Spirit Spits Pits
[S]tale smoke,
Pale bloke,
I‘m broke,
Rum coke
In poke
Time’s joke …
So Croak!
13 April 2005 revised 28 March 2009 robi3_1201_robi3_0000 XXX_DJZ
Previous title Cost of Dying – for previous version see below
Cost of Sin
Stale smoke,
I’m broke,
No joke.
13 April 2005 robi3_1201_robi3_0000 AWX_DJZ
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Bloke Is Broke
The bloke is broke
Takes a coke and lots of smoke
Stroke a joke and leaves the yoke
Spoke and poke and went back folk
Remembering baroque
With a golf stroke
Scrubs an oak with
Another sick joke
Woke and evoke
And even provoke
A gun smoke
Goes amok
With a butterfly stroke
Wild with a James Knox
Towards valley oak
spoke a practical joke
Ending with a choke
that broken bloke
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Enlightenment
ENLIGHTENMENT
Wonder revolves word
whirlwind of change resolving
s[tr]a[n]ge conundrums stirred
s[tr]a[n]ge = sang strange sage stage an age range rang
4 April 2005 revised 3 January 2009
robi03_1190_robi03_0000 HXX_EIX
for previous version see below
Enlightenment
Wind whirls wonder word
beyond deaf and resolve, solves
all conundrums stirred...
12 April 2005
Enlightenment poem © Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Damned
Don't smoke don't fight don't light no cigarettes
Or else you'll wind up in the can
No jokes no rights sit tight don't fool around
You are a guest of Uncle Sam
Stand up look right don't slouch and stand at ease
Allow no sex above the knees
When I snap you jump into the master plan
I'll be damned
Well I'll be damned
I'll be damned if I drink or smoke
Damned if I steal your joke
I'll be damned if I go for broke
Damned if I do
Damned if I don't
Don't talk don't fool don't try to mess around
I'll make a monkey outta you
You sign your name right on that dotted line boy
I'll be damned
I'll be damned if I drink or smoke
Damned if I steal your joke
I'll be damned if I go for broke
Damned if I do
And damned if I don't
I'll be damned if I drink or smoke
Damned if I steal your joke
I'll be damned if I go for broke
I'm damned if I do
I'm damned if I don't
I'll be damned if I drink or smoke
Damned if I steal your joke
I'll be damned if I go for broke
I'm damned if I do
I'm damned if I don't
I'll be damned (6x)
song performed by by AC/DC from Stiff Upper Lip
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Damned
(young - young)
Dont smoke dont fight dont light no cigarettes
Or else youll wind up in the can
No jokes no rights sit tight dont fool around
You are a guest of uncle sam
Stand up look right dont slouch and stand at ease
Allow no sex above the knees
When I snap you jump into the master plan
Ill be damned
Well Ill be damned
Ill be damned if I drink or smoke
Damned if I steal your joke
Ill be damned if I go for broke
Damned if I do
Damned if I dont
Dont talk dont fool dont try to mess around
Ill make a monkey outta you
You sign your name right on that dotted line boy
Ill be damned
Ill be damned if I drink or smoke
Damned if I steal your joke
Ill be damned if I go for broke
Damned if I do
And damned if I dont, yeah
Come on
Ill be damned if I drink or smoke
Damned if I steal your joke
Ill be damned if I go for broke
Im damned if I do
Im damned if I dont
Ill be damned if I drink or smoke
Damned if I steal your joke
Ill be damned if I go for broke
Im damned if I do
Im damned if I dont
Ill be damned
Ill be damned
Ill be damned
Ill be damned
Ill be damned
Ill be damned
2000, j. albert & son, pty.
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ars Poetica
Some from within, some from without,
without a doubt set to,
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to flow, grow, glow. Thereto
through weaving in and weeding out
touch base with Nature, cue
time, place, as twins defeat and wins
ignored are through and through.
No need to shout, run roundabout,
use artificial glue,
scribe’s violin tunes, underpins,
technique as heart rings true.
Sensations scout, don’t beat about
the bush, tout false virtue,
The poet’s string must second skin
become, ne’er dumb, askew.
Words work their way by night and day
from phases past, to light
through threads at play that more threads lay,
reeled phrases feed fresh flight.
(30 March 2005 revised 9 June 2007 and 1 February 2012)
robi03_1128_robi03_0000 XXX_IXX
see below for previous version entitled Poetics
Poetics
Some from within some from without
without a doubt flow true
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to grow, and then glows too
through weaving in and weeding out -
touch intuitions know
from phases past so phrases last
through threads which more threads sow...
