The Aftermath of youthful shenanigans
The Aftermath of youthful shenanigans
I taste the blood of my bodies vessels cans
From the aftermath of youthful shenanigans
My eyes are closing
My mind is wandering
My soul is flying
All over like a grasshopper hopping
From one place to another
If I am not careful my soul might distance
Itself from my body for ever
The aftermath of youthful shenanigans
First the rakus booing
Then the sheer physical moment
Of punching and kicking
Now I am lying on the floor unconscious
Considering giving up the ghost
Till I am awakened by the sounds of youthful boasts
Whispering of getting rid of the evidence
Along the coast
And drinking afterwards to a toast
My body is aching
Its pain is immense
I don’t even have time to ask
What have I done to deserve this
Suddenly the voices disappear
I can see everyone from the air
Having loads of fun
By sending out my images on their mobile phones
A sudden bright daylight
And below shows me dressed up as white
A voice is urging me to give up the fight
I close my eyes
This most be a dream
Like in the movie films
I open my eyes again
I see a young boy
Hanging from a tree
Kids are laughing
While he is struggling so hard to be free
What has become of us
What has become of we
The sounds of noises
Sets them on the road to flee
This is the epitome of youthful madness
A sheer pinnacle of human sadness
© Sylvia Chidi- 17 October 2005
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Related quotes
Beyond
Love's aftermath! I think the time is now
That we must gather in, alone, apart
The saddest crop of all the crops that grow,
Love's aftermath.
Ah, sweet,--sweet yesterday, the tears that start
Can not put back the dial; this is, I trow,
Our harvesting! Thy kisses chill my heart,
Our lips are cold; averted eyes avow
The twilight of poor love: we can but part,
Dumbly and sadly, reaping as we sow,
Love's aftermath.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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Deluge Aftermath
Deluge aftermath
lies on a pyre of laughter -
sardonic laughter -
holocryptic in its litter of
charms and pangs of incence.
Deluge aftermath
swears oaths of allegiance to
waning day, refraining from
tales of calm and religious prescience;
it recalls the aftermath of the
Deluge of Noah.
Deluge aftermath
rests with inveterate slumber
earned in the cataract of
puissant vices upon lonesome,
green artifacts of a laconic culture.
Deluge aftermath
looms across the dark visage of
waste,
and atop glow-lines of garden lamps
and posts of decaying flames.
Deluge aftermath
crowns crabs monarchs of floods,
and frogs, adjutants of water regiment,
within breaths of rain.
Deluge aftermath
nubiferous - hanging old shrouds
of weeping clouds on the meek contours of
familiar skies to jeer downward.
Deluge aftermath,
bleaching the whited sepulchers
like elephants killed by lightning
in an unread plague of rain;
unearthing fossils of mosquitoes
about to become fuel,
and tickling the ribs of streams
to laugh and grow fat.
Deluge aftermath
dampens the hearth and the phalli -
two hot and intemperate organs
of warmth and man,
cringing in the event of the
breaking of the huge gourd
sitting on the earth-pillars.
Deluge aftermath -
one small flood for a community
and a giant inundation
for the aftermath of mankind.
poem by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
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Blue
I didn't want to know
I just didn't want to know
Best to keep things in the shallow end
Cause I never quite learned how to swim
I just didn't want to know
Didn't want, didn't want,
Didn't want, didn't want
Close my eyes just to look at you
Taken by the seamless vision
I close my eyes,
Ignore the smoke,
Ignore the smoke
Call it aftermath, she's turning blue
Such a lovely color for you
Call it aftermath, she's turning blue
Why don't I just sit and stare at you
Because I don't want to know
I didn't want to know
I just didn't want to know
I just didn't want
Mistook the "nods" for an approval
Just ignore the smoke and smile
Call it aftermath, she's turning blue
Such a lovely color for you
Call it aftermath, she's turning blue
Such a perfect color for your eyes
Call it aftermath, she's turning blue
Such a lovely color for you,
Call it aftermath, she's turning blue
Why don't I just sit and stare at you
I don't want to know
song performed by by A Perfect Circle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After
After the smoke clears
Bodies cover the ground.
After the bodies are bagged and tagged
Blood stains the sand.
After tears are shed from the eyes of the love ones these patriots left behind.
War still rages with many more patriots left to die.
