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Sizzling thoughts
Baked in burning skulls
Sliced and served
In salvers white,
Before starving minds!
poem by Valsa George
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Sliced Bread
Sliced bread...
Whole wheat and toasted.
Buttered with jam,
And munched.
Either with tea, punch...
Or just plain water for lunch!
Sliced bread...
With cheddar cheese and tomato.
Add Romaine lettuce,
Topped with fried strips of bacon.
This too will certainly do.
Sliced bread...
Oatmeal raisin,
Oven baked and fed.
Sliced bread...
Crumbed to stuff a turkey.
And seasoned to gobble...
With an aftertaste on the tongue,
Deliciously nutmeged!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cork and Sip
Sausage.
Beef and sautéed.
With a bit of soy sauce.
Bedded with sliced onions...
And green pepper.
Wrapped in foil.
Tin,
I prefer.
Baked in a preheated oven,
At 350 degrees.
And left for at least one half hour.
Then served with garden grown tomatos.
Appetize yourself with this.
Remove the cork and sip...
On your White Zinfandel!
'OH...
How could I forget the dashing of brown sugar?
Do it...
If you dare new sensations! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Seduced
Cheerios with bursting cinnamon dust,
Over sliced banana in a bowl of soy milk,
Breakfast is served.
Succulent sautéed shrimp over angel hair,
With melting mozzarella in a white plate,
Lunch is served.
Romaine spinach dressed with vinegarette,
Cherry tomatoes, raisins, pineapple cubes,
Dinner is served.
Then she sensed creamy caramel macchiato,
That’s calling for her not too far from home,
Starbucks is there.
Amaretto Cheesecake with Madeliene Crust,
Staring at her in an eyeful blast of seduction,
She checked in.
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Dr. Joel Fleischman in nature. Not exactly the man you knew. He couldn't see past the Hudson River if he tried. He liked his fish smoked or preferable hand sliced from Zabars on a sliced bagel served with onions. Nature, to him, was an irritant. Birds didn't sing, they woke him up. A body of water wasn't life, it was a golf hazard..
quote by Robin Green
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Virgin
Walking through the darkness of racism,
Devouring the thoughts of virgin minds in life;
Very few taking the easy way out by not truly studying
the minds and personalities of certain people,
the rest creating an image from the start trying to find the
result of that particular person;
Suffering these rare thoughts is like being in the pit of Hell,
I would love to stop the burning sensation but it's not even worth
spitting on;
8-13-08
poem by Alicia Cross
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Banana Bread-Baked and Buttered
I recently discovered,
I was quick banana fed.
Having one sliced in cereal.
One in a milkshake.
And a few to make banana bread.
I guess the potassium agrees with me.
When I eat one on the street.
Preferring that treat over candied sweets.
And a vitamin I need...
Like C, D, E and the B's.
While trying to avoid the calories,
As I strip one and dip it...
Into creamy chocolate.
I recently discovered,
I was quick banana fed.
Having one sliced in cereal.
One in a milkshake.
And a few to make banana bread.
Baked and buttered,
With no crumbs spared!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Burning Heat
Burning in my heart- burning in my soul
Gotta have it more and more- hot and overloaded
Starving for some fun tonight- always dressed to kill
Dont tell me what I need- I need the thrill indeed
Dont stop me now
Ill run you over- bastard
Get out of my way
I feel mighty great
Burning heat- gets me- burning heat
Burning heat- breaks me- burning heat
Cant you see it coming- stronger than a bull
Get yourself going- youre too easy to beat
Dont forget Im strong- powerful and straight
I can take you on cause I am hard to break
Dont stop me now
Ill run you over- bastard
Get out of my way
I feel mighty great
Burning heat- gets me- burning heat
Burning heat- breaks me- burning heat
Burning heat- gets me- burning heat
Burning heat- breaks me- burning heat
Burning heat- leads me- burning heat
Burning heat- feeds me- burning heat
Burning in my heart- burning in my soul
Gotta have it more and more- hot and overloaded
Burning heat- gets me- burning heat
Burning heat- breaks me- burning heat
Burning heat- leads me- burning heat
Burning heat- feeds me- burning heat
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some-Fake-A Baked Cake
No I don't have...
What I do have.
And I do have...
That which I don't.
A peaceless sleep...
Like many who walk 'mean' streets.
No I wont have,
None of that!
Strung out on dope,
Because I can't cope.
No I don't have,
None of that to keep me off track.
Or,
Make an impact.
No I don't have...
What I do have.
And I do have...
That which I don't.
No I don't have...
What I do have.
And I do have...
That which I don't.
Psychotic I'm not...
Like the ones who worry a lot.
Or hooked on smoking pot.
No I don't have...
What I do have.
And I do have,
That which I don't!
