A liberal is a man or a woman or a child who looks forward to a better day, a more tranquil night, and a bright, infinite future.
quote by Leonard Bernstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother the Superior
Parental love in man and woman varies.
He loves his child for his pride and future.
She loves her child for its safety and future.
The father loves the bright and the mother, the weak.
The child without mother is an orphan.
23.03.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Child Woman, Woman Child
Orbison/dees
Coo coo, thats you, wonder why I love you, you do voodoo, thunder clouds above you
Crazy, kooky, lazy spooky, oh what a clown, always around
And I have found youre a woman. child woman. woman child
Long legged woman when I see you walking you look good
Hey little woman when I hear you talking you sound good
Child woman, woman child youre driving me wild child woman woman child
Youre into my mind then youre out of my mind child woman
You wind and unwind my mind, time after time child woman ooh child woman, yeah child woman
Flying uptight, dont know where youre going, trying your kite when the wind is blowing
Funny lady, sunny, shady off to the fair, sun in your hair
Oh, youre aware youre a woman child woman, woman child
Strong minded woman when you start groovin you look fine
My kind of woman when you start movin you look fine
Child woman, woman child youre driving me wild child woman woman child
I dont see you there, I see you everywhere child woman
I dont even care -yes, I really do care child woman, ooh child woman,
Hey child woman child woman, woman child
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seeger's Theme
by David Gates
Monday had a sad child,
Always feeling low down.
Tuesday had a dream child,
She's always on the go
So I'm in love with Saturday's child.
Every time you take her out at night
(She drives me wild)
You want to kiss and hold her way up tight,
(Gonna spend my time)
You can tell the future's looking bright.
(Making sure that Saturday's child is mine)
If you love a Wednesday,
You live your life apart now.
And if you love a Thursday,
She's gonna break your heart
So I'm in love with Saturday's child.
Every time you hold her close you'll see
(She drives me wild)
You can feel the furor that's gonna be,
(Gonna spend my time)
Now the future has a guarantee.
(Making sure that Saturday's child is mine)
Seven days of the week made to choose from,
But only one is right for me.
I know that Saturday's got what it takes, babe,
I can tell by the way she looks at me.
SOLO
Ohh...
Friday likes a good life,
She'll take you for a ride, now.
And Sunday makes a good wife,
She wants to be your bride
So I'm in love with Saturday's child.
Every time you take her out at night
(She drives me wild)
You want to kiss and hold her way up tight
(Gonna spend my time)
You can tell the future's looking bright.
(Making sure that Saturday's child is mine)
(Saturday's child)
Every time you take her out at night
(She drives me wild)
You want to kiss and hold her way up tight
(Gonna spend my time)
You can tell the future's looking bright.
(Making sure that Saturday's child is mine)
(Saturday's child)
(fade out)
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lying Words
Listen to me all you ears,
And like a liberal man and a lovely woman in the bush;
Why do you destroy another with lying words? !
For the liberal woman is now with the handsome man in the city.
A man should be a man and a woman should be a woman too on this issue,
And like wine and oil to sold to you in times of need;
But let the just do justice always.
The romance of romance lies through your hands,
And like the river of water flowing through my mind;
But think twice before you destroy others on this earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The mother and the artist
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of wonderfully emollient freshness; every
unfurling instant of impregnably magnificent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of spellbindingly undefeated innocence; every
unfurling instant of symbiotically pristine existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of timelessly unconquerable truth; every unfurling
instant of bounteously magnanimous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unfathomably unfettered creativity; every
unfurling instant of timelessly burgeoning existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of royally triumphant resplendence; every
unfurling instant of unconquerably majestic existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of eternally exhilarating vivaciousness; every
unfurling instant of redolently insuperable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unbelievably ameliorating optimism; every
unfurling instant of marvelously benign existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of brilliantly liberated camaraderie; every
unfurling instant of iridescently inscrutable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unshakably virgin righteousness; every
unfurling instant of beautifully untainted existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of uninhibitedly heavenly frolic; every unfurling
instant of tantalizingly sensuous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of compassionately humanitarian friendship; every
unfurling instant of magically mitigating existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of miraculously everlasting freshness; every
unfurling instant of invincibly coalescing existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of pricelessly ubiquitous oneness; every unfurling
instant of robustly blessed existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unbreakably Omnipotent desire; every unfurling
instant of victoriously effulgent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unceasingly reinvigorating fantasy; every
unfurling minute of poignantly charismatic existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of insurmountably intrepid enchantment; every
unfurling minute of rhapsodically unhindered existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of Omnisciently tranquil serenity; every unfurling
instant of endlessly bestowing existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of perpetually fragrant breath; every unfurling
instant of Omnipresently benevolent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of Immortally ardent love; every unfurling instant
of limitlessly fructifying existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of fantastically alleviating poetry; every
unfurling instant of boundlessly splendid existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of fabulously effervescent tanginess; every
unfurling instant of spiritually uplifting existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unlimitedly enlightening Sunshine; every
unfurling instant of infallibly luminescent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of immaculately godly melody; every unfurling
instant of amiably melanging existence,
Because. And Only Because. A Mother is; has and shall for times immemorial
remain the Greatest Sculptor of every organism on this astoundingly
multiplying Universe; A Mother is the Greatest Artist….
