Little grain have I collected from a mass of chaff.
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Ch 08 On Rules For Conduct In Life - Maxim 42
Who has renounced appetites for the sake of approbation by men has fallen from licit into illicit appetites.
A devotee who sits in a corner not for God’s sake
Is helpless. What can he see in a dark mirror?
Little by little becomes much and drop by drop will be a torrent; that is to say, he who has no power gathers small stones that he may at the proper opportunity annihilate the pride of his foe.
Drop upon drop collected will make a river.
Rivers upon rivers collected will make a sea.
Little and little together will become much.
The granary is but grain upon grain.
A friend is one to whom you can pour out the contents of your heart, chaff and grain alike. Knowing that the gentlest of hands will take and sift it, keep what is worth keeping and with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.
Newspaper editors are men who separate the wheat from the chaff, and then print the chaff.
quote by Adlai Stevenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An editor is someone who separates the wheat from the chaff and then prints the chaff.
quote by Adlai E. Stevenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Editor a person employed by a newspaper, whose business it is to separate the wheat from the chaff, and to see that the chaff is printed.
quote by Elbert Hubbard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Editor: a person employed by a newspaper, whose business it is to separate the wheat from the chaff, and to see that the chaff is printed.
quote by Elbert Hubbard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Editor: a person employed on a newspaper whose business it is to seperate the wheat from the chaff, and to see that the chaff is printed.
quote by Elbert Hubbard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A friend is one to whom one can pour out all the contents of one's heart, chaff and grain together, knowing that the gentlest of hands will take and sift it, keeping what is worth keeping, and, with the breath of kindness, blow the rest away.
Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder” (The Billion-Dollar Question)
We must all stay aware…..,
Of the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder….,
It’s been increasing for years….,
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….! ! !
Can’t dare turn our backs….,
On the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….,
It’ll sneak up and kill us…,
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….! ! !
It’s hard to believe and conceive….
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….,
That’s why so many are blind….,
To the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder …! ! !
We’ve seen the bloody attacks…..,
Of the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….,
So we must face the facts….,
On the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….! ! !
Yes they’re after us all…,
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….,
Their radical religion condones it….,
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….! ! !
Can we control it or stop it….,
So it won’t go any further….? ? ?
That’s the billion-dollar question….,
On the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder …! ! !
poem by Trade Martin
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Projection
you don't feel like talking
to myself yet i insist that we talk
things out
thresh the chaff from the grain
smoothen the edges
remove the creases
before the sun sets
you don't mind me at all
and now you are telling me
that i am angry at myself.
it is solved. You feel for me.
Now i can sleep.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Weapons of Mass Destruction
The Holy Roman Empire and Alexander The Great
Exterminate the globe, with extreme prejudice,
A Weapon of Mass Destruction
The European Inquisition, A Weapon of Mass Destruction
The Holy Christian Crusades, A Weapon of Mass Destruction
The Manifest Destiny and land expansion, A Weapon of Mass Destruction
Globalization and commercialization of the many rain forests,
A Weapon of Mass Destruction
Comprehensive sanctions is economic violence,
A Weapon of Mass Destruction
The procreation of religion and God, A Weapon of Mass Destruction
Democratizing the whole world, A Weapon of Mass Destruction
The extermination of The Iroquois Confederation, A Weapon of Mass Destruction
World domination the salvation of, A Weapon of Mass Destruction
War, is the greatest Weapon of Mass Destruction
The justification for annihilation of, The Constitution
The constitution of retribution, the absolution of, A Weapon of Mass Destruction.
poem by Josephine DixonBanks
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That Part Of A Whole
it is a tiny part
as tiny as a grain of sand
you hardly give it
attention
you keep on saying
what is in this grain of sand
that philosophers
say contain this universe
something so tiny
yet to contain everything
and so you hold the grain of sand
against the light
and revolve it around your fingers
little finger planets
to the sun grain of sand
you cannot believe what you
felt and saw
and so you throw away that grain
of sand to the air
eating it like a big mouthed monsters
you are lost
your world dissolves
like ice
you turn to air
and there you are
gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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After The Slow Slipping Of Self
grab your emptiness
like a handful of sand
in your hand
and let it spill there
grain after grain
after grain
until all is gone
away
slipping from
your fingers
then feel that
your hands
are still yours
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I don't necessarily write everything as automatically assuming it will be collected, there's nothing that says Hitman will be collected, though it might be.
