Run From Malaise
Run from malaise.
That vague sense,
Of lost vitality.
Don't let the chase of malaise,
Quicken with a pace,
That fades away your energy.
Run from malaise quickly!
And insist it does not exist.
Once malaise becomes recognized,
Difficult it is to resist.
Since malaise has a way of staying around.
With no getting rid of it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Accepting To Do It Is Not A Trick
A phase of malaise has taken place.
Aspirations to remove it,
Has exhausted inspiration.
Those with faith and outreaching done,
Are looked upon as dissenters.
But this has to be overcomed.
A phase of malaise has taken place.
Aspirations to remove it,
Has exhausted inspiration.
Some say it is much to late.
And what appears on the horizon,
Is an introduction of an ill fate.
But illusions embraced stay as they are.
If invited into minds,
Believing what appears can not be barred.
But a barring done is a possibility!
If one refuses what one is told is meant to be.
As an accepted reality.
A phase of malaise has taken place.
Aspirations to remove it,
Has exhausted inspiration.
But this too shall pass and be overcomed.
When the feeding to a mind...
Seeks to witness a happiness done.
It's just that simple!
And accepting to do it is not a trick.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Heat Gives No Relief
THE HEAT GIVES NO RELIEF
The heat gives no relief
All inside palls
The mind does not work
Discomfort rules the world
Is there no way out?
The icecap melts
Everywhere a cruel malaise
Sinks the human spirit-
The sky is a threat
And the sun is an enemy.
We have become our own darkness
And do not have the courage
To resist our fossil fuel hunger
What will become of us?
The only creature we know
Capable of true contemplation
And changing worlds?
We stumble in the chaos of our own malaise
We must wake up before we are dead
But who will lead us? Where and how and now?
In a world of
More heat more discomfort
An increasingly unlivable earth?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Striving After Wind
- All things are full of weariness; a man cannot utter it.
(Ecclesiastes)
Malaise stamped on evenings like this ripens romance:
Wisdom becomes our sad bohemia, and we are clowns.
We laugh at what night disgorges - the gilded askance -
But night defines shadows twixt dancer and the dance;
We are cynics grown old, now satyrs of the lounge
Malaise-stamped on evenings like this. Ripens romance
When we, Simon-like, doubt wine and whore’s relevance?
They, too, have time who walk the streets, liven towns
We laugh at. What night disgorges (the gilded askance)
Hounds us, we them, arguing the grip of night and trance
Makes of us involuntary heroes but our bravura drowns,
Malaise-stamped, into evenings like this. Ripens romance.
Romance is talk of God and lady’s drink, a dash of Launce-
Lot, which, too, has time as we have time for cups and daunce
We laugh at. What night disgorges (the gilded askance)
This painful laughter? This wastefulness of remembrance?
We have become martyrs of meaning yet must be clowns
Malaise-stamped on evenings like this. Ripens romance.
We laugh at what night disgorges: the gilded askance.
poem by Albert B. Casuga
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Survey's Gaze Outweighs Malaise Maze Glaze Phase - Praise Day's Rays Blaze
SURVEY'S GAZE OUTWEIGHS MALAISE
Panorama new
defeats discomfort, who feared frightful phase,
through intuition's clue empowers state of grace.
Tomorrow's avenue
flows naturally, construes true freedom's trace.
Destiny's rendezvous defies, denies, subdues, troubles faced.
Dark phase ends, one, free, starts, hope turns to find
spark gaze sends sun, heart charts scope, learns true mind
10 February 2009
robi03_1854_robi03_0000 XXX_JMX
Survey's Gaze Outweighs Malaise Poem (c) Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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We're in a malaise. What do people really believe in any more apart from sport and music?
quote by Richard Ashcroft
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The working classes were becoming more and more sharply aware of the complex causes of international malaise.
quote by Leon Jouhaux
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Many people who did not die right away came down with nausea, headache, diarrhea, malaise, and fever, which lasted several days. Doctors could not be certain whether some of these symptoms were the result of radiation or nervous shock.
quote by John Hersey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Victims of Malaise Inherited
Alergic am I to intellectuals.
The ones who have studied insights.
Lifted from some text,
That has been authorized.
Not surprising they are limited.
Most lack common sense,
And are dim witted.
But scholared in researched knowledge.
Restricted to strict inhabitions.
That motivate without intuition.
Victims of malaise inherited by myths.
And living with a host of insecurities.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Programming Shared
So many are unaware of a programming shared,
That creates their own despair.
And...
Leaving them with minds barren.
As they seek a shearing like sheep asleep...
Grazing on dreams of malaise.
Pleased they are to be given the opportunity,
To be mentally slaughtered!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Diary
Unthinkable.
Lithograph of a malaise.
I cannot talk.
Will you abandon the thought
and care about
the drowning dawn?
The bandaged ego
of the book
threatens the reader.
Come and solve
the puzzle
of poetry.
Everything was quiet
except
the pulsating heart.
I will.
I will not scream.
poem by Satish Verma
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Unbelief
A detritus
of malaise, tugs at my solitary hour.
There was a question of stature
amongst the old fractured feet.
What was it which made you feel
taller than your own son?
I was looking at the antlers of a deer,
his round eyes were full of pallor,
I begin to talk in his tongue.
The terror of a man, a speeding car,
my childhood, moving in the dark corridor,
afraid of the unending highways.
poem by Satish Verma
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Signs On the Horizon
Restoration of those values,
Intergrated with dusted standards...
And the fading of faith based beliefs,
Seem to have been resuscitated...
Briefly.