No I don't have...
What I do have.
And I do have,
That which I don't!
Even though...
Some-fake-a baked cake.
Some-fake-a baked cake.
Some-fake-a baked cake.
And I wont have...
None of that.
Even though...
Some-fake-a baked cake.
Some-fake-a baked cake.
Some-fake-a baked cake.
And I wont have...
None of that.
No!
I wont have...
None of that.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The White Of The Paper
i like the white screen
i like the white paper
because they ask such
a simple task from me
write as you wish
think as you want to
or dont want to
I feel a white dove
flying amongst wondrous
cumulus clouds
meditate as much as i wish
so that the white becomes
a mere plane of zen,
a vibration of existence
i like the white screen
i like the white paper
because they ask just
such a simple thing of me
to swing myself and exercise
my thoughts so that i let loose
clouds, birds, stars and moon
in the minds of men
i like the white screen
i like the white paper
because they always
are my best friends,
open an infinite plane
for me to act out my antics
for the good of men,
exercise their minds and
let their humours flow
i like the white of the
screen and the paper
because they are always
there to accommodate me
to let the gift from heaven flow
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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You Are Always Electrifying
by the simple touch of your fingers
accidental intimacy like bumping on the street
and then quickly
parting ways like you don't know me and i do not know you
this pretense of strength
of white cranes suddenly in motion to the skies
as i clap my hands near the lushing cogon grass
oh they fly, oh they fly like white pebbles thrown to the sea
and then they are gone
i get electrified the moment i see you
(how can i ever tell you about
this secret that grows like a cancerous mole on my face?)
sizzling simply sizzling this feeling
of loving with the loved one not knowing anything
why flowers bloom and then die
why the leaves are falling
the white cranes in the rice fields this June
oh how they flap and fly like white pebbles thrown to the sea
perfect flight of silent love
my eyes are so delighted
my heart sings
it has never known how to scream
in silence i gaze at you and then you walk away
the street where you walk narrows down like a throat choking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Maître d
'...well, I beg to differ.
I think it is imperative
That everyone familiarize themselves
With proper dining technique.
No one is going to be served baked apples
Until after the main course and the soup.
Be sure everyone is aware the water glasses
Are placed on the right.
Anyone having wine must insure the waiter
Is the first to be informed.
Have the linens been properly concealed? '
Sir...
I doubt if this is that kind of assignment!
Your experience as Maître d' at the Four Seasons...
Helped you to get this position.
But your qualifications may be a little 'extended' here!
According to our records...
You are to direct us where to unload the cargo.
Any of those starving awaiting the food deliveries...
Have been malnutritioned for months.
We understand you have been appointed director
Of food dispersements to the villagers,
However...
Our concern is to how to best stockpile this shipment?
'OH...
How am I suppose to know?
Who has my job description?
These last minute details do not sit well with me! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Paranoia
Multiple tongues followed
some strangers to see the
trafficking of images between space
and promises. Somewhere
adjectives were being cheated.
A tumor was growing in brain
locked, enhancing, malignant:
condemned destiny. Implicity of incest
in same gene pool. Where
the evolution has stopped?
A missile has intercepted and smashed
the moon into ten thousand
sins. Palpable wreckage.
We were shoved into dustbin
A pile of starving skulls.
Clotted stone blood. Mountains
were wounded. My mentor
had a paranoia. Delusion
Of falling snow
from burning sky.
poem by Satish Verma
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Devil Music
They called him 'master'...
When he came.
To take them from the comfort of their homes.
Stripped of treasures,
And their names.
With nothing they could say,
And silent broken hope!
Forced to worship,
Strange deities.
And folks who treated them
Like they were beasts.
Some tried to flee,
The increasing heat.
But many found themselves soon in defeat.
The blazing burned their feet.
And the ones who ran were chased like enemies.
This fire...
It kept on burning!
Burning, burning, burning...
Out of control.
The 'master'...
Desired this fire.
To burn, burn, burn
Out of control!
Morning, noon and night
They'd call him devil.
And sang the music to him that he loved.
They would dance.
And together clap their hands.
This devil music kept them in a hold!
Yes,
The fire...
It kept on burning.
Burning, burning, burning...
Out of control.
The 'master'...
He kept the fire.
Burning, burning, burning
Out of control.
Yes this fire,
It kept on burning!
Burning, burning, burning
Out of control.
I said the fire...
It still keeps burning!
And it's blazing in a rage,
That's out of control!
The spreading flame...
Became higher.
So high it fixed in young minds,
Sold by the old!
Yes,
The fire...
It kept on burning.
Burning, burning, burning...
Out of control.
The 'master'...
He kept the fire.
Burning, burning, burning
Out of control.
Burning, burning, burning
Out of control.
