Choice
Drone nights where poetry suckles sanity
A refuge for neuro transmitters
Pathways away from Borg circles
Some of us are small against our malice
The dainty yellow flowers
Dreams beyond the black and white
No guilt between your Paris thighs
Self confidence with its endless maze
Who am I except another pirate
Ships that rob your anti depressants
We are skeletons of resistance
Your love must choose who is true
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Skeletons
Between yellow cranes groaning and bended
I saw people small as ants,
I saw people gather at skeletons of steel and concrete,
lost between ovens that cook glowing,
between hell-hot fires of iron and metal
I saw people struggle in the dusk
and this morning I came
past huge, long pipes that hiss like snakes
between yellow cranes groaning and bended.
Where white smoke are stoked through round chimneys
people were trapped and caged
between hell-hot fires of iron and metal
busy with their work as if dumb,
as if only machines with their humanity missing
I saw people gather at skeletons of steel and concrete,
through walls, doors and roofs that block off
lost in the circles that the city draws,
people were trapped and caged
with crying, screaming, gnashing machines everywhere
without any natural refreshment or relief
between yellow cranes groaning and bended
with tiredness, disconcert, alienation on every feature
they kept building
lost in the circles that the city draws.
Like beings coming from another planet,
ghosts just waiting for a coffin,
I saw people gather at skeletons of steel and concrete,
while some were clinging to black pipes
and children were laughing without concern
they kept building
on terrains with danger signs on the outside
without worrying, with there destiny determined.
Between yellow cranes groaning and bended
I saw people gather at skeletons of steel and concrete,
with their lives tinned, day and night
lost between ovens that cook glowing
and children were laughing without concern,
I saw people struggle in the dusk.
[Reference: Past skeletons of steel and concrete by Gert Strydom.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Pirate Hooks
My craving lands like a pirate horde
grappling onto my fleeing ship
swinging on ropes
til they board
in critical numbers
large enough
to overwhelm
my resistance.
They all have the same face
and while my sword is sharp and swift
I'm soon overcome by desire mixed
as pirate laughter rings
throughout my ship
reminding me of what
I like about pirates
and their lust.
For pirates
live on the edge,
laugh low in the guttural throat
they shiver my timbers;
my attraction bursts.
They make me love the pirate life;
unsafe
and a little rough;
but trading off there
smothering boredom
and life freed
from correct complacencies.
Humm.
Who has not inside
a secret pirate heart?
Who would not like to swoop down
and grapple life from stilled ships
and drifting hulks, startle complacent faces
and make off with Life's Treasures?
Who would not choose
life over death?
My Hearty?
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Portulacca
As soon as I open my eyes,
I quietly rush to the balcony,
And watch with bated breath
As the Sun rises.
Dainty Portulacca come to life,
As if to say Hi.
In their vibrant hues and colours:
Yellow pink, red and orange flowers,
In small pots lined in a row,
Full of light and glow.
Enchanted, I watch them for a while
And feel happy and smile.
As I gently spray them with showers,
I am filled with a sense of wonder.
How these delicate flowers can be so sturdy,
And keep blooming despite hot dry winds,
Which makes us humans wilt,
I thought with a little guilt.
It’s really thoughtful of God,
To send these flowers when it’s so hot.
As the heat becomes too much to bear
These pretty flowers fill me with cheer.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why Have You Not Written Anything About the Jews?
Why have you not written anything about the Jews?
'Nothing about them motivates me to do so.'
They may regard that as anti-semitic.
'Have I expressed any hostilities? '
No!
'Any sense of discrimination? '
No!
'Have I expressed anything against them...
As a religious, ethnic or racial group? '
No!
Not at all.
Well...
They may regard that as anti-semitic.
Your nonchalance about their existence.
'Oh, please!
As a black man,
There is enough in my history for me to cry 'wolf'.
And use that as a means to scream 'discrimination'.
And they are good depicting themselves as victims,
Without the assistance of my input!
With the use of the media,
They have marketed their sufferings very well.
And everyone knows the black 'man' is the most hated,
On this planet.
And you don't think those comments,
Would be regarded as anti-semitic?
