Poetry, music and more...

by **Fiddler** » Mon May 05, 2003 11:09 am

I admit, some of the names in The Lord of the Rings aren\'t really very inspired, but I still think it took a helluva lot of imagination to come up all the stuff that went into the book (or, depending how you look at it, the books). Some of it tends to be quite boring, especially the way in which he goes into the details of situations, scenarios and happenings that aren\'t really connected to the storyline in nothing but a very tenuous way, but I think the whole work is a complete masterpiece. It does have it\'s downsides, like the filmi way in which Aragorn (son of Arathorn, by the way) sails out of the blue to the rescue of Gondor, but there are a few things in the book that are actually quite interesting. Take the covert nature of magic, for instance. There are hardly any places in which magic is seen as the typical sword-and-sorcery horse-crap that one experiences in other books. That, and the fact that Sauron is never actually seen, as a person, in the book. He\'s just a presence. Well, I suppose anything has to have it\'s up-and down-sides, but it\'s certainly completely brilliant compared to the pathetic take-offs written by this chap called Robert Jordan, who\'s written a series of eleven books, called the Wheel of Time, which has the same characters all through, and HE\'S STILL WRITING!! There are things between heaven and earth...

by **Kishore** » Mon May 05, 2003 5:40 pm

This poem was sung by Iron Maiden in a brilliant rock rendering - it\'s part of the compilation \"Live After Death\".

by **Fiddler** » Tue May 06, 2003 5:08 pm

Hmm. Sounds cool. Personally, the only albums of theirs I\'ve heard are \'Best of the Beast\' and \'Seventh Son of a Seventh Son\'. Can someone tell me which other albums are worth buying? Don\'t have much to spend on music nowadays...

by **Satish** » Thu May 08, 2003 12:22 pm

Hey Guys, I thought u people can find an analogy of American pie and te Gulf War(Father,Son and the Holy Ghost!!)blah..blah...but anyway i would like to share this poem of our very Jim Morrison....njoi 

The 1st electric wildness came 
over the people 
on sweet Friday. 
Sweat was in the air. 
The channel beamed, 
token of power. 
Incense brewed darkly. 
Who could tell them that here 
it would end? 

One school bus crashed w/ a train. 
This was the Crossroads. 
Mercury stained. 
I couldn\'t get out of my seat. 
The road was littered 
w/ dead jitterbugs. 
Help, 
we\'ll be late for class. 

The secret flurry of rumor 
marched over the yard & 
pinned us unwittingly 
Mt. fever. 
A girl stripped naked on the 
base of the flagpole. 

In the restrooms all was cool& silent 
w/ the salt-green of latrines. 
Blankets were needed. 

Ropes fluttered. 
Smiles flattered 
& haunted. 

Lockers pried open 
& secrets discovered. 

Ah sweet music. 

Wild sounds in the night 
Angel siren voices. 
The baying of great hounds. 
Cars screaming thru gears 
& shrieks 
on the wild road 
Where the tires skip & slide 
into dangerous curves. 

Favorite corners. 
Cheerleaders raped in summer 
buildings. 
Holding hands 
& bopping toward Sunday. 

Those lean sweet desperate hours. 

Time searched the hallways 
for a mind. 
Hands kept time. 
The climate altered like a
visible dance. 

Night-time women. 
Wondrous sacraments of doubt 
Sprang sullen in bursts 
of fear & guilt 
in the womb\'s pit hole 
below 
The belt of the beast 

Worship w/ words, w/
sounds, hands, all 
joyful playful & 
obscene-in the insane 
infant. 

Old men worship w/ long 
noses, old soulful eyes. 
Young girls worship, 
exotic, indian, w/ robes 
who make us feel foolish 
for acting w/ our eyes. 
Lost in the vanity of the senses 
which got us where we are. 
Children worship but seldom 
act at it. Who needs 
temples & couches & T.V. 

