Paper Plane For The Jealous Lover
If I can ride the cardboard box again
Like a spurious old red Volkswagen
Reckoning when I was child escaping the interstate
Of the buoyed city in my bed that undulates
I would bloat my bag with your photographs
And jarred lucid intervals in case of an arbitrary lapse
And I will probe to find a hill beneath a cliff
Sequestered from the alluring and flagging whiff
Of a blossoming summer, from there I'll built a hovel
Tilling my vault, truncating my veins, come and drag a shovel!
I'll build the porticos with your lacquer portraits
And in the night it will be a lighthouse to coruscate
Vivid flashbacks from the marred malaise
And toil to build an incendiary garden of fireflies
Because they remind me of the lackluster star lights
That had concatenated and knotted our eyes
And our souls; my own, still asphyxiating in your ties
And when the lustrous pangs of compulsion strikes
Like a thief in the silent night, oh, salient jealousy hikes
My barricades, then I shall build myself a paper plane
And leave for the gridlock land and let the fire to wane
From the graze of the grass; plush and white
And the mantling skies filled with unfettered kites
Serendipity, collapse on me
Serendipity, incarcerate me.
poem by Norman Santos
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Related quotes
Build A Fire (lenny Dee Remix)
Pulled up to rest, let the engine cool awhile.
Open the beans, gather wood for the fire.
I hum this tune, to all the girls I've known.
Should I care, about the chances I've blown?
Build a fire, they're gonna build a fire
Build a fire, they're gonna build a fire
They're gonna build a fire
They're gonna build a fire
When daylight breaks, I'll be down that road.
Rockman 'an me, with a lighter load.
We'll stop fo r lunch, in some taco bar.
Lee Marvin on the jukebox, 'Wanderin Star'.
Build a fire, they're gonna build a fire
Build a fire, they're gonna build a fire
song performed by by KLF
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Build A Fire
Pulled up to rest, let the engine cool awhile.
Open the beans, gather wood for the fire.
I hum this tune, to all the girls Ive known.
Should I care, about the chances Ive blown?
Build a fire, theyre gonna build a fire
Build a fire, theyre gonna build a fire
Theyre gonna build a fire
Theyre gonna build a fire
When daylight breaks, Ill be down that road.
Rockman an me, with a lighter load.
Well stop for lunch, in some taco bar.
Lee marvin on the jukebox, wanderin star.
Build a fire, theyre gonna build a fire
Build a fire, theyre gonna build a fire
song performed by by KLF
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Build
Clambering men in big bad boots
Dug up my den, dug up my roots
Treated us like plasticine town
They built us up and knocked us down
From meccano to legoland
Here they come with a brick in their hand
Men with heads filled up with sand
Its build
Its build a house where we can stay
Add a new bit everyday
Its build a road for us to cross
Build us lots and lots and lots and lots and lots
Whistling men in yellow vans
They can and drew us diagrams
Showed us how it all worked it out
And wrote it down in case of doubt
Slow, slow, quick, quick, quick
Its wall to wall and brick to brick
They work so fast it makes you sick
Its build
Its build a house where we can stay
Add a new bit everyday
Its build a road for us to cross
Build us lots and lots and lots and lots and lots
Its build
Down with sticks and up with bricks
In with boots and up with roots
Its in with suits and new recruits
Its build
song performed by by Housemartins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Closest Friends Are Dead
Look, fate is a finicky clamor.
Fate is a remote island,
Where nobody can reach
For the road to fate,
Is as jagged as the treachery
Of a thief as thick as blood.
-
Look, serendipity is dead.
It does not muse over your oceans,
It does not fly within your air spaces,
It does not burst in the eve of new year,
Serendipity calcified, serendipity is perverse,
It does not light up aglow in each verse,
Serendipity is your God, my God,
His God, Her God, that does not show itself.
(Sorry for the blasphemy.)
