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
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Related quotes
Turkish Heritage Sold?
Return
at abrogated last
left
twilight mystic Turkey
meagre memories
safely stored
sealed within synthetic
protective plastic pages.
All permissible
total retrievable
removable
taken from Turkey
where youth
beauty are compulsory
male bled militarily
bound broken abandoned not.
Individual lack
lustre lifeblood
languishes
droops despoiled
dreams dribble
sucked dry savings
short-changed
devalue dynamic destiny.
Wonder withers worthless
people perish politically pulverized.
But Turkish Heritage rallies
national pride overcomes aggression.
It will be president democratic
who sells out to multinational corporations.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Youth Dream Purchase Price Paid
youth dreams full of testosterone
impatience desires action completion
now now now youth is life trying
youth is working for other people
youth is working with other people
youth is learning about other people
in changing challenging life context
enjoy it or frustrated with it a lot
but at the same time youth screaming
to break out and be able to do own thing
the majority of the work force
probably feels this ghost echo
definitely crisis mix sometimes
few people get to do exactly
what they want to do
all or even most of the time
employment is necessity
unless rich financially
care free freedom independent
the less capital qualifications
the more compromise
due to lack of opportunities
working for others
is a good chance
to learn from their expertise
mistakes management
staff interaction
all necessary important
skills learn everything
you can while waiting
for your own dreams
an important
knowledge skills
career with many
interactive fields
of acquired knowledge
waits over horizons
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Ships Of The Night
Poems pass
in the night also.
Port starboard lights
burn bright also.
Poems pass stirred
hear wave slap night gongs?
Have you not heard
their salty soft saline songs?
Poems pass plotted
in navigated narrows; of lapping passage night.
Have you not heard
their soft spoken saline songs; by glow of candle light?
Poems pass navigated
in natant night also.
Daily cares contested
at last laid low below.
Poems pass
in shadow seamed night.
Poems pass
in nuptial nocturnal night flight.
Has not herald heard
silver shimmering saline songs?
Poems pass like flight of bird
as eternal endless night sails on.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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People Submerged In Their Insecurities
People submerged in their own insecurities,
Have a constant need to speak of one's race.
Constantly!
And...
The color of one's skin.
And who is responsible for today's racism.
With deceitful confessions,
That these are not part of their 'sins'.
They are!
And that's why they wish to keep it identified.
They are,
Themselves...
On the dark side.
And doing it absent of color.
Or the lack of it shown!
They are...
People submerged in their own insecurities.
And people like these,
Make their presence known!
Even if their actions annoy themselves...
In a collective ignorance that is overblown!
They are...
People who dislike,
People like me.
And others who strip disguises away,
From people submerged...
In a willingness to inflict their own insecurities,
With misdeeds and a hate for self reflection.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Discordant Chord
somewhere in indelible future
undoubtedly - as arisen
various others recognition came
another broken - voice echoing
forth from indomitable past
a point of focus for heart's vibrations
in its due season due to pass
like summer's parched withered grass
known facts fanned kept alive
fanned to flame expanded upon
like fragments of bone pottery
forgotten objects sieved in light
of new age under archaeologist's glass
but culture people men women remain
unmoved by intense examination
until time - interpret - construe anew
chance upheaval sending shock waves
to depths of established foundations
shattering order in decisive blow
past remains not dead nor buried
nothing remains hidden forever
without chance echoes breaking loose
bubbling forth to mark
vortex in future times turbulent
effecting whirlwind society
of cyclonic pressure
waiting waiting beneath warm dead
dead or coldly chilling
mere scratch beneath surface
waiting waiting to be unearthed
poem by Terence George Craddock
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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
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It All Starts Now
Too many people act as if hope is dead. Just watch the movies, the news, really look at how people treat each other in the office, on the streets. So much pretense, hostility, arrogance, silent killings, so little kindness, patients, appreciation, understanding love and generosity. If people really had faith, if they really believe, in their heart, in their depths they would not be this way. One of the first steps to end the insanity is to face our destructive desires, born and perpetuated out of a lack of love, Lack of EMPATHY, lack of courage, lack of vision. It all starts now. It all ends now. We choose every moment.
poem by Michael Kavuoti
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Comatose
Blank bubbles
conscious equations
equally reasonlessly
bouncing bursting burst
boundless crowds.
Mixing mingling
merging strata.
Sucking secluding
quicksand tendrils.