We can do it on a sunny 
floor w/ friends & make 
any sound or movement 
that comes. Roll on our 
backs screaming w/ mirth 
glad in the guilt of our 
madness. Better to be 
cool in our worship & 
gain the respect of the 
ancient & wise wearing 
those robes. They know 
the secret of mind-change 
reality. 

\"Have you ever seen God?\" 
-a mandala. A symmetrical angel. 

Felt? yes. _. The Sun. 
Heard? Music. Voices. 
Touched? an animal. your hand. 
Tasted? Rare meat, corn, water, 
& wine. 

An angel runs 
Thru the sudden light 
Thru the room 
A ghost precedes us 
A shadow follows us 
And each time we stop 
We fall 

No one thought up being; 
he who thinks he has 
Step forward 

Shrill demented sparrows bark 
The sun into being. They rule 
dawn\'s kingdom. The cars- 
a rising chorus- Then 
workmen\'s songs & hammers 
The children of the schoolyard, 
a hundred high voices, 
complete the orchestration 

\"In that year there was 
an intense visitation 
of energy. 
I left school & went down 
to the beach to live. 
I slept on a roof 
At night the moon became 
a woman\'s face. 
I met the Spirit of Music.\" 

An appearance of the devil 
on a Venice canal. 
Running, I saw a Satan 
or Satyr, moving beside 
me, a fleshy shadow 
of my secret mind. Running, 
Knowing. 

The day I left the beach 

A hairy Satyr running 
behind & a little to the 
right. 

In the holy solipsism 
of the young 

Now I can\'t walk thru a city 
street w/out eying each 
single pedestrian. I feel 
their vibes thru my 
skin, the hair on my neck 
-it rises. 

----Jim Morrison\'s Anatomy of Rock

by **Teetotaller** » Mon May 26, 2003 10:44 am

It is us, the wine, the music, and this run-down corner; 
Our flesh and heart, the wine glass, and our cloths, 
all filled with the desire for wine; 

Free from the hope of forgiveness and free from the 
fear of punishment and pain 
free from dirty wind, fire, and water. 
---Omar Khayyam in Rubaiyat

by **Satish** » Sat May 31, 2003 8:13 pm

Tread lightly she is near 
Under the snow 
Speak gently she can hear 
The daisies grow 

All her bright golden hair 
Tarnished with rust 
She that was young and fair 
Fallen to dust 

Lilly-white white as snow 
She hardly knew 
She was a woman so 
Sweetly she grew 

Coffin-board heavy stone 
Lie on her breast 
I vex my heart alone 
She is at rest 

Peace peace she cannot hear 
Lyre or sonnet 
All my life\'s buried here 
Heap earth upon it 

---Requiscat (Oscar Wilde)

by **Anil Prasad** » Fri Jul 04, 2003 3:51 pm

Hi all, am new to fullhyd, but could not stop joining your thread. 

Seasons come, seasons go, 
Every thing withers as you know, 
One thing is true, 
As fresh as the morning dew, 
That is the love I have for you, 
I trusted you, 
I adored you, 
May God bless you, (for what you have done) 
This is curse of an aching heart!!

by **Thus spake an artist** » Thu Jul 10, 2003 12:03 pm

Haiku!! 

Beauty veils evil lives 
On a cliff. 
A cliff. Dead end. Dead. Ended. 

The guilt of the kiss 
Is not upon the lips 
But in its bliss.

