Intangible Things
I have thought devoted
more than twenty years
to intangible things
solid materialists would devalue.
Ephemeral ennobling ideals
sourcing spiritual morality
materialism's destitute junkies
would consider frivolous.
Surmountable enlightened ideals
that will spiritually revolutionize
fundamental world still locked within
frozen wastes fearing an ice age.
A lost product consuming
world still locked within
a fear or faithless insecurity
abhorring poverty still fears.
Only mad dogs
will insatiable prey upon
the wretched
forsaken of the earth.
Only mad dogs
will boast of exploiting
the wretched
down trodden of the earth.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Surmountable Enlightened Ideals
I have thought
devoted more than
twenty years
to intangible things
solid materialists
would devalue.
Ephemeral
ennobling ideals
sourcing
spiritual morality
materialism's
destitute junkies
would consider
frivolous.
Surmountable
enlightened ideals
that will spiritually
revolutionize
a world still
locked within
frozen wastes fearing
metaphorical ice age.
A lost product...
consuming
world still
locked within
a fear or faithless
echo insecurity
abhorring poverty
psyche still fears.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mad Dogs Feast Upon The Weak
Only mad dogs
power insatiable
will prey upon
the wretched
forsaken
of the earth.
Only mad dogs
will boast
of exploiting
the wretched
down trodden
of the earth.
Hopelessness
faith
devouring
hopelessness...
is a cancer
mastered cured
true disciples
live by faith alone...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Sonnet: Country-Dogs but…
Who says that country-dogs are unworthy,
And dogs that roam the streets are to be shot?
So, people use the term in sense filthy;
But Dogs or Dogs where-ever from they’re brought.
The Dogs I see are sensible enough,
And keep their bodies clean in ways they can;
But human beings to them appear rough;
By looking once, they know the kind of man!
And some have excellent memory also,
And remember your kindness for long years;
When strangers come at nights, barking they do;
Ev’n children need not have any fears.
They scour the land and become prey to snakes;
And some are dead, sometimes in nearby lakes.
6-20-2001
poem by John Celes
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Locked up Inside
Im locked up inside.
In a manic world
In a world of demons
I live in a demonic world.
My emotions are locked
Locked far away
Inside my self
Im locked up inside
Scared of the world
Frightened and alone
My emotions are locked
The key is long lost
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Solid Booze
And we are growing along spiritual lines
Will never mean we should stop to have big fun time
Oh oh oh
Should it be for the very first of all to pray
And to report it to your next in an effective way
But whatever our ideals turn to be
We must be willing to break it through
We must be willing to make amends where we
Ever have to put some harm on too
She is my she's my all
She is my all surrounding solid booze you know
She is my all surrounding solid booze you know
She is my all surrounding solid booze you know
And we are growing along the spiritual lines
Would never mean we should believe in all those
Different kinds
Oh oh oh
Could it be the very first of all to recognize
Its the better sense to take it once and give it twice
But whatever our ideals turn out to be
We should be willing to break it through
We should be willing to realize
That attitudes have got us too
She is my
She's my all
song performed by by Falco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dogs Of War
Dogs of war and men of hate
With no cause, we dont discriminate
Discovery is to be disowned
Our currency is flesh and bone
Hell opened up and put on sale
Gather round and haggle
For hard cash, we will lie and deceive
Even our masters dont know the web we weave
One world, its a battleground
One world, and we will smash it down
One world ... one world
Invisible transfers, long distance calls,
Hollow laughter in marble halls
Steps have been taken, a silent uproar
Has unleashed the dogs of war
You cant stop what has begun
Signed, sealed, they deliver oblivion
We all have a dark side, to say the least
And dealing in death is the nature of the beast
One world, its a battleground
One world, and we will smash it down
One world ... one world
The dogs of war dont negotiate
The dogs of war wont capitulate,
They will take and you will give,
And you must die so that they may live
You can knock at any door,
But wherever you go, you know theyve been there before
Well winners can lose and things can get strained
But whatever you change, you know the dogs remain.
