Life Uselessness
new space still be disorderly
window curtain which poke
like army flag which fail the war
chair which its spume have destroyed
poking my bottom when siting
idea do not be important
which can born from there
except hunchbacked grandfather
sit in mat of semi furling
I confuse
what else I which must write
except life
uselessness
from body which Old age
what momentarily
consisting with land; ground
where he come
for centuries then.
poem by Prasetya Utama
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
All People Have A Breaking Point
all people have a breaking point
of mind or body fractured stressed
although some do know it not
bodies can break in random accidents
bodies can break in undue pressures
bodies can break in life misfortunes
poking other people with sticks poke poke
standing on deceit power base pedestals
believing themselves immune to fortune fall
did their mothers never teach manners
not to poke especially poke in the eye
sad it is to watch ego poke poke patterns
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Difference Between You And Me....
perhaps we have the same vices,
we write to confuse, but we drive some points,
like nails on sandalwood,
not those rusty ones that make the sound
of 'trying hard'
we are original in these, competing only with
our own syllables,
we may have the same vices
i may have written all those words to confuse
but mine is a series of stairs
leading to the door to the room to the window
to the skies
and then everything i am is gone
but you do not notice it
you think that i am still the chair and the table
the napkin and
the spoon.
my wings are hands
my hands are winds,
my mind are planes,
my soul a boat,
what i write are mirages
you see, you cannot touch.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Two Flags
Some people are born under two flags.
Their parents are of two countries
and this is the situation of me.
I live under one flag,
but wish I lived under the other.
For a while, I lived under the other flag
and felt the world belong to me.
Now I live under the one flag
and everything seems to be taken from me.
Those who inspire my life
live under the other flag.
While the ones whose flag I live under
fail to recognise the potential within me.
It is a dilemma I face everyday,
whether to go or to stay.
However I am not the only one,
there must be many more just like me
who live under two flags
and wish they lived under the one farthest away.
2 May 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sons And Fascination
Summer rains are here
Savaged beauty life
Falling here from grace
Sister feeling call
Cruising land to land
No faith no creed no soul
Half a world away
Beauty sleeps in time
Sound and fury play
Ma son warm land semi-monde
Ma son warm land semi-monde
Cry because you're young
Governments and gifts
Hearts are in our mouths
Thank you for the voice
Thank you for the eyes
Thank you for the good times
Golden guns and cars
Styles and motorcades
In screaming beauty days
Ma son warm land semi-monde
Ma son warm land semi-monde
Only winds that twist
When white money calls
Falling here from grace
White-eye movement trust
Parades are leaving town
When boys of Venice call
In all stations trust
In all stations soul
Sons and fascination
Ma son warm lands semi-monde
Ma son warm lands semi-monde
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Grissom is a character who doesn't really want people poking around in his life. He likes to poke around in his work.
quote by William Petersen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sons & Fascination
Summer rains are here
Savaged beauty life
Falling here from grace
Sister feeling call
Cruising land to land
No faith no creed no soul
Half a world away
Beauty sleeps in time
Sound and fury play
Ma son warm land semi-monde
Ma son warm land semi-monde
Cry because youre young
Governments and gifts
Hearts are in our mouths
Thank you for the voice
Thank you for the eyes
Thank you for the good times
Golden guns and cars
Styles and motorcades
In screaming beauty days
Ma son warm land semi-monde
Ma son warm land semi-monde
Only winds that twist
When white money calls
Falling here from grace
White-eye movement trust
Parades are leaving town
When boys of venice call
In all stations trust
In all stations soul
Sons and fascination
Ma son warm lands semi-monde
Ma son warm lands semi-monde
Lyrics : j kerr music : simple minds (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Cut Above The Rest
My great-grandfather was a soldier
and Rebecca was his loving wife.
They were wed in what was then India
and she was accustomed to army life.
They lived in an Indian army bungalow
on the outskirts of the city of Lahore.
Whilst the Major was away on duty
a guard kept their home secure.
One evening as the sun was setting
an open window let in the breeze.
