Ceaseless Brain
Ceaseless activity attacks the singular brain,
In those mayhems the chivalry acts and collapses.
Clever are deep and devilish contracts
For the anatomy of the human body.
The active ones are the clammy humans,
Dead as well, death has overtaken them.
Elegant and disgusting are the limbs,
Elderly and eager are the electric ties.
May chilly winds overtake us in sin,
Deeds of the days and nights shall enchant.
poem by Naveed Akram
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A Digital Map Of Anatomical Body
moving compositions
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
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anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
contemplated erosions below! ! !
The body detailes concepts!
Humans Can Help
Humans are not us,
Our moods do not suit,
Birth is desirable,
Death is absolute.
Humanity can keep us and we keep,
Lots of them are unhappy but we are,
As much as solitude, and all we care
Is the happiness to use our life.
Human help is against the rule of ours,
Good deeds must permeate our souls,
But happiness is utilised, again I go.
Humanity did not suit us when we cared.
Humans will speak more today,
The next day is like each for us
For we design the joke of eternity like humans
But no.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Bullets of Sorrow
The lethal bullets of sorrow
Aim at our rosy morrows,
By the cruel devilish FATE,
Push the men through sadness gate.
Cruel death is a helping mate,
Eager to share his blood -filled plate.
The bullet targets our jobs,
Pellet pierces our hopes.
The shrapnel shatters our ties,
The smoke smothers our sighs.
Battered love cries, and dashed dream sobs,
And lo! frail heart quivers to cope.
Some sheds tear dry, some sheds wet,
Blaming tight-lipped heavenly gate.
Some hides their pain in joyous muse,
Some reveals it in word obtuse.
No one is immune to attacks,
Save men trudging on divine tracks.
Dr Hitesh C Sheth
01/05/2009
poem by Hitesh Sheth
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Chilly Winds Dont Blow
H. krasnow, b. lovelock
Going where the willows weep no more, darlin baby,
Going where the willows weep no more,
Chilly winds dont blow along my shore, oh baby,
Where the chilly winds, the chilly winds dont blow.
Going where my father waits for me, oh baby,
Going where my father waits for me,
Going there cause there Id rather be, oh baby,
Where the chilly winds, the chilly winds dont blow.
Yes there will be red roses round my door, darlin baby,
There will be red roses round my door,
Going where theyll welcome me for sure, oh baby
Where the chilly wind, the chilly wind dont blow.
Chilly winds, chilly winds, the chilly winds dont blow.
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life-force
once again the earth
stealthily gnawed at her own margins
entombing gods and humans alike.
freezing all human activity
in its innocent sleep
the buried gods
from the earth below
bear witness to
frozen petrified children
still at their study…
panting parents
under the dead weight
of their young ones…
a just fed infant alive
with a mouthful of milk
in the arms of a mother dead…
a life entrapped for thirteen days
with its breath still intact…
the debris of several limbs
under the rubble of once
a make believe world
and
piles of decaying bodies
impatiently await
a mass burial
as bulldozers devise
bizarre beds
for the dead amid the rubble…
overwhelmed and stunned
the sorrow of the world
erased its boundaries
to find one another
once again.
*(A RE-POST IN SYMPATHY WITH THE QUAKE VICTIMS OF IINDONESIA. this is written after an earthquake in iran a couple of years ago. it's published by postcolonial discourse, an online literary journal from canada)
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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The Elderly These Days!
The younger birds have flown off far away!
Their parents aged are left alone today;
The nest looks empty, silent, everyday;
O Lord, show us your way- they pray!
Who cares who cares for elderly these days?
All children seem busy in their own ways;
Mere solitude is what the world repays;
Oh, what a blot on modern human race!
What love was shown by parents in years past!
They look now weary, dazed, with eyes downcast;
They live in penury and sickness fast;
’Tis years, their near and dear ones saw them last!
Cannot all children understand their plight?
Neglecting elderly is never right;
God sees their bloody tears when children fight;
The elderly need food, comfort, care, sight!
Our parents kept us warm when we were cold;
All children have a duty to ones old;
The elderly need young shoulders to hold;
Their virtuous deeds are worth more than all gold!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-10-2006
Dedicated most lovingly to the World’s Elderly
poem by John Celes
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Source Of Sadness
I am very sad
Not for today
As I feel
Their presence
And my body is warm,
But for the next
Hundreds of years
Will there be any one
To care and love?
So I want
To leave
A deep scratch
Of my mind
On the screen
Of the world
And walk along
With all bards
After my death
Hundreds of years
On soiled paths
And metal streets
Without my limbs
Blood and flesh
In haunting houses
And Joyous classes,
Make them feel
My hovering spirit
In emotional moments
In acts and deeds
Soothing souls
And agitated minds.