One world, its a battleground
One world, and we will smash it down
One world ... one world
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song: The Running Dogs
In a land of distant memory,
in the primal world of old,
dog and man were enemies;
and our story should be told.
Beyond the mystic mountain,
lived a pack of hungry hounds;
with a tribe of rustic humans,
who lacked our strength renowned.
A menace to our hunting grounds,
they laid their claim to turf;
and fenced our range to out of bounds,
and stole our birthright, earth.
Our children too were victims,
of eugenic genocide.
The wild spirit of our nature;
broken, tamed, denied.
They call us now the running dogs,
the stunted and the hunted dogs.
They call us now the running dogs,
but are we running scared?
We were once the Big Bad Wolf,
fierce nemesis of cloven hoof.
We patrolled the deep dark wood,
and took the rap for Riding Hood.
We were once a breed to fear,
of sneering breath and snarling leer.
We were threats to little pigs,
and architects in flimsy digs.
But now we lounge on comfy chairs,
grow fat and soft and take on airs.
As trustee to a gaoler's whim,
our savage past must fade and dim.
They call us now the running dogs,
not cunning, merely stunning dogs.
They call us now the running dogs,
but are we running scared?
Running, running, running dogs.
I see and shun those running dogs.
Running, running, running dogs;
the docked and doctored curs.
Running, running, running dogs.
I see no fun in running dogs.
Running, running, running dogs;
till our heaving lungs will burst.
Running, running, running dogs.
And I am done with running dogs.
Running, running, running dogs.
For by that name we're cursed!
poem by David SmithWhite
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But the egoist has no ideals, for the knowledge that his ideals are only his ideals, frees him from their domination. He acts for his own interest, not for the interest of ideals.
quote by John Buchanan Robinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dogs (Homage)
Man’s best friend?
Why?
There is nothing quite as cute as a puppy
Dogs are more than pets, they’re companions
Dogs are fiercely loyal
Dogs protect life & property, even to their own demise
Dogs do not judge their masters
Dogs are grateful for any food fed them
Dogs can be trained to carry, guide, search, rescue and hunt
Dogs are great listeners
Dogs are ready to play anytime
Dogs are emotional sponges that absorb human misery
Dogs are wonderful match-makers and buffers
Dogs can chase away “The blues”
You can take a dog’s balls and he’ll still love you
Yes,
Dogs are 'Man’s best friend'
After all God is Dog spelled backwards...
poem by Ray Lucero
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The Doors Are Locked
From inside of this room
I shall not exit
I have locked the doors
To the world outside.
It does not matter to me what is happening outside, because
Behind these locked doors
Is the world that I live in,
This land of my dreams that
I have fabricated for myself alone.
I recall my father recently reading me a story-
Of a woman who created a world within her dreams-
There she lived and locked herself
Inside of the doors that
Barred her from all that is real.
My father's hope was that
I would find my way out from
This place he called the land of my delusions.
This place which he calls the land of my delusions has become
My only veracity.
From the inside of this room
I shall not exit-it is here I safely converse with
The voices inside of my mind.
The doors to this room are locked, but
I can still hear my mother weeping, and
I hear my mother cry out from the midst of her tears-
What has become of my only child?
Inside of this room, I have constructed a world.
The doors are locked and
I have shut reality out-
The doors to my room are locked and
I have lost the key.
My mother is still weeping as her one and only
Has lost the key that would open the doors
To the world outside-
My mother is sobbing; the key is lost and alas-
Her only child's sanity has also been lost.
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Ode to the Modern Work-Man
O, wretched modern work-man
The years, they pass you by
Everything you believe
Is nothing but a lie.
O, wretched modern work-man
From your neckties to your socks
You’re nothing but a slave
To pictures in a box.
O, wretched modern work-man
You live for the Public Eye
Your life is but a parody
Whose foundation is a lie.
