No Common Thread
If no common thread is to be found,
To begin weaving a chemistry.
It would be pointless to continue a search,
For a seamstress,
Or tailor
To design something fitting and suitable,
To taste!
When a pattern unfit...
Will never be customed made,
To meet the needs
Of what already is unmatched.
This is not a consideration.
This is a cancellation waiting to happen.
Another selection is recommended,
Before any order takes place!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Needlewoman
I see the fading light of my neighboring Seamstress's room.
The poor widow does embroidery of the mysterious life pattern.
I too have some darn work of my patchy clothes
And I want to borrow a needle and a thread from you.
Is it too late if I knock at your door in the midnight?
And I am sure the evildoers definitely chatter a gossip
When a bachelor meets a widow.
* I dedicate this poem to all the widows of this oblique world.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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To be like the tailor of Campillo, who worked for nothing, and found thread.
No Where
Here now
we continue pointless conversation
Its 3 oclock in the morning
we are going no where so we are yawning
drinking for the sake of drinking
pointless conversation but we are talking
so we continue
we continue to pour whiskey into my glass?
And I can't help but look at the clock because I like watching time pass
because I don't care
I like where its going
even though I know its not going anywhere
because we have no where to go
we don't need to go quick we don't need to go slow
darling we have no where to go
taughnted by tiredness, still neither eyes do close
as we speak we refuse to listen to the truth in which we see.
poem by Daniel McCann
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Mate selection
Mating among animals and birds takes place
Not by proximity but by mate selection.
There is among humans mate selection.
Distant people are thus getting married.
18.06.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Piecemeal 1842 after Marion Mantel The Abode of Everlasting Peace
Mind's company no bail-out needs, foreclose
looms near yet fear and gloom must come to blows
with hope whose scope increases every day
that interplay improves what soul search shows
to sojourner whose 'Choose! ' life's trumpet blows.
till conscious core dissolves, for all one knows
is that there's 'lots to learn' before life's wick
which once o'er brimmed is trimmed by Time's gale blows.
It may be Peace per Peace should not be goal,
nor patchwork quilt unmatched to comfort soul,
serenity accompanies the Way
why seek to weigh of thought and mind blind role?
Surrender self to wealth of non events?
Abandon fear of budget free expense?
Impermanence an ultimate release?
One questions causal links where self defence
is deemed a changeling spinning Time and Place
as prison for lost mind that seeks its place
though absence, presence, circle, square are one
begun and ended leaving little trace.
Freedom may be found within life's play
today submerged by fate of yesterday
for future must survey an empty seat
and meet another straying from the Way.
Though many paths to Rome may lead, not one,
perhaps life's karmic cycle may be spun
by mind which 'fearful thief' finds definition
outside experience, game itself is fun.
Thus 'heaviness' is cerror, out of bounds,
as mind proceeds through mind by leaps and bounds,
rebounds from challenge, rising to embrace
new challenge though rise, fall are mirage hounds.
These seem to dream to seamstress, dream to seem
reality which sifts from milk its cream,
we butter bread with head as much as hands
while inklings chitter chatter, teem then team.
For absence of control need not mean void,
for voids are mean if meaning men avoid
the search from perch to parch, from lurch to arch
triumphant, animated eclipsoid.
There are no fancy laws for mind rich, pure,
which energy converts from sinecure
to weaving sheaving, leaving grieving yearn:
mortality, in time, provides self cure.
(18 January 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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We sleep, but the loom of life never stops, and the pattern which was weaving when the sun went down is weaving when it comes up in the morning.
quote by Henry Ward Beecher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And you know, the baby boomers are getting older, and those off the rack clothes are just not fitting right any longer, and so, tailor-made suits are coming back into fashion.
quote by Amy Irving
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Even As I Die It Will Continue To Go On
Back to building a website.
To put my ideas under my own design.
The internet is in the ages of all times.
Forever to be recorded so the kids of kids can remember it.
We must not forget
We must learn to forgive.
For injustices do not end with any other pretense.
If that make any sense.
Yes it does have relevance
Its not just more jargon to be heard.
By the crazy and the absurd.
In my constant drive I do not reach for the skies
But to understand the why.
The search goes on for truth and knowledge.
The search goes on for the true humanitarian.
The search goes on for a way to end all blood shed.
The search goes on for a way to eliminate all indifference.
The search goes on for the cures to diseases that remind us of how vulnerable we really are.
The search goes on.
