Mild Discontent
The pacified traffic passes me by—
As if the streets had been lubricated.
The skyline tarpaulin above drips-dry—
Heavy from the noirish pools it had sated.
Disinfected garbage lines the crosswalk—
A hygienic filth litters the pavement.
The air fills with a murmur of smalltalk—
The grievances of subtle enslavement.
I'm between a sewer and a heaven—
Beside the towers of facsimile.
And I'm where the wires have interwoven—
My limbs are pleached involuntarily.
Yet, the further trussed my life becomes—
The more I resist the urge to succumb.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
1. Two Red Candles Burning Through Night
chinese wedding
two red candles burn
though the night
wax sizzles,
drips, drips
with our red hot
passion for each other
drips, drips
fluidly down the bar
the whole night
drips, drips, with
each pause of
our desire
each hug of our
affirmation for
each other
drips, drips
with our thirst
for each other
drips, drips
and clings to
the bar, warm
as our bosoms
drips, drips
solidifying
the night into our
assurance
for each other
drips drips till
the morning
turning the night
into an ecstatic
tour de force,
a union crystallising in
a mass of bliss
resting quiet on
the base of two
exhaust candles
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Admonition
Sons and daughters
Respect authority
In this World System
You need clarity
It can help, it can hurt
Have to know the laws
That govern earth
Be contented with a little
Than much behind bars
There is an urge to do wrong
Resist it!
There is an urge to listen to a filthy song
Resist it!
Even when you are hungry
And your belly turn
Resist it!
Cannot breathe without permission
In captivity
Cannot eat, cannot sleep
Without the man say so
In Captivity
It's a brutal life
Confined to a five by five
Even scavengers live better
When it comes to the law
Live your life to the letter
poem by Buxton Shippy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Garbage Can
Life is sometimes not as planned
What could be worse than a garbage can
For you are tossed and thrown away
just like the garbage to rot each day
Taken for granted by a ladies man
A woman is mistreated as much as she can
Love forsaken and lust Oozes out...
To put away his filth without any doubt
In the name of love this game is played
And it is defined as masquerade
The clock turns 8 and it's time to leave
The garbage is out and the man at ease
poem by Meena Mustafa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Weed
Though progress does attempt to prevent
A plant from feeling the warmth of the day,
One small weed crawls through the sidewalk cement,
Forking between two slabs of my pathway.
I pass it, startled by the protrusion,
Impressed that it had learned how to survive.
It seems to thrive despite its seclusion—
Despite all the pollutions that deprive
It. Secondhand water quenches its thirst.
Garbage cloisters in the cracks that surround
It. Yet, the weed does not appear coerced
By the filth that litters the paltry ground.
Somewhere beside the congested gridlock
Of traffic, this plant stands—in the sidewalk.
I stare at the weed for a moment to
Wonder why no one had plucked it before.
It was not something I had sought to do,
But I pondered about what it lived for—
Why it challenged the street with sturdy roots
Or fought industry with a stable stem.
What made its will thoroughly absolute,
Woven to the Earth by a steady hem?
I wanted to hold the plant in my hand,
To cradle its would-be wilting branches—
To be able to truly understand
What the purpose of its burdened life is.
I would take that from the weed so I know
That there is reason left for me to grow.
I resisted the urge to tear the weed
From the ground, dirt shaking as it ascends.
Stealing its life would not provide my need
To discover my answer. I pretend
To break its being from the nature
That has nurtured it, although hostile,
In the hope that I could maybe capture
Its source vitality after a while.
Then I relax, leaving it all alone,
To fend for itself against the climates
And social structures of steel and of stone—
A world possessed by the inanimate.
I walk away and once again it went.
