Anger And Pride
T'was never rage that made your
Empty cryptic red eyes bulge
T'was rushing pride- crushing valour;
One sacred self that you forge
poem by Oludipe Samuel
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The Emergency Exit
The doors are closed
and the heat is rising
Flesh is scotching
orphans in the making
while the majority are watching
The way is hidden
and the storms are rushing
into the ocean of living
The winds are crushing
onto the shores of healing
The day is gone
and darkness is falling
upon the land of hoping.
The cancer is eating
and the remnant are weeping
Yet through it all;
there's a way of surviving
living another day rejoicing
with cancer crushing
under our wits of knowing
poem by Timothy muggaga
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Le Testament: Ballade: A S'amye
F alse beauty that costs me so dear,
R ough indeed, a hypocrite sweetness,
A mor, like iron on the teeth and harder,
N amed only to achieve my sure distress,
C harm that's murderous, poor heart's death,
O covert pride that sends men to ruin,
I mplacable eyes, won't true redress
S uccour a poor man, without crushing?
M uch better elsewhere to search for
A id: it would have been more to my honour:
R etreat I must, and fly with dishonour,
T hough none else then would have cast a lure.
H elp me, help me, you greater and lesser!
E nd then? With not even one blow landing?
Or will Pity, in line with all I ask here,
Succour a poor man, without crushing?
That time will come that will surely wither
Your bright flower, it will wilt and yellow,
Then if I can grin, I'll call on laughter,
But, yet, that would be foolish though:
You'll be pale and ugly: and I'll be old,
Drink deep then, while the stream's still flowing:
And don't bring trouble on all men so,
Succour a poor man, without crushing.
Amorous Prince, the greatest lover,
I want no evil that's of your doing,
But, by God, all noble hearts must offer
To succour a poor man, without crushing.
poem by François Villon
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Forget Me Not
forget me
not
please do
not
forget me
me not
to forget
not me
forge
t
o
not
for
get
get to forge
forge
t
to me you must
not forget
get me
get me for
i, too do not remember
a face, a name,
i am old.
older than you think.
the pain. i never had this sense
of
what joys did we share? the boulevard.
long time ago. forge me.
forget me not. forget me.
i remember not you anymore.
post
traumatic
this disorder. pity. she finally gives up this bouncy baby boy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mechanix
The Mechanix (Later The Four Horsemen)
(Megadeth tune by Hetfield, Ulrich, and Mustaine)
You imagine you were at my station
And you brought your motor to me
You're a burner yeah, a real motor car
You say you want your order filled
Made me shiver when I put it in
Pumping just won't do, you know, lucky for you
Who'd ever thought you'd be better
At turning a screw than me
I do it for my life
You made my drive shaft crank
You made my pistons bulge
You made my ball bearings melt from the heat
Oh yeah yeah
We were shifting this hard when we took off
Put tonight all four on the floor
When we hit top then you know it feels so slow
You say you want your order filled
Made me shiver when I put it in
Pumping just won't do, you know, lucky for you
Who'd ever thought you'd be better
At turning a screw than me
I do it for my life
You made my drive shaft crank
You made my pistons bulge
You made my ball bearings melt from the heat
Oh yeah yeah
I'm giving you my room service
And you know it's more than enough
When you spark my plug you know I'm in love
You imagine you were at my station
And you brought your motor to me
With all four on the floor I feel what's in store
Who'd ever thought you'd be better
At turning a screw than me
I do it for my life
You made my drive shaft crank
You made my pistons bulge
You made my ball bearings melt from the heat
Oh yeah yeah
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Qusetions for A Benevolent Universe (Old Familiar Feelings)
Simplicity, it seems to me,
oh my earthly brothers,
is rather quite complex.
This occult inheritance
passed down from one
generation to the next.
Tell me, oh benevolent
universe
who was it, who's
responsible for creating
this patrimonial curse?
This empty disease
plaguing me and
my brethren of earth?
What are these
compulsively computable
creatures
we blindly carry with us
wherever we go?
Who receives the credit for our
advancements in biological technology?
Who's this ethereal programmer
responsible for designing such
a cryptic network of neurons?
Who constructed the superhighway
out of raw fresh and nerve-endings?
Which ancient grindstone
must we use to forge the
key that will unlock its
arcane vaults?
Is the blind old man
known to his benefactors
as father time the sole
culprit?
Did the ageless codger manage
without foresight
to work this miracle alone?
