Flowin Prose
Im flowing prose to cons and cons to pros
Im scheming rhyme against reason like it was flow against know
But beyond the concepts and emotions that rise
To the interconnectedness that underlies
The lies upon lies have lost their meaning
The plies upon plies of consciousness that is being
Over and over I fall I learned to walk from a crawl
Its not sad its just the way and the purpose of it all
Now every word that you heard that I said that you felt
Was put in place in the space as they were shuffled and dealt
I steal feels from reels but I pay my respects
Paying compliments and disses and deciphering affects
Words are water as I court her, as she is pristine
Words and mics fall to dust and all thats left is the feelings
I give in and I win I try to never complain
Intentions venture to center and then they set the stage
But Ill remain sane making gain without pain
Staining trains with names and driving lanes to the refrain
And keep it positive as painstaking as it is
Ill never turn back cause thats the way Ive got to live
So like a cloud carries rain Im gonna carry my rhyme
Coming like thunder with lightening timing
No hesitation in gestation of thoughts and plans
Ferment time like wine no ploys or scams
Like the islands dot the oceans in the endless seas
Ideas coming to me in answer to my pleas
Woke up this morning right out of a dream
Reached for my pen and pad because my mind was on a rhyme scheme
What can I do with these bones and flesh?
With these animated thoughts in a world repressed?
Im going down like the rhythms on the winds of change
Im keeping calm under pressure like a deep-sea range
Im flowing prose to cons and cons to pros
Im like toucan sam when I follow my nose
Im giving shouts to gandhi, gravy and king
His holiness and all enlightened beings
Ill be the one who screams it on the microphone
Ill be the one who brings it inside your home
But the words aint mine I just pass em along
For betty williams and her friends I sing this song
And more ink from my pen and more tears from my eyes
And more crimes are committed as I say these lines
song performed by by Beastie Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Flowin' Prose
I'm flowing prose to cons and cons to pros
I'm scheming rhyme against reason like it was flow against know
But beyond the concepts and emotions that rise
To the interconnectedness that underlies
The lies upon lies have lost their meaning
The plies upon plies of consciousness that is being
Over and over I fall I learned to walk from a crawl
It's not sad it's just the way and the purpose of it all
Now every word that you heard that I said that you felt
Was put in place in the space as they were shuffled and dealt
I steal feels from reels but I pay my respects
Paying compliments and disses and deciphering affects
Words are water as I court her
song performed by by Beastie Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Point Of Disgust
How many times have we gotten to a point of disgust
Where your mind is about to explode
And your heart about to bust.
Every one at one point or another gets to that stage
And we know in our hearts -it's just a phase.
How do we get rid of that pain and emptiness
So deep in your chest
When your mind is blank and needs the rest.
When your chest is like a dam holding
back a river of tears
And your mind is sensing all your fears.
When everything seems to be going wrong
No matter what you do
And you get to this point of disgust
And starting to feel blue.
Where does one end and the other begin?
You have to go through total disgust
Then the depression begins.
(is depression just a point of total disgust?) hmmmm
When I get to that point in life
I pray to GOD to take away this strife
I walk to him with my problems in my hand
Cause I know he understands.
He says 'help yourself and I will help you'
So this is what I do.
I put all my pros and cons in a basket
And bury it in the ground like a casket.
I follow what I have in my heart
Because 'HE ' had put it there from the start.
This point of disgust can play a role in our life
We just have to stop and think twice.
This not only affects you, but all who are around
Creeps up on you without making a sound.
So I'll add that to the basket
With all my pros and cons
And the 'point of disgust' will also be gone.
BYE - BYE
poem by Louis Rams
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Prose-Poetry
Once prose and poetry existed side by side
Two styles of literature, each with its bound
Jealously guarded by the literati
Lest prose masquerades as poetry.
The First World War smashed all fetters,
Soldiers wrote heart-rending poetic letters
To sweethearts, friends, fathers and mothers.
