Lost
Bored with reality's exciting facets
rolled up, emotion stashed out of
sight, only the lone aspect of duty
in the office unrolled, dealing with
a headache I climbed onto desks
to spread sunscreens because the
oblique angle of the sun means we
are fried every day and my dwarf
head can't stand much heat before
it melts - taking my intellect with it
I fired my imagination by reading
the next pages of ‘Making Money'
with scenes of havoc where Adora
Belle challenges a Golem known as
Gladys to use etiquette for dirty boot
Watchmen to open the safe - no use,
I can't leave the multifaceted reel of
fantasy to continue with bland white
reality hiding all colourful aspects
crossing my boredom threshold
I want to be the prism breaking up
the uniform white rays of reality into
their constituent colours and enjoy
the images on my mental screen be-
cause the headache does not want
to abate and I have lost the faculty
of logic and rational thought
‘Making Money' by Terry Pratchett
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Related quotes
Now That It Is Shown
Whatever it is you thought it was...
Isn't.
Nor had it been.
Although you were convinced...
It would never end.
And now that it is shown,
What you believed was known...
Has gone.
You want to know what is going on.
Reality as it should be!
Had not been introduced.
Not like it is now...
For all to see.
And many are in denial...
That 'this' reality,
Is not what they expected...
To leave such an effective,
Truthfulness!
And those nourished on complete fantasy...
Believe 'reality' should be encouraged,
To approach them!
As a means to allow its acceptance!
And sickened by an exclusivity nonexistent.
'Why are they here dressed in tuxedos and furs? '
They wish to show themselves as the chosen.
And have come to impress the unconscious.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Words on Conceptual Poetry
no points in making a bridge of connected reality.what is art? A for articiality/authenticity.R for reality/repitation.T for time/truth.this is what art is about.
art of reality and art of proff/witness is atr of conceptual poetics.
proof makes meaning, not meaning making system.
reality makes conceptual poetry, not concept.
Hallucination (Revised)
Reading ‘I Shall Wear Midnight' I whirl,
hallucinating my own making, becoming
my own protagonist, everyone becomes
Wintersmith turning into eyeless men
stalking everything good
Prosecuted not knowing how darkness
would lift, Wizard Eskarina entered so
Tiffany could understand, she must
dance again; forces unleashed solving
enduring winter by giving a death-
dealing kiss to the snow spirit
Everywhere it threatens goodness; evil
of hatred created slain ages ago by witch-
hunting victim's frenzy of misguided zeal -
all social comment based on reality, a
Dark Ages Spanish Inquisition when the
religion of Om, the one god, misused
To suppress and subdue, the Age of Reason
yet to come to require use of verifiable
sensory evidence to determine meaning of
guilt and secure freedom for the innocent -
I had to stop reading, too much meaning,
overwhelming emotion and feeling
'I Shall Wear Midnight' - Terry Pratchett
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Vivaldi
Being forced to listen to Vivaldi by
a compilation of classical music, his
musical themes & unwavering beat,
his notes like stiff-necked soldiers
marching on with robotlike idiocy
drive me insane
Awakening memories of ALL things that
irked me recently, the contrast between
the delight reading Pratchett and being
enraged by Vivaldi-effigies led to the
suspicion there is a poem on anger
waiting in the wings
Meantime, these cold notes on the deficiency
of three-dimensional holographic images as
simile of reality made me reflect on life’s
shortcomings - but Men At Arms is lying
next to me, their mischievous irrational
levity is waiting
To grab me again and whisk me away from
inadequate, imperfect and painful reality –
up to the heights of cloud nine…
“Men At Arms” – Terry Pratchett, Corgi edition
published 1994
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Camouflaged Flaws In Reality (Revised)
Pratchett’s vision in ‘Men At Arms’
overwhelms – the enormous scope
of scenes he paints reduces me
to tears and silent wonder
Sam Vimes’ income spent caring for
widows and orphans of deceased
watchmen; Angua facetiously claims
he spends it all on women
Captain Carrot explains Vimes one-
man pension fund scheme, tells how
he lives frugally to provide for those
he sees worse off than him,
For this he receives fairytale rewards:
marries Ankh-Morpork’s richest woman
made a Knight by none other than the
undercover Ankh-Morpork King –
