The Amusement Rides
It is happening in the cul-de-sacs in which all of the housewives
Spume:
Birthing new likely cadavers into the worlds from the shopping
Malls of womb-
It is happening like the sweet end that gladdens like espionage
Like sunlight across the amusement rides between
Two related mountains- swaying through the fruit trees
Who lounge in the sated glades like tourists all too happy to
Never have known her summits;
And it is a ride I gladly take with my paper dolls and marionettes;
They are of a finely selected sorority, but they always
Keep me company- across the playgrounds and the soccer
Fields,
The kilns of muses sent to the elements: as Alma basks her infantile
Shoulders beneath the lumber mills of all of the elements;
And sings herself to sleep over songs of her beauty, her infantile
Daughter nuzzling up to her, like a hungry bird up
To a water fountain in the hallways of an abandoned high school
Long after classes have started, mimicking,
And singing back to her across a millennium of trailer parks and
Plantations, echoing and re-echoing, I am sure, with the same
Exact eyes as her mother.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Related quotes
Straight Into The Simile
Becoming bologna, this is not my god:
This is just another
Comic book left
Outside to understand the elements of
The usual bird:
There she is, cleaning herself through
The usual elements
Of her available estuaries:
There she is just doing as she’s told.
Whilst the average Christmas trees
Are sold and sold.
And sold:
Oh, old bold wound; oh, old gold wound:
Same natural element happenstance
Through the preternatural heavens:
Just as same old grave song,
As seems to be happening through same
Old natural grave song:
Presupposing through the same old
Elements of the rose:
Seems to be grossing this way:
Seems to be crossing anyway, as anyway,
I suppose: just as the laments,
I supposed, anyway, held between the teeth of
Anyway- elements, anyway,
Straight into the smile that happened to have
Held the rose.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Apples And Water
Dust in a cloud, blinding weather,
Drums that rattle and roar!
A mother and daughter stood together
Beside their cottage door.
'Mother, the heavens are bright like brass,
The dust is shaken high,
With labouring breath the soldiers pass,
Their lips are cracked and dry.'
'Mother, I'll throw them apples down,
I'll bring them pails of water.'
The mother turned with an angry frown
Holding back her daughter.
'But mother, see, they faint with thirst,
They march away to die,'
'Ah, sweet, had I but known at first
Their throats are always dry.'
'There is no water can supply them
In western streams that flow,
There is no fruit can satisfy them
On orchard trees that grow.'
'Once in my youth I gave, poor fool,
A soldier apples and water,
So may I die before you cool
Your father's drouth, my daughter.'
poem by Robert Graves
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You know, times change and the elements change along with it. The elements of success. And my son's very successful. He's doing very well. And I have a younger daughter who sings.
quote by Billy Eckstine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Happening
The Happening
It was a happening of that moment
None has expected that
It happened suddenly as a lightning
That happened with absolute perfection
None can blame or degrade it
Such a perfect happening has happened
as the arrival of a first rain dropp from the sky
But none has time to enjoy or
to astonish of that happening
Every one is moving with desires
to hunt money in the concrete jungle
I wondered! on His superb creation
That white Pup has come out from mother’s womb
it howled gently and
moved to his mother for milk
That mother was still in fatigue
But none has time to enjoy or
to astonish of that happening
Every one is moving with desires
to hunt money in the concrete jungle
poem by Sakthi Ravichandran
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Whats Really Happening
Grown inside a plastic box
Micro thoughts and safety locks
Hearts become outdated clocks
Ticking in your mind
Now its time to close our eyes
Now its time to say goodbye
Now its time to face the lie
That wed never cry
Whats really happening, what tore us apart
Whats really happening
Whats really happening, what tore us apart
Whats really happening
All the clouds are made of glass
And theyre slowly sinking
Falling like the shattered past
Were we built to last?
Whats really happening, what tore us apart
Whats really happening
Whats really happening, what tore us apart
Whats really happening
Now its time to close our eyes
Now its time to say goodbye
Now its time to face the lie
That wed never cry
Whats really happening, what tore us apart
Whats really happening
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Many Years Ago
Cigarette smoke undulating from my aunt’s lips,
And her boyfriend is coming down
On a bus from Tennessee;
And I am working so close to the smoking beach,
But I haven’t seen her in so long,
And still I do not go:
I want to be in Colorado secreted in the higher basins,
The important key-holes where the tourists
Are too weak to go;
In fact, I want to summit mountains that have never
Been,
Or have no right to be- for her, or one of my great
Great aught great forgotten grandmothers;
And her name is- just this,
Just a song happening in the night far to the east and
Under her,
Like a French man going down on a airplane,
Like a frog making love to an inebriated princess who
Just doesn’t care;
But that is all I have to say or even think about;
It was the best I could do when trying to remember how
You walked so tremulous and ecstatically real
Your painted nails on your locker’s combination,
Your painted toes in soccer cleats
So many classes, and forgotten generations so many years
Ago.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Singing Birds Are Endangered Species!
