Historical Distortion
History is distorted obscured
allured out of focus. Blanks left.
Missing pieces of fragments. Past
conspired. Planning plots schemes.
In poured over parchments. Stitched
together. Academic political reconstructions.
Which will join. We accept. With calculated.
Grudgingly heeded argumentative ploy debate.
Realism has conceit deception puzzling seams.
Memory lost
of countless
dreams
leaves
gaping gaps.
Misconceptions.
In recorded
construed
reality.
History is distorted
obscured
blurred out of focus.
By willful intrigues
shrouded
in dim dusty past.
Distortion
concealment.
In ultra-deceiving present.
Gaze upon, face of Sphinx
is not, to gaze upon,
created artistic reality.
Sphinx timelessly crouching
in scorching sands.
What happened to conceived
artistic conception?
Circumstances conspired, to change,
represented, real appearance.
Turkish cannon balls aimed
in practice, have stripped,
mythically blown clean off.
Moustache depicted on you?
What enigma is thus shorn
from original hair lined lip.
Beneath circumstance
must change. Meaning applied
to pre-historic time capsule.
Beneath outstretching hand of paw.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Written in July 1989 on the 20&22.7.1989.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
An Uncommon Reality
I never lived in your world.
I never knew what it was like.
I have no real conception, of what normality is?
I never had to take drugs to escape.
I already lived in a world of my own.
I never aimed for or earnestly sort the high life.
I lived an artistic life, of the mind of the soul,
forever separating my life, from the common life.
From the common man and the common clay.
Everything was so sharp and clearly in focus.
Everywhere I saw and heard and knew too much.
I lived upon a heightened vibration rate
an awareness; as incredibly focused intensity.
I lived with such dynamic, personal passion,
I did not know; what it was like; to be passionless.
I knew that some people lived husks of life
but I; did not fully know; what it was to be a husk.
I always had somewhere beneath adversity
which afflicted me; the redemption; of artistic insight.
I guess this explains why husks gather,
so many possessions, to prop up their lives.
Husks are so empty, they often get blown away,
by the soulless wind, generating materialistic values.
I bequeath
a sacred gift
to enhance
enrich such lives.
Come live within
spirit of creativity
one spirit almighty
our divine creator.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Distorted Angel
Strange things seem to occur, somewhere behind the nursery door
Though I was just a bit of a kid, it was the bit that she was looking for
Now I dont know where to begin confessing
The way shes making me feel it cant be a sin
I was taught to believe you were looking down on everyone
And your benevolent face is beautiful to gaze upon
Now I just dont know who to tell to go to hell
Who put the old devil in the distorted angel?
Distorted angel
Pure illuminated sweetness
Frightening small children is just about your only weakness
I thought that you would tell me what Im living for
But I cant see you anymore
I dont know what we did but Im sorry if it made you cry
And if theres any justice at all Id be punished for it Id surmise
It will mark the spot very well where I fell
Under the shadow of the distorted angel
Beneath the shadow of the distorted angel
Below the shadow of the distorted angel
Angel
Beneath the shadow of the distorted angel
Below the shadow of the distorted angel
Angel
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Ecliptic Arguments Haunt Water Erosion Sphinx
mysterious Sphinx stretches
paws out deep into desert sands
watching stars span satin ages
mystery tranquility peacefully
Sphinx lies timeless built exactly
on east-west axis gaze perfectly
sun greeting equinoctial marker
set due east of Giza necropolis
Sphinx red rising sun illuminates
summer solstice latitude Gaza
sun rises 28 degrees north of east
winter solstice at latitude Gaza
sun rises 28 degrees south of east
at equinoxes sun always rises due east
an accurate reference to cardinal
direction high precision design gaze set
due east Sphinx is an equinoctial marker
targets exact position of sunrise at dawn
ancient astronomers built Sphinx when
2500BC focused upon zodiacal constellation
Taurus houses sun on spring equinox
yet Sphinx is built as significant form leonine
in 10,500 BC our sun rises into Leo constellation
ecliptic arguments haunt water erosion sphinx
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Flickering Lights
Never Observed Aurora Borealis.
Though heard witnessed tales. Viewed.
Magical Spectral Ephemeral Wizardry.
On programmed film.
Shall I ever?
Obtain chance privilege
witness wonder personally?
In present flesh. Electrified senses. To behold.
Wonder with mine own mesmerized eyes.
Like witnessing worshipped transfiguration.
Cosmic wonder superstition
time space continuum.
Ignited beheld universe
electrified ionized skies.
