Hangar 18
Welcome to our fortress tall
Take some time to show you around
Impossible to break these walls
For you see the steel is much too strong
Computer banks to rule the world
Instruments to sight the stars
Possibly Ive seen to much
Hangar 18 I know too much
Foreign life forms inventory
Suspended state of cryogenics
Selective amnesias the story
Believed foretold but whod suspect
The military intelligence
Two words combined that cant make sense
Possibly Ive seen to much
Hangar 18 I know too much
song performed by by Megadeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Return To Hangar
Welcome to an empty fortress
A mighty wreck that once was proud
Ate alive by oxidation
Abandoned by a crew of cowards
Navigation systems failed
Computers crashed and they all fall down
Possibly Ive seen too much
Hangar 18 I know too much
Solo - pitrelli
All the guilty paid the price
Suspended by their broken necks
No one survived to tell the story
When foreign life forms resurrect
And military intelligence is
Still two words that cant make sense
Possibly Ive seen too much
Hangar 18 I know too much
Solos - pitrelli, mustaine
Solos - pitrelli, mustaine, pitrelli, mustaine
song performed by by Megadeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some of the best times in my life happened under the influence of drugs... I'd still be doing it if I could make good judgement calls. I'd still be doing it if I didn't blow up to the size of an aircraft hangar, because it was a great time.
quote by Robbie Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dreams (Inspired-Desire from Visions in the Night)
Is it just a dream - to dream?
Or can one intelligently
And with honest hope inquire:
' What does a dream, truly mean? '
Is the dream given or allowed
To each their own,
Or across the masses to the crowd?
From God, or the soul,
How to be certain, how to know?
From Heaven's throne, or from the depth's of the human mind?
For one alone, or all mankind?
Shall we be allowed arcanumly to know
Just some of what was missed
From afar, through a dim glimpse?
Could it all possibly be
From somewhere beyond us all,
An endless soft echo
In a very old call?
One that is only to be heard
When the mind has settled quiet,
Into the time when the soul alone gathers words?
Or,
Is the dream as gift given
Hope to arouse and awaken.......
Hope for what awaits
Just out of sight, right beyond Heaven's open gates,
Thus in meager human faith
Tis meant true expectancy to create.......
If it really is more
Than just a dream - to dream,
Then perchance it is nothing less than vision,
A guiding gift given
Part of a much larger plan
Beyond the sight of man,
Originating from the Being
Within everything.
From whence and why
Do this querulous questions arise?
I know not for certain
I can only here in simple words
Ponder upon them,
And the mysterious reason they return
Again and again.
It would surely seem
Dreamy sights travel mostly by nights'
With perhaps a scent of mystery, of the once was, and the yet to be.
Or maybe they just come with a comforting thought
And the sweet peace it may have here to us brought.
Sleepy dreams
Like stars throughout the night,
Constant dark companions
Never to be touched
Nor fully known,
Not even the reason -if there be one-
To be wholly shown;
Yet, faithfully there,
Even if their purpose we are unaware.
A story possibly to show
Given from the Story-Teller
Who wrote them on our hearts
So long ago;
For now we sit in exile,
This temporary land to last only a little while;
Some messages may very well be sent
With a reason to behold,
One that surely must come
From the great Ages of old,
Even if shrouded in a fallen translation,
Tis still our story, everyone's story,
Even my story,
Waiting, and so wanting to be told.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Story About A Wedding and My Friend and Poverty and Joblessness
i met an old classmate
today
at the wedding of
a newly appointed high school teacher
my ex-classmate is jobless and his wife
looks like
an old sickly monkey with less hair on her head
(forgive me but that is
the only possible
adjective that
i can give)
he is fat and feels like
a louse
(i am sorry
i am intruding into his
own feelings)
he does not like me
his eyes are shouting at me
possibly because we look the same
possibly because we too
feel the same
possibly because our wives look
like twins
possibly because the weather is bad
and people do not mind us
because everyone is hungry and
there is nothing much to eat
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Still Life With Death's Head, by Pablo Picasso
If you want a still life
Do not forget to plant a death head by the bowl
Possibly a torn ear to take a hint
At what the noise deceased was thinking
Possibly a piece of an eye in the rear
To grasp all inclusive within a blink
Possibly an eyecon to trick the light
Confidential perspective
And try not to stand too close to it
Unless well trained at colours
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Honesty
When I was young I lacked the sense
to realise I’d cause offence.
