An October Evening at the Imperial Tavern
The sky's a fiery Turner smear. The sun
Has set. Two jets have made an X above
Where it has gone. The men in camo
Crowd the bar to parrot phrases they've
Been fed by parrots paid by plutocrats.
The barmaids wriggle close with beers
And flash their cleavage for their tips.
They dream of severing the hands which
Pay and save, and grope. Everywhere,
A sense that what we'd had is gone is
Growing stronger. Everywhere, the end
Is near, the titties fake, the saviors sordid.
Plutocrats, in pleasanter surroundings,
Still will celebrate, but we can see the
Sun has set. The X will mark where
We have fallen. All the fancy phrases
We had used to frame a reign which
Didn't last so long as we had thought
Are ringing hollow. Hear them now.
We're Egypt, England, ancient Rome,
Somewhere the kids will read about
In textbooks, just a smear.
poem by Lawrence Beck
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Related quotes
Dream
Look at you now you really haven't change
Still as beautiful as first day we met
But something's different doesn't seem so long ago
Amazing how the years can go
When we wanted different things
You wanted a family I was chasing my dream
I didn't know what I had back then
How could I go off through the growing pains of being a man?
I really didn't understand
I took you for granted
Now it's out of my hands
Now I wish I had it too do all over again
(Chorus)
Cause all I do is dream about the times we had together
We used to think that day would last forever
But who've thought it be my fault we didn't make it
And when I'm missing you so much that I can't take it
I just close my eyes
song performed by by Glenn Lewis from World Outside My Window
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Unheard Voice
Their faces flash through my eyes
The touch of their hands I sense
How could they not apprise
my lack of consent; my body was tense
They didn't hear my unheard voice.
I remember his moan
As his filth entered my mouth onto my tongue
From his bone
The taste stung.
He didn't hear my unheard voice.
My hands push the other man, my friend, away
He does not listen, he tries once more, and more…
How could he lead me astray?
I thought to him I wasn't a whore
But I've been deceived once again
By a man that I trust
Because his thoughts were in vein
His mind focused on lust
He didn't hear my unheard voice
They thought I would forget
That's it's not rape if I'm intoxicated
But that's just like playing Russian Roulette
Hoping the bullet would hit me, but I not get affected
I did not forget
And we all know it is rape
And I am more than upset
Because I cannot escape
this nightmare
All because they didn't hear my unheard voice.
poem by Ginger Kastrup
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The problem with smear campaigns is that too often they work.
quote by Mark Shields
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Celebrate
Act of love
Is a luxury
The suit he wears
Belongs to me
The road is long
Seven thousand miles
Soldier talk
And uniform
We can live
I can live
Celebrate
Celebrate
We can live
I can live
Celebrate
Celebrate
She rag doll
Keeps him warm
This negative
Shows no form
He salutes the crowd
Go west young man
Run run run
The hollow man
We can live
I can live
Celebrate
Celebrate
We can live
I can live
Celebrate
Celebrate
To a distant land
Sand and sand
Touch to touch
A marble man
The house is glass
Furnitures chrome
Soldier talk
And uniform
We can live
I can live
Celebrate
Celebrate
We can live
I can live
Celebrate
Celebrate
Lyrics : j kerr music : simple minds (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Poets?
When a poem is read
A reader's home is entered
Where dwells a kindred spirit
You laugh…you cry
You groan and you sigh
You feel and taste and hear it
We bring tears to eyes
Smiles to lips…
Memories to mind
We make you think
With pen and ink
And open minds once blind
That music is a source of joy
Of that, of course there is
No doubt
But words and phrases
Ink on pages, of that
We'd ne'er do without
It's a gift given to very few
In truth, this game
of words and phrases
Of measurable worth?
Of real value none?
Of real time and of real places?
So why the need for you and me?
What place have we…Poets,
In grand schemes, of things and matters?
…It's because….
We give wings to words
That soar like birds
And oftimes leave your heart
…in tatters…
poem by David Whalen
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Off-Chance Dream
I chanced a glimpse
And thro' the crowd I caught her eye;
A vision flamed in future stories:
Glorious nights, wedding vows,
Energetic children,
Growing old, together to part -
Rejoicing all we had before we bade our byes,
Drifting forth, a single melded soul...
A shove - the jolt had brought me to.
