Models of each Personality.
You may be a sheep to follow mutely,
a Conventional.
You may be a bird, flying in groups,
a Social
You may be a dog, alert and probing,
an Investigative.
You may be a monkey, doing tricks, all new, an Artistic.
You may be a lion, straightforward in dealing, a Realistic.
You may be a fox to face any situation,
an Enterprising.
You will be in any one group.
Each one gets its prey.
23.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Seek nuts for your spanner.
The one who likes being towed is the conventional.
The one who freely mixes, ego-less, is the social.
The one who tends to probe and is alert is the Investigative.
The one who wants to be innovative is the artistic.
The one who calls spade a spade is the realistic.
The one who is self confident is the enterprising.
Each spanner is good for certain nuts.
Your spanner was cast when you were a child.
22.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sheeple
They follow each other like sheep
Maybe because of coloring, or with their own they keep
Not knowing where they are going so they just follow
One after another, up the road or in a hollow,
They all are weak and meek and so easily led
Sadly like sheep they know not of the dangers up ahead,
So they follow and follow as that is their norm
To follow in the mainstream and to their own they conform
They are led by their shepherd wherever that he might go
And they believe what he believes, but they know not what he does know.
They do their following without thought or thinking
They are acquiesce, without remorse or blinking
Thinking themselves not as individuals, but only as a group
All they seek is one to follow, someone to lead their troop
Following because of others or because they are adherent or devout
To the belief of someone else and even the lies from their mouth
They are told what to see and what they know and what to do
Sadly in their life and other matters they do not have a clue
These followers are unimaginative, submissive people
They are brothers to the sheep, known only as sheeple.
poem by Randy McClave
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Elders count
Elephants roam in groups of male and female.
Giants and the gallant old ones take lead from males
To corner the young females to have coitus.
Youth and energy give way to age and dominance.
Pupils beam in groups of lads and lasses.
They are locked in with infatuation.
The teacher hooks the best for consummation.
Physique and spirit give way to skill and security.
Though old a man is,
to him not cold she is.
04.01.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I write for myself.
I write for a name and fame
and not for penny or tummy.
I feel well while I pen verses.
It fills me with a kind of pride..
I am alert by heart.
I am alert by intellect.
I love the young and live young.
I learn my mental faculty.
I spend endlessly my time.
And spend painlessly money.
I have feeling of well being.
as they buy me youth and health,
with head upright while I walk..
26.03.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The forbidden needn’t be abnormal.
In a zoo at Agartala, I myself witnessed
a scene, where an old monkey, perching
on a bar, away, engrossed himself
in masturbation. With no sixth sense,
can animals err? Is then that act natural?
That, too, in spite of free sex?
20.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Bias
even when the lion
smiles at us
we still withhold
confidence
even if the lion is
sincere
and does not think of
evil
like eating all of us
as prey
we always think of
the worst
even if it is just a picture
of the lion
smiling at us
we still suspect
that this can be a trap
another deception
a lion is a lion is a lion
and will always be lion
no matter what
as simple as that
ask the wind
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Potentials of the lion
The lion moves in groups; the lion prowl in groups.
Hi is a coward and yet it’s crowned
The king of the jungle, which is rightly so
For he can mate fifty times in a day.
22.06.2010.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Artistic
Artistic
It's artistic
Grace in your movement
Is artistic.
Artistic
It's artistic
Sweetness in your voice
Is artistic.
Artistic
It's artistic
Gleam in your eye
Is artistic.
I'm filled with inspiration
In my dormant artistic pursuit...
With brush in hand
I'll paint your every move
With hidden treasure of words
I'll weave poems of what you say
And I'll move as you command
By the gleam of your eye.
poem by Tirupathi Chandrupatla
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Unless Something Has Sprung It
Will the lion roar in forest without any reason? !
Unless it has a prey;
Does a trap spring up out on the earth on its own?
Unless something has sprung it;
But this lion has roared and, who is ready to hear it?
Two legs from the jaws of the lion,
And like your beds and couches;
But the winter houses and the summer houses are closer to you,
For the kings of the lands have fallen like water upon the face of the earth.
The prudent are silent like a raiser of naked sheep!
For there is no end to the treasure of man on this earth;
But where are the dwelling places of the lions?
Plunder the gold, the silver and the bronze! !
And like the whoredom of the seductive harlots;
But trample the mortar and give me hope,
And go to the clay pits and tell me more!
For the lion has roared and, who is ready to hear it?
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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One’s joy is not as you suppose
The Pilot loathes flying
And the chauffeur, driving.
Anything as occupation
Loses its thrill.
No desire exists
Where it is a routine.
28.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Feed The Monkey
She likes to feed the monkey
She likes to feed the monkey
She likes to feed the monkey
She likes the monkey
Well gather 'round and let me tell you all a story
About a boy and his monkey
He's got that kind of monkey that the girls wanna know
He likes to take his monkey every place that he goes
(Can we pet your monkey?)
Hey, ho, you see the monkey?
Did you know you made my monkey hungry?
I didn't really know how it get so hungry
I'd like to know
Would you feed the monkey?
