Inertia II
Inquest's inner protest. Rest unstressed,
Nirvana sought, time bought, hope fades away.
Efforts unrewarded and unblessed
Reap no fair deal, missed feelings piper pay.
Tense dreams can't role-reverse tear teams unsought,
In pearls they stream, yoked tandem half-suppressed
As witnesses unwilling, hauled to court,
Inner frustration's uninvited guests.
No energy extended is sustained,
Expressions and possessions self-consumed,
Reaction not response reflects soul pained,
Torn between regrets, bets unassumed.
Inertia's apathetic curtain closes
And draws dark blinds behind mind lost to roses.
(30 September 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Inertia 1771
Instincts suppressed, what's best? to rest unstressed,
Neglecting much, touch, scent, taste waste away
Efforts unjustified, denied, unblessed,
Rewards and fairies exiled yesterday.
Time winnows second-thoughts, chaffed tears descend
In drops, in streams, in floods, yet seldom seen,
As vectors for communication end
In gridlock matrix vicious circle scene.
No conscious effort made seems worth the toss,
Energy drains as pains are self-consumed,
Rise and shine to sighs and whine show loss
That filters through grey haze maze unassumed.
Inertia's apathetic curtain closes
And draws dark blinds behind mind lost to roses.
(30 September 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Bubble Bray - 0822 - Current Version
Time's muzzle mocks ambitions. Day by day,
through life's incessant dream theme ebb and flow,
efforts, unrewarded, seem vain show.
Effects' and causes' subtle interplay
none may control, - coincidence at play
enacts a chance dance time mime stop and go
whose pattern frame spins into vertigo
flaking dates and energy away.
Harmony and Chance Time's tides obey,
cannot be reined, restrained, nor string nor bow
fires through some causal bull's eye to echo
sense sustained. Profane, with bubble bray,
most blow hot, cold on stage, then sink unheard
before they even feel flow's ripples stirred.
(9 April 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Work is the rest
To work is to relax.
I don’t see the time pass.
To be with guests is tense.
To keep peace is to be tense.
21.06.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Time Management Plan....What really happens
September 3,2008, just 6 weeks left to wait
Mind was becoming queerer, as exams were approaching nearer
So books were taken out and chapters were listed
Notes were made, revised and gisted
But oh! it was just september,1 month still left to practice and remember
I thought, 'it won't be too late, if i start studying at a later date
So flushed with joy, ii made it clearer, will sit to study when exams approach nearer
So on the calendar, I slashed 11, and this queen was back to its heaven
September 11,2008,5 weeks left up straight
But this time, I gave plenty reasons to excuse, for not to study in exam blues
Friends always waiting to chat, gossip about
Plus my bro can't here the T.V. less loud
And then I've to practice for a competition
Mind is boggling with frustration
I annonced, 'No big deal, since I've plenty work to do
I'll start studying from 22
September 22,2008, hardly weekly left to anticipate
This time I did make a start, but things now
seem to fall apart
I planned to study all the time, everywhere
Roaming on th terrace, sitting on the chair
but no result came out in despair
Still 20 chaters left to revise, hundreds of notes unsummarised
In such great frustration, I began to loose concentration
Now all learnt forgotten, under heaps of hopes laden
When I was just about to disintegrate
I realised 'Now its too late...
Had I made an early start, I would have definitely made it upto the mark
So...
To Accomplish Tasks In A Better Way
Start Right Here, Right Now, TODAY
poem by Geetika Nehra
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Countdown
Countdown begun, one way, no leeway where
One can reverse time’s wave to save the day.
Useless to look for aid. Hopes fade, links fray.
No energy remains, there’s none to spare
To challenge fate, anticipate, prepare
Dynamic options, open interplay.
Only stray souvenirs of heyday far away
Which weigh - nostalgia validates despair.
No space to trace another future where,
Bets placed win race, no need to piper pay.
Errors, time squandered come to roost today.
Grey before, behind, mind unaware.