After the war is finally over will justice truly be what we remember.
Or will death be this wars aftermath.
The Aftermath
Words and music by bob seger and craig frost
Dressed up to the nines
Dancin three-quarter time
The champagne is on ice
No ones gonna guess
In your brand new dress
Girl, you sure look nice
Have a good time
Honey, dont look back
Stone in the middle of the aftermath
Dont wink, dont blink
Dont let 'em think
His leavins got you down
Stand straight, hang tough
When they bring it up
Baby hold your ground
If they pry, dont sigh
Pass it off with a laugh
Its all part of living through the aftermath
You can do it honey
Keep that smile so sunny
You can show them what they want to see
Yes, you can
Its a cold, hard scene
The singles thing
Losers everywhere
And it hurts to the bone
Headin home alone
When someone used to be there
So you take a few falls
And you learn to bounce back
Its all part of living through the aftermath
Living through the aftermath
Baby, dont look back
Its the aftermath
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dragons Teeth.
We know: We’ve seen it all before.
Devastation, desolation
the aftermath of modern war.
Although it shocks us to the core
It recalls to our attention.
We know: we’ve seen it all before.
We have chosen to ignore
Lack of valid information
The aftermath of modern war
To us it’s just another chore
needing little explanation.
We know: We’ve seen it all before
There is no way we can
restore any kind of cultivation.
The after math of modern war.
Still danger lies for evermore
unexploded ammunition.
The aftermath of modern war.
We know: We’ve seen it all before.
Sunday,28 November 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Burning Desire
Will you love me now as you did before
in your youthful days?
Can you will yourself back to them
and show me all the ways
you would shower me with your love
and never let me go?
Or are they forgotten now, my love?
Is there just the afterglow?
Youthful days and youthful ways
are intoxicating fire.
All you have inside of you
is uncontrollable desire.
You know nothing else.
You'd rather not.
You think to yourself
'My blood runs hot.'
Is it possible to stoke that fire anew
or is that just a dream?
For me, my answer's simple.
My heart is still the steam
that showers my thoughts of only you
and gives me what I need.
My youthful ways that are still alive
makes my heart to bleed
for you.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Charming Month of May
It was the charming month of May,
When all the flow’rs were fresh and gay.
One morning, by the break of day,
The youthful, charming Chloe—
From peaceful slumber she arose,
Girt on her mantle and her hose,
And o’er the flow’ry mead she goes—
The youthful, charming Chloe.
Chorus:
Lovely was she by the dawn,
Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe,
Tripping o’er the pearly lawn,
The youthful, charming Chloe.
The feather’d people you might see
Perch’d all around on every tree,
In notes of sweetest melody
They hail the charming Chloe;
Till, painting gay the eastern skies,
The glorious sun began to rise,
Outrival’d by the radiant eyes
Of youthful, charming Chloe.
Chorus
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Aftermath
Although my blood I've shed
In war's red wrath,
Oh how I darkly dread
Its aftermath!
Oh how I fear the day
Of my release,
When I must face the fray
Of phoney peace!
When I must fend again
In labour strife;
And toil with sweat and strain
For kids and wife.
The world is so upset
I battled for,
That grimly I regret
The peace of war.
The wounds are hard to heal
Of shell and shard,
But O the way to weal
Is bitter hard!
Though looking back I see
A gory path,
How bloody black can be
War's Aftermath!
poem by Robert William Service
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And it would be fair. Everyone will pay the same tax and it will eliminate tax cheaters and corporate shenanigans.
quote by Steve Forbes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do It! It Works
Don't deal with those,
Who wish you failure.
Or participate in their shenanigans.
You've got to watch your back,
Around people like that.
Don't seek from them approval,
Or try to appeal with your disclosures.
But keep your eyes open...
And your tongue still,
Behind a mouth kept closed.
Today it's getting more difficult,
To even trust yourself.
And you know who you are.
And what it takes to weaken your temptations.
It is worse to make promises...
The lips may utter,
But the heart does not keep.
And sharing them with others...
Does not decrease their teasing.
They may not admit it...
But they wish to see you quit!
To rid yourself of dreams.
So they can be the ones to say...
Give up your hopes,
As they scheme.
While doing their best to discourage your efforts.
By saying things intended to demean.
Don't deal with those,
Who wish you failure.
Or participate in their shenanigans.
