Mammoth Are The Bubbles
Mammoth are the bubbles,
In which they live.
None are squeaky-clean.
Or could pass a health inspection test.
It's the image that is protected.
A visual left to digest.
A way a life delusions have tested.
And left undetected as one to suspect.
Humongous are their issues.
Excused but viewed as tremendous.
Overexposed are they but don't know it.
The extent of it has been ignored.
And wishes they should be received...
In grand receptions,
Based upon a greatness they have let sour.
Has pomped and circumstanced them into bankruptcy!
And truths like these are difficult to camouflage.
Mammoth are the bubbles.
Loud is the pop.
Faces twist into a traumatic fix.
As people living in sheltered hives...
Have no where now to go and hide.
Mammoth are the bubbles.
Loud is the pop.
They find themselves on the outside.
Wandering around and shocked!
It is hard to excuse these visions.
And not easily erased are they from observation.
Explanations are not prioriticized as requests!
It seems those witnessing,
Have come prepared to be barricaded and blocked.
But find they are not.
At least not yet.
More have become stunned,
By the pretense of it all!
As if staged...
To warrant a solicitation of empathy.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Undetected
The only thing left mysteriously kept,
By those denying they hide from truth...
Is what part of it do they believe,
They perceive goes undetected?
And who can be fooled,
Once being introduced to truth...
Will not suspect they have been deceived,
With a blinding of charm and flattery received.
What else revealed to eyes wide open,
With those choosing to conceal...
An obviousness as leaves on Oak or Maple trees?
What else is 'real' or not,
To those wishing to keep accepted reality blocked?
And their delusions ripened and fresh,
Yet protected from those who object.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Little Mermaid (Fun Poem 81)
For Meggie who suggested I write this.
Deep in the oceans
where the little fishes play
there lives a little mermaid
and her name is Haveagayday.
She is not sure how she got her name,
but it is her name no less,
it might have been her mother
who helped a fisherman in distress.
One day Haveagayday was playing
with her friend a little merman named Gunga Din.
While they played Bubbles, a moaning Clam
came floating by on his way.
He stopped for a moan
that could never be alone.
He said he couldn’t find a soft spot of sand to bury himself in.
Now Haveagayday and Gunga Din suggested
he go to some sandy beach
where the blue waters lap gently to the shore.
There in the golden sand
he could be on his own all day long.
Bubbles blew some more bubbles
and quickly whooshed away
leaving the little mermaid and merman
to continue with their play.
Several days later while playing near that spot
they met up with the moaning clam,
old Bubbles again.
“You said it would be quiet
in that place in the sun,
that I would have all the peace and quite I wanted.
Well you were wrong
with all those noisy surfers
all trying to crack my shell.”
Haveagayday and Gunga Din thought
about what they could do.
Then Gunga Din remembered
about his Genie friend.
If his bottle were still on the beach,
his three wishes would help Bubbles
get his peace and quiet.
Haveagayday and Gunga Din swam off
to find the Genie in the bottle
if he was still on the beach.
They found the beach
where Gunga Din had put the bottle.
They searched along the beach
hoping the bottle hadn’t been found.
Finally, they found the bottle
and Gunga Din pulled the cork
and set the Genie free.
The Genie came out in a puff of smoke.
“I have three wishes to grant thee.”
“I know Mr Genie and I’ll have those wishes
for you to grant to me.”
“Tell me what your wishes are
and I will make them come true.”
“We have a friend named Bubbles
who wants a quiet beach to live.”
“Granted.” The Genie said.
“My second wish is that Bubbles
has a friendly mate f
or when the loneliness gets too much.”
The Genie smiled and clicked his fingers
and the wish was done.
“You have one more wish. Do you want it now? ”
“Oh, yes please.”
“I have a friend who is a Genie
whom would like to be free.
My third wish is then that you set my Genie free
for now and ever more.”
The Genie snapped his fingers.
“Your wish has been granted.”
He then looked at Gunga Din.
“You know you wasted that last wish.
You could have kept it for something your heart desired.”
“But I did Genie. My wish for your freedom
was my hearts desire.
That you be, free forever more.”
Haveagayday and Gunga Din got married
later on that year.
The Best man at their wedding
was the Genie whom he set free.
Also at the Wedding
were Bubbles and his bride to be Cuddles.
Now they all live happily together
Haveagayday, Gunga Din, Bubbles, Cuddles
and of course the Genie
under the deep blue sea.
