On his deathbed Death, the only immortal who treats us all alike, whose pity and whose peace and whose refuse are for all -- the soiled and the pure, the rich and the poor, the loved and the unloved.
quote by Mark Twain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Mutatis Mutandis
Soiled, Soiled, Soiled
Soiled, Soiled, Soiled
Soiled, Soiled...
...Of ordinary...Chemistry
There is a suggestion there, that uh, manipulation of no
Humal, compounds, brain-neuro transmitters
And that sort of thing
May in fact, open the door, to uh, untapped areas of
Human contortion
Lead us to our team...
song performed by by Mudvayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sentence
We are all loved
by God.
There is no fear
We are all loved so well
by God.
When one feels unloved
We are all affected
We do not hurt those
who still feel unloved
We are all loved by God
The same love
That we share for those
still untouched....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Immortal Death
How do I write with bliss of death?
I'm sure you know exactly how.
But heres an explanation.
Told with blood upon my brow.
See, a man devotes his life.
To acts of kindness, peace, and love.
Extraordinary selflessness.
Laced with the light above.
But the wings of death do shroud his good.
Into a formless haze.
Immortal Death removes his hood.
Attracting mankind's gaze.
Even that righteous man now understands.
The ambiguity in his eyes.
The bravest stayed, and cowards ran.
Fearing certain demise.
Why do I write with bliss of death?
Respect of death destroys fear.
On my deathbed, perhaps I'll smile.
As he whispers in my ear.
poem by Aaron Lynn
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Unloved
(performed by jann arden and jackson browne from her album living under june)
There will be no consolation prize
This time the bone is broken clean
No baptism, no reprise and no sweet taste of victory
All the stars have fallen from the sky
And everything else in between
Satellites have closed their eyes
The moon has gone to sleep
Unloved... unloved... unloved... unloved...
Here I am inside a hotel
Choking on a million words I said
Cigarettes have burned a hole
And dreams are drunk and penniless
Here I am inside my fathers arms
All jagged bone and whisky dry
Whisper to me sweetly now and tell me I will never die
Unloved... unloved... unloved... unloved
Here I am an empty hallway
Broken window, rainy night
I am nineteen sixty-two and I am ready for a fight
People crying hallelujah
While the bullet leaves the gun
People falling, falling, falling
And I dont know where theyre falling from
Unloved... unloved... unloved... unloved
Hoping that the kindness will lead us
Past the blindnes and
Not another living soul
Will ever have to feel
Unloved... unloved... unloved... unloved
Unloved... unloved...
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Very Thing That Makes You Rich
My father told me, lying on his bed of death,
"boy," he says, "woman she's gonna make it, don't fool your self
'cause she's got something to make a man lay that money, uh, right in her hand
And the very thing that makes her rich will make you poor
The very thing that makes her rich will make you poor"
That's right!
Well, i put you behind the wheel of a deuce and a quarter, yes i did
Had you living like a rich man's daughter, yes i did, i sure did
While you were living high on the hog
You had me down here scuffling like a dog
Well, the very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
The very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
Don't you never ever make such a bad mistake
You know i'd rather climb into bed with a rattlesnake
Then to work hard every day bringing that woman all my pay
The very thing that makes you rich makes me poor,
Makes me so damn poor
The thing that makes her rich makes me poor
The very thing that makes you rich make me poor
Very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
Makes me so damned poor
Money won't change it, no no...
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: The Rich and the Poor
The rich become richer and the poor poorer;
This is the way in which this world goes on!
Men may become suddenly rich, not born;
A rich man turns suddenly a beggar.
The few pennies are snatched off from the poor;
The brunt of taxes are but borne by them;
They can’t make both ends meet by any sum;
The rich hoodwink the taxman- their brother!
Will the world treat people alike ever?
All men are born unequally today;
Yet, if it happens, ’twill be a wonder;
No matter what you do, things happen this way.