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Left Me A Fool
Everybody loves you
And they want to know your story
You go riding out a mystery
Concealed in all your glory
But when it comes to flesh and bones
You remind me of shallot
Only made of shadows
Even though youre not
I remember how I spent
All my energy and time
With affected conversation
Trying to pry inside your mind
You are as beautiful as truth
And as empty as a shell
And I came to you one night
And it made me feel like hell
Oh to reach through all your surface
Just to find an empty pool
And to suffer all your pride
As I lay down by your side
And you swallowed up my heart
And left me a fool
Left me a fool
Everybody loves a hero
An image to create
The antithesis of everything
Inside ourselves we hate
But youd better close your eyes
When its time for them to die
Because youd hate to think the life
Youd built upon them was a lie
Oh to reach through all your surface
Just to find an empty pool
And to suffer all your pride
As I lay down by your side
And you swallowed up my heart
And left me a fool
Left me a fool
I resign myself to silence
I will never blow your cover
No one ever has to know
Who the hero took for lover
But it has come to mind as you blaze on
As brilliant as a star
How many youve left behind
How many casualties there are
Oh to reach through all your surface
Just to find an empty pool
And to suffer all your pride
As I lay down by your side
And you swallowed up my heart
And left me a fool
Left me a fool
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Running On Empty
Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
Looking back at the years gone by like so many summer fields
In sixty-five I was seventeen and running up one-o-one
I dont know where Im running now, Im just running on
Running on - running on empty
Running on - running blind
Running on - running into the sun
But Im running behind
Gotta do what you can just to keep your love alive
Trying not to confuse it with what you do to survive
In sixty-nine I was twenty-one and I called the road my own
I dont know when that road turned onto the road Im on
Running on - running on empty
Running on - running blind
Running on - running into the sun
But Im running behind
Everyone I know, everywhere I go
People need some reason to believe
I dont know about anyone but me
If it takes all night, thatll be all right
If I can get you to smile before I leave
Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
I dont know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels
I look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through
Looking into their eyes I see them running too
Running on - running on empty
Running on - running blind
Running on - running into the sun
But Im running behind
Honey you really tempt me
You know the way you look so kind
Id love to stick around but Im running behind
You know I dont even know what Im hoping to find
Running into the sun but Im running behind
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fight, though losing.
To fight or to beat, which is of valour?
To fight the formidable is valour.
To beat the vulnerable is not valour.
The risk involved determines it.
25.04.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Now Or Never Get It Done
Tell me I have decades to write?
No No I rage against decades blight.
I rage against might have beens.
I rage against could have beens.
Might Could Would empty husks!
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Religion
Asphyxiated by curled hands.
Punishment for tainted moon,
it has floated down to
darker side of continence.
You push the body in wall,
Coal burns in the eyes.
The shadow at last, leaves the body.
The high priest, goes for the copyright
and nerves explode in the books for
annular bulge of pride.
A simile was needed for a grain of sand
by cutting your wrists
and pouring the blood on the knives.
poem by Satish Verma
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The Twenty-Fifth Of April
THIS day is Anzac Day!
Made sacred by the memory
Of those who fought and died, and fought and live,
And gave the best that men may give
For love of Land. It dawns once more,
And, though on alien sea and shore
The guns are silent all,
Yet we with pride recall
The deeds which gave it immortality.
Great deeds are deathless things!
The doer dies, but not the deed,
And, when upon that fateful April day
Our Anzacs, throwing all but love away,
Gave life and limb for Honour's sake,
With Freedom tremblingly at stake,
They lit a beacon-light
Imperishable, bright,
That evermore the Nation's soul shall heed.
Not Peace, not Peace alone
Can make a nation great and good
And bring it that full stature, strength, and grace
That fit it for an age-enduring place
In men's regard. Through storm and strife
It runs to sweet and noble life;
For through its veins there runs
The valour of great sons
Who died to give it stately nationhood.
This day is Anzac Day!