You've got to watch your back,
Around people like that.
And...
Don't seek from them approval,
Or try to appeal with your disclosures.
But keep your eyes opened.
And your tongue sitting still.
Keep your teeth clinched...
Behind a mouth kept closed.
And you will remain peaceful,
Happy and fulfilled.
Do it!
It works.
Few who make claims they know you...
Are not that supportive of your success!
Choose to remove your life...
From someone else's contest.
Champion your own efforts.
Do it!
It works.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Any time you have loose ballots, you have to worry about shenanigans. It's a shame such a hard-fought election has to come down to something like this.
quote by David Axelrod
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Their Greatest Achievements
The tragedy is not in the aftermath,
When ruins are created to be experienced.
The tragedy experienced is admitting,
The aftermath had opportunities to be avoided.
And those addicted to ceremonies,
To praise themselves...
Are the most likely to find what they've done,
Historically considered to be their greatest achievements.
No need to seek to locate the evidence.
An awakening provides an abundance of proof.
Although sadly enough,
Many enjoy the parading of the pomp and circumstance.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ruffled Puffers
Don't keep yours a secret.
Tease with a dazzling and make it lurch.
Ruffle feathers of those puffing,
Of bling to brag with a sparkling that dims.
What you have nobody's got.
Just your presence alone,
Brings a brightness to eyes making time stop...
With a starting from the beginning,
That puts an end to their shenanigans.
Don't keep it a secret.
Keep it worked.
Muffle up to shut those ruffled puffers.
Your presence alone has them on alert.
As if your arrival announced the time for dessert.
Just feed them with your unique treatment.
Those stunned still take crumbs to taste.
While grumbling as they nibble to lick...
Slowly to an exit yet too startled from it to run.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What happens is that the system builds many inferior blood vessels in the eye to take the place of the vessels that are dying. And those blood vessels are not up to the task. And they bleed. They hemorrhage and they cover the eye inside with blood.
quote by Mary Tyler Moore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Soul Hears
my soul hears your poetry
before it's anxious drastic lines
appear to perspicacity
within your broad, elastic mind.
and my heart feels each wound you own
before the metaphor occurs
before you even write the poems,
i've heard the rhymes; i know the words.
because my love for you transcends
these bodies - minds - the years between.
tho unity i comprehend,
to youthful vision goes unseen.
poem by Moon Batchelder
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It Is Never Too Late
The aftermath of your silence,
You are like the sea of traquil water tonight;
But when the right time comes,
The box will be opened for all to see its content!
The sea of storm and the love of storm,
The aftermath of your silence is like the love of tranquil waters;
From me to you and from yout ot me,
But what can i now make out of you?
You are really the woman of my heart,
And it is never too late in life to reives!
Because today is always here with us,
But tomorrow never comes.
Yesterday is dead and gone into the land of memories,
And the only thing left behind is your character;
But when all is said and done,
I will understand the silence of your love like tranquil waters.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Down Falls The Tyrant
Worthy of a sonnet or an ode
don't you think? I asked
the worthy citizen in rags
pushing a grocery cart
brimming with trash
down the dirt road-
all concrete and asphalt
long gone in the aftermath
of a great catastrophe.
The citizen screwed up
rheumy-red eyes at me
grinning a toothless smile
'Have a taste, mate? '
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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He Poked Fun At Those Pretentious
Shakespeare wasn't the first writer,
Playwrite or poet...
Defamed for his insights.
Or criticized for his distaste,
For the wasteful lives lived...
By those of royalty.
Or the corruptedness of political thinkers.
They declared his shenanigans were 'great'.
The way he poked fun at those pretentious!
Today?
He would be censored,
Daring to exist AND be relevant!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Not Really The Afterlife, Or The Half-life But What Comes After...
it is what happens after,
the aftermath, not really the shock and
the horror of what is created,
it is the awe, and the wandering
not really lost as you may suspect
not those doubts, for in truth they are
those that which make us
exist,
not existence, but it is the life after,
not the afterlife, it is the breath that i take
after i have exhaled,
that which comes out from my being
not those that still want to enter
inside the veins
and lungs and
caves of my severeness
it is the i after, the am, the feeling that
i am here, alive and still
keeps on writing what i think i do not really know
it is the mystery that surrounds
this whole room
not the chairs and the ceiling....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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