Even as I die it will continue to go on.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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I have invited our little seamstress to take her thread and needle and sew our two mouths together.
quote by Harry Crosby
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chap Stick, Chapped Lips, And Things Like Chemistry
Ok, so, who doesn't own a cell phone
Who brought back their permission slip
Because I know nobody wants to stay home
While the rest of us go out and make a day of it
[Chorus]
Cause theme parks are so much more fun when the sun's outside
And I lost my phone to the lake beneath the Batman ride
They're starting something, and I don't want to begin it
(I don't want to begin it)
They're looking for trouble, but with me it won't be found
(With me, won't be found)
And I regret that I'm completely out of daytime minutes
(I don't want to begin it)
And, so, I guess I'll have to wait a lot til 8 o'clock comes around
Ok, so, who doesn't have a cell phone
Well, I don't need to ask my friends
Because, I know mine was fastened to my jawbone
Thanks to all those nights and weekends
[Chorus]
When it comes to relationships (I'm the dumbest one)
And I don't mean just with girls (I mean with everyone)
Your illustrations always point out just what's wrong with me
It's Chap Stick, and Chapped Lips, and things like Chemistry
It's Chap Stick, and Chapped Lips, and things like...
It's Chap Stick, and Chapped Lips, and things like...
It's Chap Stick, and Chapped Lips, and things like Chemistry
Can I relate to you the way you relate to me
Can you help me out with my chemistry
I don't want to be perceived the way I am
I just want to be perceived the way I am
song performed by by Relient K
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Declared Unfit
They came into my neighborhood,
And found me unqualified.
Selected those they found more suitable...
To administer schemes and plant alibis!
And all that they sold
Was bought lock, stock and barrel!
And when they were done,
Doping all for fun...
I remembered being shunned
As I walked over the drugged and unconsious ones.
Wearing the same exact apparel!
You see...
I hadn't changed.
Even though I had been the one declared unfit.
The misfit one 'deranged'!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Until All Itching Has Been Scratched From It
Truth and popularity do not mix.
In some minds this is an unfit relationship.
And suitable it is to be distanced quick.
Truth and popularity do not mix.
People confronted run and do not sit.
And finding it difficult to be seen near it.
And these are the ones who become upset,
By living lives reflecting their own negligence.
Hiding in denial and deluded by embellishments.
And these are the people who today regret,
Spending their last dime...
To make impressions others forget.
Since impressions themselves,
Leave nothing concrete meant.
Truth and popularity do not mix.
In some minds this is an unfit relationship.
And suitable it is to be distanced quick.
Like that which irritates...
Until all itching has been scratched from it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Design
Said Seeker of the skies to me:
"Behold yon starry host ashine!
When Heaven's harmony you see
How can you doubt control divine,
Law, order and design?"
"Nay, Sire," said I, "I do not doubt
The spheres in cosmic pattern spin;
But what I try to puzzle out
Is that--if Law and Order win
Where does mere man come in?
"If to the millionth of a hair
Cause and Effect are welded true,
Then there's no leeway anywhere,
And all we do we have to do,
And sun and atom too."
O Stars, sing in your harmony!
O Constellations raptly shine!
Flout me because I am not free,
Mock me because no choice is mine!
O Beauty, it so hurts to see!
--O damnable Design!
poem by Robert William Service
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Get Another Routine
This is the message...
For those still trying,
To get the same tired act together...
Forget it!
Get another routine.
At least one that appears to be,
Something that is consistent...
With the way things are today.
Revisiting yesterday with determination,
Says one thing about those who attempt to do this...
A comfort has been found in the exploration of limitation.
And the growth of technology has already made many victims.
This is the message...
For those still trying,
To get the same tired act together...
Forget it!
Get another routine.
What your ancestors did,
And those before them...
Is not going to spread your mustard.
Or connect you to those hours of tomorrow,
Flashing by your eyes 'today'.
This is the message...
For those still trying,
To get the same tired act together...
Forget it!
Get another routine.
If you are waiting to taste a sandwich wished...
It is recommended you acquire another taste.
Or select something else to nibble.
It would be wise if you tried!
I'm sure your ancestors did this...
Or you would not be here,
Discussing their contributions to your stagnation.
This is the message...
For those still trying,
To get the same tired act together...
Forget it!
Get another routine.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lift Me Up Like You've Plucked a Buttercup
When you come around finding you have found,
You've settled down.
With slowed jets ready to quit your lippin'
And prepared to sit and begin to listen'...
You've done shifted from a drifter position.
And it's there to be gripped!
All that life has blessed you with!
ooo-ooo
Many in fits can't handle what they get.
And they seek partnerships...
That end in arguments,
Gone ballistic.
Left in realistic lethal pieces.
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been sneezing.
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been breathing.
Just leave don't mention...
Any attitude you've got,
That's dropped you mopin'!
Take a little whiff of me I'll free you easy.
I'm that destiny you need.
