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Villion's Ballade Of Good Counsel, To His Friends Of Evil Life
Nay, be you pardoner or cheat,
Or cogger keen, or mumper shy,
You'll burn your fingers at the feat,
And howl like other folks that fry.
All evil folks that love a lie!
And where goes gain that greed amasses,
By wile, and trick, and thievery?
'Tis all to taverns and to lasses!
Rhyme, rail, dance, play the cymbals sweet,
With game, and shame, and jollity,
Go jigging through the field and street,
With MYST'RY and MORALITY;
Win gold at GLEEK,--and that will fly,
Where all you gain at PASSAGE passes, -
And that's? You know as well as I,
'Tis all to taverns and to lasses!
Nay, forth from all such filth retreat,
Go delve and ditch, in wet or dry,
Turn groom, give horse and mule their meat,
If you've no clerkly skill to ply;
You'll gain enough, with husbandry,
But--sow hempseed and such wild grasses,
And where goes all you take thereby? -
'Tis all to taverns and to lasses!
ENVOY.
Your clothes, your hose, your broidery,
Your linen that the snow surpasses,
Or ere they're worn, off, off they fly,
'Tis all to taverns and to lasses!
poem by Andrew Lang
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One Answer
The empty churches of today.
What do they truly signify?
that people choose to stay away
because the churches can’t supply.
The leadership that people need.
It seems that they have lost their way.
Not one is willing to concede
that theirs is not the only way.
Hypocrisy and bigotry
It seems have won the upper hand.
Humility and chastity
dismissed completely out of hand.
The priest competing eagerly
to rise up in their hierarchy.
Amongst themselves they can’t agree
a state of total anarchy.
New sects spring up on every side
as people grow dissatisfied.
When what they’re taught does not ring true.
They know precisely what to do.
They make their choice and stay away
and by this action they convey.
That things are not as they should be
and that is why pews stay empty.
6-Apr-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Lines on Methodist Union
Sept. 1883, whereby the whole of the churches of that denomination
were united into one body.
A pleasing sight to-day we see,
Four churches joined in harmony ;
There difference was but trivial,
But strove each other to outrival.
In friendship now they do unite,
And satan only do they fight ;
And they'll plant churches in North-West,
Where they can serve the Lord the best.
poem by James McIntyre
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Taverns
Amongst buoyant chortles
And charlatan tales
From sinewy gutters
Of jocund corruptions
The wafting jigger
And latticing clambers
Of fervent tongues brought
Nostalgia dissipated
From the clogged pores
Of the shriveling skin,
And melancholia was
As evasive as the wind
With the yearning dithering
In the echopractic reveling
Frosted eyes mounted the seams
Of barricading sierras
And you wouldn't hear
The riddance of the opened doors
In these taverns
You may rest your head
And haunt with
The phantom of the blunt
Susurrations of the floor
Clad with anguished blood
Purging the mausoleum gore
Residing in the bones
In these taverns
You may play the puppet
Stringed to your own
And play the criminal
In a sordid carnival
Botching to pilfer
The hooked gambler's
Clandestine pockets
Or somebody else's
Putrefaction
And be hailed
A hero
In these taverns
You will go astray
With the roars of
Singeing throats
And in the predicament
Impaled with grills
You shall be found
Moseying
With charred feet
And holding
A sedentary poem
Basking in the eyes
Of inebriation
In these taverns
There's a pot of gold
Swimming with the arrows
That struck the strings
Of fettered birds
And they are winnowed
By the fluent humming
Of false hopes
And sedative truths.
In these taverns
You may come
And you may go,
As everyone else will,
But you would leave
With the toll
Of a spiteful
Meandering.
poem by Norman Santos
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Unfold
words & music by jason mraz
Hands in line
Arms close to my side
I'm fighting tides of an ocean's undertow
And I figure I might not make it
And I'm taking empty
But seldom keeping
And the words retreat breathing histories into stories untold
And I unfold.
My hands are high
And I'm holding out, holding up
Because I figure that I just might make it
And I'm waking empty but seldom sleeping
And the words repeat breathing histories into stories untold
And I unfold.
Quality is what you see now in the corner of your eye.
Don't be surprised if you hear the bells ring
They form from the sky and they sound bong, bong, bong
And I'm holding up because I figure that I just make it.
And I'm waking empty but seldom sleeping
And the words repeat breathing histories into stories untold
And I unfold.
song performed by by Jason Mraz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God Gave Me An Angel
I was never born with the face of a
movie star
I was never blessed with an easyload
along the way
I have taken the wrong turning
So many times I can't remember
But one thing I have for sure
I can always smile and say
God gave me an angel with a smiling
face
God gave me an angel this I know
My churches are all empty and I'm guilty
every day
But god gave me an angel anyway
Talk of being good and what became of
me
Do I hide my head in shame and turn
away
I have taken the wrong turning
So many times I can't remember
But one thing I have for sure
I can always smile and say
But God gave me an angel with a smiling
face
God gave me an angel this I know
My churches are all empty and I'm guilty
every day
But god gave me an angel anyway
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken.