Captain Carrot – who finds evidence of
his kingship on plunging his sword into
granite, destroys powerful GONNE after
reading documents proving his lineage
But steadfast and strong, turns from his
birthright to the throne, preferring to remain
a watchman – this solid nobility becomes
overpowering narrative causality
Pratchett remonstrates about fairy tales
yet creates luminous, delicate, enticing
magical tales for these two characters,
weaving details as Discworld sagas
Despite cynical commentary on society
and human nature, Pratchett idealistically
creates wonderful bubbles of fantasy,
camouflaged as flaws in reality
[ORIGINAL]
SO overwhelmed by the enormous scope of
Pratchett’s vision in ‘Men At Arms’ - scenes
had me in tears before reducing me to silent
wonder - Sam Vimes spent his income
On widows and orphans of former watchmen; I
cried when Angua said he spent all his money
on women and Carrot stopped her explaining
Vimes one-man pension fund scheme
Vimes lived frugally to provide for those who are
worse off than him, for this he receives a fairytale
recompense: he marries Ankh-Morpork’s richest
woman and is made a Knight
By none other than the undercover Ankh-Morpork
King - Captain Carrot - who finds evidence of his
kingship when he plunges his sword into granite,
destroys the powerful GONNE
After reading documents proving his lineage, he is
still strong and turns from his right to the throne
preferring to remain a watchman - this nobility
becomes overpowering narrative causality
Pratchett always remonstrates against fairy tales,
yet creates the most luminous, delicate, enticing
magical tales for these two characters, filling in
details as the Discworld sagas continue
Pratchett seems to make cynical comments on
human nature and society, yet he is an idealist
creating most wonderful bubbles of fantasy,
camouflaged as flaws in reality
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Dirty White Boy
Hey, baby, if youre feelin down
I know whats good for you all day
Are you worried what your friends see
Will it ruin your reputation lovin me
cause Im a dirty white boy
Yeah a dirty white boy
A dirty white boy
Dont drive no big black car
Dont like no hollywood movie star
You want me to be true to you
You dont give a damn what I do to you
Im just a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, dirty white boy
Dirty white boy
Well, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, yeah, dirty white boy
A dirty white boy
Ive been in trouble since I dont know when
Im in trouble now and I now somehow Ill find trouble again
Im a loner, but Im never alone
Every night I get one step closer to the danger zone
cause Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, yeah, dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy
Cmon, cmon boy
Dirty white boy, white boy
Dirty white boy, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy
Hey, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, yeah, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, dirty white boy, yeah
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Decisions in Agreement
Reality lives in people’s heads, Terry
Pratchett says in application of
quantum physics theories
I have changed my reality so often
today, I am not sure in which
parallel reality I am
Within the knotted cable or free-
floating already in the lane of a
separate string
Weaving history while including all
its alternatives in bulging knots
that make the story interesting
The main direction never wavers, held in
place by many decisions in agreement
while the details create
As many bobbles as every dreamer
can ever wish to see…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Culmination of Visions
Romanticism dreamt is disenchantment
and death, a problem countered by realism,
left-brain thinking enriches us immensely,
combined with right-brain intuition we are
moreso free than ancient people as we
access their wisdom
Story, ideal and dream enriches life,
improves relationships, imbues reality
with symbols, deeper meaning, every
escapist fantasy thickens reality into
a multidimensional tapestry; this is
why you are my friend, though cynical
you never scare me
Offering understanding never thought
possible, fantasy pales in comparison
yet enabled me to accept a fairytale in
my life: you created a safe channel by
which I can relate to the most admired
author and poet I know; the most gifted
realistic person brought about
a culmination of visions, Danke
(The discovery that reality is better than dreams
made me very happy. The realisation that dreams,
ideals and fantasies are helpful by enabling me to
SEE the positive aspects of reality, contributes
to this happiness.)