Swallowing thought
stillborn birthed.
Suffocating
seemingly seamless
sentientless.
Senile senseless sculpture.
Sluggishly slips sluggishly silently
croaks.
Being bursts.
Vital violent vibrant
venomous blood. Bursts.
Breaking bound bleak
vestige. Hemorrhage bursts
into damaged brain veins.
Lack
lustre lifeblood
languishes
droops despoiled
dreams dribble
shockingly short.
Devalued
dynamic destiny
deflected
wonder
withers worthless.
Blood bursting forth
pressuring surrounding
brain tissue killing
brain cells dead
cerebral hemorrhages
intracranial hemorrhages
or intracerebral hemorrhages
take your pick?
Cerebral edema
is not the most
common type
of swell head!
These are swell heads; of an
extremely different kind.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Professed Love
Despite
your professed
love for me.
You do not have
what it takes
to be with me.
You must love
me ardently,
above all else,
for eternity.
Your on again off again
commitment cannot sustain.
Your lethargic esoteric resolutions
to constantly go or remain.
Reek of a countenance
lacking the impetus
to love ardently.
Independently attenuated requisites
stridently expressed in arbitration
lack filigree delicate verisimilitude
denoting an inarticulate sincerity.
This perihelion passion
encroaches upon zenith
isthmus stinging tornadoes
frenzied intense devastation.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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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
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Art Encompassed Ablazed Passions
Complete artist crazed benediction perfected
must encompassed be prophetic impassioned poet.
Diverse streams personify divine creativity
poetry effected obtains full unfettered expression.
An illuminated ardent ephemeral soul chisels
holy canvas tormented stupendous ablazed passions.
To understand portray pour visionary dynamic words
upon oily water’s perpetual colourless beggary.
Art transforms lack-lustre drab insipid normality
into a cathedral exemplifying expanding universe.
Heartbreak into heartfelt refined tempera translations
easels in search of sensational esoteric staccato pictures.
Transcribed life a miraculous varicoloured sunrise,
dashed hopes a storm ruined resonant corn-field patina frost.
Boundary line earthquake lacerated filigree fragments.
Blood pulsating interprets convulsive emotive rainbow.
Masterpieces dedicated to intense artists. Who have known
great suffering, endured true hardship, innermost anguish.
Yet never exploited, sold, sacred noble entrusted birthright.
Potentialities imaginative beauty enlightening an innocent soul.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Understandably, no peace can sustained when people continue to suffer from hunger, lack of jobs, lack of basic public services - and most of all - lack of opportunity or hope.
quote by Mikhail Saakashvili
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Journeys Through Diversity Defining Life (part one of Certain Knowledge Know)
There is something rather sad
about people those poor compelled people,
who have somehow unseen silent become,
wanders over face of siren earth.
Especially when they have become old
when they are alone, worn, torn, and old.
Especially alone, when weathered worn old
as I now suddenly become amazingly old.
It touches my enveloping heart
with old haunting memories,
due to an ancient inheritance
an intense wandering quest spirit,
mixed within my celestial nature.
For I was born old
yet lingering scent, craving curiosity,
kept life’s hardships,
new intriguing about harsh edges.
Barely enough
a desire to perceive know,
motivates tired
emotions inquisitiveness,
discovery no rarity.
Makes for a strange
rich personage,
some even stranger,
chance bedfellows.
But what journeys
journeys through
diversity defining life.
Life’s been a fated warp fabric
so many loose threads,
running through mists,
merging cyclic link bound time.
Soon traverse must wane,
decline fade waver,
with encroaching onset age.
Rove no more hell bent astray,
untwist ravel out possible pathway,
magic many varied impulsive way.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Journeys Through Diversity Defining Life (part one of Certain Knowledge Know)
A Scientific Tasteless Artificial Era (part two of Certain Knowledge Know)
Eyes Telling Multiple Mysteries (part three of Certain Knowledge Know)
I Was Even Born In Them (part four of Certain Knowledge Know)
God Bestowed Information (part five of Certain Knowledge Know)
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Gothic Wuthering Heights In Ghost Nights
Gothic souls roam
eternal moors spirit
passion birth land
beauty etched
in tempest mist
weathered soul banshee land
wind etched
into trees our youth love bent
into passions land
heather hues red
yellow green mist
purple blue moor moves land
skies cloud lit
dying red crimson yellow soul
rainstorm bound
wild places silent
haunting soul
music is centuries echo in ghost land
poem by Terence George Craddock
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People Everywhere
People, people everywhere.
