Where We Go From Here
Put it out there - prospective problem populants
have ditched unexpected pragmatism and are pushing for resolution.
Someone needs to go brave it,
show them their greying nebulus of submerged prospects,
a sort of rueful distillation process involving the dire dreggs
of whatever passed for unabridged optimism
under the previous establishment. This charge has legs,
hundreds actually, like a capricious caterpillar
distended then discarded. This is the weight of killer hubris
descending through voluminous stillness, spooking
half dead aspirations and super-mauled soon-to-be carrion
who exist only in the intellectual imaginary - not the common
sort, moreso the tangible kind simpering in the solid vagueness.
You can understand such gloomy disposition, though ambiguity
surmounts the bleak outlook and offers a more gentle handshake.
Take it - that kind of tactile warmth is rare, and one certainty
is thus; it will take some time before things return to how they were.
Curveball circumstance and sociological narrative converge.
The resulting sense of helplessness, of restlessness,
that never really fades, never really changes - but ignore that
and savour the mercurial merry-go-round that immerses us all.
poem by Alexander Hawkins
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Related quotes
~My Book~
It's a one of a kind tale...
An unbelievable, kind of adventure saga...
My life-story, kind of fiction, novel -
A non-fiction, sort of auto-biography!
Wrapped up, in a Flowery Hard-Cover...
A Book of Prose, sort of adventure -
It's the raw and naked truth narrative, in verse...
About a woman, on a mission-kind, of Hidden Journal -
A day-to-day, action, sort of diary -
Defined as: ' Hot to Sizzling'
Located in an Eastern State of Our Nation -
In a city, quaintly named: Quantico -
It's: 'In a high demand' catagory -
It's 'My Life'
'The Reality
Then and Now'
poem by Theodora Onken
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Pity You
Pity you
Youre telling me youve got a problem
A nervous sort of contraction
A mindless kind of reaction
You never get no satisfaction
Heres to you
I know you really got a problem
A nasty kind of reflection
A dangerous sort of destruction
That makes it difficult
Makes it hard to reach
Takes it all away
From what you had in mind
Yeah yeah yeah
A nervous kind of distraction
A nasty sort of contraction
But theres some big fat point
That you seem to be missing
And its driving you to destruction
But it doesnt seem
To stop you in the least
Or halt this obsession got you
Going on back
Week after week
Day after day
Hour after hour
From where you came
For more of the same
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think up until that time a lot of focus on Internet coverage was either sort of the bits and bytes aspect of it, sort of the high-tech aspect of it, and the sociological aspect of it, which is how it was transforming culture.
quote by James Daly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Husband
I'm looking for a husband, you know the sort of chap
The kind of guy who copes with things and never has a flap
The one who fixes cars and bikes and often mows the lawn
Takes the kids on Sunday hikes while I with hammock yawn
I'm looking for a husband, you know the sort of bloke
Who listens to the things I say and laughs out when I joke
He'll do the Sunday B B Q and carves the Sunday roast
Then gives me a foot massage, that's the thing I like the most
I'm looking for a husband dependable and true
Who likes to have discussions but never will argue
Can sit in friendly silence, and never has to babble
Will make and pour the tea for me and lets me win at scrabble
I'm looking for a husband; I know they're pretty rare
The kind who opens doors for me and lets me have his chair
And earns enough at his travail so we're debt and mortgage free
But doesn't put his work ahead of caring about me
The husband I am looking for might seem quite rare to you
And friends have tried to tell me that in number they are few
But I have hope of finding one I hope he will be free
‘Cause I've been one for forty years, I want one just like me!
poem by Christopher Higginson
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That's a problem. I mean, like any sort of growing startup organization, we are sort of overwhelmed by our growth. And that means we're getting enormous quantity of whistleblower disclosures of a very high caliber, but don't have enough people to actually process and vet this information.
quote by Julian Assange
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Jessica, Gone Back To The City
Sence fair Jessica hez left us
Seems ez ef she hed bereft us,
When she went, o’ half o’ livin’;
Fer we never knowed she’d driven
Into us so much content,
Till fair Jessica hed went.