One small weed crawls through the sidewalk cement.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Solidarity In Lines
unemployment lines
lines of books
Lines of cocaine
Food stamp lines
Theater lines
Grocery store
car wash
school children
Soup kitchen
club
abortion clinic
Delicatessen
traffic lines
crosswalks
Traffic Jam
Lines on a map
Jules gets home and un-loads his rucksack
Gods laziness
Because of the machines and computers we will all end up lonely human beings
poem by Jerome Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Chronicles Of A Day Stranded In Nature Part 5 Resist Even Out Here
Resist... resist with all my strength
Sometimes i find it hard to resist
I find myself thinking thoughts not be thought
It seems that to not think in this way makes my mind twist
This battle has been fought
Many times before
Yet the thoughts that are there to abhor
Not to surrender to... they're pleasurable O
As i grind my toes inside my shoe
And steady my jaw I resist the urge
And thoughts of the other... I wish to purge
These thoughts of any candidate for my wife
The one with which i spend my life
I must resist even when I rest
And I cannot let my guard down even after a hard test
They plague and pervade my mind
Though I like these thoughts... I still must find
Some peace from them, because for me they
Often are evil... how fey
Resist...resist... with all my mind
poem by David Knox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dodging Bullets
Dodging bullets
gathering speed
get over or rid of
the things that I need
Sliding down the
pavement of
one-way streets
From the ashes
From the cross
Against traffic
Against all odds
It feeds
It breathes
No longer needs
YOU
poem by Carsten Thomsen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The question arises whether all lawyers are the same. This is like asking whether everything that gets into a sewer is garbage.
quote by Florynce R. Kennedy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Physical Fascination
Hi!
I got to go, get aboard attack a love jet
Heaven and back
My- my-my-my-my-my-my
And I got to find a power station with a beat
I cant take no conversation
My-my-my-my-my-my-my
Looking for the inspiration
All succumb to the physical fascination
All succumb to the physical fascination
Hi!
Shake shake it up, this love divine
Youre out of touch, babe
Im going out of my mind
My-my-my-my-my-my-mind
Talk to me! why dont you talk to me?
Cmon and use your body language
And have yourself a good time
My-my- my-my-my-my-my
And radiate your sweet temptation
All succumb to the physical fascination
All succumb to the physical fascination
And radiate your sweet temptation
All succumb to the physical fascination
All succumb to the physical fascination
I said: all succumb to the physical fascination
And all surrender to the physical fascination
Yea yea yea yea
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Litters Of The Mind
these as are all litters of the mind
it has the capacity to produce them
and they accumulate and some are beginning to stink
like the famous shit.
these are all the garbage that you read
and you think you feel so cured about them.
they're written, these are acts of throwing them all away
in the different pages of history.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fallen Angel
Tears of joy at the birth of a brother
Never alone from that time
Sixteen years through knife fights and danger
Strangely why his life not mine
West side skyline crying
Fallen angel dying
Risk a life to make a dime
Lifetimes spent on the streets of a city
Make us the people we are
Switchblade stings in one tenth of a moment
Better get back to the car
Snow white side streets of cold new york city
Stained with his blood it all went wrong
Sick and tired blue wicked and wild
God only knows for how long
Fallen angel
Fallen angel
West side skyline
Crying for an angel dying
Life expiring in the city
Fallen angel...
song performed by by King Crimson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The 'Poem A Day' Project ~ Day 193
I’m a traffic cone up a tree
Someone on a drunken spree
With all of their might
Gave me new height
Here for all to see
I’m a traffic cone up a tree
Not really where I should be
I’m usually found
Much nearer the ground
Lined up uniformly
I’m a traffic cone up a tree
It makes me feel rather free
To have reached a place
No other cone’ll grace
Fills me with real glee
I’m a traffic cone up a tree
Plastic and bright orangey
I might catch the eye
Of some strange passer by
Who’ll write a poem about me
poem by Flying Lemming
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Misery Machine
Man in the front got a sinister grin, careen down highway 666
We wanna go, crush the slow, as the pitchfork bends the needles grow
My arms are wheels, my legs are wheels, my blood is pavement
Were gonna ride to the abbey of the ema, to the abbey of the ema
Blood is pavement
The grill in the front is my sinister grin, bugs in my teeth make me sick sick sick
The objects may be larger than they appear in the mirror
My arms are wheels, my legs are wheels, my blood is pavement
Were gonna ride to the abbey of the ema, to the abbey of the ema
Blood is pavement
When you ride youre ridden, when you ride youre ridden
I am fueled by filth and fury
Do what I will, I will hurry there, there
My arms are wheels, my legs are wheels, my blood is pavement
Blood is pavement
song performed by by Marilyn Manson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Traffic Island Cop
Just one wave of his hands
The long lines of vehicles stop
Sun burnt rain drenched
Emotionless he stands
The traffic island cop!