By asking questions frequently
and challenging authority.
I asked because I wanted to
believe that what you said was true.
But you denied me a reply
and I was left to wonder why.
Children should be seen not heard.
To my young mind was just absurd.
I think you were afraid to show
There were some things you did not know.
So you forfeited my respect.
I learnt thenceforward to expect
From most adults dishonesty
Because they could not possibly.
In any shape or form confess
that they might possibly know less.
Much less than what they thought they knew
and passing time has proved it true.
If I am asked I find it best
to admit that I fail the test
and simply state that I don’t know
but that I do know where to go.
I recommend the library
where you may find quite easily
The answer that I can’t supply.
I find that’s satisfactory.
12-Nov-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Everyone Is As Beautiful As One Can Possibly Be
well, you ask,
if everyone can be as beautiful
as possibly one could be, and i
say, yes, and i add, that everyone
can be as humorous as one could
possibly be, it all depends on how
you would like to be,
just like a very lively party, one could be
as lively as one could possibly be
and think one as beautiful as a
possibility, and then
way back home, when you are all alone,
you shed tears, and listen to the sound
of reality.
that is also a possibility. well, i tell you
you can be real this time.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Girl
(eric carmen)
Sometimes its hard to know
What your heart is feelin
And harder still to put it into words
Love is simple you cant define it
Its not the words but the thought
Behind it that counts
My girl
Shes everything a lover could possibly be
My girl
Makes love the way I always dreamed
It would be
Deep down inside I know
What I should be saying
But every time I try, it comes out wrong
Well our love is a love forever
And when were all alone together
She shows me
My girl
Shes everything a lover could possibly be
My girl
Makes love the way I always dreamed
It would be
Id need a lifetime
To show her all the love I have to give
And hold her in my heart
For as long as I live
(well stick together
Like the moon and the night-time
Happy forever I could spend my lifetime)
So in love with
My girl
Shes everything a lover could possibly be
My girl
Makes love the way I always dreamed
It would be
song performed by by Eric Carmen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Personal Preference
Prudence acted prudently.
She valued her virginity,
Unlike her fellow student Pearl
who chose to be a party girl.
Prudence was prepared to wait
until she changed her single state
She much preferred matrimony
Although her friend did not agree.
Pearl was convinced life should be fun
Had no regrets for what she’d done
In fact believed her way of life
would make her a much better wife.
When she was ready to get wed.
At least when asked that’s what she said.
Which one was right I do not know
that’s something only time will show.
Prudence chose to remain chaste.
Pearl thought celibacy a waste.
Both could be right quite possibly
What right have I to disagree.
12/07/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Congress should act to make sure no one on a no-fly list is able to buy a gun. What could possibly be the argument for allowing a terrorist suspect to buy a semi-automatic weapon? This is a matter of national security. We also need to make it harder for people to buy powerful assault weapons like the ones that were used in San Bernardino. I know there are some who reject any gun safety measures. But the fact is that our intelligence and law enforcement agencies — no matter how effective they are — cannot identify every would-be mass shooter, whether that individual is motivated by ISIL or some other hateful ideology. What we can do — and must do — is make it harder for them to kill.
quote by Barack Obama
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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You'll Reach The Peak Of That Literary Hill
Who is to say which poetry is best?
How can it possibly be defined?
Which type is superior when put to the test?
All variations are surely entwined.
Strong words written stand the test of time,
Whether in poetry or in a good song,
Some will just flow whereas others will rhyme,
That doesn't mean either is wrong.