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been sneezing.
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been breathing.
When you come around finding you have found,
You've settled down.
With slowed jets ready to quit your lippin'
And prepared to sit and begin to listen'...
You've done shifted from a drifter position.
And it's there to be gripped!
All that life has blessed you with!
ooo-ooo
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been sneezing.
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been breathing.
ooo-ooo
Just Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been sneezing.
Lift me up!
Like you've plucked a buttercup,
From your weaving...
Through the weeds you've been breathing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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At Ithaca
Over and back,
the long waves crawl
and track the sand with foam;
night darkens, and the sea
takes on that desperate tone
of dark that wives put on
when all their love is done.
Over and back,
the tangled thread falls slack,
over and up and on;
over and all is sewn;
now while I bind the end,
I wish some fiery friend
would sweep impetuously
these fingers from the loom.
My weary thoughts
play traitor to my soul,
just as the toil is over;
swift while the woof is whole,
turn now, my spirit, swift,
and tear the pattern there,
the flowers so deftly wrought,
the borders of sea blue,
the sea-blue coast of home.
The web was over-fair,
that web of pictures there,
enchantments that I thought
he had, that I had lost;
weaving his happiness
within the stitching frame,
weaving his fire and frame,
I thought my work was done,
I prayed that only one
of those that I had spurned
might stoop and conquer this
long waiting with a kiss.
But each time that I see
my work so beautifully
inwoven and would keep
the picture and the whole,
Athene steels my soul.
Slanting across my brain,
I see as shafts of rain
his chariot and his shafts,
I see the arrows fall,
I see the lord who moves
like Hector lord of love,
I see him matched with fair
bright rivals, and I see
those lesser rivals flee.
poem by Hilda Doolittle
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Waiting For Them to Come to Life
I agree with you.
However...
What is recognized that 'should' happen,
At this hour...
Had been just as recognizable,
In those hours past.
And that 'urgency' has been smothered,
By a coating of denial.
Sautéed in BS.
And trimmed with a taste to bait delusions.
For the purposes to maintain our appetites,
Kept in sweetened ignorance.
It is recommended we establish patience,
For those hypnotized by incompetency.
And on all levels,
Allow a degrading that has taken place...
To consume any decency that is left.
Now we live in the midst of dwindling stages,
Of pretensions meant!
And waiting for them to come to life.
With the utmost expected tolerance.
Because we are who we say we are.
And not what it is that is reflected.
Since those images we refuse to accept.
And we bet against their existence.
Inspired by:
J.B Poet
Atlanta
'Thank you J.B Poet.
Keep your 'spirit' honest.
And your 'vision' fresh with expectation.'
~LSP~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Vicious Circle
The whole world revolves around
As suitable match is found
There is different story to tell
Everything goes smoothly and well
Stars may shine and twinkle
Moon may spread the light of candle
Nothing is taken note of
Even if passers by watch and laugh
It is delicate stage
It comes with advancement of an age
How can we blame natural change?
When blank space won’t be liked on page?
Life can change the course
If there is determination of course
You need suitable partner
She can take care and act as Gardner
It is nice to spend few moments
With dead silence and no comments
Only with few whispers and small gestures
To decide the destiny and future
We might have not taken notice
As it was the occasion to commit promises
Life may push any time to extreme corner
We have to realize it later or sooner
The pre-selection stage is extremely important
The decision are taken on the spot and instant
It may shape the whole life cycle
And place safely out from vicious circle
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Intricate Stitching
No one can enforce another,
To see what their mind continually skips.
Whether done purposely or by habit,
No one should feel obligated to do this.
A game played is more popular to attend,
Than one seen absorbed in following the rules.
Or if improvement is needed,
To rid from the use of foolish loopholes.
As long as a perception is fed,
Few are concerned with the details of the pattern.
Or the intricate stitching that keeps it all together,
Fitting to enable the design of it to exist.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Process Isn't As Simple
I find it pointless,
To discuss how a process is done...
And takes place,
To anyone who has not expressed...
Just more of an interest.
If anyone has never been on stage to act.
Or has picked up a pen or a pencil,
To write...
Generating that kind of motivation in one's head...
Is to me like asking,
What does it take to lay an egg?
There is 'nothing' here to work with.
Neither is the person asking this queston a hen...
WITH a pencil OR a pen.
Nor has any attempts been made...
To lay that egg!
I am one of those people,
Who has to see some effort being achieved!
Especially if my assistance is requested.
The process isn't as simple,
As that hen may make it look!
'How is the rooster involved in all of this? '
Trust me.
Once you 'really' get a bonafide interest...?
You will begin the process of research,
On your own.
That 'desire' will be there.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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