24-25 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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Heat On The Street
Youve gotta shout if youve got something to say
I know its getting bad, you read it every day
And you, you can try your best ot fight it
But you cant make it on your own
Someone better tell the people up there
I think they ought to know, the bubbles just about to bust
Tell them theyd better beware
The word is on the street, get up on your feet, and shout out
The kids out there dont know how to react
The streets are getting tough and thats a matter of fact
And i, I cant take it any longer
But we cant make it on our own
The people there find it hard to relate
They dont know how it feels to be standing there on your own
Believe me, its never too late
Its time to make a move, get up on your feet and shout
Stop, look down, everybody, do you see whats going on
Around you, stop...
Shout out, shout it out, shout loud
Shout out, shout it out, shout loud
There are pepple who give and there are people who take
But I believe its gonna get better
Realise what a difference you make
And dont turn away, hey! Im talking to you!
So theres only the one solution
Stop and think whats going on
You can draw your own conclusions
But we wont make it on our own
Someone better tell the people up there
I think they ought to know
The bubbles just about to burst
Tell them theyd better beware
The word is on the street
Get up on your feet and shout
Stop, look down, everybody
Do you see whats going on
Around you, stop...
song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All The World Is Love
In my secluded state my mind
Valued things are hard to find
My mind's gone I know not where
left without a care
When my thoughts are taking flight
pen them down on sheets of white
Building castles in the air
left without a care
In a crowded room alone that's where you'll find me
I have left my mind somewhere floating behind me
Blue skies white clouds to be seen
wish my mind could be as clean
As the clouds that swim above
all the world is love
chorus
Bubbles forming all around
Left my body on the ground
Unattached too hard to move
All the world is love
All the world is love
All the world is love
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Painted Veil
Millions of bubbles; bubbles, bubbles, bubbles.
Who could have thought that so small
could be the curse of all,
and source of all our troubles?
Microscopic seeds
encasing nuclei of fire.
Each germinates and breeds
subtle filaments of desire.
Desire slides in and overpowers,
making our best intentions fail
and weaves the warp and weft of the painted veil
which shrouds this world which is not ours.
Lift it?
It proliferates with every minute.
See?
Our eyes are trapped within it.
The world?
The world's a vast, empty machine
which thunders on,
blunders on,
silent and unseen.
poem by Brian Taylor
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You know how fighting fish do it? They blow bubbles and in each one of those bubbles is an egg and they float the egg up to the surface. They keep this whole heavy nest of eggs floating, and they're constantly repairing it. It's as if they live in both elements.
quote by Audre Lorde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Embellish A Nonexistence Has Adverse Effects
Ego fed insecurities,
Addicted to seeking acceptance...
Are protective of their delusions.
And easily offended,
By a truth that is to them directed.
It is more important for them to impress,
Than to honestly address their own issues.
Something blocked in their minds,
Will not allow them to do this.
And quick they are to misinterpret reality.
They believe reality is something to twist to fit,
A determined wish to see,
Life from their prespective.
And only a life lived to experience as is,
Can be received to accept to adjust...
Not correct to reject what is presented!
Ego fed insecurities,
Addicted to seeking acceptance...
Are protective of their delusions.
And easily offended,
By a truth that is to them directed.
To embellish a nonexistence,
Has adverse effects.
And adverse effects are difficult to keep,
From being exposed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bubbles of Love
This poem was inspired while watching the MTV reality show A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila. take it or leave it, you can interprete it the way you want.
Miss Tequila I wish to confess
There is something odd I wish to express
One day I had one shot too many for a penny
As my eyes opened up to 'Bubbles of love'
Bubbles of love
Bubbles of love
This awesome beauty that you possess
Your tanned skin calls for a touch of caress
Bubbles of love
Bubbles of love
Your succulent lips demand a kiss of finesse
And lets not forget the sexy curves you possess
Bubbles of Love
Bubbles of Love
I will fight with words not fists and head butts
I can't help feeling all hot with no second thoughts
These feelings I wish sometimes to suppress
Because I play my life like a game of chess
I know youthful beauty fades as that is its trade
But yours merely radiates over man and hand-made
Miss Tequila I wish to confess
Sometimes I do things in a little excess
It is you I wish to undress in your nightdress
While your breasts pressed against my bareness
Rather than breaking loves no one code
By driving carelessly on slippery roads
For you I'll wear my heart on my sleeve
Kisses, romance, love, the whole lot we can achieve
I see only 'Bubbles of love'
Beyond your smile and sexy little curves
I see only 'Bubbles of love'
In you, a ravishing blessing from above
Miss Tequila I wish to confess
It is you I wish and want to process
One day I had one shot too many for a penny
And in you I saw my little American Princess
Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Bubbles of stress
In the era of your foolishness
Springs to life bubbles of stress
These chains that bind you senseless
Grieve your mind, control and oppress
And round and round in circles
Spins your life out of control
You bury yourself deep in your soul
When just once you were more than whole
Bubbles of stress and distress
Negativity has to be suppressed
Bubbles of progress and success
Positivity, one has to address in excess
Copyright September 2008 - Sylvia Chidi
www.sylviachidi.com
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Sonnet: Truths and Facts
With time, the truth surfaces to the fore,
Like air-bubbles ascending to the brim
Of liquids, hurriedly when you pour,
To break in turn with noises at the rim.
