Omniscience
Genius, speak your subtle sound gently,Let not tender talents be tainted unwise,That which sits above your mindful eye,Rid your heavy void which you carry still,Empower your towering temple throne of Love,And be aware of intruding tirvialities disguised,The vile spectrum bends the light of righteousness,Your glaring vehemence no longer boyish dreams,From purity your thoughts become unsettlingly maligned,You carefully wander in strokes of mastery,Warranting troubles and toils of geniune sweat,Yet, the humble heart wise, the foolish heart lost,Unshutter your eyes and let your voice breathe,Without fear and shame and sterile propensity,Let the light pour down and fill the cracks,That hold you from your worldly self...
Andre Robert Janian
Copyright ©2008 Andre Robert Janian
addthis_pub = 'sayyes943';
Monday, September 22, 2008
Addiction
Addiction
Ashes rose from broken dreams,And so it seamed this wilting sun,Which dripped her wax all through the night,As light no more could fuel this hearth,Unless those wants of ill and greed,Could change them into human needs.
Andre Janian
Copyright ©2008 Andre Janian
Ashes rose from broken dreams,And so it seamed this wilting sun,Which dripped her wax all through the night,As light no more could fuel this hearth,Unless those wants of ill and greed,Could change them into human needs.
Andre Janian
Copyright ©2008 Andre Janian
Mirror and Mask
In my chamber bed, I lie and wait,
For, my mind has lost its moving ways,
Thus trapped and tangled in mirrors and masks,
The Eyeless lense that captures trickles of light,
unbends its rays into the window blind,
And fancy thoughts flash quick and sudden,
From an endless sun, half- dead and alive,
As mine appears the same as hers,
I live in smoke screens among silly puddy,
That sticks tight to while memories toil beneath,
When suddenly, round and round, I slowly move,
Clouds begin to fade in blue,
My mind has found its crumbs left still,
And treads carefully back to a carelessly winding road,
Where random thoughts had ruled and preyed,
That whispered noise to hearts that feared,
Like fish that hear our tappings bright and clear,
Would crack and cut the chapped decay of walls,
That keep together the mirror and the mask,
That keeps together the questions that keep running away,
From ourselves.....
For, my mind has lost its moving ways,
Thus trapped and tangled in mirrors and masks,
The Eyeless lense that captures trickles of light,
unbends its rays into the window blind,
And fancy thoughts flash quick and sudden,
From an endless sun, half- dead and alive,
As mine appears the same as hers,
I live in smoke screens among silly puddy,
That sticks tight to while memories toil beneath,
When suddenly, round and round, I slowly move,
Clouds begin to fade in blue,
My mind has found its crumbs left still,
And treads carefully back to a carelessly winding road,
Where random thoughts had ruled and preyed,
That whispered noise to hearts that feared,
Like fish that hear our tappings bright and clear,
Would crack and cut the chapped decay of walls,
That keep together the mirror and the mask,
That keeps together the questions that keep running away,
From ourselves.....
Breathe
Breathe
Places I remember come alive,
Like frozen pantomimes that pierce,
The flowing stream that flash so fast,
mute.
Trumbo tells of War,
Hemingway of death,
And Joyce invents what makes his sense,
Once young, your moves quite quick,
Rip-battering twilight dreams,
That childlishly conduct runaway trains,
As the world stands still,
mute,
Breathe,
Our Don Juan in agony,
As Milton and Eliot stare,
The air dribbles and trickles,
Under lips so cracked so cold,
And turbulent eyes keep twitching,
Below the blue sky far gone and sunk deep,
Words are spoken from the eye,
Witness want and wonder,
Some, often how I marvel,
Of the primal dream which was once,
Never was and never will be-
Because our lives are just a moment from memory.
End
Places I remember come alive,
Like frozen pantomimes that pierce,
The flowing stream that flash so fast,
mute.