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Fantasy Is Reality/bells Of Madness
Sunset blood drained from the sky
Desires found the night to die
But when I hear the bells of madness ring
I will listen to the silence
Love is louder than anything
And peaceful in its violence
Serious in making chains
The voices of greed all sound the same
But when I hear the bells of madness ring
I will listen to the silence
Love is louder than anything
And peaceful in its violence
Fantasy is reality
I love my fantasy
Reality is fantasy
Just dont call it reality, oh no
Tunnel pain is falling fast
Into the fear that time will last
But when I hear the bells of madness ring
I will listen to the silence
Love is louder than anything
And peaceful in its violence
Im so tired of the lies they tell
Find the truth they cant buy or sell
But when I hear the bells of madness ring
I will listen to the silence
Love is louder than anything
And peaceful in its violence
Fantasy is reality
I love my fantasy
Reality is fantasy
Just dont call it reality, oh no
song performed by by Wilsons
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fooling Ourselves
Imagination is not reality.
Romanticism is not reality.
Fallacy and fantasy follow suit.
We get pleasure by fooling ourselves.
(29.01.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Blooming 18
Reality reality reality is always
You tattooed yourself what a piece of art
Youve already broken your mothers heart
When I was your age working my ass off
Your generations soft
Reality is always such a drag
For barely blooming eighteens
The barely blooming eighteen
Wants to know
Whats keeping her from searching
You cannot pierce that and
Youre dressed too tight
Got a lot to learn about wrong and right
So dye you hair, dads gonna wash it out
Come on wash out your mouth
Reality is always such a drag
For barely blooming eighteens
The barely blooming eighteen
Wants to know
Whats hiding in the shadow
Reality reality reality is always
Reality is always...
song performed by by Ace Of Base
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Big Boy Romney
watching the politician's dick get
bigger as he
proclaims that
he's got more money than
mr. hope & change,
WOW-who would have thought
that a business tycoon who came to
our eyes,
based on the fact that he had a lot of money,
now,
STILL has a lot of money,
in fact, he says he has more money than
mr. hope & change, which in this
bewildered empire
means a lot-
because people here worship money,
they see the man who has a lot as being
superior,
as being somehow
impenetrable to bullets,
impenetrable to bombs &
sickness-
yes, somehow, this
rich, white, mormon,
will outlive us all,
because his pockets are deep &
the underlings will no doubt
preserve his corpse on display
like mao
in some air chamber mausoleum or
perhaps locked up in some cryogenic
freezer in utah,
so that when it is the perfect time to thaw him,
he'll come back to reign upon the living &
the dead,
in his planetary paradise
with his 'god' in fantasy mormon land
as the one robot rich guy
whose ability to discuss anything but
money,
the making or money,
the smell of money
or the fact that he has more money than
you,
is simply
moot.
poem by Andrew Delapruch
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Your Imagination
Follow the wonderful dream that you’re making,
Hang on to the vision as dawn is breaking,
A fantasy of your very own making,
is a glorious story told.
Let it lift your heart as it is warming,
Watch it grow upwards, and as it is forming,
A pride will arise as a new stage is dawning,
for this glorious story told.
Wake up and find that your imagination,
Becomes reality, great celebration,
Never give up on your new inspiration,
with this glorious story told.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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All The Emotion Evoked
Now where shall I take the high tide of emotion
seeing that I have finished reading the story of
Tiffany Aching - the book is too short; the great
promise of it beginning when she demanded a
full-scale hearing while every element seemed
to be against her - which made me shudder on
her behalf - turned benevolent universe MUCH
too soon and with the odds not stacked against
her victory was too easy and she was given all
help, suddenly she was such a sure-fire winner
riding the tide and I no longer identified with the
protagonist - my heroines always have to suffer
much longer with more challenges to overcome
I was ready to face a lot of pain - just to find the
ride too short, too few obstacles, the bride-to-be
was a special witch great at dealing with ghosts;
all misunderstanding solved too easily - I prefer
complications and intrigues for a sweet heroine
but Terry Pratchett spun a beautiful tale - to be
embroidered - until it contains all the pain I can
imagine - he remains my favourite author - all
the emotion evoked will be used to experience
and recreate fairytales old and new in my head
I Shall Wear Midnight - Terry Pratchett -
What a Wonderful Book!
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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When Watching
One thing I've noticed I've come to miss
When watching my LED HD TV
Is that whenever I flip through the channels
On my DVR,
I don't have to become a tourist
Glancing at the sights anymore—
I can only read the dialogue of information
That tells me what I am watching
Or what I could be watching.
