Shadowtime
She is reminiscent.
Reminding me of another time,
voice catching n the
edge of familiarity.
No profound epic,
on the outskirts of obscurity.
It reels and ebbs,
shrieks and shreds
images.
Colouring in canary yellow,
radically moving
through different phases.
She restructures,
recreates
an image of mediocrity,
yet innovative
in its' own breath.
22nd November 1991 2100hrs.
poem by Nesersert Nesersert
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Related quotes
Canary Yellow Canoe
In my canary yellow canoe - my yellow canoe
I want to go tripping in my canary yellow canoe
The eastmain, coppermine, back river too
In my canary yellow canoe
In my canary yellow canoe - yellow canoe
I want to run rivers in my canary yellow canoe
The desmoines river, rupert river, george river too
In my canary yellow canoe
In my canary yellow canoe - mellow yellow canoe
I want to go tripping in my canary yellow canoe
Chebugema, peace river, resolute too
In my canary yellow canoe
In my canary yellow canoe - my elephant too
I want to go tripping in my canary yellow canoe
Churchill, yellowknife, ross river too
In my canary yellow canoe
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Razors Edge
(razors edge)
(razors)
Theres fighting on the left
And marching on the right
Dont look up in the sky
Youre gonna die of fright
Here comes the razors edge
Youre living on the edge
Dont know wrong from right
Theyre breathing down your neck
Youre running out of lives
And here comes the razors edge
Here comes the razors edge
The razors edge
Razors edge, to raise the dead
Razors edge, to cut to shreds
To raise the dead
Here comes the razors edge
Here comes the razors edge
Well here it comes to cut to shreds
The razors edge
The razors edge [its the razors edge]
Gotta razors edge [well, the razors edge]
Youll be cut to shreds [that youll be cut to shreds]
By the razors edge [gotta razors edge]
Gotta razors edge [by the razors edge]
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I May Well Be A Mediocrity
I MAY WELL BE A MEDIOCRITY
I may well be a mediocrity
One who tries and tries
But never really inspires-
I may well be one of the many
Called but not chosen-
I may be more another small unimportant disturbance
Than one whose work is of real meaning and value-
I may well be a mediocrity
And an ultimate nothing-
Whose words are now saved by a new technology
But will be dust forever -
I may well be a mediocrity
Despite wanting so much not to be-
I may well be a mediocrity
And probably am-
In which case I apologize
To the reader of this
If there is one
For taking your time.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Qualified To Do
The only thing that qualifies most who are not scutinized,
Are looks of images created to project and portray...
What is wished to be perceived and believed.
And unfortunately for others who are microscoped,
Competence, looks and intelligence together,
Are rarely in the mix when images are created...
To meet expectations that rely on accountability.
This just doesn't happen when folks seek mediocrity.
Since it isn't publicly revealed,
Only images are sought to appeal.
People of intelligence present threats to the status quo!
And although those who prefer to go unchallenged,
Are often the ones selecting image over substance...
To address their standards that are valued,
They are often given an attention to debate...
Without reason,
Why their insults placed upon responsible folks...
Should merit a listening to their fault finding.
The only real thing image seekers are qualified to do!
And insist with persistence their 'senses' are common.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Birds Are Not My Epic
When I’ll write an epic for the animals
Particularly birds with their wings and beaks and claws
They’ll make me sick to think of them in the bathroom
When all the intense images I’ll see are them flying
Over and above my head out from the shower faucet
Those weird throbbing like needles on my skins
Are brandishing my mortality to hate the images
I admit of them my number one phobia
I cannot run a writing race overnight with such of them as characters
They can be epic but they cannot be mine
Say if my rationality is purely an excuse
But I am this mortal who does fear
Birds are birds and I cannot undress them
Who has dreads and who has courage?
Birds are not my epic
poem by Chester Maynes
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Epic Smile
Time slows;
then stops.
You have an epic smile,
shining brightly to challenge the sun.
You laugh with your soul,
eyes sparkling in the light.
You have an epic smile,
one I will never forget.
My heart leaps at your voice,
a smile shattering the gloom of life.
You have an epic smile,
brighter than a thousand suns.