'I 'think' you are insisting an anti-semiticness.
For reasons to satisfy a campaign you'd like to address.
When everywhere there is a genocide affecting the lives,
Of black folks who have been denied their rights.
Those who have chosen to keep their eyes open,
Can see that.
With resources stolen from their lands...
To benefit the lives of those who choose
To call themselves white.
Or those who choose to comfortably pass.
So,
I am in no mood to be anti-semitic.
Nor to be baited to debate in ignorance with you.'
Humanity is being destroyed by those insecure.
And you have no comments about that?
'Is this how you go about initiating conflict? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fables
Clocks that melt but start the end
Stars never smile for the forbidden
Muse without floors
Magic lovers now without clocks
Every castle has eyes
Your sea takes me into nativity
Orange arms raised for art
The soul like a dying rainbow
Yellow change on a red fresco
Petulant as a Howard Hughes germ
Nothing contains the Rock
Are you ready for total cleansing
Curled up like a fascist
Softened edges like feather nights
We rest in light blue sanitariums
Palaver over rigid anachronisms
Tuned in on deeper dreams
Green mist envelopes the nephilim
Don't ever go
These neuron patterns are stuck
Forlorn circles must have exits
Peace in your eyes punish
Your eyes are lighthouses for leather
Your love is sanity like a thorn
Norway pines burn like the anti-christ
Ezra Pound believes in fables
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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You Are Translating True Love In The Language That You Like
it is amazing
here you are translating the meaning of true in your own language.
i am amazed.
you love poetry after all? you still love
true love
i hear the cracks of your broken heart
i pretend it is nothing to me
i see how you bleed
your white shirt bloody
and your hands
cupping some drops of blood
from your bosom
i pretend i have not seen such a pitiful sight
i have my own broken hearts too
but you will never know that
you have contempt on my lost loves
because you never understand that true love can also be
more than what you expect
it can be more than one
it can be many
the way i love are like ten fingers
the caress of ten fingers
they move like a tribe of love
on the thighs of my beloved
on her breasts
how can i be so cruel living with just
a finger to love just one?
now i make a poem about true love
the one that uses so much of myself
to love not just one
but all
yes, do not be surprised
to love all of humanity and humanity
has not just one set of breasts and thighs
oh, there are hundreds of them
and from their milk a thousand children shall live
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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God's Sense Of Humor
And God created man!
Yellow, black and white men
They all love each other?
Yellow men in Asia
Black men in Africa
White men in Europe
All color of men in America
They all love each other?
And God created woman!
Yellow, black and white women
They all love each other?
Yellow women in Asia
Black women in Africa
White women in Europe
All color of women in America
They all love each other?
And God created man and woman!
Yellow, black and white men and women
All living together in a love, hate relationship
All living together in America
With rainbow colored children
Black and white children
Yellow and black children
Who just love to be a free American?
For Drew and Allan
poem by Doris Dzameshie
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I would not be here now if I did not have anti-depressants.
quote by Temple Grandin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aliens Have Come
Where is the place that I can disappear?
Who will take this nagging angst?