Uneasy lies the frown that bares barred head
No light, no flight, and no delight ahead...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Star of Shadows
~STAR OF SHADOWs~
STAR OF SHADOWS GONE IS THE BRIGHTNESS IN WHICH U HAV FILLED MY HEART AND MY SOUL NOW IS THE DARKNESS ETERNAL IN WHCIH SWALLOWS EVERYTHING HIDDEN IS THE PATH I TRAVEL STAR LIGHT GONE MOON LIGHT IS NO MORE COLD GROWS THE DAYS AND NIGHT IN WHICH FOLLOWS afterwards gone is ur love in which has fullfilled my heart in ur absence lost i am for minutes hours days turn to years wander around lost for a while i am and have crazy is as crazy in this now darkened world eveything seems strange and confusin hope litte in which i seem to have ne lil bit of light shimmers and then slwoly fades to nuthing on the path of forever lonliness i must seem and feel like insane craZy or crazy insane i feel the hopelessness dawns on me now and forever more try harder go harder achieve sumtin n e thing must i yes but hard is the fact that all and everything has been consumed by a dark darkness that blinds me in which there is nuthing not but a hope of this or that i knows i will git sumwhere n e where left right up and down to starlight eternal heavens golden and bright i once saw in a dream but hell darkness lights faded to nothingness deeper into hell my emotions feel as if my soul has been torn to shreds this new war with my self consumes my very soul i am torn asunder my mind has lost its edge gone is my sharpness good times are but a distant memory in whcih feels like light years hav passed star of shadows in the shadows of all the the stars light is gone omega now an forever more the path is sumwhere in the far distant yonder fields of yesteryear to the future i march blind as a bat i listen but only hear the echoes of my heart beating sumwhere along this broken path enlightment is what i will find until then lost now forever more i feel until i find the light.
poem by Dorian Suchelle
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Vague Expressions
Vague expressions of directed hatred,
To generate a protest...
By those encouraging the spreading of distress,
Has those who began this agitation quite upset...
Confused and much bewildered.
If those accused are not connected,
To the theft of their possessions...
Why have they been whipped into a frenzy,
Exposing their vague expressions...
Of directed hatred.
Is this just to generate a protest...
Against those who are themselves,
Historically disconnected from their own destinies,
They have not been allowed to protect!
Leaving many to see the culprit not previously suspect.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No Aberrations On Earth
NO ABERRATIONS ON EARTH
Nature knows no aberration
Only balance, evolution
Allowing life anticipation
Blowing change to new solution.
Exception to this rule is found
Regretfully in Man's mistakes,
Reaction not response profound
All sets awry: Man gives not, takes.
Time's current watershed presents
Insight on human exploitation,
Only the peril represents
Nature's vengeance, for creation
Sustained supposes self-respect
ON EARTH few choose, for most abuse unchecked.
1 September 2008
robi03_1802_robi03_0000 ASX_JNZ
© Jonathan Robin acrostic sonnet No Aberrations On Earth
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Experience Pearls
Give me all your tears
Let me turn them into pearls
Let me turn all the tears
That youve cried into pearls
Hand them to me - Im gonna keep,
Keep them for you.
I want to hold you,
I want to kiss you.
I want to mend what is broken.
Love me the way that you loved her - please
Cause now Im giving it all -
And so Ive made up my mind - Im gonna be
Yours this time - Im gonna give what Ive got,
And get your love in return.
And so Ive made up my mind - Im gonna be
Yours this time - Im gonna teach you to trust
And learn how to burn -
Experience pearls
Pearls of experience
When sand strikes up in your eyes
I will cover your face.
Ill plant your desert with roses,
And Im gonna keep, keep them for you.
And so Ive made up my mind...
Ill wear your pearls more precious than silver
Ill wear your pearls so close to my skin.
Id tear myself apart just to get you -
And so Ive made up my mind...
And so Ive made up my mind...
song performed by by Ace Of Base
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Gift Of Restorative Rest
When is predetermined time reached to rest?
Does mind or body know clockwork answer best?
Is a set bedtime always the best way to rest?
A lack of rest plays havoc on both mind and body.
Yet need requires extra night hours worked in emergency.
An art of make up sleep becomes a sweat necessity.
Sleep a strange bed fellow; we all must dues court.
To stay awake for extended periods; is scale battle fought.
To burn candle at both ends frequently; is not wisdom sought.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Creativity Channelled - 1912
Who stands on chance advance is swiftly lost,
gist takes in haste, to waste wakes, misdirection
where errors' terrors tremble counting cost;
yet yin yang spins win/win from circuit section.
To take up arms against a sea of struggles
sounds fair enough, of such stuff dreams are made,
but cause/effect consideration juggles
may role-reverse fame's game however played.
True speculation, [s]ta[l]king stock in hand,
despite clock's second thoughts, can offer cue
to tune up creativity, expand
from late wait's weight to wings which span worlds new.
Where turmoil steam's stream channelled on the boil,
there poet shuffles off [c]old mortal coil.
(7 September 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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We Deal In Dreams
Don't you feel so very pointless
In the feelings of the rain
And the violence of the sun
I must confess that I feel graciously
Bigger than the rain
And hotter than the sun
What did you do
What do you say
When the blood spilled is of your loved one
And the kremlins of the world fall around you
We deal in dreams, yeah
We deal in dreams
We deal in structures that grow cold in our hearts
Oh fearful, crying people
The fool is by the river
Watching, but not swimming
It takes energy not to get used to it
And fall into this place
Where everything runs together and dies
This quiet kingdom she is now
Forever will she be, in silent celebration
We deal in dreams, yeah
We deal in dreams
We deal in structures that grow cold in our hearts, yeah
We deal in dreams
We deal in dreams
We deal in structures that grow cold in our hearts, yeah
We deal in dreams
We deal in dreams, silent silent dreams
Structures that grow cold
Structures that grow cold
Structures that grow cold in our hearts, yeah
Don't you feel so very pointless
In the feelings of the rain
And the violence of the sun
song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark Side Of The Moon
Every night we dream of things
half of them we never remember,
but our dreams are only things
our brain is sorting out
what it wants to remember.
