A handful of couscous is better than Mecca and all its dust.
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Handful Of Dust
Your pressed your face against my heart
I felt that you could look right through me
We live in days that have no time
We live in times that now refuse me
And somewhere out beyond his town
There lies a world that now can turn us round
And we need it and we need it
Oh got to have some thing to believe in
Ive got enough to believe in you
What can I give just to know that its true ?
But Ive gotta begin to say
Now theyve taken my pride in this way.
How can you give me your love ?
I just cant give you enough
How can you give me your trust
With a handful of dust ?
I feel to thin before your eyes
I feel so naked under open skies
I once stood tall within this town
But now the time has come to bring us down.
We must have more with his power in hand
We must believe things will go as we planned
But Ive gotta begin to say
Now theyve taken my pride in this way.
How can you give me your love ?
I just cant give you enough
How can you give me your trust
With a handful of dust,
With a handful of dust ?
Making love through electric skies
Now I know where my fortune lies
Breathe the air and feel this land
cause its slipping through me
Like dust from my hand.
How can you give me your love ?
I just cant give you enough
How can you give me your trust
With a handful of dust ?
How can you give me your love ?
I just cant give you enough
How can you give me your trust
With a handful of dust ?
How can you give me your love ?
How can you give me your love ?
Now give me your love!
How can you give me your trust
With a handful of dust ?
How can you give me your love ?
Give me
How can you give me your trust
With a handful of dust ?
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Handful Of Dust
Your pressed your face against my heart
I felt that you could look right through me
we live in days that have no time
we live in times that now refuse me
and somewhere out beyond his town
there lies a world that now can turn us round
and we need it and we need it
oh got to have some thing to believe in
I've got enough to believe in you
what can I give just to know that it's true ?
But I've gotta begin to say
now they've taken my pride in this way.
How can you give me your love ?
I just can't give you enough
how can you give me your trust
with a handful of dust ?
I feel to thin before your eyes
I feel so naked under open skies
I once stood tall within this town
but now the time has come to bring us down.
We must have more with his power in hand
we must believe things will go as we planned
but I've gotta begin to say
now they've taken my pride in this way.
How can you give me your love ?
I just can't give you enough
how can you give me your trust
with a handful of dust,
with a handful of dust ?
Making love through electric skies
now I know where my fortune lies
breathe the air and feel this land
'cause it's slipping through me
like dust from my hand.
How can you give me your love ?
I just can't give you enough
how can you give me your trust
with a handful of dust ?
How can you give me your love ?
I just can't give you enough
how can you give me your trust
with a handful of dust ?
How can you give me your love ?
How can you give me your love ?
Now give me your love!
how can you give me your trust
with a handful of dust ?
How can you give me your love ?
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The hajjis go to Mecca
The hajjis go to Mecca.
My beloved Ranjha is my Mecca.
Yes, I am crazy!
I am wedded to Ranjha.
Still my father pushes me.
Yes, I am crazy!
The hajjis go to Mecca
My bridegroom, within me, is my Mecca.
Yes, I am crazy!
Hajjis and ghazis both lie within us,
Thieves and pickpockets too.
Yes, I am crazy!
The Hajjis go to Mecca
But I am going to Takht Hazara.
Yes, I am crazy!
Wherever is your beloved, there lies Kaaba,
Though you search the four books.
Yes, I am crazy!
poem by Bulleh Shah
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Mid-September Sun
Dry and ripening:
sea flat and shining
like burning glass.
Gulls floating
like ducks on a giant's pond.
Small Coppers, Blues and Hairstreaks
playing
like blown leaves
in parched grass.
Victoria plums,
blackberries.
This is the turning
of the year
when all that is thought of as ‘there'
is found to be ‘here',
when harvests are collected,
lifetimes are inspected,
(next time's cosmic seeds selected)
and the traveller sees fear
in his handful of dust.
(In his handful of dust) .
poem by Brian Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little by little, the camel goes into the couscous.
A Handful Of Pain
(m - kusch l -deris)
I believe what we called a game
Is more than just a handful of pain
I still remember every hour
Every second has been hours
Far away from many burden
We met eyes without a curtain
Headless into a new sensation
Wether brain nor fear of patience
Careless we had a game to play
You crossed my way for twenty days
Why dont you just heal
The yearning that I feel?
Hey, what we called a game
Is more than just a handful of pain
We got the wrong ways
Cause I believe its more
Than just a handful of pain
We got the wrong ways
Cause I believe its more
Than just a handful of pain
Were different colours, diferent nature
Both we weer like pupil and teacher
Its a puzzle with two pieces
Still not done cause one still misses
Helpless I go through unknown stages
A chapter of life which has missing pages
Torture not owly phisical
It pains unbound, way way down
The yearning that I feel?
Hey, I believe what we called a game
Is more than just a handful of pain
We got the wrong ways
Cause I believe its more
Than just a handful of pain
We got the wrong ways
Cause I believe its more
Than just a handful of pain
Solo 1: michael
Solo 2: roland
song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
quote by T.S. Eliot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nothing but a handful of dust will fill the eyes of man.
A handful of dust, four capitals and shit on all i possessed.