For truths and facts cannot be hidden long;
They tumble down like skeletons someday!
And make a noise loud like hitting a gong;
‘Truth will triumph some day’- what people say.
How long can you conceal both truths and facts?
They break open the containers someday,
To expose lies and man-made artifacts;
History shows that the world behaves this way.
Who can suppress or hide both facts and truth?
Some day, they erupt like a newer tooth!
poem by John Celes
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My Joy Is In The Lord
My joy is in the Lord
If I’m waking or while I sleep.
I find His joy in everything
That joy I shall always seek to keep.
He fills my heart with a feeling of little bubbles
They’re bubbles of His Holy Spirit’s love.
My life I will give to only Him
For I seek His home above.
No other joy will man ever need
When you walk with Christ throughout your day.
Jesus was what the Father gave this world
He sent His Son who died, to save.
He walks amongst us guiding paths we walk
He shelters our spirit, from a blood stained cross.
Don’t let life ever take God’s joy away.
Walk with your Savior Jesus, walking with Him every day.
poem by Linda Winchell
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Traumatized By Their Own Denials
Personally I find the unravelling,
Of what is being disclosed to be exposed...
Exhilarating to witness.
As those who have taken others for granted,
Awaken to find themselves...
Compared to books dusting on cobwebbed shelves.
I find it funny and hilarious how people keep beliefs,
That grassroots people living in the inner cities...
Are thought to be imbeciles manipulated easily.
And have wishes to live like those elite.
Who shadow those who have established themselves,
With opportunities and exclusive lifestyles...
To think of themselves as 'above' the ones beneath.
I find it silly to catch myself giggling,
To observe people delusioned to believe they are envied...
By others they 'assume' are livid with jealousy.
But heard to confess of having no interest,
In those who strut seeking to impress.
As if better than the rest.
Sometimes I find it difficult to suppress,
My empathy for those...
Without addressing first my own laughter.
Knowing the ones have to be traumatized,
By their own denials...
When they realize their way of life,
Has long been rejected as a disaster.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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These Are New Days We Live
Difficult it is,
To maintain a persona...
Of righteousness.
With a squeaky clean integrity.
When one has been revealed to be...
An abuser of truth,
Who tell lies consistently.
Difficult it is,
To use the same tired tactics.
When one has been discovered,
To have been undermining others.
With no shame connected to it!
How can someone like this,
Retrieve a dignity?
Or come face to face...
With those backstabbed and disgraced?
How can anyone replace,
So much time 'wasted'?
Difficult it is,
To maintain a persona...
Of righteousness.
With a squeaky clean integrity.
When one has been revealed to be...
An abuser of truth,
Who tell lies consistently.
And lives a life that secretly deceives.
There is only one alternative,
Someone like this chooses...
When that 'cat-has-been-pulled-out-of-the-bag'!
Although,
The fact of the act of this is quite sad!
And a running away to hide is done.
To protect one's pride...
In familiarized denial!
That's it.
One puts oneself on trial.
To self inflict their own judgements.
That's it!
To run and hide has become their custom.
Too many people like this,
Can be observed as mentally sick!
And too many people like this...
Have gotten away with it.
In the past.
But these are new days we live!
Revelations like these eventually heal.
With no patience left,
To give time to those who slander and kill...
Minds!
At the expense to fulfill their own 'will'.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bubble Of Life Floats and Flies!
I am that bubble
On that infinite ocean,
I know I am eternal,
except that fills the bubble!
I am that infinite
One of infinite thoughts of the infinite!
Infinite filled breath into infinite bubbles,
I am one of these
Each day he transcends on Earth!
He is her great lover,
She is his fertile wife,
More fertile ones he has.
Everyday she becomes pregnant,
Everyday she breeds billion bubbles of billion species,
Some with brain and some without,
Some with hearts and some without,
But every bubble she breed, are with stomach,
hunger and thirst
Anger and lust
This was mechanical
Till they decided to breed which are their own copy,
With all capacity to understand parents,
Then that came the species of bubbles
Which can see back!
