Shrines! Shrines! Surely you don't believe in the gods. What's your argument? Where's your proof?
quote by Aristophanes
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Lord Buddha the Guide
He was born in Lumbin,
Delivered his first sermon in Saranath,
And shed his body in Kushinara,
The Lord Buddha, the Light of Asia.
He is
Siddhartha, the one who accomplishes,
Tathagata, the perfect one,
Bhudhisattva, the enlightened one,
Sakhya Muni, the ascetic of Sakhya clan,
Goutama, the ascetic,
And Jina, the conqueror.
Truths are four:
The existence of sorrow;
There is cause for it;
Cessation of the cause;
The conquest.
Rules are five:
Abstinence from injury;
Abstinence from stealing;
Abstinence of wrongful indulgence;
Abstinence of falsehood;
Abstinence from intoxication.
Paths are eightfold:
Right understanding;
Right thoughts;
Right speech;
Right action;
Right living;
Right effort;
Right mindfulness;
Right contemplation
Self indulgence and
Self mortification,
Are two extreme steps;
Choose the middle path.
To eat and drink, to live
Is not evil.
To do to be merry is evil.
To nurse the health is not evil.
To do the opposite is evil.
The one who conquers the all
But not one’s self, conquers nil.
Buddha ruled ‘the Hindus’
Before Rama and Krishna ruled.
His shrines had been replaced
With the shrines of Hindus,
Which were again replaced
With the shrines of Islam.
If Buddha is to return to his place,
Rama has no place to return to.
26.05.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Indians are converts
Some religions converted the people.
Some religions converted the shrines.
Some religions converted the kings.
The Vedic sect adopted local gods.
I am a descendant of forefathers
Who might be converts to many faiths.
If I segregate one on one's religion
It'd mean I insult my forefather's.
05.05.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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On One To One Basis!
How many people do we know?
Among the people whom we know,
How many people do we respect?
Among the people whom we respect,
How many people do we care?
Among the people whom we care,
How many people do care for us?
Among the people who care for us,
How many people do we like?
Among the people who like us,
How many people do we love?
Among the people we love,
How many people do we remember?
Among the people whom we remember,
How many people do we treasure?
For those we love and treasure,
We have,
The living shrines in our hearts,
And these shrines have to be maintained,
On one to one basis,
Whoever they may be,
How many of them they can be.
Happy Mother's Day.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Shammah
My name is Shammah and i am from a village called Shammah,
But i have to meet my lover in the cleft of the rock of Etam.
Of a coercive power,
Of a coercive love,
Of a coercive romance,
Of a coercive passion,
To the very accent of my lover!
But like a visit to the Shrines of the gods,
She is all that i have.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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All we have to do is to peel the shrines like an onion, and we will be with the king himself.
quote by Howard Carter
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There were no temples or shrines among us save those of nature.
quote by Charles Eastman
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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
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We have a need to be religious, we need to worship, we need to build totems and shrines and icons, but nobody's sure in honor of what.
quote by Robyn Hitchcock
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Viva Italia!
Italia, in thy bleeding heart
I thought e'en hope was dead;
That from thy scarred and prostrate form
The spark of life had fled.
I thought, as memory's sunset glow
Its radiance o'er thee cast,
That all thy glory and thy fame
Were buried in the past.
Twice Mistress of the world, I thought
Thy star had set in gloom;
That all thy shrines and monuments
Were but thy spirit's tomb---
The mausoleum of the world,
Where Art her spoils might keep;
Where pilgrims from all shrines might come,
To wonder and to weep.
But from thy deathlike slumber now,
In joy I see thee wake
And over thy long shrouded sky
Behold the morning break.
Along the Alps and Apennines
Runs an electric thrill;
A golden splendor lights once more
Each storied vale and hill.
And hopes, bright as thy sunny skies,
Are o'er thy future cast;
The future that upon thee beams,
As glorious as thy past.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
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There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval.
George Santayana in Soliloquies in England "War Shrines" (1922)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Girl On Fire
Yeah, I am the super-eye
A blackened dream a golden eye
Trapped in a fantasy
A silent clown, a villain see
Mongrels of pinball filth
Electric shrines to boogey tilt
Dying is to get her way
Get it, get it, she want it, she want it
Yeah, she's on fire
That girl's on fire
Burn me up, burn me up
She's on fire
That girl's on fire
Burn me up, burn me up
Yeah, get going under ground
A raven hood a blanket sound
(Save?) thee and aggravate
A ravaging, a frozen slate
Time square in outer space
I kick the move right in your face
Satanic fantasies
Get it, she want it
She's on fire
That girl's on fire
Burn me up, burn me up
She's on fire
That girl's on fire
Burn me up, burn me up
He is a megaman
A electric spark a desperate man
Track down to run away
Live to kill another day
Mongrels of pinball filth
Electric shrines to boogey tilt
Dying is to get her way
Get it she want it
She's on fire
That girl's on fire
Burn me up, burn me up (x4)
song performed by by Rob Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Malala Yousafzai
The prejudiced minds
preach violence, abduct
people of other cultures,
carry out fidayeen attacks
on the shrines of other cults
and keep the minds of the youth
and the innocent people
restless and sleepless.
The terrorists might have fought
wars in hilly terrains and won.
But in their war with
a teenaged Pakistani girl,
they have been beaten.
Children are the
Reincarnations of gods.