I am a mask, a sexual identity
I am a position in a lost world
She decorates her face like a mannequin
Gives herself away not of lust but doubt
Disconnected, schizoid, souls without life
Hollow empty winds blow over the land
Pleasure only lasts a short while
Run for the shadows of anti depressants
Kiss the dark night of starless mirrors
Orgasms without love, without heart
Chains rattle in Kafka's castle
Strangers in beds of Roman feasts
Vows amidst luxuriant shared despair
Dreams filled with gray Viagra drones
Sex for sale by the money changers
Sex without love for the spiritually dead
Sex as a compensation for a lack of life
Sex as an anti depressant for joyless cogs
Bland poetry from the face lift
Soma from cable TV
Everywhere the herd grows
Invasion of the body snatchers
The Aliens have come
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Endless
You better wrap yourself around me
Its a miracle that youve found me
I cant fool myself any longer
Were both willing, young and able
Lets put our cards on the table
This feelins gettin stronger
I see the sunlit tears in your eyes again
Now I realize
Maybe its the right time
Oh, maybe youre the right one
Ooh, and now I understand
You couldve slipped through my hands
Well, I just cant wait anymore
Theres a chance we can make it
We just gotta take it
Endless are the nights
I stay with you
Endless are the dreams
You made come true
Forever in my arms
Youre the reason tonight our love is endless
We better get ourselves together
Before we hit bad weather
And we cant go any further
Wont you give me some affection
Point me in the right direction
This storm is blowin harder
Here comes that voice deep inside again
And it says to me
That maybe its the right thing
Oh, maybe youre the right one
Ooh, and now I understand
You couldve slipped through my hands
Well, I just cant wait anymore
Theres a chance we can make it
We just gotta take it
Endless are the nights
I stay with you
Endless are the dreams
You made come true
Forever in my arms
Youre the reason tonight our love is endless
song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pirate's Bride
Sometimes in the light at the edge of the world
Is the ghost of a ship with it's black sail furled
And night after night she would stand on the shore
And dream of the love that she knew before
The tide rolls out, the tide rolls in
Without a thought for the ways of men
We set sail for the Spanish Main
To rob the ships of the Queen of Spain
And she would be his pirate's bride
She gave him the pistol and the sword at his side
The tide rolls out, the tide rolls in
Without a care for the ways of men
I'd give three ships of Spanish gold
To see my love again
Full fathom five my true love lies
In a fine wooden casket with gold on his eyes
Where is the glory and where is the pride?
Where is the joy for the pirate's bride?
The tide rolls out, the tide rolls in
Without a care for the ways of men
Here in the light at the edge of the world
He'd wait for a ship with it's black sail furled
And day after day he would stand on the shore
And dream of the life that they knew before
The tide rolls out, the tide rolls in
Without a care for the ways of men
I'd give three ships of Spanish gold
To see my love again
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry by Meena Mustafa
My brain is a recorder
It stores all black and white
Each time I write a poem
It throws a different light
It makes the reader happy
At times it makes him sad
The love of poetry
And the poems that I have
Words pour like fountain
Imagination takes its place
On a journey to knowledge
Poetry we must embrace
Poetry is my refuge
And keeps me on the path
Expressions take new meaning
And words pour out at last.
Poetry is a song that sings to the soul
The rhythm of the words that a pen can hold.
poem by Meena Mustafa
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Paris, Please Accept Me, As A Human Refugee
paris................
o paris................
Y paris................
the patience, eating the happiness
the pain, eating the patience
and the pain, eating the pain
I AM SICK, paris
treat me, sister
paris................
o paris................
Y paris................
exile, on my papers
restrained, ..
in my lines
so free me, paris
treat me, paris
I BELONG TO YOU, ..
sister
my home, the colours of MONET
my room, is a water flower
my air..
is the scent of FRANCE
and my refuge..
is a place by RENOIR shrine
so take me paris..
as your..
renoirian..
REFUGEE.
poem by Ahmed Khaled
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The Most Depressing Thing Of All
The most depressing thing of all
I've learned from many lessons
Is when you don't feel better from
A few anti-depressants
poem by Sasha Ioffine
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The Only Gift That I Need
You'll be leaving for the winter, but I won't see that it's true
It's the right thing for you, but it's tough to be moved
With the holiday spirt, when to tell you the truth
I had big plans for Christmas, and high hopes for you.
Chorus:
I want you here by my side!
Cold nights
and fires
and white wine
And dreams of holidays have come, but I'll wait for spring to bring you to me
Only gift that I need.
I'll be living off your phone calls and your letters and your post cards
Every single word is like a secret wish come true
Who cares if were apart for the big days
since the small ones made me fall in love with you (fall in love with you).
Chorus:
I want you here by my side!
Cold nights
and fires
and white wine
And dreams of holidays have come, but I'll wait for spring to bring you to me
Only gift that I need.
Only gift that I need.
Only gift that I need.
Only gift that I need.
song performed by by Dashboard Confessional
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mutatis Mutandis
Soiled, Soiled, Soiled
Soiled, Soiled, Soiled
Soiled, Soiled...