He warned me, 'Watch it mate! '
And even she had gone.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
dream dream dream dream dream
dream dream dream
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Sorry Wait
I just want to say I'm sorry
I'm sorry for everything I did
I'm sorry for what I didn't do
I'm sorry for being gone to long
I'm sorry I didn't fight harder for you
I'm sorry you had to grow up without me
I'm sorry you thought I didn't care
I'm sorry I didn't do all I could do
I'm sorry I didn't know where
I'm sorry, I can't change what I did
I'm sorry you got used to me being away
I'm sorry you don't want me to be
I'm sorry but I'm here to stay
I'm sorry for loving you so much
I just hope it's not to late
For you to try to forgive me
So I can end this Sorry Wait! !
(Jamie)
poem by Allen Keith Turner
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If you want to smear somebody's face with mud, be prepared to dirty your hands.
I Am Burning My Bridges
To search you
I am burning my wheels.
Put your hands
on my shoulders
for opening the book.
To read the message
between the words.
When the time comes
I want you
to smear my ashes
on the stones of footpath.
I want them
to walk on me
and dissolve their steps.
Stop looking
at me.
To reach you
I am burning my bridges.
poem by Satish Verma
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Beautiful phrases
Beautiful phrases
Emerald green, misty dells
Soft alabaster faces
Cold, briney ocean swells
Finely woven, antique laces
Sun-kissed cheeks
Rose petal lips
Long summer weeks
Braised roast beef tips
Cerulean skies
Elfin ears
Ebony eyes
Quicksilver tears
Raven haired lasses
Eagle-eyed lad
Fog shrouded passes
Wind moaning sad
Candle’s faint flicker
Pink tinged sky
Wild pony’s whicker
Soft, sibilant sigh
Trees tremulously swaying
Wind shivered reeds
Hair, silver graying
Man’s unfilled needs
These phrases have no scheme
And no reason that they should
Have only one redeeming theme
Be beautiful and…
Sound good.
poem by David Whalen
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I've Got A Dark Alley And A Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut
(Summer Song)
Joke me something awful just like kisses on the necks of "just friends"
We're the kids who feel like dead ends
And I want to be known for my hits, not just my misses
I took a shot and didn't even come close
At trust and love and hope
And the poets are just kids who didn't make it
Who never had it at all
And the record won't stop skipping
And the lies just won't stop slipping
And besides my reputation's on the line
We can fake it for the airwaves
Force our smiles, baby, half dead
From comparing myself to everyone else around me
Please put the doctor on the phone because I'm not making any sense
Blame everyone but me for this mess
And my back has been breaking from this heavy heart
We never seemed so far
I'm hopelessly hopeful, that you're just hopeless enough
But we never had it at all
song performed by by Fall Out Boy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dreaming the Perfect Imperfect Dream
She said:
'I have made you up
and now I believe in you more
than my reality
and my dependence is complete
and perfect
because
you are my perfect creature
and now all around me
seems dull
real people seem
to be without your luster.
I can dream you
but I cannot live with you
marry you,
nor can I marry
those real
pale reflections of you.
So I am stuck and I have no one
to talk to about this but you.
But what ever you say will be perfect
because I have made you in my mind
to say only the things
which make perfect sense to me.
I'm captured by my own dream-you
and unable to un-dream you and seek
imperfection as a substitute.
He said:
I am only a dream without desires
and mind
except that which you impart
and this makes me feel powerless
and even as your perfect dream
I am sad
because I am not my own perfect self
but merely yours-something I sense you sense
since you labor to re-dream me often
severing me from my own attempt to create
a more perfect me
in lieu of a more perfect you invent.
I am dream and dreams dilemma.
We both are now perfect partners
in the conundrum
seeking to eek
out some solution
which does not shatter our dreams
upon which we both now have come to depend.
Ah, but just one last time
can your dream kiss mine?
That only seems fair.
doesn't it.?