O, wretched modern work-man
You strive, and save, and yearn
To keep up with the Kamaus
Spending more than you earn.
O, wretched modern work-man
You’re nothing but a slave
Your dreams are dead and buried
Lying in a shallow grave.
O, wretched modern work-man
You strangled your own dreams
You smothered your own happiness
Your hand stifled its screams.
O, wretched modern work-man
For the camera so aesthetic
Beneath the plastic smile
You’re pitiful and pathetic.
O, wretched modern work-man
You work yourself half to death
Chasing pounds and shillings
To swell another’s wealth.
O, wretched modern work-man
You lived your whole life as a show
Yet the only Watcher who mattered
Didn’t like what He saw.
O, wretched modern work-man
When you finally died
Your surname, and hospital bill
Were all you left behind…
Caged in Life Caged Like a.............
Caged in life
Locked up in misery
Locked up in guilt.
Locked up in denial.
No it wasnt me.
Im locked in my own misery.
With no1 to hear my cries.
My cries of desperatoin
My cries of disbelife.
I guess I'll never be free
Wrapped up in my own grief.
Blaming anything
Blaming myself.
Angry with everyone
Angry at the world.
Am I a bitter person.
yes properly I am.
I feel caged in wvery days life.
Every new day
The same as the one thats past.
One messed up mind
Is mine my mind drained
My mind is all but lost.
For now Im a bitter person.
Locked in my own world
Locked in my grief.
With barriers a 1000 feet high.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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The Fear Of Fear
Fear is not what I am afraid of.
True, it is a frightful thing to fear;
But the fear of fearing fear is overwhelming
Especially when its form becomes sheer
Fear is like losing a tree of shade on a bristling day
Or losing your breath when you fall below the sea;
I fear this fear of fearing these fears
And it is this fear that is part and parcel of me.
Fear is like loving without being loved back,
Fear is like leaving without being left;
And the fear of loving and leaving and being loved and being left
Is opposed by the fear of not fearing anything
And being an empty vase, noisy and bereft
I fear not death nor do I fear life,
But I fear the fear of both as my peers;
If I could release one fear from my fears
It would be the fear of fearing these fears.
poem by Samah Khan
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The Bells of Heaven
'Twould ring the bells of Heaven
The wildest peal for years,
If Parson lost his senses
And people came to theirs,
And he and they together
Knelt down with angry prayers
For tamed and shabby tigers
And dancing dogs and bears,
And wretched, blind pit ponies,
And little hunted hares.
poem by Ralph Hodgson
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I'm Coming Down
From his throne up in Heaven, God looked down on the lost souls of man.
Thousands of men, lost forever, wandering a cursed forsaken land.
Their dried-up souls searching for his presence:
But they were wretched abominations, separated from his holiness.
A select few suceeded in touching his hem, but most were hoplessly lost.
So God, set out through the ages, arrows that pointed to a cross.
As man floundered and fell, he was ever there, preparing his master plan.
A rescue mission for the souls of man.
Then finally the day came when all was set-as men were weeping: no hope to be found:
Said the Almighty, 'Hold on, I'm coming down! '
I don't believe in sone distant deity sending one of three to die for me:
I believe in an eternal spirit paying a ransom for me for free.
My God didn't send someone else to the rescue: He didn't send someone else!
In a fusion of humanity and deity, the God of eternity came himself.
This was his grand master plan, the ultimate sacrifice:
Coming to earth to be denied, mocked, tortured, and killed, all to save a wretched life.
Some people, they want to confuse his miraclulous rescue.
But we preach Christ crucified, bleeding and dying- just for you.
If you're feeling lost, forsaken, rejected. Jesus is still there waiting: ever since he died on a cross two thousand years ago:
When God said, 'Hang on, I'm coming down.'