Trumbo tells of War,
Hemingway of death,
And Joyce invents what makes his sense,
Once young, your moves quite quick,
Rip-battering twilight dreams,
That childlishly conduct runaway trains,
As the world stands still,
mute,
Breathe,
Our Don Juan in agony,
As Milton and Eliot stare,
The air dribbles and trickles,
Under lips so cracked so cold,
And turbulent eyes keep twitching,
Below the blue sky far gone and sunk deep,
Words are spoken from the eye,
Witness want and wonder,
Some, often how I marvel,
Of the primal dream which was once,
Never was and never will be-
Because our lives are just a moment from memory.
End
The Piper
The Piper
As it once was and will be,
In cherished green, A piper sits with glee,
Puffs into the blue,
Watching whimsically, waiting to see,
The Colorless presence humiliating,
Randomly running without purpose,
Dancing comfortably still in silence,
Attractively seducing a lonely fleece,
Sitting high above our native skyland,
The burnt resin in a twist of ultimate fate,
Is caught carefully by the piper as he sits with glee,
A harness that bounds his imagination; mind's eye,
Horatio motes and the piper learns his tricks,
And, as it will always be,
The source by which the mind can see,
Has seeds of which no one can see.
As it once was and will be,
In cherished green, A piper sits with glee,
Puffs into the blue,
Watching whimsically, waiting to see,
The Colorless presence humiliating,
Randomly running without purpose,
Dancing comfortably still in silence,
Attractively seducing a lonely fleece,
Sitting high above our native skyland,
The burnt resin in a twist of ultimate fate,
Is caught carefully by the piper as he sits with glee,
A harness that bounds his imagination; mind's eye,
Horatio motes and the piper learns his tricks,
And, as it will always be,
The source by which the mind can see,
Has seeds of which no one can see.
Out on the Tiles
As I walk down the highway all I do is sing this song,And a train that passes my way helps the rythm move along.There is no doubt about the words are clear,The voice is strong, is oh so strong. I'm just a simple guy and I live from day to day.A ray of sunshine melts the clouds and blows my blues away,There's nothing more that I can say but on a day like todayI pass the time away and walk a quiet mile with you. All I need from you is all your love, All you got to give to me is all your love, All I need from you is all your love, All you got to give to me is all your love. Oooh yeah, ooh yeah, ooh yeah, oh yeah. I'm so glad I'm living and gonna tell the world I am,I got me a fine woman and she says that I'm her man,One thing that I know for sure gonna give her all the lovingLike nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody can. Standing in the noonday sun trying to flag a ride,People come and people go come, see my rider right by my side,It's a total disgrace, they set the pace, it must be a raceAnd the best thing I can do is run. All I need from you is all your love, All you got to give to me is all your love, All I need from you is all your love, All you got to give to me is all your love. Oooh yeah, ooh yeah, ooh yeah, oh yeah.
window.google_render_ad();
window.google_render_ad();
The poetry of Led Zeppelin 3
Dynamic, Exploding, Revolutionary; a few keyword examples of the power of Led Zeppelin's third album. A diverse mix of experimental images of experiences driven by the legendary quartet, influencing future musicians.
The Immigrat Song; a unique blend of mythical Beowulfesque imagery, perserverence, wonder, and poetic mastery.
Friends-A struggle to cope with life with the reality of changing times. Nothing stays still, yet we fear change. " Had a friend, she once told me,"You got a friend, you ain't lonely,"Now she's gone and left me onlyLooking for what I knew....."Met a man on the roadside crying,Without a friend, there's no denying,You're incomplete, they'll be no findingLooking for what you knew."
Celebration Day- the joy of inspiration.
The Immigrat Song; a unique blend of mythical Beowulfesque imagery, perserverence, wonder, and poetic mastery.
Friends-A struggle to cope with life with the reality of changing times. Nothing stays still, yet we fear change. " Had a friend, she once told me,"You got a friend, you ain't lonely,"Now she's gone and left me onlyLooking for what I knew....."Met a man on the roadside crying,Without a friend, there's no denying,You're incomplete, they'll be no findingLooking for what you knew."
