Where I Won't Hide
I traipse into alleyways
where the hellhound scampers
for the abundance of prospective preys
sleuthing with their hunger
with their carnage grinding
along its wilted masquerading
I wandered with their howls
adrift in the unconscious lane
towards a poignant demise
In these hollow rifts
chandeliers tinker the shelves,
the cages and the dens -
The vulnerability caressed -
and every larceny,
and every mind's eye
surreptitiously slithered inside
the pulsating chamber
where ephemeral things
comes in and out
to corrupt the strings
the harpist dedicated
for her opus and its beauty
flagrantly before my eyes
Inside this abortive purgatory
I basked in the cheap glory
of flames igniting for
the cheap bliss instilled
in the false hope dangling
upon your succinct trespasses
and that is how I managed
to subsist in unreality
where our vagaries
grew fairy wings for
the lifeless earth's boundaries
where we I won't hide.
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Behind Your Motorbike
Your not so subtle
sagacious whims
cradled in brass knuckles
flummoxed
when you stripped
the callused skin
into a brusque
mad sea
of enigmatic
enthralls -
Have you seen
the albatross shuffled
its seaward compass
inveigled to your
thermal fan?
Where were you
behind the machine
that bludgeons
your words -
a rivulet of
well juggled daggers
double-edged
gambles?
Inside a chamber
stale as brittle bones
but the vulnerability
exonerates
the shy lacquer.
As you basked
in the piquant taste
of squalor
in your red cigarette
concealed behind
the blearing smoke
and the dry beer
rummaging
with you words,
Your soul -
soused in a quagmire
of kerosene
awaits for a fire
to ignite
your oblivious nights
We basked in the luxury
of your hidden empire
and wager for the sight
of its saluting banners
The air sculling
into your body
as you tear the streets
in a moonless night
in your motorbike
sifts into
a comely rubble
So stretch your arms
and let the cold
gnaw unto
the intoxication;
Let the shadows
cast themselves
in cobwebbed strings
but do not run
away;
And do not chase
the beacons of your
headlights
Just breathe in
for today
and spew the cheap thrills
for these shabby
little heavens
perched upon
your reticent palms
poem by Norman Santos
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The Dented Can
Looking at the reduced cart
I see a dented can
That's cheap
The wrappers off
And what's inside
Is a mystery
Should you take a chance
To find out what's inside
And buy the dented can
Or do you overlook it
And buy a can
That does have a wrapper
Because you do know
whats inside the one with the wrapper
Or do you buy the dented can
Without a wrapper
So you wonder to yourself
Is what inside that dented can
without a wrapper
good or bad
I wonder who's gonna
Take a chance on that dented can
Without a wrapper
Usually the one that do take that chance
Are cheap
And maybe a little crazy
Or just poor and that's all they can afford
Is all hope gone for that damaged can
Is there still someone good out there
That is willing to take a chance
On a dented can without a wrapper
Or does that can deserve
Not have someone
Who will see the beauty
In a dented can
Without a wrapper on it
Black Bruises III
I can wallow under the blackness,
the quietude underwater
coaxing to a surmised fray
I can endure the insipidness
sleuthing senescence arrive,
sleuthing balmy perfumes,
sleuthing cigarette kisses,
sleuthing ablaze kerosene,
sleuthing sly putrefactions,
sleuthing unawake buds,
sleuthing old handkerchiefs,
sleuthing ruffled pillowcases;
but am I the only one smelling
these black bruised fragrances?
poem by Norman Santos
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Screaming Silence
Juggling abortive bliss and ephemeral anguish
And discreetly dwelling by your pensive shadows
I started to grope for exoneration in a muffled wish
Only to find myself lacerating with greater sorrow
Yet, I promised to be stern in despite the grating slits
And exhumed the corpse of all denied warfare
I quaffed your poison to fill my emptied wrists
And subsist in the chromospheres of the tiger's lair
That my own coercions, fractions, and distractions
Feigned, like a cross to drag and carry in a furrow
Teeming with vindictive eyes of incarceration
My silence screamed of sated state of hollow.
poem by Norman Santos
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Don’t be cheap
Buy not a thing because it’s cheap.
Don’t let others make you cheap.
To be greedy is to be cheap.
To be selfish is to be cheap.
To poke your nose is a cheap thing.
Don’t be cheap; better be poor.