Well you can pet my monkey
'Cause my monkey don't bite
But when you pet my monkey
He get funky all night
My monkey ain't no ordinary orangutang
'Cause my monkey likes to do the wild thing
My monkey don't scratch
My monkey don't bite
My monkey don't swing no tree
My monkey don't hit
My monkey don't drool
My monkey be swing with me
My monkey don't freak
My monkey don't trip
My monkey don't wear no cape
But you can tell what my monkey wanna eat
'Cause it turn into a big ol' ape
Yeah...
Hey..
The monkey's getting hungry
Hey, hey, why don't you feed your monkey?
(REPEAT x 3)
What she want?
She wants the monkey
(REPEAT x 3)
You know she want
You know she want
You know she wants the monkey
(REPEAT x 3)
Hey, hey, she likes to feed the monkey
Ooh, she's sayin' it's time to feed the monkey
Everyday she wants to feed the monkey
All through the day she likes to feed the monkey
She likes to feed the monkey
(REPEAT x 7)
Feed the monkey
(REPEAT x 19)
She likes to feed the monkey
song performed by by Infectious Grooves
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Face
There is a face I know too well,
A face I dread to see,
So vain it is, so eloquent
Of all futility.
It is a human face that hides
A monkey soul within,
That bangs about, that beats a gong,
That makes a horrid din.
Sometimes the monkey soul will sprawl
Athwart the human eyes,
And peering forth, will flesh its pads,
And utter social lies.
So wretched is this face, so vain,
So empty and forlorn,
You well may say that better far
This face had not been born.
poem by Stevie Smith
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Everything that's realistic has some sort of ugliness in it. Even a flower is ugly when it wilts, a bird when it seeks its prey, the ocean when it becomes violent.
quote by Sharon Tate
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Romance is discriminated.
Love can ignite between any man and woman,
Across barriers: social, racial, ethical,
Marital. Widows and divorcees not barred.
But we approve of only love of virgins
15.02.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Crouching Low
Two men in ragged clothing
sat beside the road
alert and on the hunt.
Each watched a different direction
looking for game to emerge.
One espied a small bird
unknown to either of them
and its strutting attracted them.
' That bird, ' one man says
'we could kill and eat.
It does not look that fast
and would be easy prey.'
'Well it could work, ' the other man said
'but if we don't hunt him and instead capture him
we could keep him as a pet.'
'What good would that do? ' said the first man.
'We don't need pets.'
'No, no' said the second man
'lets keep the bird
and take its eggs and eat the babies! '
'Now 'said the first man' that makes sense.
The Bird listening to all this with his super hearing
crouched low and muttered 'Barbarians.'
Here comes the Age of the Carnivores.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Flying To My Home
The sun is fading in the west
Out where the cattle roam
Im like a bird at the end of the day
Flying to my home
Im flying to my home sweet majesty
Im flying to my home
The sky is like a painted flag
Above a sea of chrome
Ive got a woman living in my life
Living in my home
Im flying to my home sweet majesty
Im flying to my home
I havent been back for so long
I dont know if Im going to recognise it
They gave the old place a new face
And Im going to take some time
To size the situation up
I havent been back for so long
I dont know if Im going to recognise it
They gave the old place a new face
And Im going to take some time
To size the situation up
The sun is fading in the west
Out where the cattle roam
Ive got a woman living in my life
Living in my home
Im flying to my home sweet majesty
Im flying to my home
Im flying to my home
Im flying to my home
Im flying to my home
Im flying to my home sweet majesty
Im flying to my home...
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Involvement gives happiness
The one is busy in trade, making money.
The other idles in arts and music.
The third withdraws in perseverance to God.
The fourth is in pursuit of women in vain.
The fifth fights in leading the sheep.
The sixth labour to be slave for ever.
Who is the happiest? All
27.01.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Lucky You Are
When you speak you speak to me
When you sleep you sleep by me
When you wake you wake with me
When you walk you follow two steps behind in life
Shadows stalking, ever grasping sinking for a need
It wasnt love it was the fix of never wanting me
Now Im gone, youre tossing and you turning in your sleep
Thats the name of the game, of the game, of the game
Cry, miss peculiar
Youll cry all the more, now Im gone
I was the monkey on your back
Take a look at how lucky you are
When you speak you speak to me
When you sleep you sleep by me
When you wake you wake with me
When you walk you follow two steps behind
Cry, cry, miss peculiar
Youll cry all the more, now Im gone
I was the monkey on your back
Take a look at how lucky you are
Some days are heaven, I will not deny
Probing the daylight cascading the skyline
Tripping and diving and losing it all
Back came the night time living for more
Cry, cry, miss peculiar
Youll cry all the more, now that Im gone
I was the devil monkey on your back
Take a look at how lucky you are
When you speak you speak to me
When you sleep you sleep by me
When you wake you wake with me
When you walk you follow two steps behind
La la la la la
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bird Of Prey
I can see that look that says beware
Try to move in closer if you dare
So I must sit and play
My waiting game
And for a while I know
Shell do the same
Fly away
Watches like an eagle from its eerie
And like a bird of prey
She captures me
But I am older and
More wise than you
Bird of prey
Straight into me you flew
Fly away
Now every time I tried to set her free
Im glad to say she comes
Right back to me
But if I knew she didnt want to stay
I wouldnt try to keep that
Lovely bird of prey
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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