by **Anil Prasad** » Mon Jul 14, 2003 3:50 am

I guess it’s all over. Our marriage has failed. I’m sorry I’m not what you thought you had nailed. No need to get dirty in times of divorce, You say you want everything; Baby! Of course! You take the house the car and the cat The paintings, the silver, our West London flat The jewellery, the dinner set, all of the chairs, the bookcase, the curtains, the French earthenware. I’ll have the memories, the feelings, the thoughts, Of days when we’d smile at each other’s retorts. When words from the heart could tie up the tongue, And ballads of blue need never be sung. Go on, go ahead, help yourself, be my guest, To the silicon implants that hold up your chest. To the wardrobe of labels of last seasons taste, The cool diamante, the pearls and the paste. I’ll keep the gallery that fills up my head, ‘The picture’ ‘The Princess’ the day we were wed . I’ll relish reminders as I reminisce The resonant warmth of a once loving kiss. Keep all the credit cards, take all the cash, Add it to what you have probably stashed. The business is yours and all of the shares. Those hard sweating years, but why should you care. Imagine the happiness all this can bring, A ‘material girl’ with material things. Possessions are allies of simplicity. For what is true wealth remains within me.

by **Anil Prasad** » Mon Jul 14, 2003 3:59 am

Hello God, I called tonight 
 To talk a little while ... 
 I need a friend who\'ll listen 
 To my anxiety and trial. 
 
 You see, I can\'t quite make it 
 Through a day just on my own; 
 I need your love to guide me, 
 So I\'ll never feel alone. 
 
 I want to ask you please to keep, 
 My family safe and sound; 
 Come and fill their lives with confidence, 
 For whatever fate they\'re bound. 
 
 Give me faith, dear God, to face, 
 Each hour throughout the day; 
 And not to worry over things, 
 I can\'t change in any way. 
 
 I thank you God, for being home, 
 And listening to my call; 
 For giving me such good advice 
 When I stumble and fall. 
 
 Your number, God, is the only one 
 That answers every time; 
 I never get a busy signal, 
 And never had to pay a dime. 
 
 So thank you, God, for listening 
 To my troubles and my sorrow; 
 Good night, God. I love You, too, 
 And I\'ll call again tomorrow!

by **Teetotaller** » Wed Nov 19, 2003 7:33 pm

Is it Wine that consumes poetry or poetry that consumes wine?

by **Fiddler** » Fri Dec 12, 2003 11:58 am

\'Tis time for revival,
 for days that are past.
 Why not bring them back,
 so the magic can last?
 
 Why bury what\'s gone
 as if it never was?
 I say \"Revive it\"!
 I have just cause!
 
 The lines that were written
 did brighten the day
 and illumine the world\'s beauty
 in an admirable way.
 
 So why not we all
 combine paper and pen,
 dream up some lines
 and rock once again?

by **uzma** » Tue Dec 30, 2003 11:58 am

excellent....

by **dEsAkshi** » Sat Jan 10, 2004 2:31 am

In the air are songs and jokes and laughs and cheer

In your hand is a glass of wine or chill'd beer;

Filled with joy, our hearts simple and pure ;-)

Our hopes and dreams ev'r finding every cure;

Leaving not in our minds a trace of fear

'Tis but the beginning of a Happy New Year!!!!

by **4MyLove** » Sun Jan 18, 2004 1:20 am

Kick start with a peom of my own

Her hair hangs in her plain face, covering sad eyes

She is still beautiful

Her clothes are all loose and black

She is still beautiful

Her voice is rarely heard

She is still beautiful

Her beliefs contradict yours

She is ugly.....!!!!

:lol:

More to follow :arrow:

by **Satish** » Tue Feb 03, 2004 12:35 pm

Poetry is on the air...

Thank you 4MyLove once again for keeping this board alive...

Condradictions do not exist..

Check out your premises..

We are huddled to death..

To dissolve into eternity..

Still existing??

by **Fiddler** » Tue Feb 03, 2004 12:52 pm

Welcome back, Satish. P'raps the rest of the gang can be dredged up from whatever depths of oblivion they've disappeared into so that they can emerge, blinking, into the light once more

'Twas brillig and the slithey toves

did gyre and gimble in the wabe.

All mimsy were the borogoves

and the mome raths outgrabe.