Jane Austen in Emma
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The fault seems to me to have been that men have taken ancient country churches as their models and have failed to discover that between them and churches in towns there ought to be a most distinct and marked difference.
quote by George Edmund Street
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think our failure in the production of good town churches of distinctive character must have struck you often, as it has me, when contrasted with our comparative success in country churches.
quote by George Edmund Street
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flashes Through
Flashes through the glass window,
And like empty words of the churches who only believe without works;
For the sins of these religions are now spread all over!
But, the heaps of the rubbles are now like mountains behind your home.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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He That Hath Ears
'He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches.'-
St. John the Divine.
The Spirit says unto the churches,
'Ere ever the churches began
I lived in the centre of Being-
The life of the Purpose and Plan;
I flowed from the mind of the Maker
Through nature to man.
'I sleep in the glow of the jewel,
I wake in the sap of the tree,
I stir in the beast of the forest,
I reason in man, and am free
To turn on the path of Ascension
To the god yet to be.
'I was, and I am, and I will be;
I live in each church and each faith,
But yield to no bond and no fetter,
I animate all with my breath;
I speak through the voice of the living,
And I speak after death.'
The Spirit says unto the churches
'The dead are not gone, they are near;
And my voice, when I will it, speaks through them,
Speaks through them in messages clear.
And he that hath ears, in the silence
May listen and hear.'
The Spirit says unto the churches,
'So many the feet that have trod
The road leading up into knowledge,
The steep narrow path has grown broad;
And the curtain held down by old dogmas
Is lifted by God.'
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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There is a continuum of values between the churches and the general community. What distinguishes the handling of these values in the churches is mainly the heavier dosage of religious vocabulary involved.
quote by Peter L. Berger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Simple, Seldom and Sad
Simple, seldom and sad
We are;
Alone on the Halibut Hills
Afar,
With sweet mad Expressions
Of old
Strangely beautiful
So we're told
By the Creatures that Move
In the sky
And Die
On the night when the Dead Trees
Prance and Cry.
Sensitive, seldom and sad -
Sensitive, seldom and sad -
Simple, seldom and sad
Are we
When we take our path
To the purple sea -
With mad, sweet Expressions
Of Yore,
Strangely beautiful,
Yea, and More
On the Night of all Nights
When the sky
Streams by
In rags, while the Dead Trees
Prance and Cry,
sensitive, seldom and sad -
sensitive, seldom and sad.
poem by Mervyn Peake
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In church, in the taverns, and in coffins all men are equal.
Shakespeare was not meant for taverns, nor for tavern louts.
quote by Samuel G. Engel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From an Outpost
I've tramped South England up and down
Down Dorset way, down Devon way,
Through every little ancient town
Down Dorset way, down Devon way.
I mind the old stone churches there,
The taverns round the market square,
The cobbled streets, the garden flowers,
The sundials telling peaceful hours
Down Dorset way, down Devon way.
The Meadowlands are green and fair
Down Somerset and Sussex way,
The clover scent is in the air
Down Somerset and Sussex way.
I mind the deep-thatched homesteads there
The noble downlands, clean and bare.
The sheepfolds and the cattle byres,
The blue wood-smoke from shepherd's fires
Down Dorset way, down Devon way.
Mayhap I shall not walk again
Down Dorset way, down Devon way,
Nor pick a posy in a lane
Down Somerset and Sussex way.
But though my bones, unshriven, rot
In some far distant alien spot,
what soul I have shall rest from care
To know that meadows still are fair
Down Dorset way, down Devon way.
poem by Leslie Coulson
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Walking With The Lover...
walking with the Lover...
i see empty fields plowed,
come alive with crops abundant.
empty factory buildings filled
with the ghosts of hard working lives.
empty houses lit up,
and the sounds of families.
empty hands given cups and bowls,
empty hearts held close!
empty words given meaning,
empty promises fulfilled.
walking with the Lover...
touching the plenty of empty!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Eleanor II
301 churches registered in Ghana from 'January to July 2003'!
But read your Scriptures well to learn from it;
For the dance of the monkeywill not impress me who have seen the beautiful dance of the snake! !
But, who is ready to teach the masses?
Wolves in sheep skins,
Of a country of plenty where many are still hungry! !
But, a naked man knows no shame over here.
I am Eleanor and i know what i do see around me!
But to eat my breakfast like a king and my lunch like a prince;
For, i will always aim at my goals and be very active towards them! !
But when the wind blows, these churches will be exposed to their so called doctrines.
Paying attention to both the surface and the facts within,
For the fragrance of the lavender is now mixed up with their deeds! !
And there are churches everywhere today (2012) in Ghana,
But, have they been able to change the morals of the people at large? !
Tell me if you know.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Empty Sky
I woke up this morning
I could barely breathe
Just an empty impression
In the bed there you used to be
I want a kiss from your lips
I want an eye for an eye
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Blood on the streets
Blood flowin down
I hear the blood of my blood
Cryin from the ground
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
On the plains of jordan
I cut my bow from the wood
Of this tree of evil
Of this tree of good
I want a kiss from your lips
I want an eye for an eye
I woke up this morning to the empty sky
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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