh tidal time-frame
mocks race, trace, shocks, restocks again...
Oscillating waves of Time,
wave goodbye, scarce seek behind
veil past - ancestors maritime -
and future for wings redesigned
by evolution's coded aim,
from start to coda, which no dime
could care for causal counterclaim.
From chaos patterns recombine,
an intricate design begin,
here where, there, others ended in
ice, fire, fire, ice, hope aim, scope maim,
some may celestial choir proclaim
as evidence of super brain.
Equality may some acclaim
as proof superior, maintain
win leads to loss, as loss to win
its opposite must undermine
to complement wheel waiting game
that sooner, later, Chronos will unwind.
Alternative galactic clime
through dwarf–star cooling frieze quitclaim
could freeze life first, then life-clock chime
again, again, from wild to tame,
from tame to wild as cyclic mime
vibrates, expands, contracts, the same
remaining never, - pantomime
played out repeating rondo spin
exploring waft weave out and in...
24 May 1991 revised 15 August 2006,27 July and 10 August 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mistaken Priorities - 0973 - Current Version
Mistakes we made are coming home to roost.
too little energy remains to boost.
A la recherche du temps perdu we flee
another act's attacked, the will to see
is often absent from the script, see Proust,
as 'havoc and the guns of war' are loosed.
We flee towards an end both known, unknown,
follow a path which our own past has sown,
here straight, there stony, everywhere its key
to city_zen in tune with Destiny
inscribed in cyphered symbols should be shown
not cast away, wind willy-nilly blown.
But fear of fear too often dissipates
impressions outlined by the hand that Fate's
swift moving finger writes for clarity,
when blind eye's turned, and spurned self charity,
then senseless seem priorities, debates
are blurred where truth all pride of place vacates.
When writing on the wall anticipates
the fall to come, the storm which tumbles dates
from palm oasis in whate'er degree.
mistakes are made as visibility
is lacking, insight dawning far too late
to save the game that Time's tides terminate.
the current lack.
Some look for truth, if truth there be, yet wait
on miracle that must emancipate
the will to change uncertain outlook find,
toil, trouble, hubble-bubble left behind.
But many fool themselves, prevaricate,
berating blindness they'd eliminate.
There's none so blind as those who will not see,
refuse to act where fact is found to be
in contradiction to lip-service paid
to hope for scope and insights wise obeyed
for actions much delayed must compromise
success where false excuse opt out supplies.
Today's priorities tomorrow fade,
turn sour before their zest to rest is laid,
dissolve distorted by Time's tug of war.
What all important seemed one day before,
incorporated into causal braid,
is trumped with basic instincts disobeyed.
Veils pulled full frontal, cloaked black burka maid
divorced from light by self-inflicted shade,
with passing sigh to signify too soon
both silver spoon and slum lie dumb, stilled tune.
Mistakes unmended leave man's world afraid
of shadows lack of confidence displayed.
What's left, sewn through waft-weft of life's rapports,
serves not, rots vision clear, fears what's in store
for others, for oneself - life's game is played
with Life ignoring Death's amoral spade.
Timed candle splutters, fame, flame rise no more,
darkness enshrouds those who hope's shutters draw.
(8 April 2010)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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