23.08.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inside Story
(eric carmen)
I heard my friends
Talkin bout your reputation
All the things you used to do
They called you cheap
Said a lot of guys had had you
Girl, I dont believe its true, no
But its alright
Im not in it for the glory
Yes, its alright
Got to know the inside story
The inside story
All about your love
About your love
Talkin bout the inside story
All about your love
You say they lied
Well, it really doesnt matter
Doesnt matter what youve done
Turn off the lights
Wont you tell me that you want me
Tell me Im the only one, yeah
cause its alright
Im not in it for the glory
Yes, its alright
Got to know the inside story
The inside story
All about your love
About your love
Talkin bout the inside story
All about your love
Listen, I dont care whats in your past
All I want is for our love to last
And I dont mind if youre a bit too fast
With me
cause its alright
Im not in it for the glory
Yes, its alright
Got to know the inside story
I wanna know the inside story
All about your love
About your love
Talkin bout the inside story
All about your love
Let me know the inside story, yeah
About your love, oh yeah
Got to know myself, oh yeah
song performed by by Eric Carmen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Objectified
All beautiful things meet their demise
Flowers in bloom surely will die
Frozen are the wings of the dead butterfly
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Clouds of gray spoil the light of the skies
The ocean must fall in order to rise
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
I knew I was doomed when you first said, “Hi.”
Two ships in the night, we were bound to collide
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Four months can pass in the blink of an eye
We lose ourselves without having to try
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
The simplest words become hard to define
You can’t see the truth when you cover your eyes
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Your pay the price to take this ride
Slowly, you find that you’re living a lie
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Pictures of us will fade over time
We become strangers in a world so wide
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
You’ll keep on searching for what you won’t find
You’ll lose your faith while I lose my mind
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
All beautiful things meet their demise
Sometimes your morals get left behind
It will be too late when you realize
Because all beautiful things meet their demise
poem by Vaida Marea
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Hellhound (Lyrics)
Got a hellhound dog
That hellhound's gonna rip your face off
Got a hellhound dog
That hellhound's gonna tear right through
Got a hellhound born
A hellhound born to the pack
Got a hellhound dog
And I know that I might be dead
Those who seek it out
Those who stand a few
Hell, hell of Satan's pack
We are born of hate
Both feet into hell
Take another step
Towards the bleeding light
Those who seek it out
Those who stand a few
We are a part of it
Got a hellhound dog
That hellhound's gonna rip your face off
Got a hellhound dog
That hellhound's gonna tear right through
Got a hellhound born
A hellhound born to the pack
Got a hellhound dog
That hellhound's gonna rip your face off
Got a hellhound dog
That hellhound's gonna rip your face off
Got a hellhound dog
Got a hellhound born
poem by Satan's Sibling
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Your Dictionary
H-a-t-e
Is that how you spell love in your dictionary
K-i-c-k
Pronounced as kind
F-u-c-k
Is that how you spell friend in your dictionary
Black on black
A guidebook for the blind
Well now that I can see my eyes wont weep
Now that I can hear your song sounds cheap
Now that I can talk all your corn Ill reap
Im not so sure that joey wed a virgin mary
There are no words for me inside your dictionary
S-l-a-p
Is that how you spell kiss in your dictionary
C-o-l-d
Pronounced as care
S-h-i-t
Is that how you spelt me in your dictionary
Four-eyed fool
You led round everywhere
Now that I can see its the queens new clothes
Now that I can hear all your poison prose
Now that I can talk with my tongue unfroze
Im not so sure of santa or the buck-tooth fairy
There are no words for me inside your dictionary
Now your laughter has a hollow ring
But the hollow ring has no finger in
So lets close the book and let the day begin
And our marriage be undone
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shouting' For A Camel
It was over at Coolgardie that a mining speculator,
Who was going down the township just to make a bit o' chink,
Went off to hire a camel from a camel propagator,
And the Afghan said he'd lend it if he'd stand the beast a drink.
Yes, the only price he asked him was to stand the beast a drink.
He was cheap, very cheap, as the dromedaries go.
So the mining speculator made the bargain, proudly thinking
He had bested old Mahomet, he had done him in the eye.
Then he clambered on the camel, and the while the beast was drinking
He explained with satisfaction to the miners standing by
That 'twas cheap, very cheap, as the dromedaries go.
But the camel kept on drinking and he filled his hold with water,
And the more he had inside him yet the more he seemed to need;
For he drank it by the gallon, and his girths grew taut and tauter,
And the miners muttered softly, 'Yes he's very dry indeed!
But he's cheap, very cheap, as dromedaries go.'
So he drank up twenty buckets, it was weird to watch him suck it,
(And the market price for water was per bucket half-a-crown)
Till the speculator stopped him, saying, 'Not another busket,
If I give him any more there'll be a famine in the town.
Take him back to old Mahomet, and I'll tramp it through the town.'
He was cheap, very cheap, as the speculators go.