The ones you know.
The ones you don’t.
Most blend in a way,
You cannot comprehend.
People, people everywhere.
There are so many out there.
Most pass by your life,
Without knowing your name.
But some, some are different.
People, people everywhere.
Touching your heart,
In a way no ones else can.
Love, fear, hate, pain, joy,
They all come from,
People, people everywhere.
Where do they go when they leave?
Back to a home or cave?
Maybe to pass by your eyes again.
One day, maybe they can stay.
But for now it’s lonely,
For now it hurts,
When you are alone.
When there is no,
People, people everywhere.
poem by Megan Reily
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Remember This Lack of Conscience - 'For Maya Angelou'.
When time goes past and dithers not
One sees the blame that gathers moss
To feel akin with woe as one
I'll forgive myself and you to soldier on
Remember this lack of conscience when we meet
I was violated, raped and beaten within to provide a treat
Remember this lack of conscience when I get out
To see through with vision all I espy
Remember this lack of conscience which will know no bounds
To hideously transform love profound
Remember this lack of conscience when I am free
You will lose and you know me
Remember this lack conscience less you forget
That freedom is precious and not a threat
Remember this lack of conscience when the bars are bent
I will slip out into the depths of crass to vent
Remember this lack of conscience to come
The Devil has a new spawn and drum
Remember this lack of conscience gathering
To prove nothing but give a battering
Remember this lack of conscience wild
It has no remorse just like a child
Remember this lack of conscience like the Hawk
Which draws blood, looks on and gawks
Remember this lack of conscience with the Demon within
It's a Golem to clear the the Evil and get even
Remember this lack of conscience when you renege
The death of love can be ones grave
Remember this lack of conscience and tremor not
No fruit you bear or shall ever to care
Remember this lack of conscience that prevails
The trial is over and you have failed
Remember this lack of conscience and grow
To a woman that a man can know
Remember this lack of conscience that forgave
and now with Love sends you away
For Maya Angelou - ' Remember This Lack of Conscience'.
poem by Azriel Dreams
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Alternating Time-Scales
alternating time-scales
impose creeping ultra realities
upon narcotic selected dreams
socially construed realities
suddenly material plane
is as instant immaterial
as a universe of atoms
containing dimensional illusion
of solidity inherent
in each specific object
defined in nature's webs
all life indeed is but a dream
until the nightmare comes
on earth fear four horsemen
ride pitilessly over dark third
world catastrophe countries
dreams perish within war realms
perish in hungry mouths
death starved flesh minds
famine reinforced
with cholera,
malaria, diarrhea, typhoid,
scarlet fever, measles
compete as cyclic epidemics
epidemics sweep across aids
ravished infected Africa weeps;
remorseless west television watches
skulls gleam inanimate
in sunlight unseen by lost legions
already needlessly dead;
unmoved west television watches
when will humanity
pass a compassion
law forbidding indifference?
instead of deleting differences
ethnic groups religions
due to traditional values
of rage, anger, hate, greed,
coveting land resources
belonging to foreign others
stealing their oil incomes
homes, food, water, lives,
how long will people neglected
be forced to live die like vermin?
when will we raise all children
for love life sensuous rewards?
to assist children
in growing sane
strong safe vibrant
in radiant health
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Written in April 2000 on the 11.4.2000.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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City Of Hearts
THE CITY OF HEARTS
IS WHAT I WANT TO FIND
WHERE I’M TIGHTLY BOUND BY STRINGS OF LOVE
HOLDING ME BACK ME WHEN I STRAY TOWARDS THE WRONG,
ENCOURAGING ME WHEN A GOOD DEED’S DONE
WHERE ESCAPE IS INFIDELITY
HATRED A SIN & VOILENCE A CURSE
AN ABODE WHERE HONESTY THRIVES & COMPASSION LIVES…
SO ETHEREAL THESE THINGS DO SEEM
LOST IN THE ANNALS OF HISTORY… NOW
SUCH WERE THE FONDS OF MY BLISSFUL HEART
BUT WHERE SHALL I FIND MY CITY OF HEARTS? ?
IN THE QUEST FOR JOY,
IN THE QUEST FOR LOVE,
I TRAVERSED CITIES A PLENTY,
THE PEOPLE WERE GOOD,
THE LANDSCAPES ENCHANTING
BUT THERE WAS ALWAYS SOMETHING MISSING..