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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God Is Everywhere
The Lord God is much closer than, the misguided ideas of most men,
No, He’s not in the trees or grass, that thought is just spiritually crass,
God is Eternal Spirit, my friend; He had no beginning and has no end,
Not created things these men point to, for God these men never knew.
Within men’s hearts, our Lord resides, while in believers Christ abides,
Through the Spirit of Jesus Christ, to guide His people during this life,
By Christ’s Spirit, dwelling within, He guides us through a world of sin,
The Lord gives us the spiritual insight, for discerning wrong from right,
The Spirit guides us from the crowd, with leaders boisterous and loud,
The very leaders who Christ had said, were to lead the spiritually dead,
Pointing followers to God’s Creation, while ignoring Christ’s Salvation,
Worshiping earth not The Creator, and denying their need for a Savior.
Men distort Truth to their destruction, by their crass spiritual deduction.
Professing that God is in everything, spiritually bears a delusional ring,
Which is music to the sinner’s ear, as trees and grass they do not fear,
Loving not God, but nature instead, as they follow the spiritually dead.
God is everywhere, indeed it is true, but, He will only enter me and you,
If and when you accept Christ in faith, His Spirit shall enter in by Grace,
Christ then goes with you everywhere, assisting in every need and care,
And will be with us through Eternity, something all others will never see.
(Copyright ©05/2010)
Locked In Padded Cells
Remember those days when religion and politics,
Were said should not be mixed.
And those with their differences,
Had been the reason a greatness existed.
And opportunities to enjoy liberties,
Was a reality not to be questioned.
Well...
It certainly can not be the fault,
Of those who created such lofty ideals.
Or the appealing visions of those,
Who initiated what today is being opposed...
And considered to be utter nonsense.
Although the expense to continue conflicts,
Threatening those dreams once thought obtainable...
Seem to be lifted from something 'science fiction'.
And those fearing the visits from aliens,
Should themselves be strapped in strait jackets.
And locked in padded cells...
WITH whatever changing standards they value.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stray dogs
Here and there and everywhere
Stray dogs doing business
And barkedup wrongtrees
And spoiled the working
Environments.
Stray dogs have no
Commonsense not true
Stray dogs encounter
The alien.
Stray dogs safeguard
The interest
And ensure to make
The area clean.
Stray dogs welcome
Common mass
Stray dogs do not like
Corrupt class.
Stray dogs can only think
The morrows
Stray dogs have practical
Experience and knowledge
You know I know all know.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Hot Wretched Coals
Unfurled winds in the bed of desire
Your stars are no longer in my arms
You have gone to the anchors of ideals
Gone past religion
I loved your silk stockings with belts
Your heels with straps like the deep sea
Remember when our bed was moonlight
Remember when theology had passion
Souls are bowls of incense
Change is mortality
We have changed
Passion like a bipolar night
Broken down into a good girl bad girl
Is it wrong for me to want both?
Can you be both?
Can you wet like a sweet whore?
Have you become to pure?
To ideal to saintly
I am wretched
Hot wretched coals
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Sedated
It's time to dropp hopscotched ideals.
Limited in isolation...
Within the minds,
Of those locked in and boxed.
Guilt rides them with fear.
No sleep comes near them at night.
A contained anger,
Keeps them in beliefs...
Their way of life is right.
Although a solicited greed,
Has pushed them to the brink.
Fading values and standards,
Are spoken of as treasures...
With such a seriousness,
Their fixed eyes do not blink.
Their very existence relies,
On the marketing of decadence.
And once great foundations...
Are decaying more rapidly than common sense.
Guilt rides them with fear.
No sleep comes near them at night.
A contained anger,
Keeps them in beliefs...
Their way of life is right.
It's time to dropp hopscotched ideals.
Limited in isolation...
Within the minds,
Of those locked in and boxed.
Although a solicited greed,
Has pushed them to the brink.
Fading values and standards,
Are spoken of as treasures...
With such a seriousness,
Their fixed eyes do not blink.
As if they have been...
Sedated!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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