You may hate the words or the rhythm of a tune,
The content will still make you think,
Is the writer a genius or perhaps a buffoon?
With either there's always a link.
Some tell a story just like a book,
The written word can play games with your heart,
When you read one line common sense is forsook,
From that poem you don't want to depart.
It will get you talking that much is true,
You'll condemn it or proclaim it is great,
In some cases the reader may well want to sue,
You can guarantee it will open up a debate.
Who are any of us to judge each other?
Yet critics have the power to destroy,
Freedom of speech is what they smother,
Slagging off others they seem to enjoy.
Constructive critique can improve what is written,
Regardless of it being good or bad,
But senseless censure can leave one bitten,
It can even drive some people mad.
If you want to depart from the madness of life,
Then writing can be a great tool,
It can lift you up and rid you of strife,
Enjoying what you create is the rule.
Some of the time you can please them all,
There'll be those you never will,
As long as when writing you're having a ball,
‘' You'll Reach The Peak Of That Literary Hill ‘'
Its Probably Me
By sting, michael kamen and eric clapton
If the night turned cold and the stars looked down
And you hug yourself on the cold cold ground.
You wake the morning in a strangers coat,
No one would you see.
You ask yourself, whod watch for me?
My only friend, who could it be?
Its hard to say it, I hate to say it, but its probably me.
When your bellys empty and the hungers so real
And youre too proud to beg and too dumb to steal,
You search the city for your only friend,
No one would you see.
You ask yourself, whod watch for me?
A solitary voice to speak out and set me free.
I hate to say it, I hate to say it, but its probably me.
Youre not the easiest person I ever got to know
And its hard for us both to let our feelings show.
Some would say I should let you go your way,
Youll only make me cry.
But if theres one guy, just one guy
Whod lay down his life for you and die,
I hate to say it, I hate to say it, but its probably me.
When the worlds gone crazy and it makes no sense
And theres only one voice that comes to your defense.
The jurys out and your eyes search the room
And one friendly face is all you need to see.
And if theres one guy, just one guy
Whod lay down his life for you and die,
I hate to say it, I hate to say it, but its probably me.
I hate to say it, I hate to say it, but its probably me...
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death (A Eulogy To My Former Self)
It was a world where all I possessed were photographs to get me through the day-
A world of wonder awaited me beyond its walls, but God Begged me to stay;
In this world where life is never really encouraged or allowed,
Where the dreams you had made before this stay are disavowed-
You start to wither, and slowly move toward a certain death;
Then you do die, and as you take your last breath,
You are suspended in a purgatory of existence between
Earthly death and Empyreal life, like nothing most have ever seen!
Then an Angel appears, appareled in Celestial delight,
To show Herself before you, and envelop all your sight!
The Angel takes your hand and guides you back to life, anew-
Where before there was only anguish, She brings beauty to you-
Where before there was only death, in all its myriad forms,
Now there is only love, and all it delivers, to guide you through the storms!
poem by Maurice Harris
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My Brother
my brother is a seaman
he sends a message today
through his
cell phone
that he is passing by
New York & hat
possibly he shall
for the first time
meet his illegitimate son
and possibly
Delia.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Sob
Nothing seems complete to me
It appears as if all is an imagination
The insecurities creep into me
Only to make me even more scared
Life has a fake appearance
All of it is an unwanted creation
I have to run as fast I possibly can
To escape from my fears
Will I find a safe place then?
Can my life ever rhyme like a poem?
Possibly that is impossible to even hope for
Can I ever realize my dreams?
Will I ever gain control of my life?
That seems too much to ask for?
Nothing seems complete since dark chapters cover me?
I am here but really lifeless and without any purpose
A fake existence as without her I am already dead
How can I ever love anyone else truly?
Will life ever be kind to me?
Comfort in life, will I ever receive?