(Knowed a feller once thet cried
When his yaller dog hed died.)
We hain’t near ez bright an’ chirky,
An’ the sun shines blue an’ murky,
Kind o’ sadly an’ dishearted,
Like ets sperret bed departed;
Just ez ef ets joy bed ceased
Sence fair Jessica ’s gone East.
(Not but what ets always sober
Sort o’ weather in October.)
Then the posies, too, seems human,
An’ hez all quit o’ their bloomin’;
An’ the trees they show a pallor
An’ hey turned a heart-sick yaller,
Sayin’, 'No use livin’ on
Ef fair Jessica hez gone.'
(Folks thet knows sez this ez all
Very common in the fall.)
Truth ez, I’m a-feelin’ sadly;
Things ez goin’ kind o’ badly
Round my heart an’ other vitals
(Brings on poetry recitals
O’ my woes ‘most ev’ry day)
Sence fair Jessica’s away.
(Kind o’ think thet I will haf ter
Smoke a leetle less hereafter.)
But, with fun aside, you know,
We’re blamed sorry she must go;
An’ we hope she’ll think, maybe,
‘Z well o’ us ez we o’ she.
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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Everything has a sort of double meaning for me, there's the ordinary everyday meaning of things, and the imaginary meaning about it all, and I wanted to bring these things together, and in this first big Resurrection of mine you have a good example of this sort of thing.
quote by Stanley Spencer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What's going on in the Senate is kind of a politics of escalation. We're getting sort of like the Mideast: pay back everybody when you're in charge.
quote by Lindsey Graham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's kind of like trying to make straight lines from curves, but involving shapes that sort of dictate what the curves are, if you like, and the difference between two separate pieces creates a third transitional piece if you like.
quote by Sean Booth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The One(s)
I am on a search
I keep trying to find
The One
Mysterious as it seems
A constant longing
Haunts my dreams
It's a man that I need
My heart assumes
But thankfully...my mind doesn't take heed
For it knows that what I possess
Is a greater sort
Of happiness
The kind that stays close
Despite time and circumstance
And is never opposed
To giving things another chance
Today flipping through pictures
And memories passed
I realized that what I want
Is right in my grasp
'The One'
Is a concept
Smudged and unclear
But the One(s)
That bring me the most joy
Are the people already here
My best friends
Will always be greater
Than some concept of a man
I am saving for later
They are the One(s)
I run to without hesitation
I've never doubted
I know they're with me for the duration
So here's my thanks and apologies
Brought to a sum
I've been searching for something I don't need
I already have The One(s)
poem by Aria Siren
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Musterin
Oh, I've ridden 'em rough an' I've ridden 'em kind,
Brumbies and prads well-bred.
Of every colour and every kind
(The old stock-rider said).
I've broken the wild Blanchwater colts
An' Walers from down Noo South,
An' every sort that bucks or bolts,
With every sort of mouth.
An' I thought I knew the musterin' game
Right thro' from A to Z.
An' every sort of nag you'd name
(The old stock-rider said).
I've wheeled 'em up in the Queensland scrub,
An' tailed 'em back o' Bourke,
To skite in many an old bush pub
I was master of all bush work.
But musterin' cattle be aeroplanes?
What profit does it bring?
An' I don't see how a bushman gains,
For it ain't a natural thing.
Soaring' and roarin' an' rampin' round
In a rackety tin machine,
When a natural horse on natural ground
Beats all yer keraseen.
I suppose it's progress as they say,
But the thing's against all laws.
So I'm saddlin' up an' I'm off away
Where they ain't got them gee-gaws.