And all the rest of it

Admittedly not original, but don't have the time to come up with something off the cuff at the moment

by **Satish** » Thu Mar 25, 2004 4:02 pm

Why should people write at all?

by **rock_26iin** » Thu Mar 25, 2004 8:40 pm

Japanese Beetles

130 minutes

for us to sit in silence

the sun burns my face

so I turn away

wishing you would speak

but knowing

every word you're thinking

scares me

like Japanese beetles in my hair

April Parish

by **Teetotaller** » Fri Mar 26, 2004 1:06 pm

The world still looked the same

I drank, drank

And hid myself from the world

And the world from me.

by **Happy Hyderabadi** » Sat Mar 27, 2004 8:51 am

Verse is Poetry!

In Verse is Poetry,

DiVERSE, ObVERSE,

AdVERSE, ReVERSE,

All VERSE is Poetry!

Observe, say Verse

Deserve, go Verse

Reserve, do Verse

Re-serve, all VERSE!

City in Verse,

Happy City Hyderabad!

City is Diverse,

Happy City Hyderabad!

City is Universe,

Happy City Hyderabad!

City is All Verse,

Happy City Hyderabad!!

by **rock_26iin** » Sat Mar 27, 2004 3:59 pm

Grandmother, why do you slave

Over that hot stove cooking

That fried rice, Filipino style?

Does it taste so good

Because of that water that you sprinkle

From your fingers to the rice?

Your scent lingers,

Mingles with the overheated oil and burnt rice

That will later crackle

Between my white teeth

With the taste of fire-burnt bitterness.

You smile when I compliment your cooking,

As the soy sauce covered grains

Do their delicate little dance in my mouth,

And I ask for a second helping.

by **black wizard** » Sun Apr 11, 2004 11:51 am

Multifarious carnage

Meretriciously internecine

Sublime enmangling steelbath

Of escheated atrocities

Enigmatic longanimity of ruminent mass graves

Meritorious victory, into body-bags now scraped...

Regnant fleshpiles

The dead regorged

Osculatory majestic wrath

This carnal forge

Desensitized - to perspicuous horror

Dehumanized - fresh cannon fodder...

Meritorious horror

Perspicuous onslaught

Dehumanized - cannon fodder

Killing sanitized

Slaughter sanctified

Desensitized - to genocide

Reigning corpsepiles

Death regorged

Sousing bloodbath

Carnage forged...

In the cold, callous dignity of the mass grave...

Multiferocious carnage

Cruel, mendacious creed

Sublime, murderous bloodbath

Of fiscal atrocities

Inexorable mettle in redolent consomme

An opprobious crucible of molten human waste.

Priapismic deathpiles

Infinitely regorged.

The smelting butchery,

Of the carnal forge.

Desensitized to pragmatic murder,

Dehumanized into cannon fodder.

by **azazel** » Sun Apr 11, 2004 11:30 pm

wtf

by **Fiddler** » Tue Apr 13, 2004 12:26 pm

black wizard wrote:Multifarious carnage
Meretriciously internecine
Sublime enmangling steelbath
Of escheated atrocities

Enigmatic longanimity of ruminent mass graves
Meritorious victory, into body-bags now scraped...

Regnant fleshpiles
The dead regorged
Osculatory majestic wrath
This carnal forge

Desensitized - to perspicuous horror
Dehumanized - fresh cannon fodder...

Meritorious horror
Perspicuous onslaught
Dehumanized - cannon fodder

Killing sanitized
Slaughter sanctified
Desensitized - to genocide

Reigning corpsepiles
Death regorged

Sousing bloodbath
Carnage forged...

In the cold, callous dignity of the mass grave...

Multiferocious carnage
Cruel, mendacious creed
Sublime, murderous bloodbath
Of fiscal atrocities

Inexorable mettle in redolent consomme
An opprobious crucible of molten human waste.

Priapismic deathpiles
Infinitely regorged.
The smelting butchery,
Of the carnal forge.

Desensitized to pragmatic murder,
Dehumanized into cannon fodder.

LOL PSD are you listening??

Poetry, music and more...