The rest are left to visit
the dark side of the moon.
When love comes to us
with all its frills and froth,
then departs with broken hearts.
We always like to remember
the thrill of its coming
and the sadness of parting
is sent to the dark side of the moon.
As with everything in our lives,
we tend to want to forget
we package them together
and parcel them away.
Then on an appropriate day we send them,
on their way to
the dark side of the moon.
The dark side of the moon
where all discarded dreams go.
The dark side of the moon
is where old love letters stray,
to stay forever and a day
on the dark side of the moon.
26 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Symbiotic Symphony
Slim beauty, fair hair sun-bright cloud
about her billows, surface calm
masks deep emotions, soul uncowed,
search newly blessed by soothing balm.
She wandered, lonely, through the crowd,
observing all, yet often seemed
both close and distant, head unbowed,
epitome of dreams she’d dreamed.
Sweet symbiotic symphony
awaiting liberating call,
preparing serendipity,
would nonetheless retain high wall
until discovering within
an infinite capacity
for stretching wings devoid of sin,
freed from former opacity.
Perpetual priority
protecting family until
each child - Ambre, Axel, Alice and Camille -
could thread autonomy and will
to flourish confident and be
emancipate - though never still -
from ignorance, fatuity.
Priority number two: to join
to present questions answers which
might mint fresh happiness' bright coin
a future fair, shared feelings rich
that none could question, none purloin,
an idyll oasis to stitch
nest nurturing til kids conjoin.
Deceptive calm! Her mind must try
to comprehend and then translate,
so children share, none e’er run shy
of fighting prejudice and hate.
Though world be harsh, though time swift fly,
empowered troupe she'd teach instate
an energy none misapply
true joy, fresh focus liberate.
Mistrusting superfluity
she scans horizons far beyond
face values, gilt annuity,
both mass hysteria, mass despond.
With natural ingenuity
imagination's magic wand
ingenuous spells melody
seductive that can correspond
to joy infinite - jeopardy
overcome by feelings fond.
Stupidity, conformity,
she spurns, returns to 'bas monde' frowned,
sad superficiality: -
short shrift she gives rave party round.
Unused to being understood,
her insight into others bores,
the trees she sees, ignores deadwood
non-thinkers – blinkers she abhors.
On levels few dare venture stood
pre-eminent ambitions stored
against wise day when wide walls would
implode without remorse, record
no trace of former heartache, could
advance through regions unexplored
to promised land where all for good
may blossom free with dreams restored.
Against the ‘current’ with the stream,
she seeks sweet, simple harmony,
both sunset, sunrise, inner gleam
respond in synchronicity
with heart at ease in pleasing dream
as if complementarity
flows naturally, home grown, shares beam
rewarding, hope sown harvest's key.
(24 October 1992 revised 6 November 2008
for previous version entitled Deceptive Calm see below)
Deceptive Calm
Slim beauty, dark locks in a cloud
about her billowed, surface calm
masked deep emotions, soul uncowed,
but still unblessed by soothing balm.
She wandered, lonely, through the crowd,
observing all. She always seemed
both close and distant, head unbowed,
epitome of dreams she’d dreamed.
Unused to being understood,
her insight into others bored,
the trees she saw, but not the wood,
nor could she –blinkers she abhorred.
Against the ‘current’ with the stream,
she sought sweet, simple harmony,
both sunset, sunrise, inner gleam
response – complementarity.
Priority retained: to join
to present questions answers which
might mint fresh happiness and coin
a future fair, shared feelings rich.
Deceptive calm! Her mind would try
to comprehend and then translate,
that all might share, none e’er run shy
of fighting prejudice and hate.
(24 October 1992)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Holy September
A kiss on the lips of today
For stepping into tommorow.
The blinds are closed for now.
Don't sell yourself for sorrow.
Oh! Precious my september.
Begins with all the stars.
Buses from the summer.
In september driving cars.
Praising my september.
Praising all my needs.
Sends me to tomorrow.
September grows my seeds.
Officers of my journey.
With love inside the day.
The tolerance of my wonder.
The tolerence of my dismay.
Nestled in september.
You've wakened from those dreams.
Oh holy, my september.
The cloth around my seams.
September shines around me,
Like the sun onto my day.
September my september.