There's a moral to this story, in your hat you ought to paste it,
Be careful whom you shout for when a camel is about,
And there's plenty human camels who, before they'll see you waste it,
Will drink up all you pay for if you're fool enough to shout;
If you chance to strike a camel when you're fool enough to shout,
You'll be cheap, very cheap, as the speculators go.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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“Shouting” for a Camel
It was over at Coolgardie that a mining speculator,
Who was going down the township just to make a bit o' chink,
Went off to hire a camel from a camel propagator,
And the Afghan said he'd lend it if he'd stand the beast a drink.
Yes, the only price he asked him was to stand the beast a drink.
He was cheap, very cheap, as the dromedaries go.
So the mining speculator made the bargain, proudly thinking
He had bested old Mahomet, he had done him in the eye.
Then he clambered on the camel, and the while the beast was drinking
He explained with satisfaction to the miners standing by
That 'twas cheap, very cheap, as the dromedaries go.
But the camel kept on drinking and he filled his hold with water,
And the more he had inside him yet the more he seemed to need;
For he drank it by the gallon, and his girths grew taut and tauter,
And the miners muttered softly, 'Yes he's very dry indeed!
But he's cheap, very cheap, as dromedaries go.'
So he drank up twenty buckets -- it was weird to watch him suck it,
(And the market price for water was per bucket half-a-crown)
Till the speculator stopped him, saying, 'Not another bucket --
If I give him any more there'll be a famine in the town.
Take him back to old Mahomet, and I'll tramp it through the town.'
He was cheap, very cheap, as the speculators go.
There's a moral to this story -- in your hat you ought to paste it --
Be careful whom you shout for when a camel is about,
And there's plenty human camels who, before they'll see you waste it,
Will drink up all you pay for if you're fool enough to shout;
If you chance to strike a camel when you're fool enough to shout,
You'll be cheap, very cheap, as the speculators go.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inside Out
Inside out, ooh you got me inside out
Oh inside out, oh inside out
Now everybody keeps on telling me how to be
And everybody tells me do what they say
Oh Ill help myself its up to me and no-one else
But till Im ready just keep out of my way
Inside out, ooh you got me inside out
Oh inside out, oh inside out
Now everybodys got me running round, up and down
And here I am going out of my mind
But I wont lose sight of all the, the things Im looking for
Theyre coming to me and Im taking whats mine
Inside out, ooh you got me inside out
Oh inside out, oh inside out
Ill play the game
Well make the same mistakes
Its all the same
If we can give and take
Hold on, hold on, ooh
Hold on, hold on, ooh
Inside out, ooh you got me inside out
Oh inside out, oh inside out
All of my life Ive been searching and hanging on
Turning a corner, never know what Id find
But now Im back again like I never went away
Ooh let me in Im through with wasting my time
Inside out, ooh you got me inside out
Oh inside out, oh inside out
Oh inside out, ooh you got me inside out
Oh inside out, oh inside out
song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vanishing Act
There is a place
For all of us
To hide,
To unveil
The bride,
The misery,
The bleak sunder
Amongst foxes;
In the dark,
In the corner
Of your room,
In the sordid cubicle
Of a bar's restroom,
Behind a car,
Under a lamppost,
In the blear
Of the noise,
In the epicenter
Of a crowd,
Where you can die
And no one would know,
Where you can give up
And no false-hope
Can linger
And where the wounds
Do not deserve
The emollient graze
Of tourniquets
And this place
Is ubiquitous
Swallowing the bliss
Of ephemeral days
And in this place
You should learn to subsist
Because this place
Is the only one
That will never leave
You are one lucky fellow
If you had picture
A woman, a man,
A lover, a comrade,
Building bricks
To become this place
Of safe
Euthanasia
For every
Vanishing acts.
poem by Norman Santos
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Beauty Fades Away
There is one thing I want but never had.
I can not buy it and I am so sad.
Mother would have given it to me,
I know,
If she had chosen her other beau. But, she chose the one with inside beauty
that eyes can not see,
And not the other one with great outside
beauty, who was as charming as could be.
Dad was the one with the inside beauty that
will always stay.
It is not like outside beauty that with time,
fades away. Many people had great beauty at birth,
But, little or none when they left this earth,
Like time, it slowly passes away,
Until there was little, or none one day. I am now no longer sad, because of the outside
beauty I never had.
More important is my inside beauty from my Mom
and Dad.