For I got no time for aeroplanes;
But a prad with a good, kind eye,
An' the press o' the knee and the feel of the reins
Is my game till I die.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Black Gold
The Dad was dour, his face was sour
When he came home from the pit,
He looked like a furnace stoker but
That wasn't the half of it…
His fists were like a couple of hams
And he used the blighters, too,
The Mam would hear his foot on the step
And hurry to serve his stew.
She wore his bruises over her face,
Her arms and her legs and more,
I'd seen her body all over then
For I was coming-up four,
I'd watched the blood run down her leg
As she cleaned herself with a rag,
Whenever he'd come home roaring drunk,
Use Mam as a punching bag!
My sister Else was barely ten
When he made her work at the pit,
She struggled to push a cart of coal
Until she was almost sick.
The manager was a brutal man
With a knotted, leather strap,
If Else was slow or got vertigo
He'd lay it across her back!
I never heard Mam complain to him,
I guess that she didn't dare,
She'd rub some cream into Else's wounds
And run a brush through her hair.
‘It's hard, but you'll toughen up, my girl,
He said, as a sort of scold,
‘You'd better respect what we're mining here,
Just think of it as Black Gold! '
‘Think of it as Black Gold, ' he'd said…
(The sort that gets into your pores,
The dust that gives you a crippled lung
And your skin gets covered in sores.
The cough that's keeping the house awake
When everyone needs to sleep,
The sulphur smell round the chimney-piece
As you watch your mother weep!)
He dragged me out, and he took me in
When I was only eight,
He said, ‘Now look here, fella-me-lad,
It's time that you pulled your weight! '
They started me at tuppence a day
And sat me down in the shaft,
I had to open and close a trap
To help to create the draught.
The hours were long, the days were long
We worked a twelve hour shift,
It took me an hour to get to the face,
Clambering over the drift,
I didn't get time to go to school,
Still sign my name with an ‘x',
But I'm learning now at the Institute
Just to try for a little respect!
When I was ten, they sent me down
With a pick to the old coal face,
Where miners hammered and banged like hell
And they tried to make me race,
Poor Else, still pushing the trucks of coal,
Her back had formed in a hump,
The boys would whistle and jeer at her
For her legs were like two stumps.
New-fangled ships were coming in,
The ones of steel and steam,
‘It's only good for the working man, '
The Dad said: ‘Good for the team! '
But some of the stopes were caving in
The mine was in full retreat,
We'd pull what pillars of coal were left
And send them up to the street.
The Dad was working the furthest pitch
While Else sat crippled and old,
She'd ripped a tendon and looked quite lost
As she sat by a pillar of coal,
She waved me away to the further stope
And attacked the coal with a pick,
The pillar came suddenly crashing down
And the roof - it followed it!
I never saw Mam cry for The Dad,
She cried for our Else instead,
‘She never had much of a life at all,
I'm glad the old bugger's dead! '
Now the years have passed, and I understand
That The Dad was true to his kind,
He never had much of a chance at all
And he's buried, still in the mine!
18 June 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Little Super Hero
Hey little super hero
With your batmobile parked right beside your bed
And teddy on the pillow by your head
You think I can beat up superman
And do lots of things that no one can
That I'm everything a dad is supposed to be
Son don't ever think that you have to be like me
Hey little super hero
Somebody said a man's not supposed to cry
And feel ashamed for being scared I don't know why
We're supposed to laugh in the face of danger
And be brave as the lone ranger
But little buddy, that just ain't where it's at
Don't ever think that you have to be like that
Hey little super hero
I guess it doesn't make much sense right now
But I'm trying to make you understand somehow
You'll be a better man by far
If you be just who you are
And be honest in the things you say and do
This world will be a better place for you
Hey little super hero
I guess it's time for me to say goodnight
In my heart I know you're going to be all right
I'll always try to guide you
And kill the fears inside you
Help you out in any way I can
Cause sometimes it ain't easy being a man
poem by Mike Kosman
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Right Dead Back On It (original Demo Recording)
I've got a burning desire
It feels like a fire burning deep in my soul
You know its out of control
I feel the temperature rising
I think I'm capsizing
Going out of my brain
I think I'm going insane
I wanna be the crick in your neck, trip in your step
Face in the crowd that you never forget
You're never gonna get rid of me
Have to be removed forcibly
I made it my mission tonight
Scoping your vibe
Getting some digits in the 4 1 5
Don't want someone to make love to me
I Just friends and then well see
Right Dead Back On It
I know where you belong
And you just keep me holding on
Right Dead Back On It
I'm feeling you so strong
So tell me how could this be wrong
Just go to work on me...