With the people, for the people, by the people. I crack up when I hear it; I say, with the handful, for the handful, by the handful, cause that's what really happens.
quote by Fannie Lou Hamer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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[Mankind] is governed by minorities, seldom or never by majorities. It suppresses its feelings and its beliefs and follows the handful that makes the most noise. Sometimes the noisy handful is right, sometimes wrong, but no matter, the crowd follows it.
Mark Twain in The Mysterious Stranger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Are We?
WHAT ARE WE?
What are we?
Dust of the earth
Dust of the stars
Thinking dust
Dreaming dust
Loving dust
Dust of Dust
God’s Dust
What are we?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A thought
She's never quite given her heart
to anyone but a few
and anyone but a few
have ne'er give their hearts too.
She's never quite given her trust
to more than a handful, I'd say
but more than a handful, for shame
never trusted her, she'd proclaim.
She's never quite figured out why,
or her reason or her gain
that she's given all her loyalty
while others, stray that way.
So this be ever so candid
and this be ever so short
for she cannot be arsed to explain it
or figure out why she ought.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Dust In The Wind
Music : Kerry Livgren
Lyrics: Kerry Livgren
I close my eyes
Only for a moment and the moment's gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Now, Don't hang on
Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky
It slips away
And all your money won't another minute buy
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our stars have trodden all the milk paths
our stars have trodden all the milk paths
spilled like dust for the souls to split
heaven and earth and the hell in stones cast
learn every single pebble in its aftermaths
murmuring through the galaxy that fails
at first whispers stricken by the lip crack - its holes
breathing stardust sucked in the mouth - its halls
mastering the silence and all its ways
still there we stood
still there we could
talk to the trees and survive uncut
by the grass swords wet with a dropp of dew
shivering an early blood
in a nightly touch handful of the blue
they rained they crashed they touched the soil
chained in the castles talking through the walls
settled in our bodies spirit sealed forgiven
the first day of silence the first evil word
just begging for some more time to be given
a silent prayer heavenward heard
to hold a star in the first of its falls
now we wait and wait and weigh the day
when the sky parchment silently unrolls
to gather above all the silent cries
to gather the dust and its silent calls
so that we can
that we can again
talk to the trees and still be uncut
by the grass swords wet in a dropp of dew
shivering an early blood
in a nightly touch handful of the blue
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Bones in the desert
Where pilgrims seek the Prophet's tomb
Across the Arabian waste,
Upon the ever-shifting sands,
A fearful path is traced.
Far up to the horizon's verge,
The traveller sees it rise, --
The line of ghastly bones that bleach
Beneath those burning skies.
Across it, tempest and simoom
The desert sands have strewed,
But still that line of spectral white
Forever is renewed.
For while along that burning track,
The caravans move on,
Still do the way-worn pilgrims fall,
Ere yet the shrine be won.
There the tired camel lays him down
And shuts his gentle eyes;
And there the fiery rider droops,
Toward Mecca looks and dies.
They fall unheeded from the ranks: --
On sweeps the endless train,
But there, to mark the desert path,
Their whitening bones remain.
And thus I read the mournful tale,
Upon the traveller's page,
I thought how like the march of life
Is this sad pilgrimage.
For every heart hath some fair dream,
Some object unattained,
And far off in the distance lies
Some Mecca to be gained.
But beauty, manhood, love and power
Go in their morning down,
And longing eyes and outstretched arms,
Tell of the goal unwon.
The mighty caravan of life
Above their dust may sweep,
Nor shout, nor trampling feet shall break
The rest of those who sleep.
Oh! fountains that I have not reached,
That gush far off e'en now,
When shall I quench my spirit's thirst
Where your sweet waters flow.
Oh! Mecca of my life-long dreams,
Cloud palaces that rise
In that far distance, pierced by hope,
When will ye greet mine eyes.
The shadows lengthen toward the East
From the declining sun,
And the pilgrim, as ye still recede,
Sighs for the journey done.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Dust In The Wind
I close my eyes
Only for a moment and the moment's gone
All my dreams
Flash before my eyes of curiosity
Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Now
Don't hang on
Nothing lasts forever but the Earth and Sky
It slips away
And all your money won't another minute buy
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
Everything is dust in the wind
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sometimes I am amazed of the magic that is done
It all started with something insignificant
Like dust,
Sticking on a window pane, and I want it
Dusted off, it is dirt, it is unwanted,
And I do not even know what to do next
About such
Insignificance and feelings of simply
Trying to get rid of dust immediately,
But then, I begin to think about this
Dust, this me, this dust in me,
Some dusts on my feet, some dusts on
My forehead, and some dusts in my ears,
Some dusts in my eyes so obstructive
Of what I really am, and I know what to do next,
The bulb lighting in my head in a sudden,
I touch the dust,
I feel the dust with my fingers, and I am crazy enough
I taste the dust on my window pane,
And I shiver,
I am shaking to its taste, the taste of nothingness
If was from dust that I really come,
I now remember,
It will be to dust that I shall return,
I am now reminded,
And the dust that I used to see
As dirt, as something so insignificant, is now,
A magical patch, glistening, so filled with meaning,
I am nothing but dust; I am biting the dust,
I am very insignificant, in that window pane, at first.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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