(30 March 2005)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetics
Some from within some from without
without a doubt flow true
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to glow, then grows anew.
Through weaving in and weeding out -
touch intuitions cue -
from phases past fair phrases spin
through threads which more threads brew.
Thus in and out and round about
rhyme climbs as curlicue
expands ideas, wins interest in
both content, form, will woo
the readers who fresh insights scout
both options chosen, those fates glue,
into life's sins, its losses, wins,
would revelation view.
© Jonathan Robin – robi3_0778 written 30 March 2005 revised 20070619 and 20081112 for previous version see below
Poetics
Some from within some from without
without a doubt flow true
as soul-song spins tale which begins
to grow, and then glows too
through weaving in and weeding out -
touch intuitions know
from phases past so phrases last
through threads which more threads sow...
© Jonathan Robin – written 30 March 2005
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Après la Fête
Après la Fête
Life's Carnival swift sinks soon drive,
ambitions fail. What sense to strive
when dregs alone remain to drain
before forgetfulness stakes claim.
.
Who have the strength to goals attain
with principles intact remain
exceptions to life's ground rules lain,
clowns stride stage, pine, pain, soon lie slain.
.
Though some may for a time contrive
to fool themselves, they steeper dive
when time in pawn takes pawn alive,
soon sacrificed to failures’ knives -
which often with ‘success’ connive.
.
Illusions lost, we find with pain,
are seldom truly gained again -
what once seemed certain’s then proved vain
when gain proves dross, and loss insane.
.
Dunce bee, once drawn to wicket flame,
no curtain call can still sustain, -
another worker t[r]icked from hive
which will remain no less alive…
13 October 1988 revised 29 April 2005 and 29 December 2010
robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
For previous version see below and After the Carnival robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllll
AFTER THE CARNIVAL
The carnival of carefree play
too long has tripped its careless way,
clowned senseless as an ass’s bray
while flesh from flesh Time stripped away.
.
Once sun strong shone, when one made hay
cicada-like, would spend the day
in hasting-wasting, - led astray
by vain beliefs the day to pay
would never come. But hopes decay,
the ostrich-innings stumped. Today,
momentum lost, depressed dismay
notes there’s no energy to pray.
.
Illusions fade, blue skies turn grey,
what once seemed certain from life's fray
has dropped defeated, options fray.
Careless of creed, one must obey
dread summons which to night turns day.
.
That one’s posterity will stay
when life’s departed holds at bay
a sense of impotence and may
part justify the role to play.
The carnival is over, May
to Winter bows, Spring may not stay -
its darling buds in blossom, gay,
tomorrow must return to clay.
4 November 1992 revised 21 May 2005 and 29 December 2010
robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
see Après la Fête robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
llllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllll
APRES LA FETE
The Carnival is over. Drive,
ambitions fail. What sense to strive
when dregs alone remain to drain
before forgetfulness stakes claim.
Who have the strength to goals attain
with principles intact remain
exceptions to the ground rules lain.
Although some for a time contrive
to fool themselves, they steeper dive
when time in pawn takes pawn alive,
soon sacrificed to failures’ knives -
which often with ‘success’ connive.
Illusions lost, we find with pain,
are seldom truly gained again -
what once seemed certain’s then proved vain.
Bee, moth, attracted to wick’d flame,
no curtain call will long retain, -
another worker ticked from hive
which still remains no less alive...
13 October 1988 revised 29 April 2005
robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Janine
JANINE
Joy's Janine, sovereign Queen,
is sitting unwittingly, caught between
time and timelessness, sans spleen.
Softness shines from silent scene
such as, had I true artist been,
from canvas onto online screen,
all might glimpse peerlessness serene.
She'd e'en cause pristine saints to dream
on paragon, fair figurine,
on team-theme evergreen.
13 April 1975 revised 23 April 2010
robi03_0078_robi03_0000 XXX_LOX
for previous version see below
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
Janine
E’en
Janine
sov’reign Queen,
in beige, brown, green
in silence is seen
sitting. Such a soft scene
as, had I an artist been,
from palette to fair picturene
I would, I ween, cause e’en the saints to dream.
13 April 1975
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You, In The Crowd, Miss...
You, in the crowd, Miss,
surrounded by loudness
and smoke
have you ever thought how this
World is God's greatest joke?
Cars driving on by
Bums standing in lunchlines...
That might be the intro,
but it's surely not the punchline...