-
Look, the silence exists
Between the persnickety fate
And dead serendipity,
Silence, my only friend,
The cold hands of danger,
The pretense of forever,
As if bound by one fate alone,
That we never find one, only ourselves,
But then, the strongest men
Are the most alone,
Starved from the skin, hollowed bones
Silence, a scream as thin as ice,
Deafening, none would suffice.
poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Another Pyramid
Sad to say our mighty ruler
Is not really in the pink
Hopes could not be minuscular
That he'll come back from the brink
Not to beat around the bush
He looks like heading for his box
At the risk of seeming pushy
We must plan for future shocks
According to the hawk of Horus
Our most regal invalid
Is not that much longer for us
Build another pyramid
Build it, build it
Another pyramid
build it, build it
Though all doctors and physicians
Have been summoned to his bed
It'll soon be top morticians
We'll be calling for instead
With each wheeze the nation's humming
Egypt shakes with every cough
No two ways about what's coming
No discussion, bets are off
Soon our monarch will have filled the tomb
Just like his fathers did
Summon Egypt's greatest builder
Need another pyramid
Build it, build it
Another pyramid
Build it, build it
We hate to depress the nation
But our leader has been told
He should scrub his next vacation
Even put tonight on hold
This is where his loyal priesthood
Has the chance to do him proud
Holy leaders at the least should
See him happy to his shroud
He must have a vault that's grand by
Any standards for to live
Put five thousand slaves on standby
Build another pyramid
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blow Up Your TV (Spanish Pipe Dream)
(Prine)
She was a levelheaded dancer on the road to alcohol,
I was just a soldier on my way to Montreal.
Well, she pressed her chest against me about the time the jukebox broke.
She gave me a peck on the back of the neck, and these are the words she spoke.
Blow up your TV, throw away your paper, go to the country, build you a home.
Plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches, try and find Jesus on your own.
I sat there at the table, and I acted real naive.
Cause I knew that topless lady, she had something up her sleeve.
She danced around the room awhile and she did the hoochy coo.
Yeah, singing a song all night long, telling me what to do.
Blow up your TV, throw away your paper, go to the country, build you a home.
Plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches, try and find Jesus on your own.
Well, I was young and hungry, and about to leave that place.
Just as I was going. she looked me in the face.
I said "You must know the answer," she said "No, but I'll give it a try."
To this day we've been living our way, here is the reason why.
We blew up your TV, threw away your paper, went to the country, build us a home.
Had a lot of children, fed 'em on peaches, they all found Jesus on their own.
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Black Rose Flowers
In front of my house I have a little land
Not a wide land, just half meter and six meter widest
I had build it for put or take the flower pot
There is three flower pots
This bought my wife from flower tree salesmen
In the morning, when my wife cleaned away the land from garbage, grass
I told her I want to build the flower garden in my village
My wife angry
You have to arrange this house before build the garden far away from here
I told her, just dreaming
I haven’t money anymore
It just a plan, if I have a lot of money
My wife keep silent
She continue to clean away the land
Clean away the land from grass and garbage
And give her read, yellow, white
blossom
In front of my house
But I never saw
the violet and black colors
If I have the rose black color
of course my wife will be glad
But I never saw
the violet
and black color
and spread their aromatic
Could I smell
Among their thorny
Prasetya Utama, Ciluar, Bogor 07/04/06 13: 10: 01
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Fortress Around Your Heart
Under the ruins of a walled city
Crumbling towers and beams of yellow light
No flags of truce, no cries of pity
The siege guns had been pounding all through the night
It took a day to build the city
We walked through its streets in the afternoon
As I returned across the fields Id known
I recognized the walls that I once made
I had to stop in my tracks for fear
Of walking on the mines Id laid
And if I built this fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a bridge
For I cannot fill the chasm
And let me set the battlements on fire
Then I went off to fight some battle
That Id invented inside my head
Away so long for years and years
You probably thought or even wished that I was dead
While the armies are all sleeping
Beneath the tattered flag wed made
I had to stop in my track for fear
Of walking on the mines Id laid
And if I built this fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a bridge
For I cannot fill the chasm
And let me set the battlements on fire
This prison has now become your home
A sentence you seem prepared to pay
It took a day to build the city
We walked through its streets in the afternoon
As I returned across the fields where Id once played
I had to stop in my tracks for fear
Of walking on the mines Id laid
And if I built this fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a bridge
For I cannot fill the chasm
And let me set the battlements on fire
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Monument For The Soldiers
A monument for the Soldiers!
And what will ye build it of?
Can ye build it of marble, or brass, or bronze,
Outlasting the Soldiers' love?
Can ye glorify it with legends
As grand as their blood hath writ
From the inmost shrine of this land of thine
To the outermost verge of it?
And the answer came: We would build it
Out of our hopes made sure,
And out of our purest prayers and tears,
And out of our faith secure:
We would build it out of the great white truths
Their death hath sanctified,
And the sculptured forms of the men in arms,
And their faces ere they died.
And what heroic figures
Can the sculptor carve in stone?
Can the marble breast be made to bleed,
And the marble lips to moan?