This desire is the cause
Of my gloom and sadness
But I express them cleverly
Poetry after poetry
Hiding the source.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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A Summer Ordeal
These days the sun is excessively hot,
We can't see even the bright firmament with naked eyes,
The drops of perspiration shine on the body all the time,
Peace and comfort, the boons of winter,
Are no more with us now,
The nights are spent in getting stung by the mosquitos,
The days in wiping out the tears of the body,
Hunger and sleep are lost somewhere
In the ordeal,
The whole life has turned monotonous,
The delicate sentiments of love, care and compassion,
Has been overtaken by the intensity of heat,
There is a havoc all around,
Everybody is looking at the sky,
But there is no sign of respite,
Not to speak of human being,
There is also a havoc in the animal kingdom,
The innocent dumb creatures are dying with thirst,
Nature seems to be sturn in retribution,
Yet the life is moving in the hope of betterment,
The dream of vapour laden clouds is still in the eyes,
And this dream will inevitably come true,
And the days of ordeal will be over
With the change in season.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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Sound Of Combat
A deafening sound collapses and enchants
For it is clammy here to achieve brightness.
My cleverness is depressed when I am dumb
During the hard days, then I confuse the public.
A chunky meal gathers all the description
Of a delicious object, one of the closest affairs.
I am dependent on details to do with envy,
Those combative procedures that are complete.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Fall is here!
The days are shorter
The suns rays are dimer
The wind starts to feel
Closer to winter
Trees leaves turn colors
Birds fly to where its warmer
The animals that can't fly
Prepare for the cold weather
Nights come quicker
The chilly breezes
Make you wear clothes
That are thicker
Trees leaves start to fall
At night the wind
Start to whisper
The season is changing
Time has fell back
This means winter is gaining
Nature is most precious
When the weather is changing
Hot long days and warmer nights
Traded for cool short days and chilly nights
Summer is over and fall is here!
poem by Jaycee Wilkerson
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Corpus Delicti
More germs are transferred
While shaking hands
Than are transferred during
Heavy passionate kissing
So if you don’t grab the hand
Of The next person you meet
And just kiss them instead,
just think of all the germs you’ll be missing
On average, women say
seven thousand words every day
while two thousand words
most men utter
That could be because
Women rarely pause
While most men’s minds
Are most oft in the gutter
The human eye blinks about
Twenty nine times a minute
That’s if your talking to
Your everyday schnook
Women blink about Four times a minute
When reading their average book
A man’s blinks can slow to one blink in ten minutes
While giving playboy a long leering look
There are approximately 550 hairs in one eyebrow
Humans lose 40-100 strands of hair each day
Men usually have full eyebrows and eyelashes
While their heads look like eggs in an unhairy way
The jawbone is the hardest bone in your body
the tongue is the muscle that’s the strongest
The average person spends 1/3 of their lifetime sleeping
And teenagers usually sleep the longest
A person in their lifetime will drink 16,000 gallons of water
While 10,000 gallons of saliva will go down
It only takes 17 muscles to make up a smile
While it takes 43 muscles to frown
In a lifetime the average person sheds 40 lbs of skin
100 mph plus is the speed of a sneeze
And your liver performs 500 functions within
Yet no one has yet timed the speed of a wheeze
The Human brain is composed of 75% liquid
The average man consumes 10 liters of alcohol a year
That’s why the average man is stupid and insipid
Because the other 25% is composed of beer
Humans share 98% of their DNA with monkeys
It takes chimps and us six months to grow nails
And if that comparison makes you feel kind’a funky
We also share 70% of our DNA with snails
The human brain uses 20% of the bodies energy
But is only 2% of the body’s weight
There’s a few more interesting parts of the human anatomy
But the facts about them are too titillating to relate
poem by David Whalen
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Hunting Humans (Lyrics)
Upon this threshold of disaster
The birth of the eleventh plague
The fires burn at night, I begin to doubt the smell of burning flesh
Will ever fade away
The touch of death is all around us
A thousand corpses block our way
A man-made germ makes almost everyone commit suicide
Just to rise and eat their dead
Night of the living Dead...
We're hunting humans
We're hunting humans
We're hunting humans
It's killing time every evening
I can't control this eerie feeling
An evil screaming in my head
I don't think I'll last the night
There is no cure
For this genocide
Or resurrection of the dead
Night of the living Dead...