quote by Garth Ennis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dawn Of A New Day
The thoughts from yesterday - forgotten
I like the way this new skin feels
Bring me splinters of tomorrow
Collect the parts where I win
Against the grain, against the odds
I'll rise and I won't trip again
The dawn of a new day never looked
As good as this
Concrete breath and dust filled tears
A one-way ride to inner peace
I never thought, I'd join the others
Those who use the dice to solve
Against the grain, against the odds
I'll rise and I won't trip again (x2)
The dawn of a new day never looked
As good as this
Against the grain, against the odds
I'll rise and I won't trip again
Against the grain, against the odds
Against the grain, against the odds(x2)
I'll rise and I won't trip again
Against the grain, against the odds(x3)
song performed by by In Flames
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do Unto Me
Crashing in like a surf break pounds the shore,
soak my flesh as every grain of sand,
till all my bones ache to their very core,
and passions fiery heat need not be fanned.
Then carry me, like a curly golden maid,
as fresh as eggs collected in the morn,
who reaches for the milk jug in the shade,
to wash your feet without an ounce of scorn.
Who cherishes each vow to keep life sane,
engulfing loneliness inside the soul,
as earth spins hyper fast and numbs the brain,
like a hungry swirling mass of purple hole.
Untie the knots in unforgiving space,
to wrap them up again as ribboned bows;
representing gifts of love and common grace,
like a newly polished chalice all aglow.
Then shoo away the shadows that are hiding;
Threatening to take our breath in deathly throe,
by loving me as if I was worth finding,
till the quiet in my head becomes a roar.
poem by Sara Fielder
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But there's always a Mass. It's not a formal Mass at all. We're sitting around her dining room table with wine and Eucharist and holding hands. It's very informal and small, but to me that's a wonderful way to have Mass.
quote by Linda Vester
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waiting On The Wheat Harvest
as you sow brothers sisters so you wheat harvest reap
as a grain of wheat dies germinates bears fruit to heap
Jesus will completely clean up threshing floor gather his wheat
chaff he will burn up with unquenchable fire hell suffering heat
an enemy came in over sowed weeds in among seed wheat
reapers harvest collect weeds burn them saving only wheat
Satan demands sifts men as wheat to blow away in sifting wind
Son of man will send angels to gather chosen ones from ill wind
a grain of wheat falls into the ground dies then bears fruit new life
so hate soul temptation in this world safeguard soul for eternal life
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Collected In My Kingdom
No harm is going to come,
To anyone...
If they are connected.
If they are connected.
If they are connected.
No harm will be done,
To anyone...
If they are connected.
No harm,
If connected!
To anyone.
And,
If they are connected.
My Father,
Said to me...
If they are connected,
I will love them...
Collected,
In My Heart.
Collected,
In My Soul.
Collected...
In My Kingdom!
If they are connected.
I will love them...
Collected,
In My Heart.
Collected,
In My Soul.
Collected...
In My Kingdom!
If they are connected.
If they are connected.
If they are connected.
If they are connected.
If they are connected.
No harm will be done,
To anyone...
If they are connected.
And,
If they are connected.
My Father,
Said to me...
If they are connected,
I will love them...
Collected,
In My Heart.
Collected,
In My Soul.
Collected...
In My Kingdom
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Too Many Words Too Many Forms Of Rashes
words have the bad trait
of bombarding us
not with meanings but just
utterances
at some point we select what
is necessary
the usual chaff and grain method
that the winnows teach us
with the winds of
time and change
and it happens to me many times
as i stand waiting for the plane
that shall take me to another new beginning
or the bus that leaves the dust behind the wheels
of misfortune
or the boat that vomits the water at its back
where you want to stand and reflect
on the dimming of light
words can be wars
and there you go
pack you bags and walk your journey
without them.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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