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Old 31-03-2011, 08:47 PM   #201
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Grow Up?
When I was young I knew life as a prism,to me it didn't seem like a prison. Me and me mates made battering rams out of discarded old prams, built without a divider, we called them a guider. Race down a steep hill with a sharp corner at the bottom, free in my youth, no cares to be forgotten. Walk through the door all scruffy and giddy, laughing at Dave who just missed an old biddy. Dad on his way home having done all that he was able. Mum? Doris Day laying the table. Bangers and mash for our tea. Grow up? Nah, it's just not for me. Dad was all broken and beaten he went for a wash after we'd eaten. He'd come down no longer smelly, sit and watch telly. All of a sudden the dog would bark, "popman's here" me sister would hark. So off to meet a bloke who looked like Yoda for a bottle of cream soda. Glass in hand and smile on face into the tent I would race. There we sat me and me sister, squeezing a spot and poking a blister. Those were the days that I felt free. Grow up? Nah, fuck it, it's not for me. Whenever I had any type of infection me mum would provide the healing connection, and even though she loved every picture I painted, our love eventually became tainted. I had gone a bit barmy, it was all to do with being in the army. The last time I saw her it didn't go well. In fact it was hell. A final expression into depression. Grow up? Nah, fuck it, it's not for me. When I look around what do I see? Grown up slaves pretending to be free, and whenever you shake your baby rattle you remind me we are nothing but cattle. Give it a number two, three or four, soldier or not you are still in a war.
Growing up's not for me either

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Old 02-04-2011, 09:44 AM   #202
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"let your heart be as light as a feather"
Beautiful Child.
There is a beautiful boy who lives within, with a passion so strong it scorches his skin. There is an innocent child living inside, the one that the peadies took for a ride. There is a beautiful boy who lives within, he has nothing but love for all of his kin. There is an innocent child living inside, surely it's not only our leaders who have lied? There is a beautiful boy who lives within, he's as bright as a button and as sharp as a pin. There is an innocent child living inside, for our freedom we have cried. There is a beautiful boy who lives within, his face is fixed into a permanent grin. There is an innocent child living inside, chips under our skin they're trying to slide. There is a beautiful boy who lives within, he will always be pure and never know sin. There is an innocent child living inside, unshackled from shame and unfettered through pride. There is a beautiful boy who lives within. I will never give up. I will never give in.
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Old 02-04-2011, 01:44 PM   #203
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A rambling poem about trying not to grow up.

Quote:
Lying on my back as lazy and useless as the day I was born,
No work today... far too hung over
Still too drunk to even make it to my desk for my morning nap
No responsibilities in sight
Sometimes I would like to play the alpha male
Be the head of the tribe,
The breadwinner
Be ‘all that and a bag of crisps’
Someone’s chicken dinner,
My own children racing around on the floor
And me trying to keep up.
But is it what I want?
I don’t know.
I define myself more by what I don’t want,
I don’t want hassle or stress
I don’t want a wife who shouts, when I’ve left the kitchen in a mess,
I don’t want to be trapped in a terraced prison,
I don’t want to be frozen into a permanent forced smile of
‘The husband’.
I want to be a kid.
Eternally cared for and care free,
Loved by a benign overseer who watches my every move
From whose eye nothing escapes
Our Father loves his children....
But some have left home and don’t return his calls,
But I’m not to enamoured of life here on Earth,

Seems to me to cost more than its worth,
Merely to survive on your own is hard enough,
Keeping myself in whisky, foreign sunshine and an internet connection,
Requires all my efforts, well.. not all,
But as much as I am willing to give
Without killing or corrupting myself
I like to think I am young, and try to pass myself off as such,
Eternally 18, free of childhood but still a child,
But my dad saw right through it bless him,
He reminded me that 34 is not young anymore,
And I felt I’d finally ran out of excuses,
But his advice is the soundest, stay ‘happy go lucky’,
Cause he knew the value of what he himself had lost,
And don’t get sucked into something just for the sex:
It doesn’t last.
So I live in a world which I refuse to take seriously,
The bosses whose authority I trample
The orders I joyfully refuse,
The rules I happily break again and again,
The advice I ignore, as if being given from one madman to another,
I see people worn down with worry and concern,
Held over a barrel by debt
Knowing they will obey
And play ball
And work for the system,
Paying their all,
In taxes, fees, charges and bills,
To fund the swindlers’ casino
And ring up the more loot for the bankers tills,
And if they refuse, the mantra sings:
'Your home is at risk' if you fall behind on things.

So all I want are these days of my youth in the sunshine.

The world can keep the rest.