Incomplete I am since I am torn
So much pain I have felt in love
Destroyed, all this has ruined me
Completely shattered I am and will be
Forever, I will have to weep
Only tears and no joy
I have faded and been destroyed
Again and Again, my soul has been bitten
I sob with no love.
poem by Rohit Sapra
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Fucking years
We are a sad generation, I would say on the verge of falling, on the verge of life, on the verge of death
the ones among us who graduated, they are now regretful and full of fears
strangers overwhelmed by these fucking years
Always complaining about a world who killed us
about a journey that never started or never ended
perfectly comfortable shutting ourselves up
waiting for something better to come
Am I part of all of this? Am I still belonging to me?
All I want is to find myself again, partially new
possibly complete
My sister-in-law has three kids and a malignant cancer to beat
she is also forty and so strong and so brave
I'm ashamed of the lack of courage I see!
for noble things I'll save my tears, I let you cry these fucking years
We never know when we are ready, I mean ready to die
we just perceive that should be part of our time
but we certainly feel is too early, so many things still to accommodate
when we understand that everything has been planned yet, it's too late
Am I part of all of this? Am I still belonging to me?
All I want is to find myself again, partially new
possibly complete
'Why don't we manage a little farm in the countryside?
you know just to be closer to the earth, far from here!
coming back to true values, all around big green trees…
to wash away these fucking years'
I've thought of it too. Does this mean to run away?
Is it too dangerous changing the system from the inside?
too much involving, too much contributing...
who's going to see us dancing in the woods all alone?
sing with me 'Don't let them have their way, there is no rule we must obey'
Am I part of all of this? Am I still belonging to me?
All I want is to find myself again, partially new
possibly complete
poem by Ilaria Boffa
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The major difference between a thing that might go wrong and a thing that cannot possibly go wrong is that when a thing that cannot possibly go wrong goes wrong it usually turns out to be impossible to get at and repair.
Douglas Adams in Mostly Harmless
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Odd Pair
An Odd Pair
yes we are
we make for an odd sense of humor
or possibly ill
one of us is great the other is runnin late
we're the opposites you always hear about
one the internal external optimist of fun and good times
the other more lonerish and a bit off-base
we don't know much about each other
but we know enough to matter
know enough to count
looking at the sky one night
searching for the stars aligned like i remember
thinking about anyone close to me
your face coming to mind early on
and then again later
you're like a sister or a bestfriend
i'll stick with you until the end
we make an unlikely duo of friends
almost like symba and timone
one of us is crazy
and the other royalty,
one of us is rather large
the other rather small
but through it all it doesn't matter
we both come out walking tall.
poem by David Thomas
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Break It Down Again
So those are my dreams
And these are my eyes
Stand tall like a man
Head a strong like a horse
When it's all mixed up
Better break it down
In the world of secrets
In the world of sound
It's in the way you're always hiding from the light
See for yourself you have been sitting on a time bomb
No revolution maybe someone somewhere else
Could show you something new about you and your inner song
And all the love and all the love in the world
Won't stop the rain from falling
Waste seeping underground
I want to break it down
Break it down again
So these are my schemes
And these are my plans
Hot tips for the boys
Fresh news from the force
When it's all mixed up
Better break it down
In the world of silence
In the world of sound
" No sleep for dreaming" say the architects of life
Big bouncing babies
song performed by by Tears For Fears from Elemental
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The circle-Quatern poetry
Your sight carves a circle around
The image of my bleeding stone,
Which is kept strained amidst the sound
And strongly beats in my heart zone.
I feel our love being so wrong.
Your sight carves a circle around
My sharp words, biting very strong
My pulsing and so fatigued ground.
We rise self awareness to bound
Our golden thoughts for His glory.
Your sight carves a circle around
Hope to keep safe our steel story.
Our love dance make to tense
A fraught arc of torment in sound,
But for its immutable sense,
Your sight carves a circle around.
MCN: CERFU-T62V3-547WF
© copyright Sat Apr 09 02: 23: 59 UTC 2011 - All Rights Reserved
poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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