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Let The People Have Their Say
The tide is turning
Its coming from the street
Read your own wisdom
Not the headlines
Dont let them tell you
Its fine the way it is
Its our agenda
We know better
Let the people have their say
Let the people show the way
Every woman child and man
Has the power in this land
Now dont you worry
The future will unfold
If we are open and ready
We all have choices
Not just the chosen few
So raise your voices
Hold them steady
Let the people have their say
Let the people show the way
Every woman child and man
Has the power in this land
(let the people)
The time has come now
To realize our dream
To claim our future...together
Let the people have their say
(let the people have their say)
Let the people show the way
(let the people show the way)
Every woman child and man
(every woman child and man)
Has the power in this land
(has the power in this land)
Let the people have their say
(let the people have their say)
Let the people show the way
(let the people show the way)
Every woman child and man
(every woman child and man)
Has the power in this land
(has the power in this land)
Yeah yeah, yeah yo
Yeah yeah
Let the people have their say
(let the people have their say)
Let the people show the way
(let the people show the way)
Every woman child and man
(every woman child and man)
Has the power in this land
Yeah yeah, yeah yo
Yeah yeah
Yeah yeah, yeah yo
Yeah yeah
(let the people show the way)
Yeah yeah, yeah yo
Yeah yeah
(let the people show the way)
Yeah yeah, yeah yo
Yeah yeah
(let the people show the way)
Yeah yeah, yeah yo
Yeah yeah
(let the people show the way)
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fashion Show
THE FASHION SHOW
To conclude our show we leave you with a dream
For every woman, place and time
To run away if only in the mind
To seek the moment when their lives
Were different from clichéd here and now
Remembering childhood’s fantasy and wonder
Looking forward to the woman you are now
One day a woman stood in that place
And the child became a stranger
Yet what woman loses visions of that dream
It waits recall to hold it’s elder sister close
To allow herself become that woman child.
poem by Thomas Golding
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Forward To The Future
'for my brothers in Palestine'
I look forward to a future where the Adhan will be
called from the empire state building and the armed
guys in pentagon will disarm and walk intelligently
to prayer never killing women and children
So if Israel would kill civilians in palestine, don't rejoice
brother peter, cos they can kill your children too
when their interest is at stake
i look forward to a future where Allah will relive us of the
trial of Israel
I look forward to a future where even if there`s war, fought
by people who hold responsibility for their ideologies, women
and children bereaved of ideologies will be spared
i look forward to a future where wars will no more be fought
and differences will be settled by mere show of strength
i look forward to a future where Linda will no more look
like a dog naked, where peter will know that he has a purpose
on earth to worship Allah and not what the Pentecost preaches
i look forward to a future where the Eiffel tower will have on it
'Allah rules the world'
i look forward to a future where 'Palestine' will be free from occupation.
poem by Omoloja Yusuf
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My Child of the Sun
My child of the sun
i know yur scared
how far will you run
for what are you prepared?
My child of the sun
open your eyes
look infront of you
look up to the skies
My child of the sun
why are your running so far
what do you want?
A piece of the moon or a big bright star?
My child of the sun
your flames burn bright
the day has long begun
and still your out of sight
My child of the sun
here comes the moon
now you have to run
he'll be out soon
My child of the sun
you have left me
all i see now is a frowning night,
but in a few hours again i'll see the light.
poem by Carike Klokow
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Forward
'Forward! forward!'
Rang our fathers' battle-cry.
'Forward! forward!'
Norsemen, be our watchword high!
All that fires the spirit and makes the heart's faith bright,
For that we forward go with might
And faithful fight.
'Forward! forward!'
Whoso loves a home that's free.
'Forward! forward!'
Freedom's course must ever be.
Though it shall be tested by doubt and by defeat,
Who will the losses' count repeat
When vict'ries greet?
'Forward! forward!'
Whoso trusts in Norway's day.
'Forward! forward!'
Whoso goes our fathers' way.
Hid in Northern mountains are spirit-treasures true
They shall, when dawns the morning's blue,
Come forth anew.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Continuous Enchantment to The End
Our affectionate grows stronger,
my love won't assault you.
While I see the future come closer,
I'll still persist to love you.
As future comes forward,
as past goes by.
While we're jumping,
we'll be destracted as we go on.
But to me, time is rushing,
so there is still occasion.
As future comes forward,
as past goes by.
When time has come,
I'll appear next to you.
As time has come,
I'll finally meet you,
as I'll keep adoring you.