Singing bird's songs
enjoyed,
wonderful melody, wonderful words,
Rhapsodical Sometimes,
More often romantic!
A power hungry,
another powerful
both listen a while,
They want the bird to sing for them!
Now the bird has to stop singing,
Or should think of flying far away!
Power hungry will kill
or powerful will,
Singing bird ability of throat
Is its own enemy,
Two hands are ready to squeeze,
Two blades ready to cut,
Singing bird's throat often
squeezed,
Several died,
not even found in history,
they fear even that bird's story!
For it sings only truth,
Singing birds throat is cut,
Because it can't keep its mouth shut!
Poor bird! Its talent,
gifted voice became
its own enemy,
Not even they are listed
Though singing birds are endangered species!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Nothings Happening By The Sea
Salty river
Falls asleep in the bay
Always gets there
Never early, never late
Nothings happening
Nothings happening by the sea
White waves tumble down
And gently roll back into blue
On wooden seats outside the bar
The couples make their rendezvous
Nothings happening
Nothings happening by the sea
The trouble has been found
Theres too far ups and too many downs
I found a level that feels just right
Theres no mistaking where Im going tonight
Nothings happening
Nothings happening by the sea
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Remember Then And Now
Remember little jack sprat
Remember three little pigs
Remember all those fairy tales
That seemed so real to us a kids
Remember mother goose
Remember Cinderella going to the ball
Remember the old lady in the shoe
Remember sleeping beauty eyes closed and all
Remember growing up and out
Remember getting rid of baby things
Remember watching Disney
And not singing barney songs we used to sing
Remember getting grow up
Remember sleeping in big kid beds
Remember ditching Barbie dolls
And tiring to flush their heads
Remember going to jr. high
Remember how scary it seemed
Remember getting used it
But not to getting picked last on teams
Remember when people had cliques
Remember when you were not part one
Remember when people started acting weird
But with your friends you still had fun
Remember eight-gread graduation
Remember high school seeming tough
Remember the day you got there
And it really wasn’t that rough
Someday you’ll look back
And remember doing this too
It seems weird now but
But it depends on your attitude
poem by Missy Lynn
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The Best Thing
(corky laing)
You try to love the way that you did before
But he dont be that loved anymore and im
Im coming from the pouring rain
My eyes are red but they still see through
The feeling thats coming over you
And Id love to come again (come again)
I wanna love you over again
You, you wanna know
Youre the best thing thats happening to me
In a long long time
Be wise, open up your eyes
You, you wanna know
Youre the best thing thats happening to me
n I wanna love again.
I try (I try) to put your body right out of my mind
But you keep on coming on and on
I thought it was just for last night
A passing fancy, a bird in flight
But you keep on coming on
So I wanna come again
I wanna love you over again
(I wanna love you over again)
I love to love you over again
You, you, you wanna know
Youre the best thing thats happening to me
In a long long time
Be wise, I wanna love again
Come on love again
Come on love again
You, you wanna know
Come on love again
I wanna come again
You, you wanna know
Youre the best thing thats happening to me
You, you wanna know
Youre the best thing thats happening to me
You, you wanna know
Youre the best thing thats happening to me
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sh.. You may be Killer Of God!
when I was kid and innocent,
Often I was hanging on her
waist,
weeping to take me into her
arms,
when she was free, She gladly fulfilled my request
But when she was busy,
She used give toys,
When my imaginations fail to
please me,
I get bored of toys and threw them away,
Then she came and told,
See god is there in toys too,
You hurt Him when you throw!
She showed Some photos and
pictures, strange to me some were with
four hands
One with an eye on forehead!
Some are having beautiful face,
Some with some strange face,
I asked her who are these, Why they have strange faces
and too many hands and eyes?
Tell me the how I look?
Is My face is like you?
She told me several stories,
I then started playing with dolls as if they are Gods!
Strangely the toys started
winking and talking with me,
When in play I talked and
laughed with them! Mother was telling the stories of
rivers, mountains and men with
fountains of extraordinary
spirits, Mother was telling more and
more stories
Mother Wanted me to sleep,
so that she can go to work!
But I was not bored of these
stories, Ever I was eager to listen, even
when I was in sleep! So many time when I fell asleep,
She fed my food and milk,
Simply I eat and drank without
knowing!