The manservant lit the oil lamps
then retired to the bungalow’s eaves.
As Rebecca sat quietly reading
the sound of a thud came from outside.
From the wall she took her father’s sword
and stood behind the curtain as if to hide.
With the sword raised high and ready
she was in a position to take a swing.
Nervously she stood there waiting
for whatever the night would bring.
From behind the closed curtains
a hand and then an arm poked through
and then with a swipe of the sword
she severed the wrist in two.
A loud scream of pain followed,
as the man left his severed limb behind.
When Rebecca later told the story
she said the burglar left more than he could find.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It's Ours
there is always that space there
just before they get to us
that space
that fine relaxer
the breather
while say
flopping on a bed
thinking of nothing
or say
pouring a glass of water from the
spigot
while entranced by
nothing
that
gentle pure
space
it's worth
centuries of
existence
say
just to scratch your neck
while looking out the window at
a bare branch
that space
there
before they get to us
ensures
that
when they do
they won't
get it all
ever.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Charles Bukowski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Revocation
A grandson sails through the century
jumps into the chair of grandfather
and revokes the death penalty
for the iconoclast who refuses to be alive.
A truth should be deemed again
to find the mystery of death.
Between man and divinity
lies the fiction
which no body wants to write off.
Green goes the sea in full moon
the earth has a debt to pay.
Sometimes you walk a long distance
to know when the sun will rise.
Unchanged remains the odor of wind.
The chest feels the punch
fetching the burden of roaring sounds
in the domain of soundless solitude.
The grandfather is lifted by untainted words.
Still swallowing the emotions
the peacocks on a tall tree scrambling,
scream in unison.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Flying
If I fly
then I am off the ground.
If I am off the ground
I might fly too high and spin off into space
where I will perish.
If I don't fly
and stay on the ground
then I lose out on the experience of flying.
If I fly tip-toe but not actually fly
then I don't fly or soar.
and lose the experience of really flying.
If I stay on the ground then my life
will not be what it could be.
I guess flying is worth the risk.
But then this
is a personal choice
and I could fail.
So fear of failure
is my real enemy.
That I have to overcome.
Be prepared to fail as many
times as it takes
but don't give up on flying.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Canadian born
We first saw light in Canada, the land beloved of God;
We are the pulse of Canada, its marrow and its blood:
And we, the men of Canada, can face the world and brag
That we were born in Canada beneath the British flag.
Few of us have the blood of kings, few are of courtly birth,
But few are vagabonds or rogues of doubtful name and worth;
And all have one credential that entitles us to brag--
That we were born in Canada beneath the British flag.
We've yet to make our money, we've yet to make our fame,
But we have gold and glory in our clean colonial name;
And every man's a millionaire if only he can brag
That he was born in Canada beneath the British flag.
No title and no coronet is half so proudly worn
As that which we inherited as men Canadian born.
We count no man so noble as the one who makes the brag
That he was born in Canada beneath the British flag.
The Dutch may have their Holland, the Spaniard have his Spain,
The Yankee to the south of us must south of us remain;
For not a man dare lift a hand against the men who brag
That they were born in Canada beneath the British flag.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Whew! !
i was told, not to worry
when i was yet a one-celled body
i died, and live again
as another complex organism, a tissue,
a seed, and then i sprout
and turn into a plant and then
i die again
and turn into another more complex body
a butterfly
metamorphosed into a bird
and then i die again
and born into the body of a cow
and then i die again
and born into the body of a man
whew! it is tiresome and
so hard to remember
what i did as a man,
they say i was once a king,
and then
into, a semi-god, and then i die
again and i turn into
a god, and so on and so forth,
with a point,
i should not fear death
because it is taking me into
perfection
a hundred and another hundred years.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Homeland
My beautiful Armenia
that since the day
i never saw
Though It was my
dream since my
chidhood days
The longing and the
love of a mother land
Melted with ache and passion
always were there
At the deepest
corner in my childish
heart
The love and the
ache of being away
from the home
gave me the
inspiration to write
The first poem i've wrote was about my motherland
Yet all that I knew
about my home
i've learn it from
the history books
I've watched the
beauty of my home
with the eyes of my soul
I figured it in my mind
I saw it with the eyes
of my soul and i
admired
Every time a friend
asks me
'what do you want from
homeland'?