I will think of you often,
though truthfully I already do.
You have an epic smile, my muse,
one that will always be with me.
poem by Brian Hinckley
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Images Presented
The image that's presented,
Determines how impressive...
Those pretentious rush to protect.
And the image that's presented,
Has less to do with intellect.
Or competence and its effect,
Upon those expecting...
Much more than an image projected to accept.
Images old have molded.
Although repeatedly they have been sold!
Those images presented,
Represent times gone.
Those images presented,
Have been rusted so long.
Those images presented,
Do not feed!
Those images presented,
No one needs now!
Those images presented represent a decadence.
And they represent with evidence pretentions that are meant.
Those images presented do not feed.
Those images presented no one needs,
Now.
Those images presented represent a decadence.
And they represent with evidence pretentions that are meant.
Those images presented do not feed.
Those images presented no one needs,
Now.
Those images presented,
Represent times gone.
Those images presented,
Have been rusted so long.
Those images presented do not feed.
Those images presented no one needs,
Now.
Those images presented represent a decadence.
And they represent with evidence pretentions that are meant.
Images old have molded.
Although repeatedly they have been sold!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Story Of Modern Verses
The story that had started in wonder
The story that had started in pain
The story that always remained untold
The story that could never unfold
The reality of complex human natures
The story that could only capture
The superficial aspects of humanity
That is the story of modern verses
That is the only story of our modern age.
There comes the hatred full of love
And love full of hatred
There stands the familiarity at a distance
And a distant association and nearness
More glorified than any day to day familiarity.
The story of modern verses always reminds us
About the shallowness of modernity
About the obscurity of the material world.
This story once told shall touch the base
And would make everybody else to lose the race
Because winning is no more the destiny,
The destiny is only love, faith and submission
The destiny is only achieved by losing
At all phases of life - as the winning game
Is full of distortions and unhappiness.
The story of modern verses clicks in the mind of society
To push it through the hollow modern age
And make it reach the destiny of truth and harmony.
poem by Somsubhro Ghosh
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Images of Time
The images in my mind is like my thoughts.
Expressing my thoughts is like expressing my feelings.
Words are spoken.All my images are broken.
Broken down into pieces, which can never be made into new dishes.
Those images of past.It takes time to last.
It will last forever for met to take over.
All those images wore my past life.
But it has nothing to do with my past life.
Those images can be forgotten.But not those people.
Those people who are in your images.Can be in a real image.
When you see those people in front of you.
You like to say 'How are you'?
If they say I am fine.Then you will think of those time.
poem by Yash Pradhan
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The new electronic interdependence recreates the world in the image of a global village.
quote by Marshall McLuhan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Not Proud Of Being A Mediocrity
I AM NOT PROUD OF BEING A MEDIOCRITY
I am not proud of being a mediocrity-
But if I am
Does this mean
I should stop writing forever?
Does it mean I should spend the rest of my life
In bitter angry lament?
If I am a mediocrity
And chances are good that I am
Then perhaps I should just try to live with it
And understand
The only one who's time will be wasted
And who will give attention to all this writing I have done
Is me.
Mediocrity or not,
I can still try to be a fairly decent human being.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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20th Century Promised Land
Stories came like the wind
Joining every bridge in the wind
Ringing out footsteps
Calling out stell-heels
I give voice
I give breath
Count out evenings and stars
How fast can these things move on
Taking roots back to yourself
And the reason for fear was moving on
And on
Some time
Great times
Troubled time
Fire for the times
Ringing out footsteps
Calling out steel-heels
Promised land
Great times in commotion
Here come every day
It only lasts an hour
Unhappy the land that has no heroes
No! unhappy the land that needs heroes
And the reason for fear was moving on
The speed of light was moving on
Dont cry
Tears are only wasted waters
Some say God her only loves the proud
Be damned on luck
But not dishearted
Nothing to prove
And nothing to present
I give voice
I give breath
Catching winds in my hand
My hand
Some times
Great times
Catching wind in my hand
My hand
Some times
Great times
Troubled times
Fire for the times
Ringing out footsteps
Calling out steel-heels
Promised land
Great times in commotion
Here comes every dat
It only lasts an hour
Unhappy the land that has no heroes
No! unhappy the land that needs heroes
Ill call you out
Ill scream you out
And I dont care if youre afraid
When city sounds invade the air
Catch the wind in their hands
Promised land
Catch the wind in their hands
Promised lands
Promised lands
Promised lands
Great times in commotion
Lyrics : j kerr music : simple minds (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The new electronic interdependence recreates the world in the image of a global village.
