April 2009
Real (6:11)
Sat, 25/04/2009 - 12:46 — NadrockSome say I must be crazy
Some think I've lost my way
Others just don't see their conscience is hazy
Duplicity is a game I just won't play
You think you know me inside out
Behind these young eyes I got wise
I'll tell ya this isn't what life's about
If you wanna know the truth, look to the skies
(Chorus)
This universe just don't lie
Cover up if choose not to feel
The reality's there deep inside
Quit being someone else... just get real
Haven't ya learned it's okay to be yourself
The ones that matter are the ones who believe
I've Been There Too (4:36)
Sat, 25/04/2009 - 12:28 — NadrockYou think you're the only one to suffer
You think yours is the only point of view
Father or mother, sister or brother
Anyone can show you the proof
(Chorus)
I know how it feels to be alone
Battered, lonely, hurt and bruised
Pick your time, then pick up the phone
I'll understand, 'cuz I've been there too
It's hard to believe there are others out there
Doesn't it seem strange we all have a link
I wanna kill the pain before it's too much to bear
There's nothing worse than too much time to think
(Chorus)
(Instrumental)
(Bridge)
Maybe we can put our heads together
Resurrection by Abu Sayed
Mon, 20/04/2009 - 08:55 — Abu SayedToday my joy breaks
All narrow walls of everyday
Thoughts and deeds.All mundane
Choice to treasure up profit
I’ve denied.Today all my desire have raised
To high heaven breaking
All my personal individual benefit
Into an unique universal will.
Today any of mankind’s sufferings
I’ve drawn up
Upon my own shoulder
Knowing my fault in this great folly.
Today my pain is nobler than
Any pleasure, as because, today
I’ve discovered my own
Image inside every form and
Formless of reality.
Cycling 2
Wed, 15/04/2009 - 05:57 — Belinda JohnstonFour women - side by side
Cycling
Like wheels, turning: Collecting
Leaves and gravel - their lives repeat
Biting air brushes their cheeks
Lacquered hair - glows below the moon’s beam.
A silence sets in - Except for the droning of bicycle lamps
And the pinging of stones’ against spokes.
White plastic bags; rustle in the night wind
The scraping of heels, between stop signs: Breaks their journey
Road works ahead.
Three take the tarmac path - smooth; safe
The other - braves the boulders, dipping down ditches;
Dirt dashes her legs; soaking her socks.
What Sartre Said Next
Fri, 10/04/2009 - 02:15 — Martin De MelloThus oppression justifies itself through oppression: the oppressors produce and maintain by force the evils that render the oppressed, in their eyes, more and more like what they would have to be like to deserve their fate… Terror and exploitation dehumanise, and the exploiter authorises himself with that dehumanisation to carry his exploitation further.
Jean-Paul Sartre, 1957 : in his Introduction to The Colonizer and the Colonized by Albert Memmi
Crafting The Practice by Dike Omeje, ISBN 0946745625, Crocus Books (Commonword Ltd) 2004, Reprinted 2008, £5-00
Sun, 05/04/2009 - 20:06 — Ed KangaiIf one has heard a poet read their work, the voice comes back, naturally when one reads it, iin that person's absence.
The power that comes through, indeed physically resonates on a reading or perusal of these verses is far far stronger than I've experienced with any other poet of whatever renown
And I had no idea that he and I shared a 'contradictory' thing. A great wariness of Criticism. As expressed in a poem one suspects meant to be an articulate summing up of much of what he did and stood for: The final poem in this volume: 'I exist'.
Just Chillin
Sun, 05/04/2009 - 11:09 — Melanie DuncanI think of us, as we in comfort in a space of unity and love. I imagine you sitting in a black leather armchair, with you feet up relaxing after a day at work in which you come home to me in a peaceful mood. You tell me about your day and I listen with a contented smile on my face. You are laughing because you are happy and at peace with yourself and the world. You smell your dinner and know that you will be satisfied.
She hate
Sun, 05/04/2009 - 02:00 — Belinda JohnstonI can’t stand her
she thinks she’s so great
but she’s just so bland.
Those skirts' she wears: Him
on demand; ready to flirt!
She believes, she has the upper hand -
but I know better: Even sent Richard and Judy a letter!
Get it off my chest, rest a bit
then I’ll be ready: To tell her, some home truths -
that I, was going steady.
I had plans in distant lands - Palm trees; him on my arm.
Now look at me: Full of self-pity
he used to say I was so witty- full of charm
now I’ve resorted to self-harm.
Even the dog feels sorry for me
Deep inside the ascetic’s mind - I
Sat, 04/04/2009 - 17:43 — Martin De MelloSomething she did to pass the time, between the phone calls and the boredom and the neat stack of bills piled on the floor. She tidied up the nail clippings and switched off the television. The fridge buzzed. The same heavy duty buzz the electric fly trap at the butcher's makes. He said it’s UV, has the same effect as staring at your piss in a nightclub toilet. So the heroin addicts can’t see their veins. She put the nail clippings in an envelope marked tuusday in green felt tip pen. Then she got up to draw the curtains. Standing at the bus stop below her was the handsomest man.