Newspapers published their anguish and horrors
The literati classed them as prose
And turned up their nose
At such a new trend of mongrelised poetry;
But the public gave it name and identity
Prose-poetry began to gain respectability.
Prose-poetry is a contradiction in terms,
An oxymoron; a paradox of many forms.
When well written, words flow as though in rhyme
Thought and syntax together dance with rhythm.
Some pen few lines haphazardly,
String words together arbitrarily,
Flit between thoughts randomly,
Structure their poems casually.
They want us to see them as thinkers
In fact, they are just wearing blinkers.
If only they could see their folly
They’d stop abusing prose-poetry.
poem by Isam Hussain
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Neo Cons
They are known as neo cons and they live the good life
But they show no compassion for those in financial strife
And with economic rationalization they totally agree
Economic rationalization that for many spells utter poverty
They are at the right side of the social divide
Where the gap between the haves and the have nots has grown ever wide
And not much advantage to you a booming economy
If you are despondent and in poverty,
The neo cons have their own exclusive club
You will not find their type down at the local pub
With other neo's and neo cons in posh restaurants they dine
And they only drink the most expensive of wine
And compassion is a word they never do use
And they refer to poor people as those born to lose.
poem by Francis Duggan
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That Word That Smells
I've found a reason not to rhyme.
Or open a door to flowing prose.
I suppose I am not feeling poetic today.
Nor especially free of speech.
Although there is a discipline to write.
Sometimes my mind turns off like a light.
And even though I said,
I've found a reason not to rhyme...
Something 'automatic' within me resists.
Something inside of me refuses to respond,
To my temptations that exist to just say...
It!
You know.
That word that smells when one feels like hell!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pros and Cons
Some read, some rest, while others play,
some crosswords puzzle as the day
to night tracks onwards while life’s train
repeats, repeats, the same refrain.
Some through life’s window stare as they
dream on lost worlds in wayward way,
some forward bend to golden g[r]ain,
some backward tend in times of strain.
Some watch their neighbours watch them weigh
the pros and cons of yea or nay,
some thoughts would open, some restrain
emotions’ f[l]avour as profane.
There are so few who dare relay
fair message sharing interplay.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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0004 The world has lost the ear for rhyme
The world has lost the ear for rhyme.
It still makes children squirm with pleasure;
and from some witty pens and minds, its fireworks fizz;
so, after all these centuries of rhyme
and all the games of meter, dancing words,
should we now mourn its passing?
Have we lost the music of another world?
Instead, the easy unpretentious discourse,
sober, light, familiar, honest -
the world of daily, homely, shared sharp life,
that's now preferred. Not prose;
much more than 'chopped-up prose' as those may say
who think that poetry should be more visibly hard-earned;
- as if a human life set down in honesty
were not a poem in itself, unwrit;
'prose with enhanced consciousness' it's often now defined;
and consciousness - now that's earned, if you like...
and simile, and imagery, and metaphor - all the repertoire
of glorious poetry - they're all still here
to work their magic; if more played down, now,
unostentatious as T-shirt and jeans;
unostentatious as the beating, bloody heart.
And yet, when years bring tears
and time brings death and dying,
it's time for rhyme, to heal the heart
and charm away the crying.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A wild thoughts
Mind is wild garden
Thoughts emerge all of sudden
They boom in abundance
They too need immediate attendance
The space needs to be created
At some places they got to be appreciated
There may take pro and cons situation
Mind may remain busy for its evaluation
The concept stand vindicated
The eagerness is very much indicated
We want applauses and lot more praise
Not intelligent but wants place among wise
They may grow like wild flowers
They need no rain or showers
It has no relevance to its logic
They want to perform it as magic
It takes us no where
It has to stop somewhere
Nothing can take off from imaginary world
It will get bogged don and will have no hold
It is birth place for evil thoughts
No immediate solution is reasonably sought
The game plan is ready and battles are fought
You are likely to be failure and simply caught
A shunt is to be created as concrete wall
It may prevent other segments not to fall
Though there may be tug of war in mind
You maybe able to think twice and rewind
There has to supremacy and control over ideas
It may fail and will have no impact on good pleas
It has to generate positive impact on large scale
The thought should not sail as fish or whale
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Do You Really Find It Hard To Write A Poem?