The rich become richer not by real work;
The poor become poorer though they hardwork!
poem by John Celes
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The Unloved
Yeah ooh uh
This one's for the mothers who have lost a child
And this one's for the gypsies who've left their hearts behind
This is for the strangers sleeping in my heart
Who take what they want (yeah) and leave while it's still dark
No one is glamorously lonely
All by themselves (all by themselves)
This is a song for the unloved
This is the music for one last cry
This is a prayer that tomorrow will help me leave the past behind
It's a song for the unloved (the unloved)
This one's for the bridesmaid, never the bride
inside)
And this is for the widows who think there's only one
For the dying fathers who never told their sons
No one is glamorously lonely
Follow your heart (follow your heart)
This is a song for the unloved
This is the music for one last cry (one last cry)
This is a prayer that tomorrow will help me leave the past behind
It's a song for the unloved (unloved)
The unloved
Oh tomorrow the sun will shine
And dry the tears in your eyes
Suddenly love comes alive
Suddenly love comes alive
For one last cry
Just one last cry
Ohh
This is a song for the unloved
This is the music for one last cry
This is a prayer that tomorrow will help me leave the past behind
This is a song for the unloved (loved)
This is the music for one last cry (one last cry)
This is a prayer that tomorrow will help me leave the past behind
(This is this is)
This is a song for the unloved
This is the music for one last cry
This is a prayer that tomorrow will help me leave the past behind
It's a song for the unloved
Song for the unloved (the unloved)
song performed by by Backstreet Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Be Unloved
TO BE UNLOVED
To be unloved
is to lose the Universe
What we most want
What we most need
is to be be loved.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Peace
When will you ever, Peace, wild wooddove, shy wings shut,
Your round me roaming end, and under be my boughs?
When, when, Peace, will you, Peace? I’ll not play hypocrite
To own my heart: I yield you do come sometimes; but
That piecemeal peace is poor peace. What pure peace allows
Alarms of wars, the daunting wars, the death of it?
O surely, reaving Peace, my Lord should leave in lieu
Some good! And so he does leave Patience exquisite,
That plumes to Peace thereafter. And when Peace here does house
He comes with work to do, he does not come to coo,
He comes to brood and sit.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Mr. Millionaire!
Have you bought your 10 cars oh, Mr. Millionaire? !
For, i will rather use my money to help the poor;
And like the muse of peace in the land of joy,
For, death does not know the rich nor the poor.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Sadness Of Being Unloved
The sadness of being unloved
Is a hard sadness-
Some bear it from childhood
All their lives-
Most of us know it one time or another
When someone we wanted the love of
Did not love us-
In old age too it is not easy-
But one may remember having been loved
And this may be in some way enough-
It is better to be loved than unloved
But we cannot always have what is ‘better'
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Pity The Poor Immigrant
I pity the poor immigrant
Who wishes he wouldve stayed home,
Who uses all his power to do evil
But in the end is always left so alone.
That man whom with his fingers cheats
And who lies with evry breath,
Who passionately hates his life
And likewise, fears his death.
I pity the poor immigrant
Whose strength is spent in vain,
Whose heaven is like ironsides,
Whose tears are like rain,
Who eats but is not satisfied,
Who hears but does not see,
Who falls in love with wealth itself
And turns his back on me.
I pity the poor immigrant
Who tramples through the mud,
Who fills his mouth with laughing
And who builds his town with blood,
Whose visions in the final end
Must shatter like the glass.
I pity the poor immigrant
When his gladness comes to pass.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Each Of You!
Merry Christmas
to each of you....
whatever your faith,
whatever your skin color,
whatever your politics...
whether you're rich or poor,
whatever your sexual choices,
whomever you love...
i wish each of you peace,
may your needs be met,
and your heart be filled...
you are not alone,
and you are loved.
be all that you are
throughout the New Year....
and again, be at peace!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Rich and Poor
In me a sense has felt like each,
One causes others to wonder of strange beliefs,
In a feeding are the poor,
Poor are the opposite of the Rich.
In this side of the valley,
The Rich are better at living,
In opposition to the laughter
Of the Poor.
Poor is not Rich,
And Rich carries no Wealth
Of Heavenly Times.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Deaths Journey
Death like a cancer grows,
When it comes, nobody knows.
Enslaved in shadow,
This 'Killing King',
In wicked wonder, I feel Deaths sting.
Silent destiny,
Death follows creation,
Across the oceans,
Its mankinds damnation.
Death takes the young,
Visits the old,
Rich and poor alike,
Releases the soul.
What is this spector we call death?
It hunts and prowls for our last breath!
Death is with us everyday,
Bringing pain and sorrow,
It will never go away.
Pain, sorrow, misery, and tears,
Inevitable death,
Rules my fears.