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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From Lids
a facsimile of torture
candlelit in moony dark
i want to unread the anointed death
on this tip of an arrow,
here it comes
the hissed phrase
wrenching the gut –
for conceptual withdrawl,
dawn of dark secrets
without footprints of echo
extracting a price,
do not stop fighting,
smear me with blood
hot spurts of thrills to defend the pink
in valley of counterfeits blades,
the green was fake,
the red was fake,
pure white poison
poem by Satish Verma
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North Atlantic Drift
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Its a cultural shift its the North Atlantic Drift
Americana and a rule Britannia
And the moon yes we own that to
And where the Euphrates meets the other rivers
Is now the home of the devil and the liar
And the pyre we plan to make
Is just the drift leaving its wake, home
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
And the films you want to watch
And the films you want to make
And the kids like lost angels
Dressed in black sensations
And the shift won? shake
And the drift won? brake
With billions of Diamonds growing like olives
And the drift holds the coffers
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Favourite Poem!
On the first reading, I realised
I wasn't actually, truthfully
Savouring the phrases.
I tried a second time,
Reciting it at half speed,
Emphasising each word.
I paused here and there,
Letting each thought glide...
The poetry becoming precious.
I printed the verses one-by-one,
Choosing a fabulous font,
Calligraphy enhancing them well.
I went out shopping for a frame,
This poem deserved something noble,
Outstanding and ornate...
Oh, what pains I took at home,
Fitting that poem in that frame...
There, it's done, hung upon the wall.
Above the fireplace, for all to see...
To change everyone who reads it,
Simply because it's that good...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Some Questions
for years of harnessing the horses of
word
scrubbing the back of phrases
what shall my hands become?
shall these hands be a vase for flowers
wilting in your room?
shall these hands be barks of trees
where your moss and lichens thrive wild?
shall these hands be finally exhausted
and grope again the shaken beams
of my own confusions?
or soon shall i speak in tongues
in the tower of babel
shall my thoughts become tribes
scattered in different directions?
shall i soon speak like you on the eloquence
of the pedestals?
i look forward to this art
as a savior of my crucifixion
i look forward to Frankensteins finally
converted as angels
as fairies in the lands of my fantasies
or shall i be roaming on the fields
of realities
stark and open
lighted with the sun and
refreshed with the true winds
from the waving seas?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spirits Of Ancient Egypt
Youre my baby and I love you
You can take a pound of love
And cook it in the stew . . . . .
When youve finished doing that
I know what youll want to do
cos youre my baby and I love you
Im your baby -- do you love me?
I can drive a cadillac
Across the irish sea
But when Ive finished doing that
I know where Ill want to be
cos Im your baby, and you love me.
Spirits of ancient egypt
Shadows of ancient rome
Spirits of ancient egypt
Hung on the telly
Hung on the telly
Hung on the telephone . . . .
Youre my baby, I know you know
You could sell an elevator
To geronimo
And when youve finished doing that
I know where youll want to go
cos youre my baby, I know you know
Spirits of ancient egypt
Echoes of sunken spain
Spirits of ancient egypt
Hung on the phone
A-hung on the phone
A-hung on the phone
. . . . . again . . . . .
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All offices are greasy (i.e. open to receive what the Dutch call smear-money, a term derived from the fee paid for greasing wheels).
I think a cute movie idea would be about a parrot who is raised by eagles. It would be cute because the parrot can't seem to act like an eagle. After a while, though, to keep the movie from getting boring, maybe put in some pornography. Later, we see the happy parrot flying along, acting like an eagle. He see two parrots below and starts to attack, but it's his parents. Then, some more pornography.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Made In England
I was made in England
Out of cadillac muscle
I had a quit-me father
I had a quit-me mother
I had a little Richard
And that black piano
Oh that sweet Georgia peach
And the boy from Tupelo-
Wow oh oh oh I was made in England
Wow oh oh oh I was made in England
I was made in England
Out of cadillac muscle
Face down on the playground
Crying god send me a brother
Not a bloody nose
For Rock-┬┤n┬┤-Roll
Give me that sweet Georgian peach
And the boy from Tupelo
Wow oh oh oh I was made in England
Wow oh oh oh I was made in England
I was made in England
Like a blue Cortina
But a Yankee summer
Had a way about her
You had a scent for scandal
Well here┬┤s my middle finger
I had forty years of pain
And nothing to cling to
Wow oh oh oh I was made in England
Wow oh oh oh I was made in England
If you┬┤re made in England
You┬┤re biult to last
You can still say homo
And everybody laughs
But the joke┬┤s on you
You never read the song
They all think they know
But they┬┤ve all got wrong
Wow oh oh oh I was made in England
Wow oh oh oh I was made in England
song performed by by Elton John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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