Sometimes I see the saddest eyes
Why can't I just be satisfied?
B'cuz, God, even when the sky is sunny
I still don't think the joke is funny! !
None of us folks
like to hear your cruel jokes, man!
I see another broke man
standing in torn clothes on the coast's sand
The precious coast
is mostly occupied by coke cans
And the rich get the most land
While the poor get the crumbs
Maybe thats why most kids take tokes to get dumb
Cuz they're born into a beauty
thats been decaying for a while
God, quit telling jokes...
unless they actually make us smile.
-2010-
poem by Ray Quesada
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After the Carnival
AFTER THE CARNIVAL
The carnival of carefree play
too long has tripped its careless way,
clowned senseless as an ass’s bray
while flesh from flesh Time stripped away.
.
Once sun strong shone, when one made hay
cicada-like, would spend the day
in hasting-wasting, - led astray
by vain beliefs the day to pay
would never come. But hopes decay,
the ostrich-innings stumped. Today,
momentum lost, depressed dismay
notes there’s no energy to pray.
.
Illusions fade, blue skies turn grey,
what once seemed certain from life's fray
has dropped defeated, options fray.
Careless of creed, one must obey
dread summons which to night turns day.
.
That one’s posterity will stay
when life’s departed holds at bay
a sense of impotence and may
part justify the role to play.
The carnival is over, May
to Winter bows, Spring may not stay -
its darling buds in blossom, gay,
tomorrow must return to clay.
4 November 1992 revised 21 May 2005 and 29 December 2010
robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
see Après la Fête robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
Après la Fête
Life's Carnival swift sinks soon drive,
ambitions fail. What sense to strive
when dregs alone remain to drain
before forgetfulness stakes claim.
.
Who have the strength to goals attain
with principles intact remain
exceptions to life's ground rules lain,
clowns stride stage, pine, pain, soon lie slain.
.
Though some may for a time contrive
to fool themselves, they steeper dive
when time in pawn takes pawn alive,
soon sacrificed to failures’ knives -
which often with ‘success’ connive.
.
Illusions lost, we find with pain,
are seldom truly gained again -
what once seemed certain’s then proved vain
when gain proves dross, and loss insane.
.
Dunce bee, once drawn to wicket flame,
no curtain call can still sustain, -
another worker t[r]icked from hive
which will remain no less alive…
13 October 1988 revised 29 April 2005 and 29 December 2010
robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
For previous version see below and After the Carnival robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
llllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
AFTER THE CARNIVAL
The carnival of carefree play
too long has tripped its careless way
as senseless as an ass’s bray
while flesh from flesh Time stripped away.
Once sun strong shone, when one made hay
cicada-like, would spend the day
in hasting-wasting, - led astray
by vain beliefs the day to pay
would never come. But hopes decay,
the ostrich-innings stumped. Today,
momentum lost, depressed dismay
notes there’s no energy to pray.
Illusions fade, blue skies turn grey,
what once seemed certain from life's fray
has dropped defeated, options fray.
Careless of creed, one must obey
dread summons which to night turns day.
That one’s posterity will stay
when life’s departed holds at bay
a sense of impotence and may
part justify the role to play.
The carnival is over. May
to Winter bows, Spring shall not stay, -
the darling buds in blossom, gay,
tomorrow must return to clay.
4 November 1992 revised 21 May 2005
robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
see Après la Fête robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
Après la Fête
The Carnival is over. Drive,
ambitions fail. What sense to strive
when dregs alone remain to drain
before forgetfulness stakes claim.
Who have the strength to goals attain
with principles intact remain
exceptions to life's ground rules lain.
Though some may for a time contrive
to fool themselves, they steeper dive
when time in pawn takes pawn alive,
soon sacrificed to failures’ knives -
which often with ‘success’ connive.
Illusions lost, we find with pain,
are seldom truly gained again -
what once seemed certain’s then proved vain.
Dunce bee, once drawn to wicket flame,
no curtain call can long sustain, -
another worker t[r]icked from hive
which will remain no less alive…
13 October 1988 revised 29 April 2005
robi03_0228_robi03_0000 XXX_DJZ
For previous version see below and After the Carnival robi03_0638_robi03_0000 XXX_DZX
n.b. wicket, wicked wick et (and in French)
Après la Fête
The Carnival is over. Drive,
ambitions fail. What sense to strive
when dregs alone remain to drain
before forgetfulness stakes claim.
Illusions lost, we find with pain,
what once was certain now seems vain.