Made sacred by the thrilling thought
Of those who proved their souls, it reappears;
And thus 'twill dawn, and dawn through future years
Till Time our petty deeds efface,
And others, dwelling in our place,
Tell o'er, with tongue and pen,
The glorious tale again
Of how on beach and crag the Anzacs fought.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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Who The Hell Is Charles?
wrinkled and unshaven and foul
charles takes pride
that two women quarelled
over his underwear
just this
morning after he just
woke up
from his drunken sleep
last night
he smiles in a corner
and prides
himself about these crazy women
competing
for the big bulge
between his hairy legs
he is 58
and his abs are gone
his legs shaky
and his chest
looks like empty
he laughs
at these women
pulling their hair
and tearing their blouses
and hitting each other
with stilleto shoes
(common charles
how much money did you pay
for each whore
on this
midlife crisis of your
what the hell
is this charles!)
your wife
left you, and there you are
padding
your brief with fresh
eggplant and throwing
your money
to these cheap whores
at the pub)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Oh Well
What you did to me made me
See myself something different
Though I try to talk sense to myself
But I just won't listen
Won't you go away
Turned yourself in
You're no good at confession
Before the image that you burned me in
Tries to teach you a lesson
What you did to me made me see myself somethin' awful
A voice once stentorian is now again weak and muffled
It took me such a long time to get back up the first time you did it
I spent all I had to get it back, and now it seems I've been outbidded
My peace and quiet was stolen from me
When I was looking with calm affection
You were searching out my imperfections
What wasted unconditional love
On somebody
Who doesn't believe in the stuff
You came up on me like a hipnik jerk
When I was just about settled
And when it counts you recoil
With the cryptic word and leave a love belittled
Oh what a cold and a common old way to go
I was feeding on the need for you to know me
Devastated off the rage you found below me
What wasted unconditional love
On somebody
Who doesn't believe in this life
Oh well
song performed by by Fiona Apple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Singing The Songs Of The Rivers
i am singing the songs of the rivers
and my notes flow like the rage of the the flood of the waters
rushing and rushing
all wanting immediately to be with you
passing through the mouths
between us
you are the sea of deep desires
and i am singing the songs of the rivers
i flood into you and be lost forever
in love i take the inevitable destination
of losing myself and be part of this universal longing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fear of death makes us devoid both of valour and religion. For want of valour is want of religious faith.
quote by Mohandas Gandhi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No One Demands
... that there must be respect
to the wings of a fly, a mere fly
on top of a garbage
from your kitchen,
that there must be respect
to a leaf of a mahogany
on a permission to take it
away from a twig,
that there must be respect
for the handful of water that
you drink from the river,
that there must be respect
for the porcupine fish
from the bottom of the sea
even if it's form be
hateful,
the air is sacred
the sea is sacred
the tree is sacred
like every man, every baby,
every eye
every hand
the spider is sacred
and so is the carabao
resting in the mud hole
after a hard day's toil
every carapace
an empty shell
every grain of sand
belongs to no one
respect and live
on the blessings
of Mother Earth.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pride Eyes
Oh wonderful Pride eyes,
never have you changed your gaze,
Where dreams meet destiny,
in the palm of your hands,
pushing me further,
I was scared to swim once,
look at me now!
Mr and Mrs Pride eyes,
never have I gone without,
Here is your new born,
looking back, with pride eyes.
poem by Rachel Henley
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The White Heat
Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
Then crouch within the door --
Red -- is the Fire's common tint --
But when the vivid Ore
Has vanquished Flame's conditions,
It quivers from the Forge
Without a color, but the light
Of unanointed Blaze.
Least Village has its Blacksmith
Whose Anvil's even ring
Stands symbol for the finer Forge
That soundless tugs -- within --
Re[f]ining these impatient Ores
With Hammer, and with Blaze
Untile the Designated Light
Repudiate the Forge
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Mechanix
Imagine you were at my station
And you brought your motor to me
Your a burner yeah a real motor car
Said you wanna get your order filled
Made me shiver when I put it in
Pumping just wont do ya know luckily for you
Whoever thought youd be better
At turning a screw than me
I do it for my life
Made my drive shaft crank
Made my pistons bulge
Made my ball bearing melt from the heat
We were shifting hard when we took off
Put tonight all four on the floor
When we hit top end you know it feels to slow
Im giving you my room service
And ya know its more than enough
Oh one more time ya know Im in love
Solo-mustaine
song performed by by Megadeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The rhetoric of denial
Civic pride in the finest hour
overwhelmed my sense of fear
by a total sense of rage
my rage is their rage
casualties of injustice trivialized and exploited
endless cycles of frustration and despair
Black oppression
twisting our expectations
into a house divided against itself
which cannot stand
in the wake of human sexuality
hear frustrations edge closer to despair
poem by Lisa Visor
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