Last edited by truthspoon; 02-04-2011 at 02:40 PM.
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Old 02-04-2011, 02:27 PM   #204
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Originally Posted by edelweiss pirate View Post
A rambling poem about trying not to grow up.
good one, enjoyed it. Honest and true. How are you doing?
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Old 02-04-2011, 02:28 PM   #205
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Originally Posted by thommo View Post
Wrote this last night. Hope you enjoy.

Where's The Money In Peace

By thommo


My wife asked me a question "Where's the money in peace?"
Our deficit goes up as our war costs increase.
Follow the money and see where it goes,
and there's the answer to war as our Government knows.
The weapons they create designed to kill wound and maim,
sold to both sides it's the name of their game.
Without all the wars what would the news networks feed?
And what would be the headlines of the papers we read?
"Today some people fell deeply in love",
or maybe "The truth about the aliens above".
If peace was declared all these companies would go bust,
so the wars must continue however unjust.
With peace all around we could all work together,
supporting our neighbours whatever the weather.
The money we spend on killing in war,
could be put to good use in feeding the poor.
Scientists could concentrate on on working for our good,
the way that the ancients had hoped that they would.
The enemy of peace always seems to be wealth,
the same could be said for the war on our health.
So then where is the money to be made out of peace?
It's a concept to forget when we gain our release.
Peace doesn't cost money it's a loving belief,
an end to all suffering a human relief.
The concept of peace is not out of our reach,
if we start with the young and the way that we teach.
Peace still has a chance not all hope is lost,
but we'll only acheive it by discounting the cost.
great reading thommo

loved waiting for yoda , an is bottle of soda
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Old 05-04-2011, 09:08 AM   #206
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Wire in the Field
Come close and I'll tell you a secret:
The rain is slowly killing me.

I who mimic branches
I who protect the little blue flowers

I who am slow violence
I who am creeping malevolence

I who have known electricity
I do not care for your type

Worship me
Worship me and I will grow.
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Old 05-04-2011, 09:56 AM   #207
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Originally Posted by vajradhatu View Post
Wire in the Field
Come close and I'll tell you a secret:
The rain is slowly killing me.

I who mimic branches
I who protect the little blue flowers

I who am slow violence
I who am creeping malevolence

I who have known electricity
I do not care for your type

Worship me
Worship me and I will grow.
interesting poem
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Old 05-04-2011, 08:17 PM   #208
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Default New Poems

Hi All,

Just to let you know that I have added a load of new poems to my site A couple of Raggies' are on there and poems from a couple of other poets. Please have a look at them/site and let me know what you think.

Cheers
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Old 06-04-2011, 05:57 PM   #209
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Hi All,

Just to let you know that I have added a load of new poems to my site
hey up thommo, I have had a look and enjoyed the visit. I have heard a rumour you are to be poet laureate. If it means you get to meet the Queen, you know what to do. I have been ambulance chasing on the mental illness thread and came up with this.
Mind Fleas.
The medication was eroding my dedication to be free, draining the ME out of me. A chemical strait-jacket to live in, see a white coat and give in, fall onto my knees. A new session was starting, my head was farting, it was full of mind fleas. They were chewing the wires in a headfull of liars that pretended to care for me. My pills for depression danced in a pyramidical way. Void of expression, seduced into suppression, joining the pharmaceutical sway. Around a square table, tossed a loose label, told they all care about me. Words smothered in butter, still called me a nutter, never a slave aching to be free. The fleas chewing the wires, bats in the spires, how could it be? How to remain sane when led from the heart to an illusion of the brain? The madness, the sadness, the children that cry. Never more tense when nothing made sense and how could it? I live in a lie. Politicians are liars, vicars shag choirs and papers sell sleaze. Live out our fables in tune with our labels, just anything to please. A chemical strait-jacket to live in, see a white coat and give in, falling down to our knees. The opinions, the theories, the intrusive queries, a half hearted wave from a chemical slave. The jitters, the squitters, through the eye of a needle a creature called Smeagol, barking on a hot tin roof, surrounded by lies, never the truth. Nature is dying, there is some truth in the lying. The clouds they are normal, this meeting is informal but we will still record all that you say. A chemical strait-jacket to live in, see a white coat and give in, falling down to our knees. A short description followed by a long prescription to keep awareness at bay.. Within forty eight hours kiss goodbye to your powers and start doing the chemical sway. The world will still be an illusion, stuffed full of confusion, it is designed that way.
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Old 06-04-2011, 06:13 PM   #210
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Originally Posted by raggie View Post
hey up thommo, I have had a look and enjoyed the visit. I have heard a rumour you are to be poet laureate. If it means you get to meet the Queen, you know what to do. I have been ambulance chasing on the mental illness thread and came up with this.
Mind Fleas.
The medication was eroding my dedication to be free, draining the ME out of me. A chemical strait-jacket to live in, see a white coat and give in, fall onto my knees. A new session was starting, my head was farting, it was full of mind fleas. They were chewing the wires in a headfull of liars that pretended to care for me. My pills for depression danced in a pyramidical way. Void of expression, seduced into suppression, joining the pharmaceutical sway. Around a square table, tossed a loose label, told they all care about me. Words smothered in butter, still called me a nutter, never a slave aching to be free. The fleas chewing the wires, bats in the spires, how could it be? How to remain sane when led from the heart to an illusion of the brain? The madness, the sadness, the children that cry. Never more tense when nothing made sense and how could it? I live in a lie. Politicians are liars, vicars shag choirs and papers sell sleaze. Live out our fables in tune with our labels, just anything to please. A chemical strait-jacket to live in, see a white coat and give in, falling down to our knees. The opinions, the theories, the intrusive queries, a half hearted wave from a chemical slave. The jitters, the squitters, through the eye of a needle a creature called Smeagol, barking on a hot tin roof, surrounded by lies, never the truth. Nature is dying, there is some truth in the lying. The clouds they are normal, this meeting is informal but we will still record all that you say. A chemical strait-jacket to live in, see a white coat and give in, falling down to our knees. A short description followed by a long prescription to keep awareness at bay.. Within forty eight hours kiss goodbye to your powers and start doing the chemical sway. The world will still be an illusion, stuffed full of confusion, it is designed that way.