Can the marble brow be fevered?
And the marble eyes be graved
To look their last, as the flag floats past,
On the country they have saved?
And the answer came: The figures
Shall all be fair and brave,
And, as befitting, as pure and white
As the stars above their grave!
The marble lips, and breast and brow
Whereon the laurel lies,
Bequeath us right to guard the flight
Of the old flag in the skies!
A monument for the Soldiers!
Built of a people's love,
And blazoned and decked and panoplied
With the hearts ye build it oft
And see that ye build it stately,
In pillar and niche and gate,
And high in pose as the souls of those
It would commemorate!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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We Built
- We build a wall never to fall cause we wanted to be alone.
- We build a love so strong never to be torn or ripped apart cause we knew it wasn’t wrong.
- We build a friendship with a solid foundation, with solid rocks, in a ship that never sinks but floats cause we knew it would stand forever its course.
- We build a wall never to collapse, crumble or fall cause all we wanted was to be alone.
- We build a love so strong and bold never to be torn, ripped apart, a sworn love, cause we knew it wasn’t wrong.
- We build a friendship with a solid foundation based on honesty and trust, built with solid rocks, in a heavenly ship that never sinks but floats as though you’re walking on air cause we knew it would stand forever and remain here.
And as I gaze at the clouds that forms encrypted scriptures of our blossoming love, I sigh with relief as I now believe in a love everlasting, my mind spins as dizziness settles in, I’m in for a surprise and then you descended from the skies.
Oh I smile get confused for a while, I can’t believe my naked eyes, you a friend of mine now soon to be a lover of mine, you caught me by surprise, it was you that always ignited my heart filled it up with desire, you that I dreamt of at night, Still your face was unclear for a while, yes I now remember that smile and how could I forget those eyes I get lost in every time.
Then as you touched the ground with your naked feet you reached for me, mesmerized I could hardly speak-move yet still YOU-YOU moved, moved closer how could a heart beat be so loud it deafened the crowd, then you spoke out loud but in a foreign tongue I couldn’t make out, then slowly as though you were not moving kissed me in a way I could hardly make out as though you spoke while we kissed.
It was you that always ignited my heart, you a friend of mine, soon to be a lover of all time.
poem by Thato Maluleka
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Vermilion
She seems dressed in all the rings
Of past fatalaties
So fragile yet so devious
She continues to see it
Climatic hands that press
Her temples and my chest
Enter the night that she came home
Forever
Oh (She's the only one that makes me sad)
She is everything and more
The solemn hypnotic
My Dahlia, bathed in posession
She is so into me
I get neverous, perversed when I see her it's worse
But the stress is astounding
It's now or never she's coming home
Forever
Oh (She's the only one that makes me sad)
Hard to say what caught my attention
Fixed and crazy, Aphid Attraction
Carve my name in my face, to recognize
Such a pheromone cult to terrorize
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
(Yeah!)
I'm a slave, and I am a master
No restraints and, unchecked collectors
I exist throught my name, to self-oblige
She is something in me, that I despise
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
She Isn't real!
I Can't make her real!
She Isn't real!
I Can't make her real!
(She isn't real, I can't make her real)
(She isn't real, I can't make her real)
song performed by by Slipknot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cities Of White Men
Those men build many houses:
They dig the earth, and they build;
They cut down the trees, and they build;
They work always - building.
From the elevation of the mountainside
I behold the clouds:
The clouds build many beautiful houses in the sky:
They build, and they tear down;
They build, and they dissolve. . . .
The cities of white men,
They are not beautiful like the cloud cities;
They are not vast, like the cloud cities. . . .
A wind-swept teepee
Is all the house I own. . .
poem by Anonymous Americas
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It’s called the inner city
On death row I ask what happen to me
This is not the way it was suppose be
So I drag my mind trying to recall
The life I had beyond these prison walls
I see
Thin walls no privacy
Big yard, living in close proximity
It’s called the inner city
It’s called the inner city
A city no one build for me
It’s called the inner city
Yes it has shaped my destiny
On death row I ask what happen to me
This is not the way it was suppose be
So I drag my mind trying to recall
The life I had beyond these prison walls
I see
Adults sit around
Getting shot and maim
Children run around
Oblivious
Playing their games
In the filth that flows untamed
It’s called the inner city
It’s called the inner city
A city no one build for me
It’s called the inner city
Yes, it has shaped my destiny
On death row I ask what happen to me
This is not the way it was suppose be
So I drag my mind trying to recall
The life I had beyond these prison walls
I see
How hard I try not to run with the pack
But against me the cards were stack
They need protection they need someone
But you can’t protect them with empty hand
In the inner city
It’s called the inner city
Poverty, amidst luxury
A city no one build for me
It’s called the inner city
Yes, it has shaped my destiny
Political connections, fearless and strong
Dispensing justice with an even hand
Truth be told, I am a ladies’ man
So naturally they call me the “Don”
In the inner city
It’s called the inner city
It’s called the inner city
A city, no one build for me
It’s called the inner city
Yes, it has shaped my destiny
Now on death row
Soon, I’ll go
I am guilty?
