Dung is no saint, but where it falls it works miracles.
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I Believe In Miracles.
I believe in Miracles - I've seen the risng Sun
I believe in Miracles - I've seen the cheetah run.
I believe in Miracles - I've seen my baby born
I believe in Miracles - I've glimpst the unicorn.
I believe in Miracles - Man walked on the Moon
I believe in Miracles - They're every day in June.
I believe in Miracles - I've seen a junkie cured
I believe in Miracles - A winos been restored
I believe in Miracles - My firends survive car crashes
I believe in Miracles - When England won the ashes!
I believe in Miracles - We trashed the Berlin Wall
I believe in Miracles - We stood and watched it fall.
I believe in Miracles - The harvest grain is stored
I believe in Miracles - When David Beckham scored!
I believe in Miracles - In every path I've trod
I believe in Miracles - 'Cos I believe in GOD!
poem by John Knight
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Don't believe in the saint unless he works miracles.
The saint has no believers unless he works miracles.
I Dont Believe In Miracles
Written by russ ballard, 1980
Found on alibi.
I walk along the road and past your door
Then I remember things you said
I know in time we couldve been so much more
But if you wanna come back home, go right ahead
But I dont believe in miracles
I dont believe in miracles
But I thought you might show your face
Or have the grace to tell me where you are
I believe I was your game, your ball (your ball)
If you tossed me up then I would fall
And so youve won again, ah, you win them all
But I believe Id run to you, if you should call
But I dont believe in miracles (dont believe in miracles)
I dont believe in miracles (dont believe in miracles)
But I thought you might show your face
Or have the grace to tell me where you are (tell me where you are)
I believe that somewhere theres someone
Whos gonna light the way when things go wrong
The bullet that shot me down came from your gun
The words that turned me round were from your song
But I dont believe in miracles (dont believe in miracles)
I dont believe in miracles (dont believe in miracles)
But I thought you might show your face
Or have the grace to tell me where you are (tell me where you are)
But I dont believe in miracles (dont believe in miracles)
I dont believe in miracles (dont believe in miracles)
But I thought you might show your face
Or have the grace to tell me where you are
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Man Who Ate Cow Dung All His Life (secretly)
everyday
he feeds himself
with cow dung
but this is done
discreetly
for who in this
normal world
would like
to satisfy
himself with
dung
who in this
society would
love a man
who eats and
smells like
cow dung?
of course, he
feared
that soon if
society knows
he shall be
another ostracized
ostrich
electrically fenced
and monitored
and segregated
at Ward 8
for social
rehabilitation
he didn't like dung
reason and logic
so tell him well
but he couldn't resist
the smell of dung
even if it is kilometers
away
there is simply this
obsession for
cow dung
and he begins
to salivate even
for the word
dung
and for so many nights
he prayed
that his mind-set be
changed
so that he can prefer
steak
medium rare
than watery cow
dung
life has its own
idiosyncrasies for
he prefers dung
than barbecue
despite his
genius for good
food
and so
not to deprive
himself of what he
really loves
in his whole life
he eats cow dung
stores them in his
refrigerator
and eats cow dung
regularly
savoring every
fiber and enjoying
that rotten
sticky smell of
rotten grass
and leaves or
hay
how he wishes
that the shrink can
teach him to hate
dung
but this never
happened
he never referred
the matter
somehow
for fear of information
leaks
for modesty aside
he is
a great man
in his field of
endeavor
no one knows this
this is his secret
and i have known this
only about a year & a half
after he died
when i found his
black diary hidden
under the
old creaky bed
because it
smells dung
itself
in his
luxurious house
beside
a river
you know him
he is one of the greatest men
in our history
a philosopher
writer
philanthropist
scient ist
artist
sculptor
a genius
who ate cow dung
all his life
well adored by history
a hero for all humanity
the Renaissance man
as they dub him to be
the man who ate
and secretly loved cow
dung all this life
do not bother
let us keep his greatness
history is always right
do not argue
great men
revered the cow
ate cow dung
and become
famous
throughout the life
of history
their names
written in the pages of books
like sticky
piece of dung
but shits
unknown
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The confession of evil works is the first beginning of good works.
quote by Saint Augustine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Money Talks
Money talks
While the time walks.
Money warms up your desires.
while everything else goes.
We forget to live.
while trying to pick up too much 'rose'!
so survive folks,
Lets do over time works,
To ride of falls
Dont get mad folks.
This is how the things works.
money opens closed locks.
No one cares how u doing
If u dont have enough'dolls'!
So wake up early every morning
so ur brain works.
Just Because in this world the money talks.
Work enough and you'll find opened doors.
You'll have farms even horses.
Big shining cars and huge houses.
But when the winter comes and the green falls.
The rain sweeps away the golden 'roses'.
When the white snow falls
No one has the chance to the better choice,
All ends up in the same place poor or rich then the money walks.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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When You Dump Dung
When you,
Dump dung.
Do it in a place to be used.
With someone else who'll accept,
What you do.
As if...
You've got something that nourishes.
I said,
...
Do it in a place to be used.
With someone else who'll accept,
What you do.
As if...