Raggie that is absolutely brilliant!

Rings an awful lot of bells for Kas and I, your words are very true. Shout if you want it posted, it would be a pleasure (i've already got some images in mind )

Thought you were going through poets block!!! Glad to see it was very short lived.

I found nightmare, kas is just about to post it!
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Old 06-04-2011, 09:34 PM   #211
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I don't know whether translation of this poet is best done, but temporarily can't fint better.

This lyrics is written by Croatian poetess
Quote:
You Whose Hands Are
More Innocent Than Mine



You whose hands are more innocent than mine
and who is as wise as nonchalance
and who removes slow shadows of doubts
from his face
like the spring wind removes
shadows of clouds floating over the hill.

If your hug gives courage to the heart
and your thighs stop the pain,
if your name gives peace
to his thoughts, and your throat
a shade to his berth
and the night of your voice, an orchard
still untouched by storms.

Then stay beside him
and be more devoted than anyone else
who loved him before you.

Fear the echo approaching
the innocent love nests.

And be gentle with his dream
bellow the invisible mountain
at the edge of the soughing sea.

Walk around his coast. Be seen
by sorrowful dolphins.

Wander around his woods. Kind lizards
wont do you any harm.

And the thirsty snakes that I tamed
will be humble before you.

May the birds that I kept warm sing to you
in the nights of sharp frost.

May the boy that I protected from
stalkers on a deserted road
caress you

May the flowers that I watered with your tears
bring fragrance to you.

I didn’t witness the best years
of his manhood. His fertility
I haven’t received in my bosom
ravaged by looks
from cattle drivers at fairs
and from greedy thieves.

I will never take care
of his children. And the stories
that I’ve prepared for them long ago
I might tell, crying,
to little miserable bears
abandoned in black forest.

You whose hands are more innocent than mine
be gentle with his dream
that remained harmless.

But let me see him
his face when strange yearsstart to come down on it.

And tell me sometimes a thing or twoabout him
so that I don’t have to ask strangers
who find me silly, and neighbors
who pity my patience.

You whose hands are more innocent than mine,
stay beside his pillow
and be gentle with his dream!


What to say on this pure deepness and beauty. Tears almost fell down my face every time I read this.
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Old 07-04-2011, 08:10 AM   #212
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Raggie that is absolutely brilliant!

Rings an awful lot of bells for Kas and I, your words are very true. Shout if you want it posted, it would be a pleasure (i've already got some images in mind )

Thought you were going through poets block!!! Glad to see it was very short lived.

I found nightmare, kas is just about to post it!
thanks thommo, please put it on your site. Glad you found nightmare, I don't have the room on my phone to keep copies and the only version exists here. I did get blocked. It's a combination of lack of self belief and paranoia that keeps me quiet. How do people know inside themselves that what they have written is actually any good? Thanks for your feedback and as the poems come I will keep shoving them up. Take care.
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Old 07-04-2011, 08:17 AM   #213
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Default Iroha Uta translation

As flowers are beautiful and yet they fall
Who could remain constant in this world?
Today let us transcend the high mountain of transience
There will be no more shallow dreaming no more drunkenness.
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Old 07-04-2011, 08:58 AM   #214
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Originally Posted by piskavac View Post
I don't know whether translation of this poet is best done, but temporarily can't fint better.