A blackened spirit, wanting more,
Ending lifes' journey,
Will death knock on my door?
poem by Philip Lore
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Might is right
It is always the fact that might is right
They will go on till the end to fight
They may do it with the speed of light
They have the wisdom and long sight
Small insects kill smaller one
Big also kill little one and go on
It is complete cycle of exploitation
Everybody looses in turn and in rotation
So if rich rule the scene then nothing wrong
Not all can be in race and come along
It is sheer coincidence that mighty rule
Otherwise not all the people are fool
Person with abundance can sustain losses
He may have no regret even if looses
This gives them little advantage
Rest all feel confined to cage
Once you are under domination you are bound to suffer
You may have no rights other than to differ
So poor remain poor and rich gets richer
Poor remain suppressed for times to come
Rich are dominating and always welcome
Corruption has engulfed poor and rich alike
Everybody is influenced and affected with hike
No one wants to remain as poor like
Rich too wants not to become poor and dislike
This is tendency that we feel pity for poor
We have seen them knocking the door
But it is the system that will remain forever
Even if God descends on earth it will be there
If you have same system with no discrimination
No one may work and develop alienation
They will feel free with passing of responsibility
Here comes then the end of clear and distinct ability
If you have system with loop holes anybody will escape
No one can restrict the temptation or put the cap
Only the poor fail to emerge for the want of resources
The powerful emerge and re-emerge with full force
The oppression part is little disturbing
No one can force or go on curbing
No one can be forced to undergo torture
Even God has made it very sure
The rich may have disliking for poor
Poor to may have tendency to show exit door
It has been clash of time for centuries and very old
No one can buy it or arguments can be sold
Lord may wish so for all His children
He may even grant the same blessing even
Yet that difference may remain and even if not
The needless wars might not have been fought
The human beings may create it to rule
They make use of all available tools
Rich may tackle poor and poor may tackle down trodden
As the system remains same with all the odds even
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Joint At Deathbed
I smoked a joint
at my granddad’s deathbed.
In the living room of
childhood memories
Inhaling and Exhaling
blue plumes of smoke
Hours before he
drew HIS
last breath.
And
sitting at his deathbed.
as the grandfather clock struck
and the streetlamp outside the window
was turned on
and later off
I made my peace with God
and all consuming time
I smoked a joint
at my granddad’s deathbed
Putting my hand on
his
he spoke, his voice a pale whisper.
“Nothing can be done about it”
These last words to me
from a dying old man.
I smoked a joint
At my granddad’s deathbed.
Sweet soothing numbness
Held sadness and sorrow at bay.
Unspoken words of gratitude
milling around inside
but alas
a day too late.
and “nothing could be done about it”
I smoked a joint
at my granddad’s deathbed.
in cold cool contemplation
alone in the darkness, I understood:
All you hold dear will perish.
summer holidays,
friendships,
love,
life.
And no,
“nothing can be done about it”
The Old Man was right
poem by Carsten Thomsen
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To Show Love To All
Of joy!
Of love,
Of care,
With your words! !
On the earth,
Of the showers,
And of peace;
Like the fat sheep and the lean goat.
The residence,
The pasture,
The rich,
The poor,
Of the pure words,
By the rivers;
of your pure works! !
With alertness;
And like the hands of love.
The hands of unity,
The hands of care,
The hands of peace,
But, free to choose!
This very way and of that positive direction;
However, it is better to show love to all.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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War in America
In this sad country there will be a bitter war,
Not from foreign peoples who would attack us,
But between our very rich and hopeless poor.
There’ll be death and destruction as the war rages,
While wealthy choke the waning middle class.
As history repeats the tragic Dark Middle Ages.
When the middle class has only bitterness and hate,
Opportunities for peace will then be too late.
When they realize that the rich will never yield,
They’ll take their hopes and causes to the battle field.
The rich will have the best arms that money can buy.
The power of the poor will be in their angry numbers
And their desire to effect changes in their lots or die.
Man can go to the moon, create an internet, cure cancer.
But put rich politicians with no conscience in a room;
They’ll languish and war in America will be the answer.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Let There Be...
Let there be peace, in those, that are pure of heart.
Let there be peace among men of difference.
Let there be peace on a hard winters day.
Let there be peace, before there is anger.
Let there be peace, in the valley of stress.
Let there be peace, among those we love.
Let there be peace, between all our faiths.
Let there be peace, when our day is done.
Let there be peace, in the universal message of man.
Let there be peace, in the canyons, of displacement.
Let there be peace, with the sick and the poor.
Let the rifles' be quieted and let there be peace.
Let men at war, replace confrontation, with peace.
Let political forces join together, and bring us peace.
Let men of all colors and religions, join in peace.
Let more money be spent on peace, than on war.
Let wasted billions, bring peace, to those less fortunate.
It matters not, what your religion, or
who you pray to...may you find peace.