Death on life hovers as such...
Death on life hovers as such
Bee for nectar to quench its thirst
This bowl so empty left at dusk
Once filled till brim with life and lust
poem by Lama Abbas
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Lust For Life (feat. The Pretenders)
Words and music by David Bowie and James Osterberg
(Lust for life x 3)
Here comes Johnny in again
With liquor and drugs
And a flash machine
Hes gonna do another strip tease
Ah, hey man, whered ya get that lotion?
Ive been hurting since I bought the gimmick
About something called love
Yeah, something called love
Well, thats like hypnotising chickens
Im just a modern guy
Huh, of course, Ive had it in the ear before
I have a lust for life
Cause Ive a lust for life
Lust for life (ooh)
Lust for life
Lust for life
Im worth a million in prizes
With my torture film
Drive a GTO
I wear a uniform
On a government loan
Im worth a million in prizes
Yeah, Im through with sleeping on the sidewalk
No more beating my brains
No more beating my brains
With liquor and drugs
With liquor and drugs
Ooh, Im just a modern guy
Huh, of course, Ive had it in the ear before
And Ive a lust for life (lust for life)
Cause Ive a lust for life (lust for life)
A lust for life (ooh)
A lust for life
Lust for life (ooh)
I got a lust for life
Lust for life (ooh)
Ah a lust for life
Lust for life (ooh)
Lust for life
Lust for life
Im just a modern guy
Huh, of course, Ive had it in the ear before
And Ive a lust for life (lust for life)
Cause Ive a lust for life (lust for life)
A lust for life (ooh)
Lust for life
Lust for life (ooh)
Lust for life
Lust for life (ooh)
I got a lust for life
Lust for life (ooh)
I got a lust for life
A lust for life
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lust less is listless
Lust is born with the embryo
With-in the mother’s womb,
To grow with it as basic instincts.
Conscience is born with the birth of psycho
With-out the mother’s womb,
To grow as many-fold ethics.
Lust strives to quench the thirst
For food, water and, most the sex,
Never ending till the last.
Conscience strides to uphold Ego,
With search for love, name and safety,
Often putting down the Lust.
When fed, Lust brings cheer.
When fed, Ethic quells fear.
Who dares, gets cheer.
Too much under the sway of Ethic
One ends up one’s life sans cheer;
Suppressed is the Lust.
Lust, when maimed or chopped,
Its root is never cut, nor dead.
Rather it deranges or spearheads.
Which is why Lust sneaks out its head,
When thwarted, to get fed
And breeds cheers behind the door.
Erotic pleasure has no equals.
Forgo it not, by being ethical.
22.05.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Life Or Death?
Every day we live, we always face death
We get closer to it, every time we take a breath
Life is special but death brings peace
Life brings reality and things you believe
Death is hard for everyone around
Death is quiet, no more bad sounds
Life is also hard, all the things we go through
Life can never be easy, no matter what you do
Death is sad, for those who cry
Death is meaningful, for those who die
Life is a work of art, it's nice to look
Life is full of teachings, like an open book
Death is the new life, might as well be dead
Death is a lot more, for what's up ahead
Life brings new things, always something new
Life brings surprises, something out the blue
Death is scary, nothing we want to see
Death is negative, a place we don't want to be
Life is full of love, with the ones close to you
Life is full of money, for those who sue
Death is empty, nothing compared to this
Death is a lot of things, too long of a list
But life is everything; don't wait till there's nothing left
Death can wait, so don't waste your last breath
So just pick your choice, which one? Life or death?
poem by Triauna Hall
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You and I together
I see a glass
Half empty
And I see your hands
Filling an emptiness
That I have
Invented.
I am empty now
And then
You fill me
Up to the brim
I am overflowing
And here you
Are
In the full blast
Of your lust
That you
Invented
Licking me
From the
Bottom
Beyond the brim.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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446
You and I
I see a glass
Half empty
And I see your hands
Filling an emptiness
That I have
Invented.
I am empty now
And then
You fill me
Up to the brim
I am overflowing
And here you
Are
In the full blast
Of your lust
That you
Invented
Licking me
From the
Bottom
Beyond the brim.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Remorseful Plea
If I should drink from the nectar of the Gods
and return to my youth once more,
Would the Gods be with me
or would it be as before?
For all that I did was not enough.
