The Four Dimensions
I must get my food;
I must get my mate;
I must get my copy {child};
I must be remembered.
Each one equips oneself
To move in four dimensions.
(26.01.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Success is dangerous. One begins to copy oneself, and to copy oneself is more dangerous than to copy others. It leads to sterility.
aphorism by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by anonym
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Success is dangerous. One begins to copy oneself, and to copy oneself is more dangerous than to copy others. It leads to sterility.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry is not a copy.
My poetry is my child, born of
Memory and perception.
A child resembles its parents
But is not held cheap as a copy.
01.07.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To copy others is necessary, but to copy oneself is pathetic.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Changing Dimensions Seen
Changing dimensions seen.
No retracting to step back.
Changing dimensions seen.
The past is gone and that's a fact.
Changing dimensions seen.
Changing dimensions seen.
A consciousness has been uplifted.
Changing dimensions seen.
And gone are all those flaws abhorred.
Changing dimensions seen.
Those bigoted with prejudice...
Find they've been dismissed.
And...
Changing dimensions seen.
Changing dimensions seen.
People sharing with a caring.
Changing dimensions seen.
And racists are considered sick.
Changing dimensions seen.
Changing dimensions seen.
A consciousness has been uplifted.
Changing dimensions seen.
And gone are all those flaws abhorred.
Changing dimensions seen.
Those bigoted with prejudice...
Find they've been dismissed and quick!
Changing dimensions seen.
Changing dimensions seen.
And...
No retracting to step back.
Changing dimensions seen.
The past is gone and that's a fact.
Changing dimensions seen.
That peace resisted over-rules,
And those who cling to hate are fools.
Changing dimensions seen.
And...
Changing dimensions seen.
And...
Changing dimensions seen.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To be remembered
A man is not so desperate
To earn for food or seek a mate
As he seeks to be remembered.
With that till death he’s obsessed.
05.01.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A thought is a child.
A thought is conceived in one’s brain
By the fusion of memory, the ovum
And the perception, the sperm.
A child is a copy, not a duplicate.
12.07.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christina's Dance Fate
On the dance floor I'm notorious baby,
try to catch up with me,
I will be dancing to the beat and harmony,
of M.J. … O.K? ? ?
You will know my name,
For I dance my way to fame,
so don’t be lame,
get in the game,
as I move to the groove,
can you dance with me
and look smooth?
If, not I'll be on the move,
to another
potential dance mate.
For tomorrow I will have my
NAME on everyone's license plate,
which translates,
into fate…
CHRISTINA RULES
Now go 'Sing the BLuES.
For I dance my way to fame,
can you take the bait?
or will you switch it up
to something more great…
or are you going to
make me wait and anticipate-
maybe by then
it will be way tooo late,
so why hesitate? ? ?
The End…
Written by Christina Sunrise on Jan.9th 2011
Copyright 2011 Christina
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Just Be You
When one looks at history
We can either
Learn from the past
To adapt to the present
So you can
Face tomorrow's mysteries
The age old question
We all ask
Can we better ourselves?
To better oneself
You must be brave
To better oneself
You must know love
To better oneself
You must be strong
To better oneself
You must believe
To better oneself
You must learn to share
To better oneself
Just be you
After learning all
Of life's mysteries
One must discover
To be true to
Thine own self
Just be you
poem by Kaila George
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0017 And Where The Joy
This, then, the question
for those whom it may concern –
to find a celebration in oneself
that, as outer is, so inner;
that all truth rests within oneself –
for where else can it be found?
to love oneself – for oneself must be loveable,
or none other could be loved for true;
to know all happiness to be within;
to celebrate all this; the world a constant joy;
to find this celebration in oneself.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Self indulgences.
The one who talks much of oneself
Is doing so to conceal as much oneself.
The one who curses much oneself
Is doing so to get pity for oneself.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Overweight with Food
Are you just a tub of lard and
Vastly overweight?
Do you think that when you die you'll
Need a piano crate
To act as coffin for your frame? -
Chosen as you die in shame, with
Only you to take the blame
For years of eating much the same:
A daily calorific fest
Gourmands of your ilk digest!
Is your heart in final fling and
Nearly set to burst?
Are your arteries bunged and clogged and
Feeling now the worst
For wear? - your aneurysm fit to blow
While blood as thick as rising dough
Cries 'Halt! ' to any hope of flow:
A dreadful state to put on show
In front of any nurse!
Best you hail a hearse.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Perhaps you could sympathize with those who seek to replace a dead child with a copy, or to copy a parent or a relative or even a celebrity.
The theory has to be interpreted that extra dimensions beyond the ordinary four dimensions the three spatial dimensions plus time are sufficiently small that they haven't been observed yet.
quote by Edward Witten
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The essence of success is that it is never necessary to think of a new idea oneself. It is far better to wait until somebody else does it, and then to copy him in every detail, except his mistakes.
quote by Aubrey Menen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Syrup Sponge
Pour a pint of cream
Upon my spongy bulge!
Scoop me with a
Hefty spoon;
Taste my essence -
Do you swoon?
Feed your self-esteem; indulge
In me until you burst -
Death by syrup sponge - you're cursed!
And as the count in inches gain
Upon your weary waist, the strain
Will tell, but you'll not care -
Steeped in sponge, you're unaware!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food
food food food food food food
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Flight At Kitty Hawk
assumes new dimensions
aeronautical aspirations
tiny dreams flowers seeds
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Written in May 2011 on the 4.5.2011
poem by Terence George Craddock
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It's a question of not copying the masters, to look for something, good or bad, for oneself. To enter this liberated state of mind, one cannot copy the others.
quote by Nathalie Sarraute
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Will Cry?
Who will cry for the little child who goes for days without food?
Who will cry for the little child who parents beat them?
Who will cry for the little child who is mistreated for being different?
Who will cry for the little child who goes unloved?
Who will cry for the little child whose stomach is swelled up?
Who will cry for the little child who doesn't have clothes to wear?
Who will cry for the little child who is shunned for not being popular?
Who will cry for the little child who is molested every night?
Who will cry for the little child who's parents are not around?
Who will cry for the little child who has to take care of his self?
Who will cry?
Will you cry?
Cause I have.
poem by Natasha Ligons
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Salad is Incompatible with Life
Yes, my waist is fifty inches -
Big for me because I'm short.
And yes, I like my cheddar cheese
When partnered with a vintage port.
Okay, okay, that double cream
Is always served with pud,
And cake and biscuits with my tea
Are just no bloody good
For my poor hardened arteries,
But see my point of view,
Please dear wifey if you please,
A Salad makes me spew!
I'd rather eat a bowl of air
Than crunch away on greens;
Drink water from the toilet bowl
Or nibble on my jeans!
But salad! Are you there?
You know it makes me snappy -
So let me fill my face with grub,
Stay fat, and die young happy!
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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