let me tell you
it is not hard to write the poems in your mind
they are already there in the first place
inside your heart
always wanting to be written
all you need is just your way of waking your fingers in deep sleep
let them be
let them write the words
at the tip of your fingers
let the words speak for themselves
do not intervene
let them be
let the emotions dance like the wind
let the thoughts trickle like the rain
let them be
follow the river as it winds along the banks of your feelings
then watch
how all the waters of your self fall like
a water fall.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Writing Frustrations I've Known
-It would seem, I've run out of words.
Nothing left to say.
I have lost my inner voice.
It's gone, completely astray.
Perhaps I should lay down pen and pad.
Never more write a rhyme.
On this poetry that I love
I shall spend no further time.
... not that I was ever truly a poet anyway
... it's just that, well, I did love it so;
... still, it feels the well is dry
... time to just let it go.
- So now, what of me shall be
Feeling empty in heart and head?
What purpose-without a word-shall be heard
With no way to express both hope and dread?
Where have the words gone
Must they ever stay away?
Who has taken my spirit's song
Why has the music of my soul nothing more to say?
... I try... seems of no use...
My mind torn asunder, literary abuse.
(this next part wrote a couple months later)
Listen, what do I hear?
Something is knocking at my gate!
A few months later now
But, not altogether too late.
A lonesome thought comes strolling in
From whence I cannot declare,
Just that it has arrived
With this simple message to share:
' What's a dime
To a lover of verse and rhyme,
And what's to fear
Of criticism drawing near?
For to write only for income
Would soon turn quite burdensome,
As surely as to not write for fear of ridicule
Would be to deny the voice within you.
The words may never turn a single head
But, don't dare believe they'll ever be dead!
God gives meaning to what he wants
Whether anyone else listens or not.
The way it is all spoke
By darling bards, or simple country folk,
Is well worth hearing
And so oft more than a bit endearing.
Don't worry about the rhyme
The perfect place or time,
Just give your soul in words as best you can
And those who should, will understand.
Those who don't
Just won't,
And that's o.k.
God speaks to them in other ways.
Trust his Spirit in all you do
Yes, this includes writing too,
Remember he promised he'd never leave you alone
Even in the simple words of your poems. '
-Pondering it over
I suppose this I've known all along,
Though thoughts may wander
True words are never gone.
Well, ya know what:
I believe I just might pick up paper and pen,
Good or bad, right or wrong...
Give it a go, once again!
poem by Smoky Hoss
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The subject of criminal rehabilitation was debated recently in City Hall. It's an appropriate place for this kind of discussion because the city has always employed so many ex-cons and future cons.
quote by Mike Royko
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Will The Words Come Back?
Words slip off our pen
like warm butter off a knife.
They fall in unison across the page
with everything we write.
Then one day the words don’t flow
in unison like they used to before.
They have no rhythm within them
and just become no more than words.
We look at what we’ve written
and there is no bounce in them.
The words become no more than words
once written by a creative hand.
There is no meaning in what they say
they have no heart anymore.
They are just words written on a page
with no rhyme or reason for them being there.
Some call it a writer’s block;
others call it stagnation of the mind.
The creative juices fall away to nothing,
no spark to be kindled,
no emotions to be released,
no protests to be made,
no stories to be assembled
like a jigsaw in your mind.
Just an empty pen with words
that don’t make sense anymore.
Struggles without feeling,
ideas leading nowhere
on a spiralling downward turn.
You are no longer a writer,
your creativity is gone
and the only question you have,
will the words come came back?
13 July 2009
poem by David Harris
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A Big Or Brief Poetry......!
Big or brief, what is poetry?
Poetry is......
Creating beauty out of blemish,
Making order out of disorder,
Producing meaning out of musical words,
Creating Universal truth out of trivialities,
Arranging points out of less known facts!