...Of ordinary...Chemistry
There is a suggestion there, that uh, manipulation of no
Humal, compounds, brain-neuro transmitters
And that sort of thing
May in fact, open the door, to uh, untapped areas of
Human contortion
Lead us to our team...
song performed by by Mudvayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On being Brought from Africa to America
the sea and the sky help express
a cherished freedom
the courageous eagles
span their wings to measure
smitting us with their breathless flights
the sea and sky reflect to us the
freedom that holds the dreams of
us all, black or white, yellow or brown
of love, things wordly or spiritual
the whiteness of clouds
is hailed by the bright yellow
glare of sun that distils and brings
forth rain to replenish our land
the black of nights
is hailed by glitters of
stars that inspire dreams
for all of us to strive for a better world
a freedom spreads clear as night and day
distinct as black or white
the sky holds it up and
the sea roars in approval
all the way from africa to america
inspired by
Phillis Wheatley 's
On being Brought from Africa to America
'Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land,
Taught my benighted soul to understand
That there's a God, that there's a Saviour too:
Once I redemption neither sought nor knew.
Some view our sable race with scornful eye,
'Their colour is a diabolic die.'
Remember, Christians, Negro's, black as Cain,
May be refin'd, and join th' angelic train.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Song
"Gesang ist Dasein"
A small thing done well, the steel bit paring
the cut end of the collar, lifting delicate
blue spirals of iron slowly out of lamplight
into darkness until they broke and fell
into a pool of oil and water below.
A small thing done well, my father said
so often that I tired of hearing it and lost
myself in the shop's north end, an underworld
of welders who wore black masks and stared
through smoked glass where all was midnight
except the purest spark, the blue-white arc
of the clamp and rod. Hammers made dull tunes
hacking slag, and acetylene flames cast shadows
of men against the tin roof like great birds
trapped in diminishing circles of light.
Each day was like another. I stood beside him
and watched the lathe spin on, coils of iron
climbing into dusk, the file's drone, the rasp,
and finally the honing cloth with its small song
of things done well that I would carry into sleep
and dreams of men with wings of fire and steel.
poem by B.H. Fairchild
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African Bee
The African Bee.
Yellow flowers in a ring protected by olive trees
no one knows their name I have to ask a botanist
for their Latin name. The dale side here has many
stone walls, tiny if seen from the moon overgrown
now those small plots of land yielding nothing but
poverty and deep seated resentment. The flowers
are not lilies, I can see that, it will soon be Easter
and the little church will be full of women, while
most men will hang about outside, near the bar,
white and yellow butterfly flies unsteadily around
in the wind and, and bumblebees drink from deep
red poppies. A swarm of killer bees fly by, I do not
speak or move till they are gone. My brother in law
Nené who live in Kinshasa, Congo, tells me that
the bees there live, exclusively, on orchid dew and
they are big as sparrows and can sting an elephant
till it dreams of yesterday, maybe it isn’t true but
I would not like to b stung by them. Now that the ice
on the poles melts will we see a fauna of rare flowers?
if so there must be bees there too and the friendly
bumblebee,
poem by Oskar Hansen
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True Love
There’s something more to love
Than saying, ‘I love you! ’
There’s something more to love
Than asking, ‘How do you do? ’
There’s something more to love
Than catching hands to walk;
There’s something more to love
Than everything you talk.
There’s something more to love
Than writing letters long;
There’s something more to love
Than composing a song.
There’s something more to love
Than embracing, kissing;
There’s something more to love
Than enquiring, hugging.
There’s something more to love
Than cooking dainty foods;
There’s something more to love
Than romance or sex-moods.
There’s something more to love
Than doing house-hold chores;
There’s something more to love
Than opening heart’s doors.
There’s something more to love
Than inking poetry;
There’s something more to love
Than sinking hate truly.
There’s something more to love
Than touring the whole world;
There’s something more to love
Than forget bad words hurled.
There’s something more to love
Than entwining in bed;
There’s something more to love
Than things all done or said.
True love is undefined;
True love is invisible;
True love is most refined;
True love’s indelible!
True love is celestial;
True love is more concealed;
True love’s perennial;
True love stays least revealed!
True love’s ill-understood;
True love is tested much;
True love’s misunderstood;
True love has divine touch!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-11-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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