Another worker leaves the hive,
which is, itself, no less alive.
13 October 1988
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Satisfaction
Sharing s[w]eep[s]takes s[t]ates each sense
As in a magic meeting meant
To imprint a permanent
Inner impression, stamp intense
Satisfaction vast, immense.
Futile and irrelevant.
Appears defense as discontent
Can’t flourish under false pretense,
Turns Life’s joke at its own expense
In catharsis heaven sent, -
Osmosis as emotions pent
Now outpour in wonderment...
10 April 1998 in database but possibly
16 August 1996 revised 26 November 2006
robi03_0873_robi03_0000 AXX_MXX
see below for previous version
Satisfaction
Souls share as sweetness sweeps each sense
At last in magic meeting meant
To permeate a permanent
Imprint in the mind, immense
Satisfaction, deep, intense.
Futile and irrelevant
Are all defenses. Discontent
Can’t flourish under false pretense,
Turns Life’s joke at its expense
In a catharsis heaven sent, -
Osmosis as emotions pent
Now overflow with wonderment...
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love for a Season
The phrase has been said time and time again
It is better to have loved and lost love
Than never to have had love dreamed of
And, I s'pose, that's my solace in the end
Though she broke this loving heart in April
At least I had her in the Summertime
Waiting for the time her eyes would find mine
Memories I've had, linger even still
Though she broke this loving heart in April
At least I had her in Autumn's season
How love grew with no apparent reason
Memories I've had, linger even still
Though she broke this loving heart in April
At least I had her in the Wintertime
With her rosy cheeks and cold hands in mine
Memories I've had, linger even still
Oh, how she did break my heart in April
With tears streaming down our both our faces
Knowing we were going diff'rent places
Pain I felt then, it lingers even still
In the end I s'pose all we have are dreams
Oh, I wish love was easy as it seemed
((June 8th,2008))
poem by Danny Speicher
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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April, Dear April
April, dear April, I beg you come soon –
And bring your sweet primroses too.
Let them join in with the daffodils’ play,
As skies offer sunshine anew.
April, dear April, my blessed spring child,
Ornate in your yellow and white,
Teasing the birds into trilling their songs
And dancing to music of flight.
April, dear April, come enter my dreams
And rid me from cold winter chills.
Banish the rain and those blustery winds
And warm up our countryside hills.
April, dear April, I know you can’t stay -
You have to move on ‘till next year.
And though I shall cherish the glory of summer,
You’ll always be my month most dear.
From: Succumbed to Thinking by Mark Raymond Slaughter, lulu.com
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved
April April April April
April April April April
April April April April
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Frogs in chorus
The chorus frogs in the big lagoon
Would sing their songs to the silvery moon.
Tenor singers were out of place,
For every frog was a double bass.
But never a human chorus yet
Could beat the accurate time they set.
The solo singer began the joke;
He sang, "As long as I live I'll croak,
Croak, I'll croak,"
And the chorus followed him: "Croak, croak, croak!"
The poet frog, in his plaintive tone,
Sang of a sorrow was all his own;
"How shall I win to my heart's desire?
How shall I feel my spirit's fire?"
And the solo frog in his deepest croak,
"To fire your spirit," he sang, "eat coke,
Coke, eat coke,"
And the chorus followed him: "Coke, coke, coke!"
The green frog sat in a swampy spot
And he sang the song of he knew not what.
"The world is rotten, oh cursed plight,
That I am the frog that must set it right.
How shall I scatter the shades that lurk?"
And the old man bullfrog sang, "Get work,
Work, get work,"
And the chorus followed him: "Work, work, work!"
The soaring spirits that fain would fly
On wings of hope to the starry sky
Must face the snarls of the jealous dogs,
For the world is ruled by its chorus frogs.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Standing Out for the Outstanding
An hour, pretty flower, I’m agreed for,
a night, what delight beyond dreams!
a week would be bliss I would bleed for,
a month might be magic, it seems.
But a year, Dear, is more than I’d plead for,
though the hope for osmosis still gleams:
for longer, - as yet I’m not keyed for
although Love bright and bravely now beams.
to capture each rapture and encore,
if encore there be - how Time streams! -
and if I be THE one you would breed for
why not tarry a tide, b[r]ide as teams?
(Initial poem previous title A_Greed 5 June 1992 © Jonathan ROBIN
Parody revised 4 May 2005 as collaborative ring 43 contributions)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Suspendancy
Suspendancy
Pendant pictures often hang askew
as if, personnified, they knew
most artists’ channelled tunnel view
is t[a]inted travesty seen through
perspectives missing rendez-vous
currrent observers’ key into.