My life was left undone.
Would the sweetness of the nectar
be accompanied by the sun?
Or would my life be a revolving door
making me atone
for all I left unfinished
and all I did bemoan?
As the bitterness that quenched my thirst
was not a pleasant drink,
still I drank and drank of it
and never stopped to think
of time I wasted on trivialities
which hindered my eyes
from seeing the most important of all
before a teardropp dries.
To become at home with all there is
to make me feel complete
and never wrestle with 'What should I do? '
with the sorrowful ones I meet.
Oh that the Gods would hear my plea
and understand how I feel,
they would offer that cup of nectar to drink
so that my soul could heal.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Better Ressurection
I have no wit, no words, no tears;
My heart within me like a stone
Is numbed too much for hopes or fears.
Look right, look left, I dwell alone;
I lift mine eyes, but dimmed with grief
No everlasting hills I see;
My life is in the falling leaf:
O Jesus, quicken me.
My life is like a faded leaf,
My harvest dwindled to a husk:
Truly my life is void and brief
And tedious in the barren dusk;
My life is like a frozen thing,
No bud nor greenness can I see:
Yet rise it shall--the sap of spring;
O Jesus, rise in me.
My life is like a broken bowl,
A broken bowl that cannot hold
One drop of water for my soul
Or cordial in the searching cold;
Cast in the fire the perished thing;
Melt and remould it, till it be
A royal cup for Him, my King:
O Jesus, drink of me.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Life is nectar
Beginning is poison
End is nectar
No no
Beginning is nectar
Middle is nectar
End is also nectar
Whole things
Whole activities
Is only nectar
Enjoy the life
Life is not bitter
Life is nectar.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Whatso might happen happens still
Try churning oceans of wisdom,
You may well get nectar of life,
But churning life's venomous strife,
The crown of thorn comes with kingdom.
Ask not the hen on a dunghill
O when the sun would rise,
The sun shall rise to scorching noon,
To fall and fall till midnight's moon,
Till death rises, till dark night dies,
And new dawn as ever does dawn,
Though unsteady, like a newly born fawn,
Whatso might happen happens still.
Notice, dawn dawns not till dusk dies,
The sun must set if it should rise.
_________________________________________
Not a traditional sonnet this, but a sonnet still.
_____________________________________________ _____
- Sonnets | 08.04.11 |
poem by Aniruddha Pathak
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Lust is my Disease
(Verse I)
I can taste your lips
At my finger tips
Though you’re still so far away
I can feel you every day
Tragic endings now
It’s hard to live without
Your breath upon my skin
And the way we used to sin
(Bridge I)
And so I whisper
It’s true that love has left me
But it’s lust that leaves me empty
And sometimes I scream
It’s true that love has left me
But it’s lust that leaves me empty!
(Chorus) The breathing, the moaning, the screaming
Was always the best part
The lusting, the loathing, the beatings
Broke everything but my heart
(Verse II)
Drink another down
Drink enough to drown
But still I feel you breathe
Desiring your reprieve
Passion at its end
Dead, forgotten
Now it all means nothing
And always, it means nothing
(Bridge II)
And so I whisper
It’s true that love has left me
But it’s lust that leaves me empty
And sometimes I scream
It’s true that love has left me
But it’s lust that leaves me empty!
(Chorus)
(Breakdown)
Oh, a life without a heart
Isn’t easy to conceive
But your body is an art
And lust is my disease
(Chorus x2)
Oh, I’m empty now.
poem by Jesse Bauer
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Lust in steps felt.
Lust is felt when a woman is in thought.
It gives you kicks. You feel such kicks till death.
Lust is spelt in touch, kiss and embrace.
It charges you; you feel such touch even as old.
Lust is spit in insertion and emission.
You can have it till you lose potency.
Lust by any form is set till you last.
Lust survives dryness of sperm, semen,
Potency, and infertility, to give lease to your life.
18.04.2001, pmdi[the above 3 as 1 poem
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Dracula Flower
The flower was stretching
It's hand to find a honey-bee
To be embraced and kissed!
The flower remained
In meditation to invoke God
To sent her groom
As she bore the nectar
To be sucked and emptied
By the trunk of a honey-bee
The long hairy hands
Of the flower frightened
The butterflies move wantonly
The caterpillars jumping
In quest to quench the thirst!