Next morning I used to complain,
No one cares when I am hungry, Where I sleep and why they
forget me,
Later I came Mother never forgot,
Only I forgot and slept! When my mother died
Too young I was and never cried, Then in dreams, one day I saw
the death of my father,
and when that dream become
true,
I never wept as I wept in dream
itself! Then my brothers and sister and
friends
And I boldly accepted,
As soldier in war field,
Then my son, I laughed and said
strange these dolls who played with me,
Fell and shattered into pieces!
Then went that Lord,
elephant headed giant,
Then to the one with three eyes
Then to the one with lion head, All came and played and Became
one with me,
Still question came to mind is it
true,
Then Buddha, then Jesus then
then finally Ever smiling Krishna, All were dwelling in me with
mother Goddess,
Then came that day when I called
no one came,
Mad I was, went wandering..
Came and sat on a grave, I was weeping, weeping And
weeping,
Oh God!
Where are you?
There came a dog,
There was a cow and donkey
Suddenly came a man who
looked mad,
In dirty clothes clad
He sat beside me and looked into
my eyes, I too looked into his
Calm lakelike eyes, The stone, the tomb, the air and
everything,
All around started saying I am
here,
I am here,
The dog, the cow, the ant at my feet and that man and trees
around me started singing,
I am here, I am here,
When I saw where that man
gone,
He become every thing, from, dirty shit of donkey to
infinite world,
Then became small and entered
my heart,
See I was always with you and
always everywhere, None can express me completely
than that pure soul,
Clean with love and kindness,
Some day if you lose these
virtues,
You kill me and crucifix Me and
I can't resurrect in dirty heart,
And you will be Killer of God!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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My Heart Sings
My heart sings.
My heart sings the songs of happiness.
My heart sings the songs of joy.
My heart sings the songs of peace.
My heart sings the songs of the Blues.
My heart sings the songs of the Gospel.
My heart sings the songs of good news.
My heart cries a melody for all to hear.
My heart sings the harmonies of love.
My heart sings a song of beauty
that comes from the Thorne Birds
just before they die.
My heart sings songs to keep me alive.
My heart sings songs for as long as it beats.
My heart sings forever.
My heart sings haluwasa.
My heart sings.
poem by Jennifer Burns
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The Good Daughter
having made her way out of the nest
having made something of herself
she rubs elbows with some of the city's finest lawyers
balancing her own practice with a sad attempt at having a social life-
she calls home to her mother,
whom she visits every weekend upstate,
doing her grocery shopping &
doing whatever she can for her,
the whole while listening to a constant critique of
where she should be at the age that she is-
her mother insists that her daughter will not stay young forever,
saying she has no fashion sense,
always points out that she should try to go to the gym more often &
never ceasing to make time to moan about wishing that she had grandchildren,
asking why a woman who is as successful as her daughter
cannot find a man-
the daughter doesn't respond with anger & instead
stays up at night when mother has fallen asleep
working on cases &
watching her remaining youth drift away,
hundreds of miles away from the city she lives in
the other five days of the week-
her mother's own cervical cancer which was recently detected
now is spreading &
she is meeting with doctors in the coming weeks to begin radiation-
her daughter hopes that surgery is possible &
wonders if the operation will force her mother into a more compromised position
where she will no longer be able to live on her own-
the daughter's life could very well be uprooted altogether &
she could find herself stuck back in her home town
waiting on her mother hand & foot,
while still pretending to be able to practice law-
the clock is ticking &
her friends in the city
watch their lives prosper,
moving on in ways that this daughter
can really only dream of,
being weighed down by something
she never counted on happening
when she put it all in motion-
ever the more exhausted,
she started drinking a lot of coffee,
then moved onto caffeine pills &
after energy drinks & the lot didn't work,
she moved onto a little coke to try & get herself
through-
she tells herself that she won't need it forever,
that it's just for now
so that she can balance all that is happening in her life.
poem by Andrew Delapruch
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The River of Me
I launched myself on the river me
Way back when I was two or three
I sailed out through the wall of snow
Beneath the bridge where all kids go
That Cheyenne Bodie was ten feet tall
His voice so deep it filled a hall
And that was who I dreamed I’d be
Until Cochise came on the scene
There was ice on the river and ice on the pond
And the singing nun sang on and on
There were trees on the river bank, cliffs by the sea
And fish galore in the river of me
The fields were full of cows, corn or wheat
The air was thick with bees and heat
The summer lasted all year long
I never knew til it was gone
And then of course came that high school girl
Her glances made my river swirl
More complex than the universe
I never knew what she’d do next
There was light on the river and light on the pond
And the singing nun sang on and on
There were trees on the river bank, cliffs by the sea
And fish galore in the river of me
And up we soared towards the sky
Through songs and dancing by and by
My waterfalls and waves ran high
For just the winking of an eye
And in the distance the quiet sea
was waiting on the river me
And on the banks the weeds grew tall
Where rusting leaves began to fall
Now there’s night on the river and night on the pond
And the singing nun is long since gone
There are trees on the river bank, cliffs by the sea
And memories in the river of me
I launched myself on the river me
Way back when I was two or three
I sailed out through the wall of snow
Beneath the bridge where all kids go
Solitude, Singing
Being alone is knowing
That in in this solitary splendour
Solitude, stark and staring,
Solitude, singing a lullaby
Solitude, singing a dirge
Surrounded by so many sundry things;
Things seen and unseen
Factors known and unknown
Solitude singing softly, chanting without ranting
Solitude’s songs that sing of solemn things
Silence singing golden songs
Silence healing ancient wrongs
If only silence could be
More than a memory
More than history
Silence can be more than words
Empty words echoing in an empty world
Echoing in empty valleys
Silence unspoken, unspoken, unbroken
Transfixed by time.