And more than understand,
This lovely child stared weeping on arrival,
Making others happy!
when bubble grew up,
Understood parents,
Sister bubbles
Brother bubbles
Dictating mother,
But not the father,
Mother is soft and caring,
Felt for children and fad them with the best,
When sons Grew, sometimes taller
Than Father,
Started to say I know mother,
I don't know, whether I have father,
Since father was hiding in everyone, who filled his own breath inside these bubbles,
He was helpless when ignorant bubble say there is no ocean,
When bubble learns,
All is his,
Understand what is what,
But for that bubble, jumping and dancing,
With that nuclear arms in his arms,
when adam had Eve in his arms,
Eve had serpent to seduce,
Man made parents stay apart!
the stay apart, still not divorced,
When the divorce, bubble bursts,
But bubble when tries,
To live, it may burst,
When it wants to burst it may live,
This is what we enjoy
And call as life
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Pink Bubbles Go Ape
Some people are much too smart
They know everything before it starts
Eating wisdom with the pail
No wonder when it sticks
In your darkest hour I will sing this song for you
Cry and tell
And slander
Yell and grumble well
So loud for heavens sake
Pink bubbles go ape!
song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fish In The Fishbowl...
i see fish in a bowl
the size of the fish is just
enough for the bowl
and water is half-full
the fish swims freely and
breathes
air and lets it pass through
its lungs and three bubbles
rise up
and then disappears
at the surface
outside the house it is raining
heavily
the news of the river overflowing
the banks
is flashed on tv
warnings are given by the government
evacuation is eminent
carry only those which are necessary
foremost
save lives of the children and
the old sector
we are ready
we are not taking this fish bowl
the fish can take of itself
when we left
the fish flips its fins and breathes faster
releasing more bubbles on the surface of the water
it is the only creature i think
that is happy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Your Footprints
You left your footprints across my life
I hate to see your photographs:
passing history impossibly frozen,
demanding out-of-date thoughts.
You left your footprints on my life
I hate it when people talk of you:
as if they were asking for my blood
to warm their own false memories.
You left your footprints through my life
I hate it when I find a letter from you:
I read a richness and a loss in them
and am torn apart by myself
You left your footprints in my life
Footprints claim nothing, offer nothing;
they do not ask to be preserved, or to be erased;
they are clean, yet they are there;
where they lead, I have yet to find
You left your footprints across my life
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Children With Soap Bubbles
Like smoke the bubbles whirl up
in the wind’s frolicking game
hopping like horses that gallop
and other children have got to look out
or their eyes are going to burn.
Like smoke the bubbles whirl up
against the arms and heads of others
before they heave into the air,
hopping like horses that gallop
with children blowing over a soapy soup
soap-bubble after soap-bubble burst,
like smoke the bubbles whirl up
like balls kicked off by the wind
when mothers scold their dirty children,
hopping like horses that gallop
and later an adult looks after them
to set rules for the game,
like smoke the bubbles whirl up
hopping like horses that gallop.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Soap
you wish i were true
to every word i wrote in my poems
like sadness
that i must be sad when my poems
talk about sadness
like separation and disgust and pain
that i must suffer
with the poems i write that i must have despair
and pain too
and disgust
for every word of disgust written in every word
in every line
how cruel of you
how cruel of truth
how can i justify my death when i speak only of death
and in the very poem
where i write the word
death
there is soap
there is this box of untruths in pandora and when i open it
they must spread and you may refuse to believe
me again
but it would be very cruel of you
to make these poems
all these poems be my life my only life
and lived
and day by day lived in accordance with the
mouths of these poems
empathy
is the word, it is like i am putting my feet in another person's
shoes
then i write, and i could have written about this word: happiness
joy, bliss
ecstasy, light, and amazing glory
i choose not to,
i think, i have too much of it, and i do not share it for now
there is no necessity
and i cannot really help
with so much loneliness and sadness out there
with them i stretch my hands to hold them and feel them
and they all become
myself. it is not soap then, and there are no bubbles in the skies
there is no child playing amazed by the bubbles that burst and by the
bubbles that
are so abundant.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Dream I Chased
I chased a dream and,
I kept in my slippery hand,
You shook it,
It fell on the sand.
The bubbles burst into color
I couldn't touch it though,
It gave birth to another dream.
I chased the broken bow!
Now I am a woman of alley,
I don't chase any dream'
I don't chase the bubbles anymore
My life became a Scream!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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