As the flower in penance
Heard the humming
Of a honey-bee unseen
She opened her eyes
In search to up and sides
And she was enthused
To see the blue-black
Groom of her from heaven
With wings shivering
As if in a whirl wind
Moving to her lips
To kiss and empty her!
The flower leaped her hand
To embrace the honey-bee
Whose nail ladden legs
Did wand her hands
Yet she never let loose
Her embrace to get-him close
To her breast stored with honey.
The honey-bee sucking nectar
From the lips of the flower
Never see him trapped
In the tangle of figments.
He struggled and jerked
But the flower sucked
The honey-bee's life
In return to her nectar he sucked
poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
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Nectar
The nectar flowed for seven days
Seven sweet days
As if a cloak of wild and deep emotion
Urgent, thrilling, enveloped and intoxicated me
And in the centre a huge, pumping, ball of fire
My heart
Love has changed my life
Love has changed my life
Nights i lay awake, pinned and thrilled, to my bed
In sanctuary i sat wrapped
Super-alive, listening
At work i thrived
Tired but not tired.
Alert, compassionate, driven
And love, the driver
Love has changed my life
Love has changed my life
Yes, love was the lord of all-ness
And love aflame the nectar
And love unconditional the trigger, the initiator
The nectar flowed for seven days
Then river-like sped underground again
Leaving me the same, but not the same
Empty, but not empty
Unchanged, but changed
Love has changed my life
Love has changed my life
Love has changed my life!
Love has changed my life!
Yes...
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nectar
The nectar flowed for seven days
Seven sweet days
As if a cloak of wild and deep emotion
Urgent, thrilling, enveloped and intoxicated me
And in the centre a huge, pumping, ball of fire
My heart
Love has changed my life
Love has changed my life
Nights i lay awake, pinned and thrilled, to my bed
In sanctuary i sat wrapped
Super-alive, listening
At work i thrived
Tired but not tired.
Alert, compassionate, driven
And love, the driver
Love has changed my life
Love has changed my life
Yes, love was the lord of all-ness
And love aflame the nectar
And love unconditional the trigger, the initiator
The nectar flowed for seven days
Then river-like sped underground again
Leaving me the same, but not the same
Empty, but not empty
Unchanged, but changed
Love has changed my life
Love has changed my life
Love has changed my life!
Love has changed my life!
Yes...
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life's Hebe
IN the early morning-shine
Of a certain day divine,
I beheld a Maiden stand
With a pitcher in her hand;
Whence she poured into a cup
Until it was half filled up
Nectar that was golden light
In the cup of crystal bright.
And the first who took the cup
With pure water filled it up;
As he drank then, it was more
Ruddy golden than before:
And he leapt and danced and sang
As to Bacchic cymbals’ clang.
But the next who took the cup
With the red wine filled it up;
What he drank then was in hue
Of a heavy sombre blue:
First he reeled and then he crept,
Then lay faint but never slept.
And the next who took the cup
With the white milk filled it up;
What he drank at first seemed blood,
Then turned thick and brown as mud:
And he moved away as slow
As a weary ox may go.
But the next who took the cup
With sweet honey filled it up;
Nathless that which he did drink
Was thin fluid black as ink:
As he went he stumbled, soon,
And lay still in deathlike swoon.
She the while without a word
Unto all the cup preferred;
Blandly smiled and sweetly laughed
As each mingled his own draught.
And the next who took the cup
To the sunshine held it up,
Gave it back and did not taste;
It was empty when replaced:
First he bowed a reverent bow,
Then he kissed her on the brow.
But the next who took the cup
Without mixture drank it up;
When she took it back from him
It was full unto the brim:
He with a right bold embrace
Kissed her sweet lips face to face.
Then she sang with blithest cheer:
Who has thirst, come here, come here!
Nectar that is golden light
In the cup of crystal bright,
Nectar that is sunny fire
Warm as warmest heart’s desire:
Pitcher never lacketh more,
Arm is never tired to pour:
Honey, water, milk, or wine
Mingle with the draught divine,
Drink it pure, or drink it not;
Each is free to choose his lot:
Am I old? or am I cold?
Only two have kissed me bold!