"Education for girls",
Malala wanted and for that
hunted and shot at head.
Will their Almighty smile at these
unlawful, inhuman outfits?
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Why are you Silent, Oh Cold Beauty?
Why are you silent, Oh cold beauty?
Your attire is simplicity...
Your beauty expressive like eyes of a dancer with a divine spirit...
Call I your muteness your wisdom's speech?
Or fear of a frail soul?
Should I make you divine or meek?
Innocent or ingenious?
Glory of a shrine or a dust of its pavement?
What name I give to your silence?
For u shall be beautiful still!
For a poet night is as beautiful as day…
Wisdom or fear...
Divine or meek
Innocence or ingenuity
Shrines dust or shrines glory...
All rise from heart of beauty taking different courser to meet again in the spirit of love...! !
To sail with d current of devotion with no oppression of tides...! !
With no fear of being exiled to unknown dark showers...
With buried skulls and serpents...
Born in dark...
Rose from dark…
Slept in radiance wide awake...
Speak oh beauty...
For beauty is boundless...
For it sleeps in death's arms to awake in eternities embrace...
poem by Lama Abbas
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Hawaiian
SANDALWOOD, you say, and in your thoughts it chimes
With Tyre and Solomon; to me it rhymes
With places bare upon Pacific mountains,
With spaces empty in the minds of men.
Sandalwood!
The Kings of Hawaii call out their men,
The men go up the mountains in files;
Hands that knew only the stone axe now wield the iron axe:
The sandalwood trees go down.
More sandalwood is called for:
The men who hunt the whale will buy sandalwood;
The Kings would change canoes for ships.
Men come down from the mountains carrying sandalwood on their backs;
More and more men are levied;
They go up the mountains in files; they leave their taropatches so that famine comes down on the land.
But this sandalwood grows upon other trees, a parasite;
It needs a growing thing to grow upon;
Its seed and its soil are not enough for it!
Too greedy are the Kings;
Too eager are the men who hunt the whale to sail to
Canton with fragrant wood to make shrines for the
Buddhas;
Too sharp is the iron axe!
Nothing will ever bring together again
The spores and the alien sap that nourished them,
The trees and the trees they would plant themselves
upon:
Like the myths of peoples,
Like the faiths of peoples,
Like the speech of peoples,
Like the ancient creation chants,
The sandalwood is gone!
A fragrance in shrines
But the trees will never live again!
poem by Padraic Colum
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A New Heaven
Seeing we never found gay fairyland
(Though still we crouched by bluebells moon by moon)
And missed the tide of Lethe; yet are soon
For that new bridge that leaves old Styx half-spanned;
Nor ever unto Mecca caravanned;
Nor bugled Asgard, skilled in magic rune;
Nor yearned for far Nirvana, the sweet swoon,
And from high Paradise are cursed and banned;
-Let's die home, ferry across the Channel! Thus
Shall we live gods there. Death shall be no sev'rance.
Weary cathedrals light new shrines for us.
To us, rough knees of boys shall ache with rev'rence.
Are not girls' breasts a clear, strong Acropole?
-There our oun mothers' tears shall heal us whole.
poem by Wilfred Owen
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From everything that man erects and builds in his urge for living nothing is in my eyes better and more valuable than bridges. They are more important than houses, more sacred than shrines. Belonging to everyone and being equal to everyone, useful, always built with a sense, on the spot where most human needs are crossing, they are more durable than other buildings and they do not serve for anything secret or bad.
quote by Ivo Andric
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A proof is a proof. What kind of a proof? It's a proof. A proof is a proof. And when you have a good proof, it's because it's proven.
quote by Jean Chretien
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Worshipers fear the God
God men preach for wages.
Psalm singers sing for wages.
Shrines keepers work for wages.
Worshipers give them wages
And fear God more than they do.
17.07.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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F R A G R A N C E
F R A G R A N C E
Vavroovahana Patra.
Fragrance of jasmines provides devotion;
Beauteous is God’s lovely creation.
Fragrance of agarvati inspires all daily;
Surrendering on the Lotus feet function duty gaily.
Fragrance of Lotus is delighting;
The beautiful shrine is attracting.
Mother Mahalaxmi blesses poets in morn;
Beauteous looks the lovely dawn.
Fragrance of Mahalaxmi’s shrine enhances devotion;
Beauteous is Maa’s mysterious creation.
Mother makes poor poets wealthy;
With her desire poets remain healthy.
Fragrance of ‘rajanigandha’ enhances love affection;
Beauteous looks entire creations.
Poets enjoy the beauty silently;
Soul drinks the nectar of peace delightfully.
Fragrance of Deities takes mind to the world of peace;
Surrendering on Narayana’s lotus feet derive divine bliss.
Blessings of Gods and Goddesses makes poets popular on Earth;
Praying morn, eve, day, night derive peace, mirth.
Fragrance of Kalia’s temple provides peace;
Surrendering on the lotus feet derive bliss.
Fragrance of spiritual shrines takes mind to the world of peace,
Praying Jagannath derive divine bliss.
Fragrance of flowers on shrines enhances devotional energy;
Devotees’ path of journey becomes flowery.
Derive profound perennial peace;
Praying Neelamadhava derive divine bliss.
Offering fragrant flowers derive divine bliss;
Surrendering whole heatedly derive divine wish.
Prayer provides profound peace;
Praying derive heavenly bliss.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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