Quotes about cursing, page 14
Upset?
Upset?
You know you still can use the option,
Of blaming someone else.
Trying to be accountable now...
Will only confuse the issue,
With additional complexities.
Do like the others do.
Refuse to acknowledge any involvement.
In 'anything'.
You must have recently been strickened,
With a tremendous dose of awareness?
I understand.
Trust me.
But pounding your fists against the wall,
Is not going to change the presence of reality.
And cursing someone is only a temporary relief.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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World is not given to the wrong
I am mad and ask what? !
You are stabbing my trust, hurt my heart
and I can't blame you for what you made?
You say justice, I see selfish
You talk freedom, I feel burden
You raise your hand not to shake my hand
You think it's right to attack people
because you are protected by the mask of religion
You don't even try to listen and tolerate
They are human like you, not the devil you must kill
They can be wrong, they can be bad
Like you!
I am sad and ask why? !
Why you don't even feel sorry about what happen?
Why can you just help starving people, the small and forgotten?
not by violence
Why you are cursing leaders
because you are throwing stone to people's plate
Grain in my ears, all you do just talk defense yourself
Did your body only contains smoke and corrosion iron?
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poem by Maria Sudibyo
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She is still standing there for her son.
Fire in her eyes,
Burning the sun,
Clouds Running,
Rains fear to fall.
She is standing still,
Her last sight at the yard,
Her hopes still alive,
He may return,
He is her son,
Who promised to return,
After the war is over,
It has been a long time,
Seventy one has passed,
The land has got it's freedom,
But her son have not come back yet.
Her only son, the naughtiest one.
Her breaths cry,
Her blurred vision still looks for someone,
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poem by Kafil Uddin Raihan.
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Soul's Rebellion
tired, so tired...
i throw myself into sleep,
falling from the edge of the building,
i cannot see the street below.
a suicide against the hollow body
of everyday repetition,
and the cold stink,
of hands unwashed!
falling, cursing death,
and all it's religious demands.
i ooze from the skin of 'myself',
the dog breaks from its pen.
desire, beating and real,
i drink the juices of lovers...
forbidden to show their faces.
i am penis and rhythm,
the taste of the oak split
by lightning or axe,
who knows? i dont care!
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Leveller
Near Martinpuich that night of hell
Two men were struck by the same shell,
Together tumbling in one heap
Senseless and limp like slaughtered sheep.
One was a pale eighteen-year-old,
Blue-eyed and thin and not too bold,
Pressed for the war not ten years too soon,
The shame and pity of his platoon.
The other came from far-off lands
With bristling chin and whiskered hands,
He had known death and hell before
In Mexico and Ecuador.
Yet in his death this cut-throat wild
Groaned 'Mother! Mother!' like a child,
While the poor innocent in man's clothes
Died cursing God with brutal oaths.
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poem by Robert Graves
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Present Imperative
Horace: Book I, Ode 11
"Tu ne quaesieris--scire nefas
--quem mihi; quem tibi--"
AD LEUCONOEN
Nay querry not, Leuconoë, the finish of the fable;
Eliminate the worry as to what the years may hoard!
You only waste your time upon the Babylonian Table--
(Slang for the ouija board).
And as to whether Jupiter, the final, unsurpassed one,
May add a lot of winters to our portion here below,
Or this impinging season is to be our very last one--
Really, I'd hate to know.
Apply yourself to wisdom! Sweep the floor and wash the dishes,
Nor dream about the things you'll do in 1928!
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poem by Franklin P. Adams
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Let It Be.
She always had that, Let It Be, album
On the turntable, with him, the latest uncle,
Sitting beside her on the couch or in her bed,
Smoking, making out, and you were told to go
Outside and play and leave her be, and so
You’d go out and play or find some mischief
To do with Hawksmith, who always seemed
To know how you felt, what made you tick,
And he’d say, let’s go up to Grundle’s barn,
Let’s go make out in the hay, and he’d laugh,
And so you’d go to the barn or down by Mullen’s
Pond and watch him fish. She always played
That darn Let It Be album when she was high,
Had it up loud, the music blaring out over
The yard, and she and him, laughing and cursing,
And when you used to creep back to the house
Late at night the lights were on and you’d hear
The Beatles’ album going round and round on
The turntable without reason or any sound.
poem by Terry Collett
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California Hills in August
I can imagine someone who found
these fields unbearable, who climbed
the hillside in the heat, cursing the dust,
cracking the brittle weeds underfoot,
wishing a few more trees for shade.
An Easterner especially, who would scorn
the meagerness of summer, the dry
twisted shapes of black elm,
scrub oak, and chaparral, a landscape
August has already drained of green.
One who would hurry over the clinging
thistle, foxtail, golden poppy,
knowing everything was just a weed,
unable to conceive that these trees
and sparse brown bushes were alive.
And hate the bright stillness of the noon
without wind, without motion.
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poem by Dana Gioia
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Domestic Shades 1
1
As early from bed I rise
So early the electricity dies
Accustomed hands paint blind shades
Then a lit candle lights the house
Unwilling to break a tradition
I go on the kolam expedition
Custom unlocks the portico
With water and quartz I go
Dawn is Mahalakshmi's time prime
So dark, also stealer's time crime
I'm warned to be back inside
My hubby is in fear's stride
I let him keep shouting
Safe then is my feeling
I finish haphazardly
Cursing the power-failure highly
2
When she was wide and deep in bulk
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poem by Indira Renganathan
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In Fear of Shadows They Cast On Paths Alone!
You cast a shadow...
Because there is sunlight.
You curse the darkness.
But it alone does not create your pain.
When you came to experience life...
You had every right,
To expect enlightenment.
But you chose to be sheltered.
Like the others who complain of their plight!
Gathering to satiate on their created blight.
It may become discomforting,
To remove yourself from this acceptance.
But you have been the one to cast a shadow...
Yet learning to curse it,
As if it was there to harm!
As if the joy of your birth...
Now causes much alarm.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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