poem by Rani Turton
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Theif
I don't want to understand this horror
There's a weight in your eyes I can't admit
Everybody ends up here in bottles
But the name tag's the last thing you wanted
As the world explodes we fall out of it
And we can't let go because this
Will not go away
There's a house built out in space...
I can't see that thief that lives inside of your head
But I can be some courage at the side of your bed
I don't know what's happening and I can't pretend
But I can be your....
Someone help us understand who ordered
This disgusting arrangement with time and the end
I don't want to hear who walked on water
'Cause the hallways are empty, clocks tick
As the world implodes we fall into it
And we can't go home because this
Will not go away
There's a house built out in space...
I can't see that thief that lives inside of your head
But I can be some courage at the side of your bed
I don't know what's happening and I can't pretend
It's a long long getaway, it's a long long getaway
Make it home again, make it home again
It's a long long getaway, it's a long long getaway
I can't see that thief that lives inside of your head
But I can be some courage at the side of your bed
I don't know what's happening and I can't pretend
But I can be your....
And I can be your.....
It's a long long getaway
song performed by by Our Lady Peace
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like Mother, Like Daughter
Like mother, like
daughter...
We have so much
in common.
We have so much
fun together....
I enjoyed shopping
with you.
I enjoy talking
to you....
Now that you’re
gone...
There’s a lot of
things that I miss.
But one thing is
Like mother, like daughter.
poem by Lisa Parks
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Song of The Stream-Drops
By silent forest and field and mossy stone,
We come from the wooden hill, and we go to the sea.
We labour, and sing sweet songs, but we never moan,
For our mother, the sea, is calling us cheerily.
We have heard her calling us many and many a day
From the cool grey stones and the white sands far away.
The way is long, and winding and slow is the track,
The sharp rocks fret us, the eddies bring us delay,
But we sing sweet songs to our mother, and answer her back;
Gladly we answer our mother, sweetly repay.
Oh, we hear, we hear her singing wherever we roam,
Far, far away in the silence, calling us home.
Poor mortal, your ears are dull, and you cannot hear;
But we, we hear it, the breast of our mother abeat;
Low, far away, sweet and solemn and clear,
Under the hush of the night, under the noon-tide heat:
And we sing sweet songs to our mother, for so we shall please her best,
Songs of beauty and peace, freedom and infinite rest.
We sing, and sing, through the grass and the stones and the reeds,
And we never grow tired, though we journey ever and aye,
Dreaming, and dreaming, wherever the long way leads,
Of the far cool rocks and the rush of the wind and the spray.
Under the sun and the stars we murmur and dance and are free,
And we dream and dream of our mother, the width of the sheltering sea.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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Mountains Landscape
Thousand mountains around the parks,
A flock of birds flying high up the skies,
Above the misty clouds,
Above the sea and mountain cliffs.
A sudden appearance of rainstorm,
A heavy downpour flooded the lands,
Trees move and sway in the storm winds,
Water rapid gorging the rivers.
Lose self in the undulating valleys and peaks,
In mystical mossy forests,
Sprawling jungles trails and plantations,
classic tropical flowers, trees and farms
Lose yourself
In the mystical long rivers and waterfalls
In the mists over the highest point of the highlands
And re-discover yourself again.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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Dismissal
A child is not picked up after practice.
School is over. Nothing left but the
late afternoon, ungraded activities....
soccer, band, chess club. No more
expectations. Hangers-on have nothing to gain.
If you are not alone, its a fine time to talk.
Hallways are empty, dusty and echoing. A
locker around the corner bangs shut. A whistle
blows in the gym. The band butchers a door-muted
rendition of the Star Spangled Banner.
A young life is so many school days and they all
drain as slowly as a clogged sink.
Forty years ago Jay and I had both read
'A Catcher In The Rye'. I cant even remember
Jay's last name, but he told me I reminded him
of Holden Caulfield and I am still flattered.
poem by Don Tiedemann
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