Prosperity Palls
PROSPERITY PALLS
The era of pleasure is over for ever,
prosperity palls, seldom fails to appal.
When seeking some sanity see we should sever
last links with societal sirens that call
after all with fast laughter, considering never
that Man’s many illusions to dust must soon fall,
as dispassionate Death’s thrall not even keen, clever,
can ever avert, all are measured withal.
Vain attempts to escape fate prove empty endeavour
for sooner or later all sleep in Time's shawl.
© Jonathan Robin 9 October 1978 revised 27 September 2008
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for previous version see below
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Prosperity Palls
The era of pleasure is over for ever,
prosperity palls where it does not appal.
When seeking some sanity see, we must sever
last links with Society ’s sirens that call
after all with fast laughter, considering never
that Man’s many illusions to dust must soon fall,
as dispassionate Death’s thrall not even the clever
can ever avert, for he measures us all, -
and attempts to escape him are empty endeavour
for sooner or later all sleep in his shawl!
9 October 1978
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Prosperity to humanity
Prosperity, prosperity
Prosperity to humanity
I brought to you
Love and solidarity
Peace and harmony
Kings go to war
And humanity fall
But i brought prosperity to humanity
So why then should you curse me
Instead of blessing me
I need you to love me
For it is prosperity
I brought to humanity
It power and glory to humanity
Accountability and transparency
A higher levity
Prosperity, prosperity
Prosperity to humanity
poem by Matt Ancient
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Alone
A phone that seldom rings, or never,
Sounds like a life-line coiled, unused,
A link to light that stands accused,
Left hanging in the never-never.
Life is so short, so soon to sever,
A call can save, and one refused
Leaves empty heart, and mind bemused
Or all at sea. However clever
No diver plunges who would ever
Enthuse or feel the least amused
If, once he sank, trust was abused: -
Cut lines for reason whatsoever!
Remember then the friendly call
You make can take no time at all.
Acrostic sonnet and previous title As All Alone I Cry
robi03_0203_robi03_0000 ASX_JZX
(3 January 1991 revised 5 October 2006)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Three F[r]iends
First fast f[r]iend was PAIN
sharp, yet safe refuge from all
rage thump that pumped vein
One more for BLADE, bane
chill, still sharper, none forestall, -
call sustained, blood-stain.
One last for SLEEP - lain
false mirage call before fall,
forgetting, - vain drain.
Three f[r]iends, SLEEP, BLADE, PAIN
passed judgement that all appal, -
stark dark pall remains …
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Wafer
The Present: a nano-thin wafer wall
on which we wanderers waiver, stall
for time - waifs small on ant-heap tall -
soon turned to ashes spurned, shred shawl
on which we pile from fast Past’s dust,
rich dream state which maintains its thrall
to spell Man’s time-plan wherewithal -
framework contextual all-in-all.
This transient recorded scrawl
upon the wall of fate thus must
seem progam which can disinstall
itself when system crashes - fall
whose ripples often waterfall
from chaos and beginnings small -
an ore shawl for next cycle’s rust –
from an apparent free-for-all,
create conditions for long haul,
new ball-game to begin it all
again and open options call.
There is no suit, no overcall,
no certitudes test stand, no trawl
to net immortal treasure haul
reducing time's hands to a crawl,
no trumps to draw nor hand to bust,
no eth[n]ic insight to recall
Fate's finger witness to forestall
mortal misgivings’ babble brawl.
Time 's spin yin yang spurs Future’s ball
which strays yet heedless stays withal,
ever in need of overhaul.
We wonder why fate's fleet footfall
ignores far, near, star dear, fear, trust,
quite unconcerned with mortal pall,
oblivious to the rise and fall
of Man’s un-echoed caterwaul.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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There is no pleasure but palls, and the more so if it costs nothing.
To Dream or Not to Dream - Acrostic Sonnet
The spiral staircase leading down to dreams ~
Or is it up if there be “up” at all ~
Defines its own dimensions’ rise and fall,
Rephrasing day’s experience which gleams
Endlessly recyclying key-word themes
As this is magnified, or that made small.
Masks ~ common to the day ~ at night may fall.
Once shed, greet picture puzzle pattern schemes
Recording strange perceptions as light beams
Now here, now there, preparing waking call, ~
Options spurned, or choices learned withal ~
To tear sleep’s shawl, converting links. It seems
TO dream provides the oil that may inspire
DREAMs new to spin enquiring spirit higher.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Foreclosure
Fleeting complicity
meeting adversity
depleting prosperity
deleting electricity.
Defeating rime
completing rhyme:
anthropocentricity.
© Jonathan Robin 21 September 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Break Out - 0509 - Current Version
S[h]e's lived protected by strong walls Time's w[r]it
Let stand too long, pride's ride before fast fall,
Ignoring purposefully fact that all
Vain structures tumble, tumbril hypocrite.
EDict: Earth's dust dissolves shawls man would knit.
