Quotes about gridlock, page 2
Enunciation
Entering into hypersonic gridlock
you become one of the crowd;
remain devastated, slip into unconciousness,
defer to a calibrated emblem and speak
untainted. The debris was taking to the
street. The trees were drinking from
geyser basins, mutated restraint. The crow
was taking a bath in milk, to show that
it has no venom. Or rather no controversy
for a tedium death. That is the stripping of
ambition, till the light arrives. Darkness
will reap the grains of sorrow. The fire
digs out the secret bones. You cannot stop
the whipping of skulls which were without thoughts,
when silence was bidding for lips.
poem by Satish Verma
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Inertia 1771
Instincts suppressed, what's best? to rest unstressed,
Neglecting much, touch, scent, taste waste away
Efforts unjustified, denied, unblessed,
Rewards and fairies exiled yesterday.
Time winnows second-thoughts, chaffed tears descend
In drops, in streams, in floods, yet seldom seen,
As vectors for communication end
In gridlock matrix vicious circle scene.
No conscious effort made seems worth the toss,
Energy drains as pains are self-consumed,
Rise and shine to sighs and whine show loss
That filters through grey haze maze unassumed.
Inertia's apathetic curtain closes
And draws dark blinds behind mind lost to roses.
(30 September 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Overboard - Current Version 1082
P[l]ace not phased day by time, rhyme raised by night,
if there's no wrong may will still praise phrase right,
some corner stranger future friend may greet,
while stranger former friend turns, fiendish plight.
Cause and effect reflect on ends and means
as gridlock smashes into smithereens,
judgemental values must themselves defeat,
beat mind-sets' self-sufficient put up screens.
What's hid is bid unriddled when fond heart
throws rigid reason overboard to start
to separate appearance, surface sheet,
from innner senses' empathy, trust chart.
What's masked behind mind's veil tomorrow may
ignore, few score life's causal keys in play
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Where's My Inspiration?
I can not think.
My mind is at a gridlock.
Where’s my inspiration?
Boredom is highly overwhelming,
But then I think,
“A poem about boredom! ”
Stupid, huh?
But still,
I-can-not- think.
Where’s my inspiration?
I lie on my bed,
Mind empty.
I stare at the ceiling,
At the blank white wall.
Then I stare at my paper,
A blank white canvas.
But then I look closer
It isn’t blank.
[...] Read more
poem by Devon McElveen
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Paper Plane For The Jealous Lover
If I can ride the cardboard box again
Like a spurious old red Volkswagen
Reckoning when I was child escaping the interstate
Of the buoyed city in my bed that undulates
I would bloat my bag with your photographs
And jarred lucid intervals in case of an arbitrary lapse
And I will probe to find a hill beneath a cliff
Sequestered from the alluring and flagging whiff
Of a blossoming summer, from there I'll built a hovel
Tilling my vault, truncating my veins, come and drag a shovel!
I'll build the porticos with your lacquer portraits
And in the night it will be a lighthouse to coruscate
Vivid flashbacks from the marred malaise
And toil to build an incendiary garden of fireflies
Because they remind me of the lackluster star lights
That had concatenated and knotted our eyes
And our souls; my own, still asphyxiating in your ties
And when the lustrous pangs of compulsion strikes
Like a thief in the silent night, oh, salient jealousy hikes
My barricades, then I shall build myself a paper plane
[...] Read more
poem by Norman Santos
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A Weed
Though progress does attempt to prevent
A plant from feeling the warmth of the day,
One small weed crawls through the sidewalk cement,
Forking between two slabs of my pathway.
I pass it, startled by the protrusion,
Impressed that it had learned how to survive.
It seems to thrive despite its seclusion—
Despite all the pollutions that deprive
It. Secondhand water quenches its thirst.
Garbage cloisters in the cracks that surround
It. Yet, the weed does not appear coerced
By the filth that litters the paltry ground.
Somewhere beside the congested gridlock
Of traffic, this plant stands—in the sidewalk.
I stare at the weed for a moment to
Wonder why no one had plucked it before.
It was not something I had sought to do,
But I pondered about what it lived for—
Why it challenged the street with sturdy roots
[...] Read more
poem by Tim Stensloff
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From The Distance (Of Life and Death)
The ghastly mantling fog
That had spun out my eyes
Adamantine and brazenly cold
Is your very breath slicing
A wanton shrill in the supple skin
Like how those words flung
Into the impassable distance
Toppling the dearth expanse
Of time strutting down her golden stair
Those words are the spine
Of the hundred tacitly inscribed
Poetries in blood and smothered breaths
Along with the thousand winding days
Plummeting into the abysmal trench
In constant winnows of your redolent
Balmy zithers of the morning sun
As I speak of these words, I entangle
Myself in the wisps of your tresses
And gape in the crevasses
[...] Read more
poem by Norman Santos
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Java's Ghost Nuclear Reactors
live on the island of Java
one of the most densely
populated places on earth
in a suburb on the edge of
Bintaro next to Tangerang
regency over 2.6 million
a few million people in
our suburbs outside Jakarta
a paradox merge mega city
seven districts Ciputat,
Ciputat Timur, Serpong,
Serpong Utara, Pamulang,
Pondok Aren, and Setu
with a total population
of 1.2 million scattered
near my home form part
of Tangerang regency just
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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On hindsight
No one believes: in that well worn saying
It'll be all right on the night
Mention the five rings
or that the Olympics are coming to London
this much is absolutely certain
considerable panic and loads of hand wringing
Predictions of unfinished venues
Spiraling costs
Log jam
Gridlock
Pandemonium
Watch out
Ticket touts about
Journalists whipping up panic
over the threat of terrorists
Fiddlesticks!
99% of the Olympics
[...] Read more
poem by Nayyar Shabbir Ahmad
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The Dragon Ring
I'd been courting my Fiona
For a year or two, to date,
We'd been through the lovers' gridlock,
Love, indifference, and hate,
On a good day we'd be soaring,
On a bad day we'd descend
To the pit of constant warring,
Though we'd make up, in the end!
And the making up was endless,
It was better than the best,
We would spend the day exploring
In our less than virgin nest,
And she'd cry for Mother Mary
At that last, and parting thrust,
When she saw my eyes adoring
At the zenith of our lust!
Then the day came when Fiona
Said she needed her own space,
[...] Read more
poem by David Lewis Paget
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