Celebration Day- the joy of inspiration.
poetry and politics
Poetry and politics; two words; two ideologies; two opposing forces, have influenced and shaped societies above and beyond any numerical attachment. Poets like Wordsworth, Shakespeare, Lord Byron, Keats, Eliot, Dylan Thomas, Ezra Pound, Swinburne, just to name a few, wrote not just inspire and entertain, but to protect and preserve cultural traditions and mores of worldly order. The political nature of poetry has been undervalued. What better time than now to see the world through poetry. The goal of this blog is to share the belief that through poetry, we can grasp the current political upheavels affecting our traditions, morals, beliefs, biases, opinions, and influences
Let's take Hamlet; Shakespeare's masterpiece of tragically consequential fates, intertwined with the political defactos of the time. Not much has changed. Let's take a look at Act one, Scene one, where Horatio tries to justify the presence of the dead kings ghost, which has arrived in Denmark to warn his son Hamlet about the new king, which has fooled many into taking the throne by murdering his brother and marrying his brother's widow queen:
" A mote is to troulbe the mind's eye.
In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
Did squeak and gibber in the roman streets;
As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
Disasters in the sun; and the moist star,
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands,
Was sicj almost to doomsaday with eclipse.
And even the precurse of feared events,
As harbingers preceding still the fates
And prologue to the omen coming on,
Have heaven and earth demonstrated
Unto our climatures and countrymen."
Exactly, how is this translated to the now political atmosphere that has plagued our intellect by means of limiting our societal scope through the powers of those who control the media. Horatio attempts to make sense of the ghost that has come from the dead to warn others about the ill-wills of the current state of affairs.
Like in our present state, trouble exists in the most high offices of the land. Things may seem "rosy," and politicians may fool us by saying so, yet we all know we're very close to "erring," which may lead to a fall; a tragedy, as it is written in the stars. disasters in the empire (our government) have eclipsed our knowledge base as our fate lies within an omen-present feel, and the political climate of the time has either frustrated those with some intellectual capacity; and has kept the careless part of society more ignorant and numb to the behind-the-scenes performances of our fellow political leaders.
Through Horatio, we understand that it is easy for those in power to walk amongst the weak and take advantage of feeble minds, in influencing laws, beliefs, and traditions.. The climatures have certainly caused havoc withing our fellow countrymen. think about it...Dreybones
Let's take Hamlet; Shakespeare's masterpiece of tragically consequential fates, intertwined with the political defactos of the time. Not much has changed. Let's take a look at Act one, Scene one, where Horatio tries to justify the presence of the dead kings ghost, which has arrived in Denmark to warn his son Hamlet about the new king, which has fooled many into taking the throne by murdering his brother and marrying his brother's widow queen:
" A mote is to troulbe the mind's eye.
In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
Did squeak and gibber in the roman streets;
As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
Disasters in the sun; and the moist star,
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands,
Was sicj almost to doomsaday with eclipse.
And even the precurse of feared events,
As harbingers preceding still the fates
And prologue to the omen coming on,
Have heaven and earth demonstrated
Unto our climatures and countrymen."
Exactly, how is this translated to the now political atmosphere that has plagued our intellect by means of limiting our societal scope through the powers of those who control the media. Horatio attempts to make sense of the ghost that has come from the dead to warn others about the ill-wills of the current state of affairs.
Like in our present state, trouble exists in the most high offices of the land. Things may seem "rosy," and politicians may fool us by saying so, yet we all know we're very close to "erring," which may lead to a fall; a tragedy, as it is written in the stars. disasters in the empire (our government) have eclipsed our knowledge base as our fate lies within an omen-present feel, and the political climate of the time has either frustrated those with some intellectual capacity; and has kept the careless part of society more ignorant and numb to the behind-the-scenes performances of our fellow political leaders.
Through Horatio, we understand that it is easy for those in power to walk amongst the weak and take advantage of feeble minds, in influencing laws, beliefs, and traditions.. The climatures have certainly caused havoc withing our fellow countrymen. think about it...Dreybones
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