Art is becoming ambigu,
bears tenuous relation to
contemporary contexts – true
and false corkscrew as red, green, blue,
suffice no longer, out of cue
compared to wave-length capture new
afforded by enhanced retinal cones
to ultra-violet spectrum sensor zones
22 April 1978 revised 11 March 2009 robi3_0154_robi3_0000
previously entitled Painted Pictures for previous version see below
Suspendancy_19780422_Pendant pictures often hang askew ROBIN Jonathan 1947_20xx robi3_0154_robi3_0000 SXX_MXX
ROBIN Jonathan 1947_20xx robi3_0154_robi3_0000 SXX_MXX Suspendancy_Pendant pictures often hang askew
Painted Pictures
Painted pictures, pendant, all-askew: -
as if their absent owners somehow knew
that every artist’s airy-fairy view
is but a t[a]inted travesty! - Untrue?
22 April 1978
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The April Boughs
It was not then her heart broke—
That moment when she knew
That all her faith held holiest
Was utterly untrue.
It was not then her heart broke—
That night of prayer and tears
When first she dared the thought of life
Through all the empty years.
But when beneath the April boughs
She felt the blossoms stir,
The careless mirth of yesterday
Came near and smiled at her.
Old singing lingered in the wind,
Old joy came close again,
Oh, underneath the April boughs,
I think her heart broke then.
poem by Theodosia Garrison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chance Encounters
Life’s chance encounters may precipitate
Enchantment, steering shared, transparent course.
Triumph surfs strong currents. Longings' force
Sham obstacles can overcome, create
Eternity, where Time’s lease knows no date.
New dawn spawns hope, dissolving past remorse,
Despising compromise, pretentions coarse.
Fast, echoes of regret disintegrate,
Expelling fears, from tears emancipate.
As inspiration’s catalytic source
Revitalizes joyful intercourse,
Needs met beget seeds thriving, liberate
Open house where friendship, love, blend, bloom,
Where darkness fails, where light tips scales of doom.
28 April 1997 revised 6 October 2009
robi03_0842_robi03_0000 ASX_CEK
for previous versions entitled Constant Current see below
Constant Current
Life’s chance encounters can precipitate
Effects awaited, altering life’s course.
To thrive along through current strong, whose force
Sham obstacles must overcome, create
Eternity, where Time’s lease knows no date.
New challenges must then be met, of course,
Despising compromise, pretentions coarse.
Fast, echoes of regret disintegrate,
Each vain fear fades. Fresh force can liberate
A current constituting constant source
Reviving joys through sharing intercourse,
New empathy, which may anticipate
Open house where friendship, love, blend, bloom,
Where darkness fails, where light tips scales of doom.
28 April 1997 revised? 2005
for previous version entitled End Fear see below
End Fear
Life’s chance encounters can precipitate
A watershed and somehow change its course.
Driving with a current strong, whose force
All obstacles can overcome, create
Eternity, where Time’s lease knows no date.
New challenges must then be met, of course,
Despising compromise, pretentions coarse.
Fast, echoes of regret disintegrate,
Each vain fear fades. Fresh scope can liberate
A hope whose inner strengh is constant source
Reviving joys through sharing intercourse
And empathy, which can anticipate
Love to bloom, or friendship blossom, where
A DAy leaves night behind, - light everywhere.!
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Muse
Will you ever chance to meet
someone who’s as soft and sweet
as the fair form who I greet
on and off - my mistress meet!
14 January 1975 revised 3 May 2005 robi3_0035
for previous version see below
Muse
Will you ever chance to meet
someone who’s as soft and sweet
as the fair form who I greet
every day, my wife so neat!
14 January 1975
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Union Forever
It cant be love
for there is no true love
It cant be love
for there is no true love
Shure Im C.F.K.
but you gotta love me
the cost no man can say
but you gotta love me
Well Im sorry but Im not
interested in gold mines,
oil wells, shipping or real estate
what would I liked to have been?
everything you hate
There is a man
a certain man
and for the poor you may be shure
that hell do all he can
who is this one?
[whos favorite son?]
just by his action has the traction
magnets on the run
who likes to smoke?
enjoys a joke?
and wouldnt get a bit
upset if he were really broke?
with wealth and fame
hes still the same
Ill bet you five youre not alive
If you dont now his name
You said the union forever
You said the union forever
You cried the union forever
but that was untrue girl
cause it cant be love
song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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