You've got something that nourishes.
When you dump dung,
With a stinging that stuns...
It only closes up eyes.
It doesn't open up a mind,
To empathize...
The reason or the why for the doing.
When you dump dung,
With a stinging that stuns...
It only closes up eyes.
It doesn't open up a mind,
To empathize...
The reason or the why for the doing.
When you,
Dump dung.
Do it in a place to be used.
With someone else who'll accept,
What you do.
As if...
You've got something that nourishes.
I said,
When you dump dung...
Do it in a place to be used.
With someone else who'll accept,
What you do.
As if...
You've got something that nourishes.
When a dummy does a dung dumped.
Nobody stays around but runs to hide.
To leave before the spreading of the stench comes.
When you,
Dump dung.
Do it in a place to be used.
With someone else who'll accept,
What you do.
As if...
You've got something that nourishes.
When a dummy does a dung dumped.
Nobody stays around but runs to hide.
To leave before the spreading of the stench comes.
With a finding they've been brushed aside.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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through His upright
God works miracles
to show the world how faith should be
quote by by John Celes
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I Went To A Fiesta Today
it is the feast of San Vicente today,
and all those places named after this saint
took turns in butchering their chickens and pigs
as offering to the powerful miracles of this saint.
some played their gongs to remind
them of the rhythm of love and action
because this saint taught and
showed that God has the power
to cure the sick and liberate
the minds of those who are in prison.
i went to the house of this woman who once
was mad. She confessed her sins of commission
and omission.
She once kicked her husband and
left him.
Now she is serving us food and stays beside her husband.
She smiles. She remembers everything.
Once she once was in deep depression and she prayed a lot
at the chapel of San Vicente.
Light shone upon her forehead.
There was a dove. There was fire. There was a voice.
And surely enough she went home
whole and cured.
Hence, this feast, this thanksgiving, she said.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fertilizer does no good in a heap, but a little spread around works miracles all over.
quote by Richard Brinsley Sheridan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A cask of wine works more miracles than a church full of saints.
Love is the great miracle cure. Loving ourselves works miracles in our lives.
quote by Louise Hay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As fair greits the bairn that is dung after noon, as he that is dung before noon.
Sister Alphonsa (Aug 1910 – July 1946) From Blessed One to Saint
The cradle of Christianity
In India is Kerala-
Where Saint Thomas, the Apostle
Set foot, two thousand years ago.
The fourth child of father, Ouseph,
She lost her mother, Mariam,
When she was just three years of age,
Remaining sick, all through her life.
‘Be a nun, my child’- were the words,
A Carmelite nun said to her:
These were engraved within her heart
Of love for Jesus Christ, till death.
She did not want to get married;
She chose to be a nun in life;
So, burnt her leg in live ash-pit,
To prove her wish to follow Christ.
She joined the Franciscan Convent
Of Clarist nuns and took her vows;
She suffered pain all life in bed,
But offered it to Jesus Christ.
With pain and agony, she lived,
Self-mortified a life for Christ;
Her suffering had turned all joy,
When love of Savior, filled her heart.
She suffered from malaria,
And Tuberculosis and ulcer;
Some doubted her piety too;
But in the end, just truth triumphed.
A robber attacked her by night,
And left her bleeding and upset;
She died when just thirty-seven;
Of double pneumonia illness.
A one-year boy of Kottayam
Was cured of his deformity,
When parents prayed over her tomb,
Starting a string of miracles!
Beatified by John Paul II,
In 1986 itself,
She wrought miracles numerous,
For devotees who prayed to her.
Young children flocked to see her tomb
And prayed to Sister Alphonsa;
Their handicaps were cured at once;
Ailments of stomach vanished fast.
Some barren wombs had gift of child;
All kinds of ailments vanished fast;
She interceded when they prayed
To God and miracles were wrought.
Her name has brought her hometown fame;
The sister will be canonized
On October twelfth of this year-
First Indian nun and female saint!
Like how wheat grains are crushed and ground
To bake the Holy Eucharist;
And grapes are pressed to make good wine,
Our sufferings too make us good.
Her tomb at Bharananganam,
Is famous pilgrimage centre.
She is the proof of God’s great works;
The road to sainthood isn’t easy!
Dedicated to the loving memory
Of the Venerable Sis. Alphonsa,
Who will be declared Saint shortly.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-6-2008
poem by John Celes
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My mother always called me an ugly weed, so I never was aware of anything until I was older. Plain girls should have someone telling them they are beautiful. Sometimes this works miracles.
quote by Hedy Lamarr
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nothing
i am nothing, then!
not more than what
i believe in;
not less than
what i do!
nothing...
not stars and infinite planets,
not dung or mounds of trash.
not song and dance,
not holy, i'm quite sure!
not the axe, the blade,
the bomb that falls...
not dead bodies in the ditch!
nothing...
not spew, not delirious tongues
searching forbidden lands.
not cobwebs, not hunger,
not you, not yours....
nothing, everything,
and nothing!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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One cannot become a saint when one works sixteen hours a day.
quote by Jean-Paul Sartre
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The saint who works no cures has few pilgrims to his shrine.