She was young and fair and gay
As that young and glorious day.
poem by James Thomson
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Sestina #2
why
I don't care for the money
I don't care for nothing
because every feeling you had was no more that words
but they have been my food
and never filled me, you had nothing to quench my thirst
thirst
I'm tires of the repetion tell me why.
my body is dying I need food
I'm sorry I made a mistake, but I want no money
just countless words
that speakes to nothing
Nothing
my three days are up, I beg thee quench my thirst
I'm so pleased to say those words
my rhetorical question is: why?
I rather to live in the 30's than to have money
I rather live without food
fourth time I said food
Dear, it's nothing.
You shown me that before, I HATE IT, the money.
emotions are dry. and I thirst
...you moke me, why?
they are more than words
they are Words
an entity that my mind's eye use as food
something is new, again why?
i'm teary eyed. It's nothing
situation change, but I'll never dout my thirst.
You are wrong, my mind does not want money
money
it makes lame all your words
your eye is dim, you thirst.
the lines I writes can be your food
but you want nothing
I don't care. don't ask, why
I'm tired of the symobles for money, because they have no belly for food
esoteric words, impressing nothing.
And i still still thrist...why?
poem by Victoria Lee
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The Insecurities Of Aging...
the more you age
the more you keep things to yourself
old and new socks are mixed up in one wooden cabinet
somehow you are not using any
it is just the keeping for keeping sake
you are not thinking of any heir of any shoe
you begin to emphasize the importance of empty containers
how each must be filled
an empty cup must have coffee to its brim
an empty room must have someone to talk to
and empty road shall have at least one car making a dusty path
the empty stairs are too fearful to look at
how you hate an empty chair
it can make you sick if no one sits in there in another hour
the hours can be empty too
how can you stop the arms of the clock from taking away the sound
of ticking?
you are sensing a terminal
the train must be full so that you can never experience the
palpitations of being alone
you can hear it like the sounds of korean drums
the cascading waterfalls
the horns of taxis in city traffic
do not dare to stop the inevitable
i assure you... you can't. So? get yourself attuned
have an empty cup and learn to drink from it
you must feign the satisfaction of thirst, because
it can't be long.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Revelations
The clock on the wall
ticks away my passing life.
Occasionally I think back
at all the things I have done.
Some were good, some were bad,
and some made people happy
filling them with laughter.
Some made people sad
and filled their moments with tears,
some made people angry
making them swear a lot.
Some things I’ve said
filled minds with love
showing someone cared.
Of course, everyone is like this
as we pass down
life’s long and winding road.
Some things we say we cannot take back
and were never meant to be said.
Some were born out of anger
and others born out of frustration,
but none were born out of jealousy
that can so often ruin lives.
Then I look towards the future
and see a half empty bowl
with bits and pieces still dwelling there within,
and realise I have to fill that bowl
with good things in my life.
2 July 2008
poem by David Harris
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She Matters Most, Your Wife
He was a Bee in a Rose-garden,
Seeking nectar from its flowers;
Unable to quench his thirst, one day,
He had soon forgotten that
She was a Rose in the same garden!
His wife- a flower so rare,
Beautiful beyond compare,
Ready to blossom some day,
To perfume his life some way.
To forgive is divine, err mundane;
To learn from other’s blunders- humane;
So, forget the past and start afresh,
For you aren’t too old today!
When the devil can get credit,
Why not your wife her bit?
’Tis better late than never
To make up with her some way!
For, se is a Rose in your own garden,
A flower so very, very rare,
Beautiful beyond compare,
Waiting to serve all through life,
She matters most, your Wife!
My first poem ever written that was readied
In May,1998, coinciding with India’s Pokhran II
Blasts and has remained unaltered till date
poem by John Celes
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Villanelle on Depression
Depression is a fact of life for me.
As much a part of life as food and air,
It hovers like a dreaded entity.
It scatters joys like useless stale debris,
And sews the ashes of my dreams in gloom.
Depression is a fact of life for me.
It poises like a shadowing banshee
With somber wings just waiting to enshroud.
It hovers like a dreaded entity,
And I can almost always guarantee
Secreted in my spectral holidays
Depression is a fact of life for me.
My life becomes a frequent abductee
Purloined by mirthless bird of prey
It hovers like a dreaded entity..
A vulture pouncing when my back is turned,
But hidden, and not easily discerned.
Depression is a fact of life for me
It hovers like a dreaded entity.
poem by B.V. Dahlen
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