Poetry here.
Re: Poetry here.
The Genius Of The Crowd
- Charles Bukowski
there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day
and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace
those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love
beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average
but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect
like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock
their finest art
- Charles Bukowski
there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day
and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace
those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love
beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average
but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect
like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock
their finest art
Re: Poetry here.
trump
trump you are a man
with an orange face
your hair has been implanted
by a surgeon and her team of six
you could shoot someone dead in the street
and people would most likely love you more
why have you been allowed to run for presidency
why does the US want a man like you up against hillary
we know that both parties are really the same one camp
your supporters are shiny and bright with head of working clock
trump you are a man
with an orange face
your hair has been implanted
by a surgeon and her team of six
you could shoot someone dead in the street
and people would most likely love you more
why have you been allowed to run for presidency
why does the US want a man like you up against hillary
we know that both parties are really the same one camp
your supporters are shiny and bright with head of working clock
- attofishpi
- Posts: 13319
- Joined: Tue Aug 16, 2011 8:10 am
- Location: Orion Spur
- Contact:
Re: Poetry here.
Tump o Trump
your face is uglier than Hillarys rump
Mexicans should be your least concern
Perhaps your masses that do burn
their noses with their cocaine of choice
are the only reason you get a voice
you simple minded half wit
its because of them
you can sell your arms
they get to keep their coca farms
if the US stopped snorting that shit
and selling those guns
the US was never, legit.
Too much money
in the sale of arms
to the rest of the world
there is no qualm
to you and your elite
a child of Mexico
is just too petite
for senseless pea brain fuckwits like YOU.
your face is uglier than Hillarys rump
Mexicans should be your least concern
Perhaps your masses that do burn
their noses with their cocaine of choice
are the only reason you get a voice
you simple minded half wit
its because of them
you can sell your arms
they get to keep their coca farms
if the US stopped snorting that shit
and selling those guns
the US was never, legit.
Too much money
in the sale of arms
to the rest of the world
there is no qualm
to you and your elite
a child of Mexico
is just too petite
for senseless pea brain fuckwits like YOU.
Re: Poetry here.
Golden Light
Transforms the Space
Fusing it with Energy and Hope
The Light is now in You as you
Move through the Space
The works on Show mirror and direct
This Light into your Eyes and Body
It is not just a cozy space away from the pain
But a charged space from the Future in the Present
Transforms the Space
Fusing it with Energy and Hope
The Light is now in You as you
Move through the Space
The works on Show mirror and direct
This Light into your Eyes and Body
It is not just a cozy space away from the pain
But a charged space from the Future in the Present
- attofishpi
- Posts: 13319
- Joined: Tue Aug 16, 2011 8:10 am
- Location: Orion Spur
- Contact:
Re: Poetry here.
A man spawned from a womb
already marked as His tomb
To spend a life with men
Real men he chose
Those of simple means
The average of averages
Far from savages
those that raped the land
He chose the reapers...
To discard them the hand
held by the devil
And they grew to know Him
To stand not over,
but to understand.
They were his disciples
Worthy men of empathy
Worthy men of of his path Y?
My path perhaps
In the second millenia
where man thinks
It is all just His.story
They are wrong.
Today, tomorrow
are aeons in the making,
so have faith.
The future is at hand,
both in man and united with
the womb of woman.
already marked as His tomb
To spend a life with men
Real men he chose
Those of simple means
The average of averages
Far from savages
those that raped the land
He chose the reapers...
To discard them the hand
held by the devil
And they grew to know Him
To stand not over,
but to understand.
They were his disciples
Worthy men of empathy
Worthy men of of his path Y?
My path perhaps
In the second millenia
where man thinks
It is all just His.story
They are wrong.
Today, tomorrow
are aeons in the making,
so have faith.
The future is at hand,
both in man and united with
the womb of woman.
Re: Poetry here.
Death to all those
Who deaden the airways with their filth and bile
Pockets so deep with kid well full and schooled
Live corpse on screen covered in makeup
Prove yourself too and you too can be apart
From the wretches below who stagger around ill
Who deaden the airways with their filth and bile
Pockets so deep with kid well full and schooled
Live corpse on screen covered in makeup
Prove yourself too and you too can be apart
From the wretches below who stagger around ill
Re: Poetry here.
And the light shone in the darkness and the darkness did not comprehend it
JESUS
JESUS
Re: Poetry here.
Into the hands of Belgium
God has placed the destiny
Of a conflicted mankind
God bless Belgium
Jack Cross
God has placed the destiny
Of a conflicted mankind
God bless Belgium
Jack Cross
Re: Poetry here.
You cannot shine in the system
Unless you promote the system
Unless you promote the system
Re: Poetry here.
ELEGY
Nan Beautiful Nan
You Have Gone To Join Grandad In The Sky
We Will Surely Miss You Yet Know
That The Light In You Is Now In Us
Your Charming Grace And Wonderful Face
Will Be In Our Hearts For Ever
Nan Beautiful Nan
You Have Gone To Join Grandad In The Sky
We Will Surely Miss You Yet Know
That The Light In You Is Now In Us
Your Charming Grace And Wonderful Face
Will Be In Our Hearts For Ever
Re: Poetry here.
Samurai Song
BY ROBERT PINSKY
When I had no roof I made
Audacity my roof. When I had
No supper my eyes dined.
When I had no eyes I listened.
When I had no ears I thought.
When I had no thought I waited.
When I had no father I made
Care my father. When I had
No mother I embraced order.
When I had no friend I made
Quiet my friend. When I had no
Enemy I opposed my body.
When I had no temple I made
My voice my temple. I have
No priest, my tongue is my choir.
When I have no means fortune
Is my means. When I have
Nothing, death will be my fortune.
Need is my tactic, detachment
Is my strategy. When I had
No lover I courted my sleep.
BY ROBERT PINSKY
When I had no roof I made
Audacity my roof. When I had
No supper my eyes dined.
When I had no eyes I listened.
When I had no ears I thought.
When I had no thought I waited.
When I had no father I made
Care my father. When I had
No mother I embraced order.
When I had no friend I made
Quiet my friend. When I had no
Enemy I opposed my body.
When I had no temple I made
My voice my temple. I have
No priest, my tongue is my choir.
When I have no means fortune
Is my means. When I have
Nothing, death will be my fortune.
Need is my tactic, detachment
Is my strategy. When I had
No lover I courted my sleep.
Re: Poetry here.
Excellent poem. One of the best I read here. Never heard of Robert Pinsky; now I know who he is. Can't quite figure out why it's called "Samurai Song". Good poems are still nice to read and ponder!Walker wrote:Samurai Song
BY ROBERT PINSKY
Re: Poetry here.
What did you do when you had neither supper nor eyes?Walker wrote:Samurai Song
BY ROBERT PINSKY
When I had
No supper my eyes dined.
When I had no eyes I listened.
Re: Poetry here.
Another ELEGYPluto wrote:ELEGY
Nan Beautiful Nan
You Have Gone To Join Grandad In The Sky
We Will Surely Miss You Yet Know
That The Light In You Is Now In Us
Your Charming Grace And Wonderful Face
Will Be In Our Hearts For Ever
Granny, wonderful Granny
They planted you in the same plot as Grandad
God knows it's not what you would have wanted
You couldn't stand each other when you were both alive
Who can blame you, he was a grumpy old bastard.
Re: Poetry here.
...and I always thought you couldn't write poetry!Harbal wrote: Another ELEGY
Granny, wonderful Granny
They planted you in the same plot as Grandad
God knows it's not what you would have wanted
You couldn't stand each other when you were both alive
Who can blame you, he was a grumpy old bastard.