Close guarded opinionates
secrets scientific security.
Reality revelation still
reaching researched forth.
Through pulmonary moralistic modern
civilization beginning convulsions.
On stewed juices craven; fermented
misguided materially; dense tunnel vision earth.
Flickering lights are frosted seen.
Through typecast tinted typeset windows.
Distorting knowledge still to come.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Written in April 1989 on the 17.4.1989.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Imagination Expectation Seed Our Character Dreams
imagination expectation seed our character dreams
realization awaited seldom matches desired schemes
reality ill matches misconceptions time split seams
to want peer mainstream desires experience teaches
does not fit all personality individual developing tastes
time sows unique thoughts realizations in vision eyes
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sere Beyond The Grave
Stirring passions
fermenting youth
pass in naked
outstripped night.
Age waits to creep
across a dim.
Less lit stage.
Beheld by feeble
flickering touches.
Thoughts may submerged bend.
With encroaching senility.
Or stretched sharpen focus.
Upon true envisaged reality.
People dry up broken dispirited
as bleached bone sun scorched.
Through withered weathered
lack lustre embittered effort.
Uninspired undeveloped
still unexplored depths.
Are ever an embrace unknown.
Ever waiting beseeching.
Like far flung fabled frontiers
where beasts in wilderness roam.
Lost behind heathen masks
from out vibrant primeval past.
Are creatures culturally bound
in ignorance’s traditional chains.
Deprived lacking education’s
adaptive innovative creativity reign.
People bound by lack lustre will
insatiably sit sip sup their full.
People dry up husk dispirited
through errant lack lustre effort.
Uninspired undeveloped unseen
is true potential radiant reflection.
People dry up weathered.
Despondent heart droops.
Deficient depleted dreams
vigour vaporizes vanishes.
If vigil is not sustained exhilarated
with vital active imagination forces.
Ardently pursued quests guard
intent passage through forged years.
The passions of fleeting youth
well may pass by navigated night.
Age inscribed insatiable indomitable
will pass all persons progressively by.
Till point denoting death.
Though all is not lost.
Thought is noble birthright.
Sear beyond the grave.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Written in April 1989 on the 17&27.4.1989.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Small Gaps In Creativity
real writing
demands real time
course work
never allowed
full time employment
never allowed
artistic development
real writing
part time artists
produce part time work
part time pieces
of genuine artistic souls
to produce artistically
but a few times
to only create properly
but a few times
in work recent months
is curse of part time
artists who felt right
but a few times in months
the rest of the time
was racing gaps
small time windows
of opportunity art time
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Insights Attainable
look not
postmortem
back upon
an indifferent
analysis
past life spent
when
words well
written
would speak
for still life
yet incarnate
between long
formative
silences intense
bursts
expressing
passion
artistic legacy
an incredible
writ mortality
leaving
mere
off cast
shadows
where
heartbeats
immortalized
haunt generations
aspiring what?
camera shots
in sharp focus
highlights
exhibiting
unexpect ed
edited angles
as raw history
storms past
in spot study
view
choose
create
select
appropriate
memory
while
a resonance
filters
tinges
disturbs
psychics
unborn as
indifferent moral
humanity
finally
learns lessons
past?
spaces
between
languages
cultures
tolerances
heaped
bodies
vanquished
love
blasted
asunder
forever
never the less
art triumphs
love triumphs
restoring society
with inspiration
boundless subtle
uncrushable
transformative
re surrection
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Key To Specimen Slices Of Life
I believe I have not really written yet;
I believe I may not get time chance;
I believe I can; I feel so much unsaid;
I believe in not taking self too seriously;
but writing thoughts expressed perfectly
exactly as perceived in eureka mind's eye;
is key to insight fuse expression;
is key to specimen slices of life;
reality magnified focus perception;
heightened into new concept mind;
reality sliced diced beheld
is touchstone to reality fusion;
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Artistic Consummations Unending
Man when it comes to romance
commitment to long term courtship
speak not of rocking artistic me;
and my constant consistent courtship
with my dated loose laying poetry.
In more than twenty
predominantly neglected years
I’ve never been through them all;
caught up with my neglected years
my dated draft diary entries.
I’ve got so many
loose lines lines lines
hanging heavy in my restless head;
I can never get them lines
all laid down right.
There’s too many
to save, for, a rainy day.
Multiple droplets; in their hundreds trillions;
adorn, all objects; visible on rainy days.
Hang from, transformed, rain dewed trees.
But even when the sun is still shining.
