What our eyes behold may well be the text of life but one's meditations on the text and the disclosures of these meditations are no less a part of the structure of reality.
quote by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Meditations
In my meditations
In my meditations
I get motivation
And inspiration
I get the spirit
Of higher sensation
Through positive thinking
And creation
My imagination
And expectation
According to the situation
So i don't believe in illusion
The journey seems too far
But i keep going
Temptation keep pulling me down
But i ain't stopping
My mission to be accomplished
And visions established
In my meditations
In my meditations
poem by Matt Ancient
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Never preach a sermon without a text from the Bible, a text containing the theme which you can elaborate. The text is the best proof in support of your argument. A sermon without a text is an argument without a proof.
quote by Isaac Mayer Wise
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Wrote A Poem Across The Universe
I wrote a poem across the Universe
It was read among the stars-
Cosmic messages were sent endlessly reinterpreting it-
It appeared in Galactic anthologies
And whole Civilizations taught it in their schools-
Worlds were born with it and worlds lamented their dying with it-
It became the Text of the Text of the Text of the Text of the Text
Of cosmic intergalactic meaningfulness-
I wrote a poem across the Universe-
It was read for billions of years
And then somehow
No attention was paid to it anymore-
And it vanished for as long as forever can be understood to be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Text
I text you
The words i mime
There is really no reason or rhyme
To persist after all this time
But can't resist as my love still stands
Clings to hope with two bleeding hands
And when i ask 'am i still in your heart'
You depress with your silence
And depart.
I text her
And sometimes for days
She leaves me in deepest malaise
Then answers when my last nerve end frays.
And the light that i saw in her eye
Gently flickers and threatens to die
As my memory, tired and vexed
Sees me through
'Til she sends the next text.
I text you
Think maybe you care
That some day or year we will share
our one love extraordinaire
But time eats away at our life
Cutting with razor sharp knife
And our old dream of husband and wife
Faces the gallows next
Yet absurdly i send you a text.
poem by Kevin East
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Turn It On
Every day just turn it on
Place it upon
the desk or in my pocket
That's what I do with it
Every day, just waiting for a call
Waiting for a text for your text, for your call, but it shall
Not come, it will not it just won't
Because you really don't
Text me or call me
But I'll turn it on and wait, you know just to see
In fact I'll keep hoping it's you
With every beep and even ring too
When I check it'll be like a reality check
It'll only take a sec
Before I realize it's not you, it will not be you, it won't
I wonder if you don't
Turn on your phone, but then again maybe you don't care
Maybe because I'd never dare
To complain to you about this to your face
I can't take the disgrace
I'll let you talk to me as much as you like, not as much I do
My feelings don't matter much in this situation, maybe not even to you
I pray they do, that they do mean something to you
But the longer you don't respond, it makes me wonder who
You think I am, or how you think of me
I wish I could see
How you see, but every day I'll turn it on
Take a breath with every sound hoping it's you, but then the moment's gone
Now it's just on
Placed upon... why do I even bother?
poem by David Knox
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The Dastardly Task
One long, dry legal text, I'm trying
my best, one long dry legal text, but
nevertheless, however I try, I cannot
finish it, my head's starting to crack
I suffer for lack of oxygen, my skin is
shrivelling and nothing seems thrilling
in this long dark night of a legal text, I
cannot utter a word to reveal my plight
Or fight against my inner being, mute,
immobile, without typing because when
I try, time seems to dry up in front of my
face, psychosomatic fatigue indicates
I need people to talk to, the doll faces
keeping me company can't lift the veil of
darkness and the terrible legal text goes
on and on, I have been abandoned
By the forces of life, bitterness filling my
heart - though as soon as a joyful thing
happens again bitterness will be erased,
my soul shall soar as it always does
When wonderful ideas take my thoughts
into the higher realms of joy and delight,
but for now, let me be mute and tackle
the dastardly task of my terrible text
Shedding little parts of my heart as I carry
the yoke eating into my mind, destroying
my joy and my life
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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When Watching
One thing I've noticed I've come to miss
When watching my LED HD TV
Is that whenever I flip through the channels
On my DVR,
I don't have to become a tourist
Glancing at the sights anymore—
I can only read the dialogue of information
That tells me what I am watching
Or what I could be watching.