You curse him if the wait is long
He’s just a faceless object
Like a post stands erect
In a fast lane his whistle blows
The traffic slows….
He has home, a wife
Away from traffic a life
A face without uniform
A corner to keep him warm
A vastly different island
Where he hates to command
And hopes no whistle brings to stop
The happiness of a traffic island cop!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
[intro]
Yo, my name is Taquell A.K.A Baby Poppa
Told ya I know ali
Yall thought I was playin
I told yall I know the Lunatics
Leezy, Nelly, Spud, Murph AND Kyjuan man
I know all of em since '99
Before Country Grammar before the Free City album
And now, Big Lee got that Heavy Starch out in the streets
It's over fo' real
Now next time Baby Poppa tell you somethin
You better listen
So keep your ears open cuz it's Ali
Heavy Starch let's go
Yo, Ali, Heavy Starch
Heavy Starch
Heavy Starch
Say it again
Heavy Starch
Do it like we do Heavy Starch Big Lee
Big Leezy fo sheezie with Heavy Starcheezy
What's up Ali
Hey Ali Heavy Starch
Peace to Ali comin from Son keepin it real, luv
Yo what's up Ali
Shouts out to Big Lee yea
Ali
Heavy Starch
What's up Ali
Heavy Starch
Big Leezy with the Heavy Starch
What's crack-a-lackin Heavy Starch
Heavy Starch
What's up Ali
Heavy Starch
Hi Ali Heavy Starch
Heavy Starch Big Lee
Big Lee Heavy Starch, Heavy Heavy Heavy Starch hahaha one luv
Right on Ali Right on Heavy Starch
Ali Heavy Starch, whatever you do dirty, keep it St. Louis
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Moon, how definite its orb! (fragment)
The Moon, how definite its orb!
Yet gaze again, and with a steady gaze--
'Tis there indeed,--but where is it not?--
It is suffused o'er all the sapphire Heaven,
Trees, herbage, snake-like stream, unwrinkled Lake,
Whose very murmur does of it partake
And low and close the broad smooth mountain
Is more a thing of Heaven than when
Distinct by one dim shade and yet undivided from the universal cloud
In which it towers, finite in height.
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Letter to an Archaeologist
Citizen, enemy, mama's boy, sucker, utter
garbage, panhandler, swine, refujew, verrucht;
a scalp so often scalded with boiling water
that the puny brain feels completely cooked.
Yes, we have dwelt here: in this concrete, brick, wooden
rubble which you now arrive to sift.
All our wires were crossed, barbed, tangled, or interwoven.
Also: we didn't love our women, but they conceived.
Sharp is the sound of pickax that hurts dead iron;
still, it's gentler than what we've been told or have said ourselves.
Stranger! move carefully through our carrion:
what seems carrion to you is freedom to our cells.
Leave our names alone. Don't reconstruct those vowels,
consonants, and so forth: they won't resemble larks
but a demented bloodhound whose maw devours
its own traces, feces, and barks, and barks.
poem by Joseph Brodsky
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Birds On The Wires
Birds on the wires
though I know not your name
are you there to tell me
that spring will soon come?
Birds on the wires
though I know not your name
have you already chosen the tree
where you will make a nest
for your eggs?
Birds on the wires
can you see me from there?
How I wish
I have wings like you
so I can fly high enough
to see from above
the beauty of life
below.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tz'u No. 16 (Bajiao)
Who planted the Bajiao tree under my windows?
Its shade fills the courtyard;
Its shade fills the courtyard...
Leaf to leaf, heart to heart,
folding and unfolding,
It expresses boundless affection.
Sad and broken-hearted, lying awake on my pillow,
Late into the night
I hear the sound of rain.
It drips and splashes, cool and melancholy;
It drips and splashes, cool and melancholy....
Lonely for my beloved, grief-stricken,
I cannot endure the mournful sound
of rain.
poem by Li Ching Chao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!