People take to the streets to rejoice,
Briefly.
A pride kept on hold with a retelling of greatness,
Replace malaise...
Briefly.
But there are signs on the horizon,
Coming.
With a promise to end tensions,
Wounding those stunned.
A new day comes to awaken,
With a permanence.
And not just to make a brief stay!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ensanguined Moon
The sun has sunken
To be replaced with a
Ensanguined moon.
The wolves howl
To let there malaise
Known to the world.
A young girl has passed
As the crimson blood
Stains the carpet.
A mother weeps.
A young girl sleeps,
Never to rise again.
The sun had sunk
To be replaced with a
Ensanguined moon...
poem by Tamara Moir
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Incarceration
I have lost my dexterous hands,
My impenetrable iron eyes,
And the harried sly of my smile,
For all superfluous shards of heaven
Encapsulated in an esoteric creed
Of vying regardless; a hunger
For vindication in its uttermost
Despicable context, more apt
A regardless vying;
When I woke up garroted
By the juxtaposed malaise in my bed
That I am a tatterdemalion maudlin
Incarcerated by the mendacity
Of false-hopes and sedative truths
And seized by the sleeper cell
Of the all-pervading pervert:
Harsh veracity, I knew I am
Forever and alone;
A precarious curse of solitariness
And there is no reservation
For recuperation, for convalesce
I lost everything I had
When I had realized,
I never had at all.
poem by Norman Santos
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Girl with a Pearl Earring
Lift your head - look not in shadows
Gaze not into murky dark pools
Raise high - let nothing foreshadow
Let your heart be my muse.
Let me dry ephemeral tears away
Let me paint a portrait genius
Dull the moonlit night into disarray
Turn the sun - into trickster's waxes.
Let me isolate the stars in a gaze
Catch jeweled a virgin panorama…
This world displays, let all else, malaise
On an earring, dangling - white fuchsia...
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Unfamiliar Sacrifices
The naysayers are always there,
Giving their opinion on what they would do...
'If' situations were not the way they were.
And they seem to be the ones who know,
Which way to go!
But can't seem to get there themselves.
A lack of leadership is blamed for the malaise.
A leadership wished,
Easier to manipulate had been for many prayed.
The claim the latest leader is weak and indecisive.
Is an excuse to continue their breast feeding
Like the brats and spoiled children they are.
The naysayers are always there,
Giving there opinion on what they would do.
And they seem to be the ones who know,
Which way to go!
But a going to get there...
They would like to do with less effort.
Too often have they done this on the back of someone else.
And the one who now leads...
Warns of unfamiliar sacrifices with a putting of their lollipops,
Away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Text
I text you
The words i mime
There is really no reason or rhyme
To persist after all this time
But can't resist as my love still stands
Clings to hope with two bleeding hands
And when i ask 'am i still in your heart'
You depress with your silence
And depart.
I text her
And sometimes for days
She leaves me in deepest malaise
Then answers when my last nerve end frays.
And the light that i saw in her eye
Gently flickers and threatens to die
As my memory, tired and vexed
Sees me through
'Til she sends the next text.
I text you
Think maybe you care
That some day or year we will share
our one love extraordinaire
But time eats away at our life
Cutting with razor sharp knife
And our old dream of husband and wife
Faces the gallows next
Yet absurdly i send you a text.
poem by Kevin East
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Stormy Blue Sea
I cannot abide brown when
blue can be had, the irritation
of seeing the brown scarf with
glitter representing sea spray
draped over my coat rack is
immense when my blue scarf
is around my neck
Immediately the brown scarf is
replaced, now my office beach
scene consists of a stormy blue
sea with green patches of sea-
weed, the intense colour taking
the feeling of brown-induced
malaise away
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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No Sea Change
I plummet downward in your gaze
Of viscid blue—
A blue muted in the sea of malaise.
Deeper now, light withdrew
In the darkness.
To you, I've become a drowned man,
And my eyes fix
As unflinchingly steady as they can
When salt and vision mix.
What do I see?
Only a crusted reflection
Somewhere below
In the black pools of broad disaffection!
As whirling rage does show,
I watch myself.
I watch as the prolixity
Of my breathing
Fades into the trenches of obscurity
And of cryptic seething.
I watch air slow.
I notice how my lungs deflate
Like they're punctured
Balloons popping against silence's weight
And tension's sharp juncture.
You are quiet.
You stare through me. Further, I drift
Into nothing
When I wanted to dive into the rift
To find something soothing
As I find you.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Electronic Support
And as long as I don’t see
You on the television
Or I don’t hear about
You on the radio
Or I don’t even read about
You on the national newspapers
Everything you are telling me
That it is happing to you
I would consider them
As a pure fantasy
As a pigmentation of your
Own imagination
I can even go as far as
To advice you to become a novelist
I can even get angry
If you still persist to talk to me
About the all situation
If you still want me to believe you
If you still want to get my sympathy
If you still want me to help you
With the kinds of sufferings
That you are going through everyday
With the kinds of oppressions
That you are experiencing
With the kinds of famine and malaise
That your wife and children are being victim of
Get on television
Make a radio broadcast
Invite a writer to write about you
Not any kind of writer
A journalist
I insist a journalist
To write about you…Otherwise
I would find it boring to read
So, in short, get some kind of
Electronic Support to inform me
About your problems
While I am in comfort of my house
In my car or even in my office
Then I can believe you
Then you can get my sympathy
Then I can inform the all world
That you are indeed in need
Otherwise…Don’t bother me…
www.frederickyamusangie.org.uk
poem by Frederick Kambemba Yamusangie
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