I don't have the time to observe
Foreign landscapes
(Partially because
Nobody makes shows
Of that
Anymore)
Or see how other people are different,
I just see text, text, text with no
Context, context, context,
And I feel like I'm missing something.
I don't even watch TV much anymore.
I don't enjoy sitcoms
Because I don't enjoy their jokes
Because my life isn't like that.
I don't enjoy the news
Because they don't tell me anything I want to hear
Because I want to know what's happening in the world.
I don't enjoy reality TV
Because those people make me afraid of reality
Because they call themselves reality.
I miss the white noise, the static,
The scrambled images of channels
I never had as a kid,
Or the disintegrated programs
That looked like high-energy molecular,
Heated up, when the cable is out.
I miss the way it sounded,
The thunder storm sound,
Voices reduced to raindrops
Pouring against the black backdrop
Of a dead screen,
A comforting hum
Made of chaos
For periods of silence,
Sometimes enough to make me turn it off.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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As long as you have a system that is based on the rational that if you are making money you are thereby making a contribution to society, these financial rogue practices will continue.
quote by David Korten
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Displacement
Just finished rereading “Wee Free Men” introducing
Tiffany, displacing suffocating allergic reaction due to
culinary indulgence by diving into the enchantment of
Terry Pratchett’s wonderful prose
Did not want the book to end, the story should continue
for eternity… sometimes I try to leave the land of dreams,
Tiffany found dreams were used to lead people astray –
then I eat things that make my life miserable
And remember why transcending reality is necessary, I
cannot give up the rearrangements I make since living in
physical discomfort is counterproductive; dreams enable
me to experience marvellous adventures
Which cannot exist in my little world and although I would
like to be practical and impress with my common sense, it
is impossible to stay within the boring inter-subjective con-
sensus we call reality, even when clever people say
It is irresponsible and childish to let the mind stray from the
life at hand - I will not give up this delight to impress anybody,
the joy of creative fantasy outweighs all arguments offered by
people with deep frowns and drooping mouths
As the virtues they try to urge on me left them feeling cheated
and bitterly disappointed, I see no reason to join their misery if
I can do my job adequately with several other worlds spinning
wildly in my mind and heart
“The Wee Free Men” – Terry Pratchett – Doubleday 2003
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Reality Sucks
O.k. maybe you know it better
Oh oh reality sucks
Nobody helps you to make it feel better
Oh oh reality sucks
And youre a dropout that stays away
Might be that evil took over
Oh oh reality sucks
Youre getting to old now
To cause a stampede
Oh oh reality sucks
So youre boozing your life away
Youre blown your brain away
Reality sucks
Oho reality sucks
Now you see your life has passed you by
Oh oh reality sucks
You took a shortcut
Through the junkyard of life
Maybe thats why reality sucks
Now youre boozing your life away
Blowing your head away
But dreams didnt make your day
cause reality sucks
Oh oh reality sucks
Reality sucks
song performed by by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Culprits Of Upheaval
People want their images to be left alone.
Even if those images created,
Have nothing to do with reality.
And only with reality do people have their conflicts.
To despise the truth as it is presented,
With a seeking to deem those who represent it...
As troublemakers.
While those who deceive them,
Are perceived as being misunderstood.
And 'if' given more chances...
They would bring more clarity to their nonsense.
As those who are the true trouble makers,
Will be revealed as the culprits of upheaval.
But what is needed to prove this,
Is more money to finance evil campaigns.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No Fairytale
I am not living in a fairytale
Not all dreams are breathless
Not all hopes are endless
I am not living in reality
Every tear is endless
And everything is breathless
So Cinderella call Snow White
Say listen up girl
I feel like something isn't right
Ask Prince Charming where is Belle
She's sitting all alone
She didn't know she'd fall until she fell
Sleep Beauty where are you
You toss and turn in bed
You walk around reality while candy dreams fill you head
Reality is not a fairytale
Come back down to earth
Come back down now
I do not forget the way you looked at me
I do not regret putting my trust in you
Not everyone knows who you are
Not everyone knows who I am
But I
I would do it all again
Run away from lies and cheats
Happiness cannot be bought
And yet it can be beat
Work all day and work all night
Throw weariness aside
Not to see without my sight
Endless tears fulfill this fight
But I
I don't abide
poem by Alandra Nicole Moreira
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