Protection serves slight purpose overall,
Respite cannot postpone the final call
Of fate, death's date sees puzzle pieces fit.
The time has come to quit false safety, split
Entrenched opinions, narrow minds and small,
Creation hindered, progress held in thrall.
Turn thoughts towards tomorrow, future lit,
Each step to freedom leaves fell past behind;
Destroying bias, locks, unlocks blind mind.
(1 December 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Reflections: Bridal Reign Or Bridle Rein?
Mirror, tell us mortals all
Is it Bride before fast fall?
Revelation of defeat?
Resplendent triumph? Joy complete?
Or hooded warning naught can stall
Recalling Chance consumes conceit?
Mirrored hand from sable shawl
Isolating wherewithal
Regretting wrinkles, tease or cheat.
Room for no groom when scythe's tithe treat
Outplays Hope's hand and trumps heart's call,
Refusing wedding band replete.
Mirrored lily blank receipt
In time to come when Time's dumb beat
Retrieves blanched gifts, lifts veil on pall
Returning dust to dust, recall
Of pregnant promise, harvest wheat
Rich Death's drought withered, seedless, small.
Mirrored grasp, last gasp, catchall
Icing dreams that once stood tall,
Rescinding promises pure, sweet,
Refusing prayers that children greet:
One wonders why life's mortal thrall
Runs out untimely, doom must meet.
Mirrored fingers grace-girl maul,
Intensely grip with gruesome gall,
Respite ungranted, paraclete
Regretfully cannot compete
Or face refrain of Fate's footfall
Retrenching humble, vain, slow, fleet.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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A Passing Fancy
The bell was ringing in the distance, of my existence,
but I let it ring.
Couldn’t think of a thing to say, anyway,
certainly not today.
Or any day for that matter, I didn’t want to natter to anyone.
Too many calls, then love palls.
Familiarity breeds contempt, and I was not exempt.
I‘ll let the dust settle on this affair, it’s just the way it goes,
that’s what I chose to do. Finish it, I had to quit.
He’ll forget, and once again my heart will be ‘to let‘.
It was a passing fancy, a chancy romance, and one begins
to learn and discern.
The closing of a book full of empty pages,
I think I’ll take the phone off the hook,
until fate, brings the next available mate.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Scene From The Future's Web
Gorilla, man, have played their innings out,
Freeway turned to grass without a doubt
Spider, which waited long, will reign supreme.
Sirens silent, mankind just dust done dream
Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall all spiders scout
winging hummers, shawl fly caught, spun scheme
singing drummers' sprawl, spry sought fun theme!
(2 March 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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If you want 1 year of prosperity, grow grain. If you want 10 years of prosperity, grow trees. If you want 100 years of prosperity, grow people.
The person who gets stuck on trivial prosperity will not attain great prosperity.
War prosperity is like the prosperity that an earthquake or a plague brings.
quote by Ludwig von Mises
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We can stand affliction better than we can prosperity, for in prosperity we forget God.
quote by Dwight L. Moody
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Me (Villanelle)
Love me with sincerity,
with the true feelings in your heart
in times of loss and of prosperity
while our influence linger into posterity
and may our lives never part.
Love me with t sincerity,
as if our words and deeds are more than surety
in truthfulness that is something of an art
in times of loss and of prosperity
and when we are old without any dexterity
may our feelings then last and never depart.
Love me with sincerity
that brings feelings to a kind of clarity,
that daily anew does start
in times of loss and of prosperity.
and may we constantly act in solidarity
as if nothing our affections can thwart.
Love me with sincerity,
in times of loss and of prosperity.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sooner Or Later
Written by orbison/dees
Sooner or later, I knew youd win.
Sooner or later, you would be close to me again.
Sooner or later, I knew I would break down and call.
Sooner or later Id hear your voice and fall in love with you again.
Yeah right or wrong my lonely heart just let you in.
Didnt take long being alone to fall again.
Sooner or later, it had to be.
Sooner or later, you would be close to me.
Sooner or later I knew that Im not over you.
Sooner or later, I knew Id fall back in love with you.
Its up to you
Let me know what to do.
Sooner or later.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pray a little more, work a little harder, save, wait, be patient and, most of all, live within our means. That's the American way. It's not spending ourselves into prosperity or taxing ourselves into prosperity.
quote by Mike Huckabee
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prosperity or egalitarianism - you have to choose. I favor freedom - you never achieve real equality anyway: you simply sacrifice prosperity for an illusion.
quote by Mario Vargas Llosa
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dust
As we drift through life
like a speck of dust in the air
seeking out good times
in which to share
with this heart that really cares
and as we drift through the days
our hopes start to fade
seeking dreams we never made
on a road never paved
with crumbled foundations that we had laid
waiting patiently for the dust to settle
in the hope that things get better
as I sit and write this letter
in my mind I try to be clever
seldom am I ever
in this world i`m never
will this dust remain forever
poem by Joseph Whelan
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