As future comes forward,
as time past by.
poem by Mathew Cruz
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Is life beautiful?
An intellectual woman, I admire.
A pleasant woman, I befriend.
An exciting woman, I desire.
A sincere woman, I love.
A liberal woman I try for.
How is life beautiful?
17.02.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Gulls Freedom
It becomes a mirror, the sea, while reflecting the sun.
The gulls are reflected in their infinite freedom.
Where are you running?
Stop and listen, at the leaves falling from the seas
at the warm ground, whims like a child.
Lizard hands and masks of glass
suspended in the night sky, where souls meet.
My though are like stars in my head,
bright at night,
too far to reach, there to hear.
poem by Luca Menin
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My child..
My child is my pride n joy
My hope n future
She is why I wake up with a smile
And he is why my sun shines bright
My child is my honeysuckle and candy floss
My sugar coated oats n honey...
All wrapped in one!
She is my consolation, him, my triumph
My child is my blessing, never a curse
She is my 'better', him, my 'hero'
My child is...my own.
poem by Namie Elisha
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A Whispery Hollow Transfixed Awe
A Vow In Making
A Venture Forth Back
A Fallen Innocent
Gave Rise To Fallen Hearts
Arise The Sadness
An Isolatory Night Glimmer
Upon A Night Full Of 'A.I.'
Filled The Night Sky
As Everything Grew Dark
But Alight Of A Face
A Whispery Hollow Of Me
In Being Driven The Opposite Way She Was Forward
A Moment's Glimpse Transfixed
Upon A Night Drive Back
Transfixes My Sadness
Of A Vow Affixed In Promise
A Vow One Night To Return
In Seeing Her Upon Happenstance
A Madness Grew From A Silent Vow
To Fill Her Hollow Empty Of A Boy
In Hesitation To Fulfill A Vow In Having Made
Increase OF Guilt For An Unfulfilled Love
In Fathering A Future Child Made Ephemeral
Forgotten Night Glimmer Ten Years On
Remembered Now In Looking Forward
Transfixed Sadness Of A Whisper Upon A Night
Vow Of Grandeur Defined With Sadness
Of A Vow Of Marriage Within A Dream
poem by Ricardo Antunes
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When The Past Was Draged Forward438
when the past has been
draged forward, your find
a child, alone and defeated.
when the past has been draged
forward, your find a child
hiding in his mothers arm.
when the past has been draged
forward, your find a child
with splints and bandages
and a black eye, .
when the past has been draged
forward, your find a child,
waiting for good old dad,
with a gun.
poem by David Gerardino
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In the Reading-Room of the British Museum
Praised be the moon of books! that doth above
A world of men, the fallen Past behold,
And fill the spaces else so void and cold
To make a very heaven again thereof;
As when the sun is set behind a grove,
And faintly unto nether ether rolled,
All night his whiter image and his mould
Grows beautiful with looking on her love.
Thou therefore, moon of so divine a ray,
Lend to our steps both fortitude and light!
Feebly along a venerable way
They climb the infinite, or perish quite;
Nothing are days and deeds to such as they,
While in this liberal house thy face is bright.
poem by Louise Imogen Guiney
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The Child Had No Trust
The child was given a fruit
But the child did not eat
The child was given a shelter
But the child did not sleep
The child was given love
But the child did not take
The child was shown a path
But the child did not go
The child was promised a future
But the child did not believe
The fruit could be poisoned
The shelter could be a tomb
The sleep could be a nightmare
The love could be abused
The path could be an abyss
And the future smelled of the past
The child had no trust
Can anyone make the child believe
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Future's Fault
I will blame you my future child
If you forget about the past
And repeat again our same mistake
I will blame you my future child
If you deny your land
That we protect with our blood
I will blame you my future child
If you danger humanity
Though I’ve taught you always
Do not hurt if you don’t want be hurt
I can’t protect you forever
I’ll be swept by time and slowly disappear
I will blame you my future child
If you destroy the world
Only to fill your greedy wish
You can always blame me
For not making you good and wealthy
But future after you is also
Depends from what you do now
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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A Timed Affair
A love affair with tranquility…
What are the possibilities…
Where is the woman which fit that bill…?
I know she exist, but just how do I…
Go about in finding her…
A gentleman needs a strong minded…
Woman…
A woman with internal fortitude…
Existence in peace…between two people…
Something only heard of in heaven…
They say it is a land of milk and honey…
Ain't love funny…
Streets paved with gold…
Is that good for the soul…?
A dream I am sure…
But something to look forward too…
A better place…sweeter then…the tenderness….
Of the female garden…
Tranquil, real, true solitude…for two…
A real mind-over-matter…touch…
A lust beyond the walls of conception…
Man and woman on the same path…
At last…a free union…blessed by what…
Was at the beginning…
That per-fect…love affair…
NOW, PEASE, WAKE, ……….UP.
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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