THAT “WHAT” I WAS SEARCHING FOR IS UNFATHOMABLE
FOR I WANTED TO FIND MY HOME IN ALL OF THEM!
WHERE SHALL I FIND MY CITY OF HEARTS,
THAT’S THE QUESTION I USUALLY ASKED.
A FAMILY TO RELY ON
AND FRIENDS TO CARE FOR
WHERE I’M LOVED FOR WHAT I AM
WHERE THERE IS SUCH UNCONDITIONAL LOVE
THAT I SHALL CRAVE TO GIVE & ONLY GIVE!
SUCH WERE THE IDEAS THAT SHROUDED MY MIND
AND THUS THE ETERNAL QUEST WENT ON…
I REALISED THAT THERE SHALL NEVER BE
SUCH A CITY OF HEARTS
FOR PEOPLE HAVE BECOME COLD & CRUDE
IT TAKES A MILLION BUCKS FOR THEM
TO PASS ON A SIMPLE SMILE
LOST ARE THE SMALL TALKS
THAT PEOPLE USED TO SHARE
ITS NOW THE MASKS OF PERFECT EXPRESSIONS
THAT ONE & ALL SO NICELY WEAR
SMALL JOYS NO MORE HOLD MEANING,
SMALL BEAUTIES NO MORE APPRECIATED
NOW IT’S THE LURE OF MONEY THAT’S ENTICING..
THE RAT RACE HAS REACHED SATURATION
BUT NONE HAVE REALISED THE GRAVE SITUATION
THE CITY OF HEARTS IS BURIED SOMEWHERE
ALONE, DARK & WITHERED..
IT ROTS DUE TO LACK OF CARE
FOR PEOPLE HAVE LEFT TO A NEW SPHERE
WHERE MONEY & NOT EMOTIONS ARE SO DEAR.
NONETHELESS I WANT TO FIND
MY CITY OF HEARTS,
WHERE HUMANS ARE HUMANS
WITH A PIECE OF HEART
THE QUEST THAT I’VE BEGUN
SHALL SOMEDAY BE COMPLETE
TILL THEN IT’S THE HOPE IN MY HEART
THAT TELLS ME I’LL SURELY FIND
MY CITY OF HEARTS! !
poem by Vaishnavi Raghuraman
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Into The Looking Glass
Who is viewer
of own reflected image?
Do you see en-fleshed
reality as youth,
radiant in bullet proof
life, embracing beauty,
or age en-fleshed;
as ancient life survivor?
Is held looking glass
in the hand of age or beauty?
Interesting is what each
woman sees, the now of youth,
or lined reality, of age
or memories of youth; that linger.
Some gaze deeply into
the glass, past surface experience.
Through the eyes of seeing
through eye of inner soul.
Does the young man see
in his face, reflection of girlfriend?
Is the sparkle in his eyes,
for her or the girl, he hopes to find?
Does he seek one or many?
The wild ones, are ever attractive.
Does the girl see the bride?
A man to be moulded into marriage?
Do people really desire
to see, themselves in the mirror?
Or do they look with hope
or dreams, fitting flesh accordingly?
Changing hair perfume clothes,
shape, is cosmetic transition.
Others re-sculpture entire body
to create, plastic fantastic.
Those who cannot stand reflection
find form, in hall of mirrors.
Reflections born of desire can be
mind interactive, blade dreams.
Some hate image bent through years
while others, embrace soul’s journey.
Remember quote 'A monkey is superior
to man, in that when it looks in the mirror,
all it sees is a monkey.’ Yet this is not true,
a monkey sees status and primacy paramount.
Each monkey sees, own others, integral place
interactive, dependent place; within the troop.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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As Obvious As Trash Cluttered Streets
Insecure people never seem to know,
What it is they want.
Where it is they wish to go.
Or sticking to a thought that is claimed,
To have for them a meaning meant!
And the frightening thing about this is,
People like that somehow influence others...
Through exaggeration,
That the decisions they make are the best choices.
And nothing has been proven by those who follow them...
That this is true.
Or that a benefit from this for them has been obtained
In fact,
The evidence of insecurity and the lack of discipline...
Is not hidden.
This is as obvious as trash cluttered streets.
Leaders elected because they are liked,
But lack competence.
And people seen who are threatened by dignity.
Supported those who protect them by making excuses,
For their actions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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