I answer
'.A bottele of an air
and a piece of
stone'
From the grounds of
my home.
To kiss the ground
of my grandfather's land
To smell and breath
the pure air
The memorial lands
rich in history
Where my
grandfather's
memories lie.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Once The Idea Comes To My Mind
i may find a pen and make a note in any of those
papera in my pocket anticipating such a situation
of radiance
without light at all
i may have captured the new idea
on paper
in writing, so it may not escape and slip like an eel
like a droplet of water
on my raincoat from my head,
but sometimes, i am too lazy to listen and
impatient to write what comes to me
as a gift
and i let it go, let is slip in my tongue like a spit
a phlegm
after all, it may not be important, so important that i may soon die
if i forget it
or the world stops spinning
or this whole world ends,
there is no such an idea,
there is no such person even, so indispensable, so important
there is no such line
no such poem, everything here is always something throwable
into some trashcans
sometimes, i have them inside myself, and then
without so much regret
i vomit,
who cares anyway?
oh well, nobody, except the critics who are there
always to kill your urge
to write poetry, who are always there to compare you to someone
deserving
the laurels of despair, the crown of literary gall
the thorns of misery
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Take up one idea. Make that one idea your life - think of it, dream of it, live on idea. Let the brain, muscles, nerves, every part of your body, be full of that idea, and just leave every other idea alone. This is the way to success.
quote by Swami Vivekananda
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Dr. Lily McKee: I think space exploration is very important. I think there is very intelligent life on Mars. I believe that Martians are spying on us from the bottom of the ocean.
line from Asteroid (1997)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
It's life that matters, nothing but life — the process of discovering, the everlasting and perpetual process, not the discovery itself, at all. But what's the use of talking! I suspect that all I'm saying now is so like the usual commonplaces that I shall certainly be taken for a lower-form schoolboy sending in his essay on "sunrise", or they'll say perhaps that I had something to say, but that I did not know how to "explain" it. But I'll add, that there is something at the bottom of every new human thought, every thought of genius, or even every earnest thought that springs up in any brain, which can never be communicated to others, even if one were to write volumes about it and were explaining one's idea for thirty-five years; there's something left which cannot be induced to emerge from your brain, and remains with you forever; and with it you will die, without communicating to anyone perhaps the most important of your ideas.
quote by Dostoyevsky
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
A curtain of rain
Relentless, daring spume feeds
Into my progress
haiku by Adeline Foster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My awareness
I know when the Taj Mahal was built.
When did my grandfather build my house?
I know when King Asoka was born.
When was my grandfather born?
I know the world history, not my family history.
21.10.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poke Chop Sandwich
(about lightnin hopkins drummer who used to keep a porkchop sandwich on his floor tom, for snacking during the breaks. recorded with hopkins drummer, spider, present in the studio.)
Poke
Better watch that
Poke chop sandwichwaitin in th? sack
Ridin a tom tom, a double fat back
Got my poke chop sandwich? /p>
Layin on da drum
Poke chop greazyIm gonna get some
Get some a? dat poke chop
Poke chop sandwich
Poke chop
Poke chop sandwich
Yeah yeah twenty five
Louisiana back beat and th? texas bop
Do a hollywood shuffle jes? cant top it
New york turn around and
Th? london stomp
African good luck combination
I know that ya want
Poke chop
Poke chop sandwich
Poke chop
Double poke chop sandwich
Play on
Spider & lightnin hopkins got
Th? big bad beat
Aint no question what they gonna eat
Spider wanna a bottle,
Lightnin? wanna a can
Theyll take in a bucket
cause they dam well can
A poke chop
A poke at dat chop
Cut dat poke chope
Poke chop sandwich
Feel like, I feel like a poke chop sandwich
Give me dat sandwich in wax paper
Pork chop sandwich
song performed by by ZZ Top
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!