I’m still two timing, multiple poetic pieces.
I’m still too time starved; for catch up poetic binding.
I’m afraid I’m never, going to get written pieces,
through; to that last eternally unwritten line.
Hanging out waiting around for me
in expectation, of artistically, desired pick up.
When will such a courtship; finally end?
When the muse may, no longer, dances up,
her dazzling; or simplistic lines entwining me.
When I’m too tired to write my nights
my days, my artistic life, poetically away.
Then poetry will find; another poet to daze;
for days, for nights; to artistic life write away.
Then poetry will find, another poet, to courtship bard.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Written in July 1999 on the 17.7.99.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Made For TV Movie
I heard a word from on high
Clear like a light in the sky
It said, "quit blowing each other up"
The voice seemed so crystally clear
Some things are clean in your ear
When only blood fills your cup
Hello
I'm trying to focus, but my eyes deceive me
Focus
I'm witnessing history repeating
It fell like a tear from my eye
Flying machines so up high
Well, there goes the neighborhood
A scene set to singe innocence
Upheave, unhinge, and pit against
Like every made for TV movie should
Hello
I'm trying to focus, but my eyes deceive me
Focus
I'm witnessing history repeating
Focus, Focus
Focus (I can see now)
We are, we know, we see, we think for you
The who, the what, the when, the where, the why
We build your hill, we build you too, we see you
Hello
I'm trying to focus, but my eyes deceive me
Focus
I'm witnessing history repeating
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Age Artistic Patrons Deceased
In reality this 18 months writing
with 30 years plus of essentially nothing.
highlights loss highlights wasteland.
Rich years were not creativity written.
Yet we embraced passion burning a phoenix sun.
World opinions rankings are meaningless.
Diddles fits a world that fiddles
with art as economic investment.
great artistic patrons are historic gone.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Behold Changing Faces Of Persecution
The history of religious persecution
the names honour roll of martyrs
who have died for their faith
goes back thousands of years
crosses countries continents
genders all sections of societies
religions like new boys on the block
suffer pain martyrdom as faith price
emergent religions begin to rise
are eliminated or rise to dominance
when if power political control
is attained so often comes the turn
abuse of power distortion of prophets
original message tolerant love peace
becomes distorted by those who use
religion to further agenda political
need to convert control dominate
becomes crusades wars international
conflict as despots annex land claims
empires resource need oils aggression
political pretext is always righteous
war on terror to protect nations freedoms.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Focus
focus
focus on god
focus on freedom
focus on forgiveness
focus on sweet speech
focus on treasures
focus on humility
focus on commitment
focus on mind
focus on success
focus on health
focus on healthy transformation
focus on goodness
focus on laughter
focus on fun
focus on angel
focus on sweetness
focus on wealth
focus
poem by Johnny Walks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Picasso Is...
Picasso is...
Picasso transcends mortality.
Picasso is fury artistic dynamics in motion.
Picasso always moving in styles
to new levels of artistic perception
through seen seam fractures
of shift broken molten imagery.
Picasso is walking through walls.
Picasso is rebirth in conception.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Spindrift
Words. These words. Are left
as indelible scribed statements.
Made manifest. Set as firmly
as irregularly poured cast
blocks of sculptured concrete.
The spaces the silences
between
give more meaning.
Record
is signature
upon face of eternity.
Hidden smile
is modern day sphinx
with paws
lazily laying bathed
in golden grains.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
This Havoc
They attempt to silence those...
Who are against their beliefs!
And yet it is their beliefs...
That loudly shout out,
For change!
Nothing about them or what is valued,
Has remained the same.
And...
No one silenced has created this havoc!
Or with such a disturbance to focus on chaos.
Anyone seeking peace,
Is not looking for it through conflict!
No one is against their beliefs at all.
The concept is there!
The ideals are magnificent.
However...
The reality of the practice,
Is missing in action!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fine Artistic Features Inbred
Fine artistic features
flame interbred.
Freak features
fatal flavour
fatal flaws.
Foreign haughty
blemish lady
wellborn wed.
What devilish linear
alignment
of conflicted stars
conspired to mar your character
spoil soil tarnish blight soul
harden your Machiavellian heart?
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Meeting Challenges In New Places
loneliness, tears, change, new places
change, especially in new places,
is a time to think, reach out to others...
extend, the hand, of friendship, anew
to break, the ice stranger is up to you,
sincere people, will respond it’s true...
many face, endure, similar circumstances
many face, embrace vibrant new experiences,
attitude positive, negative impacts circumstances...
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!