No one will know
The script is written and sing like a song
They used, refused and then they kill the “Don”
In the inner city
Hah, ha, ha, a, a, a
Hah, ha, ha, a, a, a
poem by Ikhalfani Solan
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Bridge Between Us
i like to build this bridge
between us
the river that divides us
is long and wide
and the waters rage like the emotions
of the night
that fought against the days of my life
i like to build this bridge between our minds
two continents divided by an ocean
seemingly without the sea
the shores nowhere to be found
i like to build this bridge
let me just tell you that before i finally take my leave
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Like To Build This Bridge
i like to build this bridge
between us
the river that divides us
is long and wide
and the waters rage like the fury
of the night
that fought against
the bright days
of my life
i like to build this bridge
between our minds
two continents divided by an ocean
seemingly
the shores
they're nowhere to be found
i like to build this bridge
let me just tell you that
before i finally take
my leave
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Vermillion (Terry Date Mix)
She seems dressed in all the rings
Of past fatalaties
So fradgile yet so devious
She continues to see it
Climatic hands that press
Her temples in my chest
Enter the night that she came home
Forever
Oh (She's the only one that makes me soar)
She is everytihng and more
The solemn hypnotic
My doll you're bathed in posession
She is home to me
I get neverous, perversed when I see her to worse
But the stress is astounding
It's now or never she's coming home
Forever
Oh (She's the only one that makes me soar)
Hard to say waht caught my attention
Vixen crazy, Athen Attraction
Call my name in my face, to recognize
Such a fair amount called, to terrorize
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
(Yeah!)
I'm a slave, and I am a master
No restraints and, unchecked collectors
I exist throught my name, to self ablige
There is something in me, the darkness finds
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
SHE ISN'T REAL!
I CAN'T MAKE HER REAL!
SHE ISN'T REAL!
I CAN'T MAKE HER REAL!
(She isn't real, I can't make her real)
(She isn't real, I can't make her real)
song performed by by Slipknot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Still As A Clock
When will the lacquer veneer erode with
Serrated shards of your jubilant complacence?
The Walls of Troy shouting an echolalia
Of somnabulistic susurrations usurping
The harried ego vying in barricaded seams,
Still finagles its claws on the svelte frame
Of my despondent shoulders and the burden
Is etched deeply into the collar bones, strangulated
By the vines of your leisurely blooming garden
Where time sinks into the hollow void,
And strings of icicles soused in fire,
Forbidden memories sprawls like the dermis
Of the passing season's contingency,
And words fluttered like innocuous paper planes
Winnowed by heaving breaths of serendipity
And pummeled by the soft drizzles of verity
Tarnishing the frangible papyrus into the salient
Turbulence of malignant clouts of veracity
When will you arrive like the sun rise
Before you leave like the setting sun?
Dispose the vicissitude's blithe
With the inert plummets of life.
When will you leave like the shadows
Looming in the patios of the nights
And shudder in the vivid throws
Of fire balls and gospel songs?
When will your height reveal the distance
And the depths of the cognizance
Slapping the macadamized ignorance?
When will the engulfing calls
Die with the siren's songs?
When will the sirens drown
Along with the harried frowns?
I'm here, still as a clock
Futilely meandering.
poem by Norman Santos
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Fog Creeps In The Rubber Forest
and build a hill moments
on the corner
limp body in silence
is it not a time capturing the clouds?
marching into one sentence shrubs
rising in the morning on empty cans
are untouched since yesterday
the twisted bamboo baskets
silent on just one word
shrubs swaying
want to do?
does it build the wind gallery here?
the wind will soon collapse
between the sidelines of the tree
and flew my spirit
poem by Imam Setiaji Ronoatmojo
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The Dreamer Of Dreams
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.
'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.
We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .
Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.
Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.
Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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The House Of Dust: Part 01: 01: The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.
'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.
We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .
Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.
Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.
Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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