Quotes about prod, page 7
The Unseen Remains
Beyond gateway an
entire unknown world.
With a thin piece of twig
or grappling-grass blade
prod penetrate beyond... unhidden
debris mouth of mine.
Engineering feat sunk deep
beneath earth’s microscopic surface.
Into living womb. Sending shockwaves
reeling to astound quake
fear amongst innocent. Community
preprogrammed workers.
Unprovoked fresh attack upon
insect ants industriously
continuing communal business.
Upward first skirmish line
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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Some People Like To Take A Water Droplet
Some people like to take a water droplet
and turn it into a haiku.
Some people like to write
like the loose thread
of a quick-witted alpine stream
trying to unravel the mountain all the way down
with dazzle and flash.
But when I shoot my mouth off
about what I don't know about nightingales
it always comes out ice-hot stars
above a rush of northern rivers,
the Mackenzie, the Fraser, the Thompson
and when I want to risk
my cowboy B.C. French in public,
the Gulf of St. Lawrence.
Some people like to weave their mindstreams
into lakes with their third eyes open
to the flight of the white clouds
and the sky that doesn't inhibit them,
but me I like to flow and fall and crush
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poem by Patrick White
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First The Tenderness
First the tenderness; I feel the tenderness,
the downy edge of the leaf, the eyelash,
the green tooth of the leaf
gently opening its mouth to the air,
its flag of being high in the branches
unfurling like a sky of its own,
startled by the taste of the first star.
Every dropp of rain that falls
is a jester's cap,
three bells and a splash and that's me
learning how to swim in this new space
with an ark and a flood, you
the dove with the leaf in its beak, returning.
Then I check a little calendar of razor-blades
to see if any of the days
are holy days circled in my blood,
if I'm late for a sacrifice somewhere,
if there's a landmine waiting
like a spiny sea urchin buried in the sand,
glass petals shed from a broken rose,
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poem by Patrick White
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Living On A Planet That Kills More People Than It Heals
Living on a planet that kills more people than it heals.
And the most dangerous of predators, our own ideals
turning on us like ingrown hairs, solar flares the wind
blew in our faces without any of the veils or auroral graces
that used to adorn our amazement at what our eyes
in creative collaboration with victimized ions, could do
with the last breath of an expiring sun god to make it
mystically beautiful and awe-inspiring. Just
to be a witness to it was enough to keep your mouth
shut for the next ten thousand years, the silence
before the sublimity of being in the presence
as convincing to the farmer as it was to the astronomer.
As civilization progresses into an improved savagery
and people grow more bovine in their living rooms
as the one-eyed liar at the nadir of the third eye
entrances them into believing they're still
grazing in the starfields of genetically modified astroturf
they were raised on, slowly, from a moon cow's point of view
it's beginning to dawn on people that civilization
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poem by Patrick White
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Don't prod the donkey while you're getting on.
Sicilian proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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You drive a donkey with a stick, an ox and a mule with a prod, and the horse with a whip and spurs.
Sicilian proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Man Turned Inside Out
If you ever had a clue
You never acted like you knew
When you took away the reasons
And you chopped my heart in two
Once you start to doubt
When you dont know what its about
Its time to read the warning signs
Of a man turned inside out
For a guy needs a good reason
Something to prod him on
When you chopped me up like liver
It all started going wrong
So I bought a fiberglass helmet and
Some goggles to match
Im a human bullet baby
And you havent seen the last
Of a man turned inside out
Im a man turned inside out
So I got myself a position
And Im working my way up
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song performed by Devo
Added by Lucian Velea
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Robin Hood And The Potter
In schomer, when the leves spryng,
The bloschems on every bowe,
So merey doyt the berdys syng
Yn wodys merey now.
Herkens, god yemen,
Comley, corteysse, and god,
On of the best that yever bar bou,
Hes name was Roben Hode.
Roben Hood was the yemans name,
That was boyt corteys and fre;
For the loffe of owr ladey,
All wemen werschep he.
Bot as the god yemen stod on a day,
Among hes mery maney,
He was war of a prowd potter,
Cam dryfyng owyr the ley.
[...] Read more
poem by Andrew Lang
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Robin Hood and the Potter
Fitt I.
In schomer, when the leves spryng,
The bloschoms on every bowe,
So merey doyt the berdys syng
Yn wodys merey now.
Herkens, god yemen,
Comley, corteys, and god,
On of the best that yever bare bowe,
Hes name was Roben Hode.
Roben Hood was the yemans name,
That was boyt corteys and fre;
For the loffe of owre ladey,
All wemen werschepyd he.
Bot as the god yeman stod on a day,
Among hes mery maney,
He was ware of a prowd potter,
Cam dryfyng owyr the leye.
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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To The Comic Spirit
Sword of Common Sense! -
Our surest gift: the sacred chain
Of man to man: firm earth for trust
In structures vowed to permanence:-
Thou guardian issue of the harvest brain!
Implacable perforce of just;
With that good treasure in defence,
Which is our gold crushed out of joy and pain
Since first men planted foot and hand was king:
Bright, nimble of the marrow-nerve
To wield thy double edge, retort
Or hold the deadlier reserve,
And through thy victim's weapon sting:
Thine is the service, thine the sport
This shifty heart of ours to hunt
Across its webs and round the many a ring
Where fox it is, or snake, or mingled seeds
Occasion heats to shape, or the poor smoke
Struck from a puff-ball, or the troughster's grunt; -
Once lion of our desert's trodden weeds;
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poem by George Meredith
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