I don't have the time to observe
Foreign landscapes
(Partially because
Nobody makes shows
Of that
Anymore)
Or see how other people are different,
I just see text, text, text with no
Context, context, context,
And I feel like I'm missing something.
I don't even watch TV much anymore.
I don't enjoy sitcoms
Because I don't enjoy their jokes
Because my life isn't like that.
I don't enjoy the news
Because they don't tell me anything I want to hear
Because I want to know what's happening in the world.
I don't enjoy reality TV
Because those people make me afraid of reality
Because they call themselves reality.
I miss the white noise, the static,
The scrambled images of channels
I never had as a kid,
Or the disintegrated programs
That looked like high-energy molecular,
Heated up, when the cable is out.
I miss the way it sounded,
The thunder storm sound,
Voices reduced to raindrops
Pouring against the black backdrop
Of a dead screen,
A comforting hum
Made of chaos
For periods of silence,
Sometimes enough to make me turn it off.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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A white rose in spring!
A white rose in spring!
Meditations in blue...am I
Part of the April dream?
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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Whatever is in any way beautiful hath its source of beauty in itself, and is complete in itself; praise forms no part of it. So it is none the worse nor the better for being praised.
Marcus Aurelius in Meditations
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The President had every reason to believe that the text presented to him was sound... These 16 words should never have been included in the text written for the president.
quote by George Tenet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Very little is needed to make a happy life.
Marcus Aurelius in Meditations
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The universe is change; our life is what our thoughts make it.
Marcus Aurelius in Meditations
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Text
Up against my throat, I hold a hunting knife
This text will be my last
For, when it's done, I'll take my life
Oh, I'll have a blast
Through my throat, the knife will cut
Causing blood to spurt out of the open wound
I get a feeling of relief in my gut
For I know it'll all soon be over and done
And this text will be my last
It would be easier with a gun
But, either way, it'll be a blast
I won't die fast
But, oh, how it'll be a blast!
poem by Amy Parkinson
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You will find rest from vain fancies if you perform every act in life as though it were your last.
Marcus Aurelius in Meditations
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In our daily lives as programmers, we process text strings a lot. So I tried to work hard on text processing, namely the string class and regular expressions. Regular expressions are built into the language and are very tuned up for use.
quote by Yukihiro Matsumoto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baby Boomer
Mario's brother is dead. In Brazilia
of the green and yellow flag, at the matches
where we drink beer and watch them run.
All of a sudden. A shock.
Just when he was finally getting happy-
leaving behind a wife and child.
Who will fortunately want for nothing
except him, of course.
But that too passes. Everything does.
It makes us ashamed to be old
though we are not, in fact, that-
hailing from the generation that never dies.
'Thanks for sharing, ' I text.
'Joy is short and troubles abound.
There is still that ideal configuration
of Reality we call the Beautiful
and those who struggle to perceive it.'
-But it doesn't sound real. I delet it.
May he rest in peace, ' I next text,
and it sounds good, yes, this is it.
'May he rest in peace.'
poem by Morgan Michaels
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The Song Of Exile
My homeland has many palm-trees
and the thrush-song fills its air;
no bird here can sing as well
as the birds sing over there.
We have fields more full of flowers
and a starrier sky above,
we have woods more full of life
and a life more full of love.
Lonely night-time meditations
please me more when I am there;
my homeland has many palm-trees
and the thrush-song fills its air.
Such delights as my land offers
Are not found here nor elsewhere;
lonely night-time meditations
please me more when I am there;
My homeland has many palm-trees
and the thrush-song fills its air.
Don't allow me, God, to die
without getting back to where
I belong, without enjoying
the delights found only there,
without seeing all those palm-trees,
hearing thrush-songs fill the air.
poem by Antônio Gonçalves Dias
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To stand up - or be setup?
Marcus Aurelius in Meditations
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A man does not sin by commission only, but often by omission.
Marcus Aurelius in Meditations
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waste no more time arguing what a god man should be. Be one.
Marcus Aurelius in Meditations
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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