Is poetry just making rhythm and rhyme
Without meaning, life, force and taste,
Without free flowing musical words,
Without words of music, beauty, fun?
Poetry is free flowing river of words
With full of images, lively and lovely,
Transporting from this world to that world
Forgetting himself and readers here!
Just end rhyme is not enough to make it so;
Internal rhymes make music in rhythm
Making all enjoy music, meaning and ideas!
Poetry is the medium to say complex things
Not possible to say in other forms of language,
Saying unknown things using known things;
It is sound, substance, message and meaning!
And many more matters to many men in the world!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Goodbye To Everyone
The other day I felt like leaving,
packing up my tools and going,
saying goodbye to everyone,
then disappear into the yonder blue.
However, something stopped me
its hard to say what it was.
Something inside said do not do this,
you will only live with regret.
I took myself a side
weighed up the pros and cons
and realised I’d be better
just to stay just where I was.
I could trim down my output
and experiment a bit;
do a few things
I hadn’t done for a while.
I know some of my friends
will be happy that I’ll stay,
yet no doubt, there will be some.
Who will wish that I had gone away.
14 March 2008
poem by David Harris
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Cant Go On
(coverdale/vandenberg)
Ive been feeling sentimental,
In a melancholy way,
Blues siting on my shoulder,
Getting heavier every day...
Staring into space,
One thing on my mind,
Ive been trying to drown
The thought of you
By drinking too much wine...
Then my imagination
Starts running wild,
I snap my fingers
And youre there by my side...
Cant go on without your love,
Theres no song without your love...
Aint no reason, aint no rhyme,
Without your love
Ill go out of my mind...
Been getting too lazy,
Letting myself go,
Feeling like a refugee
No one cares for anymore...
Endless lonely days,
I just try to get through,
And theres no escape,
Even when I sleep,
cause all I dream is you...
Then my imagination
Gets the better of me,
cause youre everywhere I go,
In everything I see...
I cant go on without you love,
Theres no song without your love...
There aint no reason, there aint no rhyme,
Without your love
Ill go out of my mind...
You make me dance,
You make me sing,
When Im with you
I can do anything...
When Im cold,
You keep me warm.
And give me shelter
From the howling storm...
There aint no reason, there aint no rhyme,
Without your love
Ill go out of my mind...
Cant go on without your love,
Theres no song without your love...
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Something
I'm writing in hope for something with sweet melody,
A rhythm that can be felt,
A beauty that can be read.
With words flowing like water over rocks,
Steadily without fault or obstruction.
A liquid in its purest state.
I'm writing in hope for something with sweet remembrance,
Like the scent of falling rain,
Or the memorable sound of a mothers cooing voice.
Something so memorable,
The slightest reminder sends you back to the exact moment,
Replaying in unbroken pattern of mind.
I'm writing in hope for something spectacular to happen,
For my words to form a feeling so deep they hurt,
For each image to be as clear as these words on this paper.
I want you to feel what I feel,
A feeling of lonely discontent,
Sitting alone in my own my own world, writing away.
I am writing this in hope for something to stick with you,
A message or a meaning that I've hidden inside a syllable,
A voice of reason that you have kept from yourself,
Silenced with the voice of your shallow desires.
A dream that you once had forgotten,
Lost in the darkness of the night.
I am writing this in hope for something to be brought to light.
Maybe a buried thought that you wish you never had,
Or an inner conflict that you hadn't noticed but feel tearing apart your skin,
Even an aspiration you promised to live up to but left to die.
Something so lost in the world of your mind,
Swallowed by deep chasms of thought and memory.
I am writing this in hope of telling a story.
The story of a world that can only be imagined in a dark room,
Hidden from the world and apart from anything else.
The story of a broken heart of a shortened life,
The story of the silent cries of a lost soul reaching for sanity.
My own story, perhaps, or even yours, is this your story?