We're hunting humans...
poem by Satan's Sibling
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For Kemberly
Her body, already rotting, was found dumped, along with seven other guerrillas, deep in the forest of Concepcion, days after the Dec.15 encounter. (Inquirer, April 8,2010)
at first they were surprised about the changes.
there were no more cocktails
parties are shunned
and you stopped reaping honors
for yourself in the state university
in a wink of an eye you were gone.
where?
you assumed new names.
you've been living with the poor peasants
in nameless places.
you are Adriane, Ms. Nurse,
or God knows who
they know later through the papers.
i am shocked too about your untimely death
your rotten body
beside the new people's army guerrillas
deep in the forest of the mountain in Bukidnon
beauty and brain and idealism all
gone.
at the end of all these
sufferings
on the temple of giving all that you have
what they give you is a poem
the one that does not make any dead man rise
the one that never heals
the sufferings of those
who love you more than them
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Reproach
Had I but known yesterday,
Helen, you could discharge the ache
Out of the cloud;
Had I known yesterday you could take
The turgid electric ache away,
Drink it up with your proud
White body, as lovely white lightning
Is drunk from an agonised sky by the earth,
I might have hated you, Helen.
But since my limbs gushed full of fire,
Since from out of my blood and bone
Poured a heavy flame
To you, earth of my atmosphere, stone
Of my steel, lovely white flint of desire,
You have no name.
Earth of my swaying atmosphere,
Substance of my inconstant breath,
I cannot but cleave to you.
Since you have drunken up the drear
Painful electric storm, and death
Is washed from the blue
Of my eyes, I see you beautiful.
You are strong and passive and beautiful,
I come like winds that uncertain hover;
But you
Are the earth I hover over.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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The Spell Of Spring
Exfoliative sycamore
Limbs splay low above the water
like giraffe's drinking from the shore
at some silty, placid river.
Where once their arthritic branches
at the mercy of winters winds
it's springs meliorative changes
that bring green budding knobby limbs.
Here I sit astride a boulder
overlooking the riverbank
awestruck by springs natural wonders
recurrent offerings enchant
me like a mesmerizer's spell:
enthralled, hypnotized, compelled.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: XVII
JOY'S TREACHERY
I had a live joy once and pampered her,
For I had brought her from the ``golden East,''
To lie when nights were cold upon my breast
And sit beside me the long days and purr,
Until her whole soul should be lapped in fur,
Deep as her claws; a beautiful sleek beast,
Which I might love.--But, when I deemed it least,
Her topaz eyes were on my stomacher,
Athirst for blood. Thus, for I loathed her since
I learned her guile, one night I had her slain
And thrown upon a dunghill to the flies,
Who bred in her fair limbs a pestilence,
Whereof I sickened.--Thus it ever is:
Dead joys unburied breed us death and pain.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Gray Knight
Gray is vibrant, nagging us terribly,
For it is dark in its enticement,
It lures you deliberately, and dreams are on.
The chivalry is gray and defies immortality,
For he is concrete in his dress and garb,
Ever so clever with battle-axe and whispers.
Uncomfortably, he speaks unholily,
For a knight this is deranged and psychotic,
Sucking the sleep of years.
Gray is the sleep adjusted to the days and nights of our lives.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The sword was a very elegant weapon in the days of the samurai. You had honor and chivalry much like the knights, and yet it was a gruesome and horrific weapon.
quote by Dustin Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pussy Willows, Cat Tails
Pussywillows, cat-tails, soft winds and roses
Rainbows in the woodland, water to my knees
Shivering, quivering, the warm breath of spring
Pussywillows, cat-tails, soft winds and roses
Catbirds and cornfields, daydreams together
Riding on the roadside the dust gets in your eyes
Reveling, disheveling, the summer nights can bring
Pussywillows, cat-tails, soft winds and roses
Slanted rays and colored days, stark blue horizons
Naked limbs and wheatbins, hazy afternoons
Voicing, rejoicing, the wine cups do bring
Pussywillows, cat-tails, soft winds and roses
Harsh nights and candlelights, woodfires a-blazin
Soft lips and fingertips resting in my soul
Treasuring, remembering, the promise of spring
Pussywillows, cat-tails, soft winds and roses
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pachyderm
O' my elderly world, am I getting too bold?
The ones who go first were the elderly ones
Leaving spawns of unfertile aftermaths
Leaving my elderly world high and dry
O' my elderly world, am I getting out of control?
Doing everything that crosses my mind
Like there is no tomorrow
Like there are no rules
O' my elderly world, am I worthy of being alive?
When all my tendency contributes are turmoils
When my currupted mind only grieves others'
Like I own this elderly world...
O' my elderly world, are the rulers doing well?
When all they can offer are blood, tears and lives taken
When the rich becomes richer
When the poor becomes poorer
Like they own this elderly world...
O' my elderly world, do I still have the time?
Am always envious of time
Am always running out of time
Hope I won't be here when your time runs out
O' my elderly world...
poem by Chosen Reject
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