Marshall McLuhan in Gutenberg Galaxy (1962)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All About Us
a cup,
a shovel, a therapy,
a string
a lock of hair
air, packets of heaving sighs,
a dirty blanket
an open window,
the sea,
a scribble on yellow paper,
a brink,
of what? an edge of where?
pieces of junk
driftwood, an old river,
the usual fallen leaves,
some puzzles of you
not all of you
but parts, shattered glass,
catching you
holding your hand
and then
releasing your fingers
like drops of
water from my hands,
slipping sands
last breath
wordlessly
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On The Edge Of The Edge Of The Edge
ON THE EDGE OF THE EDGE OF THE EDGE
On the edge of the edge of the edge
There is nowhere to go-
Home is lost,
And all the distances have broken down-
One cannot move
One can only fear-
On the edge of the edge of the edge
Falling is fear-
And holding one’s ground
One step at a time
Is a small miracle
One is not sure
One can make alone.
On the edge of the edge of the edge-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Epic
Amanda Seyfried (voice), Josh Hutcherson (voice), Beyonce Knowles (voice), Colin Farrell (voice), Jason Sudeikis (voice), Blake Anderson (voice), Aziz Ansari (voice), Johnny Knoxville (voice), Steven Tyler (voice), Pitbull (voice)
from Epic (2013)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Epic [trailer 2]
Amanda Seyfried (voice), Josh Hutcherson (voice), Beyonce Knowles (voice), Colin Farrell (voice), Jason Sudeikis (voice), Blake Anderson (voice), Aziz Ansari (voice), Johnny Knoxville (voice), Steven Tyler (voice), Pitbull (voice)
from Epic (2013)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Mask
Hope - twisted image seen through mental mask,
Accepted self-delusion counterfeit,
Perhaps to help man’s conscience counter fate,
Perhaps to tint the rainboy. Many ask
In disarray the question 'What joys last? '
Now, the Present - an elastic date, -
Extends until it snaps, while 'soon' is late.
So little time remains till we are 'Past'.
Some think themselves a mirage, say their task
Allotted compensating former state
Misguided - yet in times when troubles spate
A help for blind from foetus to the cask.
So though some cling to crutch, to token creeds,
Karmic beliefs as such seem broken reeds.
21 November 1991 revised 20 December 2006
robi03_0488_robi03_0000 ASX_DJZ
for previous version entitled Happiness a Mask see below
Happiness, - A Mask
Hope is a mirrored image of man's mask,
Arranged in manner often counterfeit, -
Perhaps to help his conscience counter fate,
Perhaps to tint the rainboy. Man may ask
In disarray the question 'What joys last? '
Now, - the Present - an elastic date,
Extends until it snaps, while 'soon' is late.
So little time remains till we are 'Past'.
Some think themselves a mirage, say a task
Allotted is to compensate their state -
Mistaken! - yet in times when troubles spate
A help for blind from foetus to the cask.
So though some need a token creed as crutch
Karmic beliefs seem broken reeds as such...
Acrostic sonnet Happiness a Mask
21 November 1991
© Jonathan Robin
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Riding On A Motorcycle On A Sunday Afternoon
back to my trails
yellow daisies along the road
orange skies above me
yellow has mellowed
dusty like a veil
of a woman
i traverse this road
on a motorcyle
the sound of the engine
like a rhythm of the
tonky machine
inside my helmet
my head disregards the
heat this hot sunday
afternoon moving
towards an end
i still think of you
ahead of me
on an edge of time
too close
we shall not meet
again
poem by Antonio Liao
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It seems important to find ways of reminding ourselves that most ""familiarity"" is meditated and delusive.
quote by David Foster Wallace
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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