This lyrics is written by Croatian poetess Vesna Parun





What to say on this pure deepness and beauty. Tears almost fell down my face every time I read this.
That is a beautiful poem indeed. Thanks for posting it
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Old 07-04-2011, 09:04 AM   #215
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thanks thommo, please put it on your site. Glad you found nightmare, I don't have the room on my phone to keep copies and the only version exists here. I did get blocked. It's a combination of lack of self belief and paranoia that keeps me quiet. How do people know inside themselves that what they have written is actually any good? Thanks for your feedback and as the poems come I will keep shoving them up. Take care.
I don't know if what I write is any good. It makes sense to me, so I put it out there and hope it makes sense to someone else :-) I was too fearful of putting my poems out there for years. Thought people would laugh at me (I'm sure some of my previous friends/colleagues are) but most have been really supportive. What I have realised is that it doesn't actually matter. It's what you feel inside that counts.

You have no worries about your poems being any good Raggie. You write from the heart and it's there for all to see. You manage to touch on areas most of us can't. Keep it going.

It's nice to see this threadhas really picked up again. Thought I'd killed it after posting My Sun!

Much respect to everyone that post on this thread.
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Old 07-04-2011, 09:55 AM   #216
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Thanks, I will be fine, maybe it is a sign of getting older, a temporary blip, me and the chip upon my shoulder. All will be well and the love will swell, may even become a little bit bolder. If my mind doesn't crack, I will definately be back for I intend to shout louder and louder.
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Old 07-04-2011, 02:24 PM   #217
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Thanks, I will be fine, maybe it is a sign of getting older, a temporary blip, me and the chip upon my shoulder. All will be well and the love will swell, may even become a little bit bolder. If my mind doesn't crack, I will definately be back for I intend to shout louder and louder.
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Old 08-04-2011, 07:33 AM   #218
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One Day.
A golden orb floats up from the ocean, frost on a branch expires with a spikey wet motion, the sun drips like honey inside of my head while I sit in awe of a delicate thread. The moss on the stones whisper come hither, the pearls on the web shiver and quiver. Butterflys dance over the rocks that stand ever so patient, rugged and worn, incredibly ancient. A salt scented breeze rustles the trees. Those pearls in the web enchanting my soul, the beauty of nature keeping me whole. Foaming white horses riding the crest of a wave, the water receding revealing a cave, shiny cold water covering the walls, into a hole with cavernous halls. Slimey old seaweed and salty old smells, broken up crabs and beautiful shells. Peering into the damp and the gloom, looking for a seahorse lacking a groom. Seduced by the sound of a breaking wave into the daylight and out of the cave. Barefoot across the sand to run, splashing and playing under the sun. Childlike innocence playing all day, reluctant to leave, wanting to stay. One day not far out of reach, no longer a slave, I will return to this beach. I will shed hot tears onto the sands and remember the day the whole world held hands.

Last edited by raggie; 08-04-2011 at 07:40 AM.
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Old 08-04-2011, 08:13 AM   #219
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Originally Posted by raggie View Post
One Day.
A golden orb floats up from the ocean, frost on a branch expires with a spikey wet motion, the sun drips like honey inside of my head while I sit in awe of a delicate thread. The moss on the stones whisper come hither, the pearls on the web shiver and quiver. Butterflys dance over the rocks that stand ever so patient, rugged and worn, incredibly ancient. A salt scented breeze rustles the trees. Those pearls in the web enchanting my soul, the beauty of nature keeping me whole. Foaming white horses riding the crest of a wave, the water receding revealing a cave, shiny cold water covering the walls, into a hole with cavernous halls. Slimey old seaweed and salty old smells, broken up crabs and beautiful shells. Peering into the damp and the gloom, looking for a seahorse lacking a groom. Seduced by the sound of a breaking wave into the daylight and out of the cave. Barefoot across the sand to run, splashing and playing under the sun. Childlike innocence playing all day, reluctant to leave, wanting to stay. One day not far out of reach, no longer a slave, I will return to this beach. I will shed hot tears onto the sands and remember the day the whole world held hands.

That sounds like it was a fantastic day. I think that's the best poem you've written I could picture every bit of it and it's made me feel happy!
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Old 08-04-2011, 08:49 AM   #220
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That sounds like it was a fantastic day. I think that's the best poem you've written I could picture every bit of it and it's made me feel happy!
Thanks. I enjoyed writing it. It made me feel happy too.
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