I am writing in hope of making your thoughts and feelings dance,
A slow and steady music in the background,
Propelling your eyes left to right and back again.
Following the steps of each word,
The flow off each line and stanza.
An endless waltz with the reader and the writer, will you dance with me?
I am writing in hope of making an impression on your mind,
Maybe not an everlasting one, but even just a brief moment,
A moment of realization that you are now reading what I have written,
That for one moment in time our minds share the same space and thought,
Each word playing in our head the same as the other's.
Can you hear my voice, can you feel my thoughts?
I don't know why I am writing, or why I am writing what I am writing,
But I know that it has accomplished one thing,
It has given a purpose to something, if even just a piece of paper,
It has given worth to something that at one point was just a blank sheet,
Waiting for something to be etched into its surface, making it something.
I guess that's why I'm writing, I'm just writing; something.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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I would never discourage anyone from doing what it is in life that they want to do. But I would encourage them to find out the pros and cons of anything they become involved in.
He does all research now, but he put me on some medication, Zoloft, and, I tell you what, a lot of people have had pros and cons about it, but it was my wonder drug.
quote by Tanya Tucker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Worlds
Today is overcast- they say it will rain,
They said it would rain last night-
I was lost in thought when the thunder clapped-
Lightening brightened up the sky, though only for a moment-
Then darkness overtook the entire universe-
I am alone in my own world- that is my choice-
I see people everyday- outside of the world I was born in.
These people are strangers speaking a language I understand although
When words are put together in sentences- I cannot relate.
I am speaking of two worlds- one where millions live,
That unsafe, threatening place- and the world of my thoughts that I live in
Nearly all of the time- the one into which I surely believe
Is the one into which I was born, at the time, safe and sound.
Today is overcast- they say it shall rain-
They said it would rain last night, but when the raindrops
Splashed upon the edge of time, I was lost inside of that world of my own.
In that world of my own, where rain never falls,
In that world of my own, children are never born into.
Somebody stole me and brought me here- into the cruel and threatening place
Where millions of deranged and crazy people live-
Somehow, inside that world, I never fit in and
I feel I never belonged.
I would dance in the rain - the rain that they predicted-
I would dance and sing in this cruel world trying to cope until the sky would fall and
I would find myself in that sky, searching for the world into which I was born?
I am searching for always for that magical place that
Presently only exists inside the world of my thoughts.
Some years ago they took me and locked me inside a room they called 'Seclusion'-
A room dreaded by many to be locked inside-but I found peace of mind there,
If such a thing exists and in this room I could build my fantasies and dreams-
Until they released me back into that world that had not been kind to me.
Let it rain and let lightening strike-let the rain wash my tears away-
I guess I will keep dancing and singing in the rain until the sky falls or until
They take me away again and lock me in that room once more and there
I can lose myself into the world I created and listen to the rain fall as the sky falls-
While thunder claps- a beautiful sound that drowns out angry voices and
Lightening strikes, brightening a pathway where some day I dream,
I will find peace of mind without ever having to turn back time.
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Bitter And Sour
Some of the words can turn you bitter and sour
It may add to your agony and pour
Cause so much pain to your heart
As it is not considered at all a good art
It is easy to malign somebody
Throw a mud and spoil character of anybody
There won’t be any readymade explanation
It is enough to spoil the existing relation
It costs nothing but damage is colossal
You hurl abuse and then silently walk away
So many good people may not offer a word
They may think it bad phase and look forward
Not all can perform such kind of feat
You may find warmth and sweetness when they greet
It is becoming of good and noble soul
You have peace of mind when go out for stroll
But some of good words can do a miracle
It can wipe out your impression of being a jackal
Your action may speak clearly of personality
That you have no double standard and have genuine quality
It gives some sort of satisfaction
Even if it does not render any assistance or favorable action
A person gets fully satisfied with your promise
Even though he has compulsion and no choice
Small words of appreciation can encourage a person
He finds means to live with some solid reasons
He finds aim in life to carry on with purpose
He cares little then for prose and cons
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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