Burning, burning, burrrrrnin...
Out of contrrroooool.
'ssssyesssss...
Children! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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They are starving for happiness
They are starving for happiness
Their belly is full of mess
Joy is their food
Without it their dead
Starving all way of hunger
Cry in every saw they looked
Fingers are in cold, shivering
They are starving for happiness
Mind looked in every crying eye
Drops let fall. As they saw
No mistakes done, no wonder
They are starving for happiness
Open hair, all scenes amazing
No soft blow of air, nothing
They can’t survive more
They are starving for happiness
Heart full of sorrows, no glow
Hands red, can’t move long
Lot of hunger, full of blood
They are starving for happiness
poem by Monica kulal
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A Ballad Of Refreshment
The lady stood at the station bar,
(Three currants in a bun)
And oh she was proud, as ladies are.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)
For a weekly wage she was standing there,
(Three currants in a bun)
With a prominent bust and light gold hair.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)
The express came in at half-past two,
(Three currants in a bun)
And there lighted a man in the navy blue.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)
A stout sea-captain he was, I ween.
(Three currants in a bun)
Much travel had made him very keen.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)
A sober man and steady was he.
(Three currants in a bun)
He called not for brandy, but called for tea.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)
'Now something to eat, for the train is late.'
(Three currants in a bun)
She brought him a bun on a greasy plate.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)
He left the bun, and he left the tea,
(Three currants in a bun)
She charged him a shilling and let him be,
And the train went on at a quarter to three.
(And the bun is old and weary.)
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Blood shared
Blood shared / mmm, served on romantic dinner / bo'friend, gil'friend starving as if donated. / thick as they were /in their hands fock n knife were, /in dark like ghost they were /the way they wear /you can't recognise what they were. /frozen like red-frozen yougurt /served as disert /expensiv they were. /crime so high currently /like Zim currency. /thee gil'friend knowing not where the blood from. / at other room / gil'friend sister lying there soulessly / as her blood served on romantic dinner dish. /bo'friend neva introduced to soulsister. /yet the blood they shared
poem by Stephen Raseona
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Chained by Language
We live in concrete boxes with ceiling and walls
Sometimes, Deco sometimes Roccoco
With minds trapped in bony skulls
Chained by language, stuttering thoughts of the soul
We live in darkness lit up by glaring,
And electricity to illuminate and reflect and reflect
We hear the tiny echoes of voices and thoughts,
Bouncing up and down bumping back and forth
Conjugating, communicating, copulating, fornicating
Metaphors allegories everything and anything to cloud identity
We live close and next to, only in rare moments souls touch
Then, Slip back to concrete boxes with ceilings and walls
poem by Shimon Weinroth
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Thoughts Descend
Thoughts descend,
They come down
From the world unexplored;
In the forms of waves,
Purple, pink or black
Or winged birds:
Twittering sparrows,
Cooing doves or pigeons,
Or singing nightingales,
And sometimes they fall
Like stones hurling down.
Thoughts that soar near are captured
By the minds,
Some are spoken, some are penned
And become the record,
While the un-captured return behind
To the origin.
Innocent plain minds
Capture magnificent thoughts,
But the murky minds magnetize
Sable ones wherefrom sprout
The boughs of violence and odium
That transform the world
Into a place of turmoil.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Burning Hot
Dazed mind vaporized face
The sun here is merciless
Certainly it is a lost duel
Of the weak against the burning fuel
Where any defense is just useless
Thoughts benumbed minds senseless!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Solidarity Song
Peoples of the world, together
Join to serve the common cause!
So it feeds us all for ever
See to it that it's now yours.
Forward, without forgetting
Where our strength can be seen now to be!
When starving or when eating
Forward, not forgetting
Our solidarity!
Black or white or brown or yellow
Leave your old disputes behind.
Once start talking with your fellow
Men, you'll soon be of one mind.
Forward, without forgetting
Where our strength can be seen now to be!
When starving or when eating
Forward, not forgetting
Our solidarity!
If we want to make this certain
We'll need you and your support.
It's yourselves you'll be deserting
if you rat your own sort.
Forward, without forgetting
Where our strength can be seen now to be!
When starving or when eating
Forward, not forgetting
Our solidarity!
All the gang of those who rule us
Hope our quarrels never stop
Helping them to split and fool us
So they can remain on top.
Forward, without forgetting
Where our strength can be seen now to be!
When starving or when eating
Forward, not forgetting
Our solidarity!
Workers of the world, uniting
Thats the way to lose your chains.
Mighty regiments now are fighting
That no tyrrany remains!
Forward, without forgetting
Till the concrete question is hurled
When starving or when eating:
Whose tomorrow is tomorrow?
And whose world is the world?
poem by Bertolt Brecht
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