Poetry here.

[Pluto]

How did it happen and why
are some of the questions posed
but it must be said that the how
and why are not so important as
the who. Who was it that brought
the towers down. If we follow the
official explanation then we grudgingly
accept everything that's followed but
if we disagree then everything including
our outlook collapses into a confusing void.
One becomes unanchored, mind set adrift.
Better to not think either way, continue as
best you can. There are more important things
to consider like what am I doing and where am
I going. The great I is bigger than you. Yet we
know that to continue without resolving that what's
inside will continue to gnaw away at your soul, eating
the heart out of you. This is the real world, time to wake
up and accept the fact, infact; it might be said that, as those
involved have said, history will be the judge not you or anyone
present but history. For it knows all from up on high and sees the
reasons why. To leave oil in the ground under enemies foot is reckless
and tantamount to a death sentence for all that has been achieved thus.

[Pluto]

Can we just get past the first stage
'cause we know that things are made
to tie you up in knots, so let's move
over and past the first trap and consider
things as they sit in this new light and clear day.
Just leave it alone is the natural reaction though it's
happened again and before. We are prisoners here,
the majority or at least those who matter will continue
in ignorance to the facts, indeed, what are the facts, do
we even know ourselves; you live in a distorted society which
in turn distorts you and perhaps this is the goal, don't educate
them but make them not fully beings but specific machine for task.
mainstream, what is it and where is it going because its taking everything with it.

[attofishpi]

Wispy willows

grace her lines

fresh water trickles

soothes the mind

A silver lining

her edges green

for rolling fields

of beauty pristine

My England

[Pluto]

Come out into the light
See that it is easy to do
Your chains are fading away

[attofishpi]

This star it shines upon
where it glistens still
where it feeds the soul a quest
to fulfill.
Enter the Test where the sol ent'ers
little child to question Wight.
Itchen to know this little mind
dispensed upon the earth rather blind.
Running through the chaos of time
knocked down and placed well out of line.
From here the child sees much more than they
and reluctant to return to their ridiculous fray.
So here it remains
here to stay
Why?
Why?
Y?
Well, lets take a punt
Cos its shallow here
And the hEart of us
cares not.

DEAE ANCASTAE GEMINVS MANI VSLM

[duszek]

Nice poem about England, Mr. Attofishpi. Makes one think about lush places.

[attofishpi]

Nice poem about England, Mr. Attofishpi. Makes one think about lush places.

Cheers bud...intention acheived!

[attofishpi]

Under this star
i cool
natures no fool
now i exist
light my fix
you my thought
whom i fought
perhaps to think
am i
i am
i think
perhaps knot
tied taught
skip not?
to think
you a friend
disheveled
a trend?
force fed
a blend
of media
pretend?
a mass
of piracy
in the eyes
of lies
a lot of mediaocracy
a fill of hypocrisy
a fill of need
a fill to bleed
the Truth that is
far beyond this bliss...

[Richard Baron]

Cogito

Descartes would have said
When I go to bed
I cannot yet know
If this here pillow
Is only a dream
Not what it might seem
Until I have thought
As he said I ought
Of what thinking shows
And of God who knows
'Tis wrong to deceive
Or humans to peeve
But what if God asked
Why he should be tasked
With helping us out
For he has the clout
To do as he please
To fox us and tease
With logic to show
That we really know
While if truth be told
We errors unfold.


More philosophical poems are available at http://www.rbphilo.com/poems.html

[artisticsolution]

Richard....Is there no end to your talent? Do you paint too? Is there anything you have tried and failed? Just curious.

I did go to your site and read some of your other poems. I am late for work so I will have to read more later. One thing I did notice though that I found interesting is that in most of the poems I read this morning, your voice has a hint of helping teachery...or gentle parenting...or is it kind offering to the student....some type of tone of that nature that I can't quite find the words to describe. Anyway, just a quick note to express my awe and to say...I wish I was born you. I have always said that the thing that keeps me from being a brilliant artist is not my talent...but my intellect. But maybe God knew what he was doing by being a little chincy on the brains...as there would be no living with me if I had it all!

[Richard Baron]

Thank you for your kind comments, AS. The tone I had not noticed, but now I see what you mean. Be assured that the gods have given me no talent for creating visual art, or music, or for driving horseless carriages.

[keithprosser2]

Their is a new poet, from Uganda
Who's every line contains a blunder.
If ewe spot them right off,
He'll move back to Slough
And never write another limerick as long as he lives. Da.

[attofishpi]

But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands.
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be reliev'd by prayer,
Which pierces so that it assaults
Mercy itself, and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
Let your indulgence set me free.



From Prospero in The Tempest

[artisticsolution]

The Spark

The words that poets set upon the page
Will they suffice to speak her face so fair?
The paint that shows the shimmer of her hair
Can it portray her prime, her magic age?
I strive by books and pictures to engage
With all the wonders found on land, in air,
But when I woman meet beyond compare
Life bursts beyond that paper, canvas, cage.

Away with words and pictures, feeble jest
Let contact be direct as the first spark
That Adam from the hand of God received.
In wordless cries of passion from the breast
We may to all our inmost passions hark
For real life must be felt to be believed.


Okay, I have read all your poems, Richard. And this is the one I like best (or so far as I know as I can't understand the ones written in a foreign language.)

I especially like the last line. How does that reconcile with academic discipline? Who would have thought an atheist/scholar would admit to such an emotional idea!

Can you understand the theist any better when you apply the same sentiment to them? When aesthetics come to life so intensely that you feel it's breath on your neck...how is it possible not to believe? Not that I have had that experience with God breathing down my neck...he has not yet made his presence known in an intimate way. Aloof bassard.

[Richard Baron]

Can you understand the theist any better when you apply the same sentiment to them? When aesthetics come to life so intensely that you feel it's breath on your neck...how is it possible not to believe? Not that I have had that experience with God breathing down my neck...he has not yet made his presence known in an intimate way. Aloof bassard.

I go in the opposite direction. It is possible to find such aesthetic and emotional satisfaction in the natural world that thoughts of the divine become redundant. That is, I don't feel that there is anything mysterious about passion. It does not pale when I think of it as a product of brain cells.