It is deep inside me where it will always stay,
Because it can not be taken away.
poem by Lillian M. Lewis
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Glass Boy, Spare Some
Pliant flame, spare one simper for a boy
Who wore a vessel of naked sincerity too lucid
That reduced his opulence into thin films
Of frailty, steadfast with detrimental affection
Of vulnerability, committed to debonair convictions
He submits into a disposition of undeserving woes and pains
In a terrain with no tender arms, a valley of jagged hopes
That glistened like the epitomizing skin of shattered glass
Phosphorescent crust encumbering a fragile soul
Spared of scarce sympathy, corrupted of his golden crown
Abrade of flaws and lamentations, tethered in a town
Of make believe people and cheap bliss that tinker
Inside a hollow glass receptacle too agonizing to touch
The papyrus-thin veneer of diaphanous crust
In a vow to transparency to the skeletons and demons
That cordially lingered in the wardrobe of terror
Giving away all that there is; hope and its disease
Porcelain grandiosity drained in a lack-lusting ride
Of rueful nights, sullying to impotency a glass-like pride
Held by the hand, but who would hold such fragile hands?
Shattered mirrors and razor edges, fulminate thy prancing light
And devour the darkness of the mantling abandonment
Spare a piece of heaven, glass boy of flimsy grip
Spare an ounce of faith, glass boy of authentic grief
For I have enough spared for a goblet full of emptiness
Iron eyes for a glass frame, a boy too earnest.
poem by Norman Santos
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Without Regret
Saddened memories,
I once held as property.
Who knew,
They would go...
When they grew,
Inside of me!
I now reflect,
Without regret.
I know now
Defeats I've met!
But who knew,
They would go...
When they grew,
Inside of me!
Those times
Stayed on my mind
For days at a time.
I used that to feed,
My own desperate needing.
I lived with anger and deceit!
I felt those feelings deep,
Within me!
Defeats I have met!
But who knew,
They would go...
When they grew,
Inside of me!
But...
Who knew,
They would go...
When they grew,
Inside of me!
Who knew,
Like I do now...
When they grew,
Somehow
They would go...
From inside of me!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hidden Drive
there's a dirty house that's falling apart
some want to fix it but they don't know where to start
there's cobwebs and cracks in the walls
this is where rain's relief dares not to fall
no one really cares to help this place
they just look at the face
this old house is kept inside
with a disguising shell to hide
something i noticed as i passed by
at the house where hope will die
the windows were clean and new
though everywhere else the weeds grew
the windows had such an allure
i couldn't take it anymore
i gazed at the windows in awe
then through them i saw
the messy, run-down house inside
where beauty died
then i realized
something about eyes
eyes are the windows
clean and lovely for show
but behind them is the soul
sometimes your eyes will fool
the beauty and shine will not last
for one day, someone will see past.
poem by Alex Manson
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Carrion's Redolent Ululations
Beneath the wings of the ravine condor
Perched upon my dislocated shoulders
And in the scraping of its scaled talon
I found myself a lackluster prey
Already devoured by drifting webs
Of the starlight's tale; a carrion
Putrefied in believing and unbelieving
And submitting only to an immolation
Sating verve in embedding roots
In the lost fathoms of a parliament
Digressing the fear that hones a man
Into what a lion would have become
Perhaps, averting deaths in cognizant places
And taking leisure upon cheap ryes
Spewed to sedate the thorough wile
Have I made a shack, shabby or not,
In this derided chance of slipping away?
With the died-out leaves of summer breeze
Have I made enough drivels to ignite
And char myself again in the gravels?
As the clock never swallows itself
And the sun never sleeps with its eyes
How do I subsist this hunger game?
When time would reach the dock
And the ships sail its oars to different currents
Is it suffice that I have been present?
Would that compensate the lack of life?
As I avert the eyes of the scavenger
Have I defeated the malingerer?
Should I nourish the famished land
Buried beneath the taut and thinning ice?
Ephemeral as everything goes
How do I learn to satisfy
And molt wings apt to circumnavigate
The same plane where you linger?
poem by Norman Santos
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Wake Up!
I saw you smile, I saw you true, I saw you through
Today youre in your best disguise
Where are you now musician, lost your speech, where are you now
You dragon tamer, tell me please, where are your heroes now
Wake up, you forsaken heavens sheep, your heavens cheap
Wake up, open your eyes, feel the might of the light, I know youve got a sun inside
I saw you turn, I saw you burn today, your flickering, empty eyes hurt me like pins
Are you still in, tell me...
Where are you now, magician, lost your wand, where are the dreams
That you have dreamt....when you were a hero
Where are you now, where have you gone, youre much too beautuful
To slip into oblivion
Wake up, you forsaken heavens sheep, your heavens cheap
Wake up, open your eyes, feel the might of the light, I know youve got a sun inside
I saw you turn, I saw you burn today, your flickering, empty eyes hurt me like pins
Are you still in, tell me...
I know youe got a sun inside, I know youve got a sun inside...
I know youve got a sun
I know youve got a sun
Inside
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Over Use
A quote goes cheap if over used.
A queen goes cheap if over seen.
A guest goes cheap if overstayed.
Otherwise also they’ll expire stale
(26.06.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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