Is there any other way?
poem by Attia Taylor
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For Shrill The Piper Plays His Tune
When thoughts are idle wanderings
Words tumbled round and round
When feelings they turn inwardly
Still I hear the piper's sound.
When happiness is broken
And the Kings and Queens are gone
The piper's tune keeps playing
And I hear his victory song.
For even when awoken
From the sleepiness of time
There's a distant music playing
Heard clear within my mind
For shrill the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tune is full played out
He carries us away.
No-one has seen this piper man
And no-one has seen him play
But we all can hear his mournfulness
And fear for what he'll say
No folds of fathered cornfields
And no breaking of the bread
The piper's tune keeps playing
With his words as yet unsaid.
For shrill the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tune is full played out
He carries us away.
We can all hear if we but try
The piper's song so sweet
The musings and meanderings
Of souls lost whole complete
No piper plays before we're born
Before we touch the earth
The piper's tunes they all begin
From the moment of our birth.
For shrill the piper plays his tune
Like happiness disease'd
And all the notes that he plays out
Are our moments ill at ease.
Not one of us pays him to play
Nor gives him any score
For every note that he blows out
Is fully paid before
We entertain our wanderings
And confusion in the mind
For the piper's very soul turns out
To be both yours and mine.
For shrill the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tune is full played out
He carries us away.
poem by David Keig
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Too Many Have Suppressed Their Depressions
Too many have suppressed their depressions.
And had shied away from expressing they are upset.
Protesters seem to be doing their best,
To be civilized with the hiding of their regrets.
With a wish they had not let themselves,
Gather into the streets to protest a greed.
When those homeless and needing to eat,
And a place to sleep...
Should have long ago sent warnings,
How those who are obviously in need...
Could be easily ignored by those who continue,
To feast as if nothing else is noticed.
Too many have suppressed their depressions.
And no longer shy away from expressing they are upset.
Protesters seem to be doing their best,
To be civilized with the hiding of their regrets...
With a wish they had not let themselves,
Gather into the streets to protest a greed.
Believing themselves to be right.
Because they are mostly...
Well,
Fighters for fading entitlements...
That are being erased from their eyesights.
And if this was not happening to them at all,
It would be poverty as usual...
For 'those' people to experience.
You know...
The ones too lazy to get a job.
Or find a decent wage to feed themselves and families.
Under a roof they can afford.
You know...
'Those' people who had never been accepted,
By the whims of 'them' with their selected druthers.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Flesh
My flesh bothers me... it is mine, it is all i carry with me
Unceremoniously daily
I do not own it
It does not own me
It just displays my moods
My excitement
My joy
It merely reflects my tears
My age
Everything i am
How much water or wine i have consumed
How much cake i have desired
How many times i have torn it in sheer frustration
I do not hate it
I do not like it but...
If once in a blue moon it encourages smothered swipes with your flesh
I am delighted
Thank you...
poem by Karen Sinclair
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Gone Away 654
my heart has been ripped and torn a sunder shredded into a million, a billion a trillion diffrent little pieces spread across a void a darkness so dark so black so utterly void of of anything but light i wander thru alone lost and confused my mind on so many other other diffrent things other then what i was originally thinking of now im lost and by myself no other company other then me and my misery my sorrow my anger and my sadness i see nothing i use to see everything i was once someone now im no one les than nothing nothing more then the nothingness in which i was before try as i may and try as i might i dont try no more i do nothing the goodness and the greatness has left me in a place ill probably always be in the time goes on for others and others onward time ticks and tocks it beats like my heart slowly but surely sumthing of anything sum kinda wonderful my soul has filled with the deepest darkest saddest of thoughts thought of this and thoughts of that of what once was and now is nothing more i feel my very soul like a candle in the slowly and surely my candle fades away into the very winds of eternity my soul doesnt go out with a bang jus fades from light to the darkness in which i am now absorbed now and forever more gone away to a place where all ill ever know is loneliness and darkness and misery a hundred times over and over gone may it seem but always in your heart and in your thoughts id hope to be in and part of always
poem by Dorian Suchelle
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Apathy and Endurance
Caught during the action,
When he pumped into a Matron,
Her jewels were his attention,
and missed the concentration.
The angry crowd beat him,
Punch, pinch and waste him,
He becomes ‘unconscious' fast,
Police bring him to treat.
Stretch on the stretcher quiet,
The doctors take the pulse right,
The mannerism says the rest,
Send him to have his torn tight.
Anesthetic not be administered,
As the thief patient is unconscious,
The doctor finished the sutures on his lips,
the drops of tear roll down his cheeks.
The young doctor is shocked,
How apathetic her patient to himself,
People are apathetic to people around,
Is the consciousness put them in trouble.
The senior tells the junior not to worry,
and the nineteen year old thief acts,
the 'vulturous' police will not question,
the human who is not conscious, so he endures.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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