I'll go to work on you...
Definitely I feel attraction
Chemical reaction
But how many times have i been fed this kind of lie
You need a certain kind of man
You need to have the upper hand
I do not think they understand
I am not through with my demands
I need personality please
Intellectual breeze
Ease of conversation, not a sexual tease
Somebody devoted to me
Stacked with sincerity
But you dont know me
But i know it feels
Take a chance on something baby
Show me how you feel
Right Dead Back On It
I know where you belong
And you just keep me holding on
Right dead back on it
Feeling you so strong
So tell me how could this be wrong
Just go to work on me
I'll go to work on you
I wanna be the crick in your neck, trip in your step
I need personality please
Intellectual Breeze
Take a chance on something baby
Show me how you feel
You dont know me
I'd like to get to know you
Get to know me
Get to know me
Get to know me
Get to know me
Right dead back on it
I know where you belong
And you just keep me holding on
Right dead back on it
Feeling you so strong
So tell me how could this be wrong
You dont know me
I dont know you
Get to know me
Get to know me
Get to know me
Get to know me
Get to know me
Get to know me
Right dead back on it
I know where you belong
And you just keep me holding on
Right dead back on it
Feeling you so strong
So tell me how could this...[fades out]
[Thanks to [email protected] for these lyrics]
song performed by by Darren Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Merry-Go-Round
Merry-go-round, merry-go-round,
Up in the sky.
Merry-go-round, merry-go-round,
Soars me high!
Breeze rustles,
cloud's castles,
Roam round and round!
I shriek in false fear,
Seeing the thing near,
which I never have found.
Merry-go-round, merry-go-round,
Brings the fun to me,
Merry-go-round, merry-go-round,
Fills mind with glee!
Moving round, round,
Touching the ground,
Almost kisses the sky.
Merry-go-round, merry-go-round,
Takes me up in the high!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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You know, I think I did originally have some sort of idea of maybe a Where Eagles Dare kind of mission against impossible odds, but it really sort of died before I had a chance to really go anywhere with it, and then just doing the book was out of the question.
quote by Garth Ennis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh me, oh poor shrunk brittle me
Oh me, oh poor shrunk brittle me
Dead cold sunken eyes that will never see
Oh me why have they buried me so deep
What they were afraid of? What they want to keep
How deep is enough?
Is it kind to dig my grave in soil so rough
Oh me that was an ever quiet gentle sleeper
May be still I am but just half dead
Yet to be dumped so wholly deeper
I will never hear the steps over my head
Please some one, some kind heart
Will come and rebury me higher
Ever so little higher above this hole of dire
Some one must realize this horrible mistake
And please rebury me in scenery near a lake
And take this heavy soil that my chest bares
So I can breathe some lighter air
copy rights 2010
It was sort of that in-between area when people don't talk about their personal lives. That's the kind of life I think Kerry would be living now if it weren't for the Lopez character sort of outing her.
quote by Laura Innes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We had a certain kind of really big prestige among, I suppose not just intellectual folk, but a sort of nice middle class intelligent folk of a very urban nature.
quote by Adolph Green
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I have treated many hundreds of patients. Among those in the second half of life - that is to say, over 35 - there has not been one whose problem in the last resort was not that of finding a religious outlook on life.