I use my hands like a sculptor, to mold and shape the sound I want, to clarify.
quote by Leonard Slatkin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What To Do
you get a handful of mud
put a little rain
and then you begin shaping
a face
carefully you put some
tenderness
sculpting forgiveness
you mold your vision
of integrity
you stop for a while
and contemplate on what is
it that is missing
your heart is heavy
it is filled with the burden
of love
you pour love
more of it like a basin
of water
the mold is so thirsty
until
it is finally broken
your hands after the
error
must begin again
to shape the mold
of regrets
until love reassembles
your face
a beautiful face so full of
hope &
courage
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Shape Me Like A Man
Spark my body into existence
Breath your life into me
Fill these eyes with temptation
Work your mystery
Make me in the image you desire
Raise me up from the earth
Let me be your creation
Women, give me birth
Take me in your hands
And shape me like a man
Shape me like a man
Put this broken body in motion
With a strong and natural drive
Fill my flesh with sensation
Women let me know Im alive
Take me in your hands
And shape me like a man
Shape me like a man
Like a man
Shape me like a man
Like a man
Shape me like a man
Like a man
Take me in your hands
And shape me like a man
Like a man
Shape me like a man
Like a man
Like a man
Shape me like a man
Like a man
Shape me like a man
Make me like a man
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sound of Silence
I’m walking down the street
and I hear the sculptor in his house
working on his statue of Krishna
and the chisel rings out on the stone
like a bell that wants to tell you something:
the stone saying, I am perfectly made for this;
the chisel saying, I am perfectly made for this;
the sculptor saying, this is prayer;
Krishna saying, I shall enter this.
And I hear in the sound of the chisel on the stone,
as sure as I know my own name,
that the sculptor is listening to all this too.
The bell-like sound lingers in the air
as if the air would keep it for ever
as the air’s prayer. It’s music.
The clearer the sound
of his striking chisel on stone,
the deeper the silence
as if sound and silence between them
know a secret: that sounds like this
can do anything in the world;
even call Krishna with their music
to play at being stone for us.
The stone’s laughing also:
playing at being Krishna.
They’re both laughing.
The sculptor is smiling too.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Make your mold. The best flux in the world will not make a usable shape unless you have a mold to pour it in.
quote by Robert Collier
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shipwrecked Dreams
My dreams are like shipwrecks at the bottom of the sea
Covered under seaweed, algae, gravel and rocks
Because at its birth, I didn't give it enough stock.
A dream is like clay and I am the sculptor
And if I can not see it in my mind, then it's
Because I allowed myself to be blind.
You have to hold it, and feel it, and see it take shape
Otherwise it will be much too late.
You have to shape it and give it a heart that breathes
And pumps life into its body and soul
Until that mold starts to take hold.
To feel it in your every being to the point
That's the only thing you're seeing.
It has to become a part of you
And you a part of it
Until it becomes like a glove
With a perfect fit.
I wanted it quickly - I wanted it fast
But when you're in a hurry it will not last.
I gave it up quickly and dropped it on the floor
Hoping to pick it up again once more.
But it was picked up by the wind and to the sea
It started its spin -taking my dream to the shipyard grave
Where at last it could not be saved.
So to all dreamers - I caution you this
Hold on to your dream and don't dropp it.
poem by Louis Rams
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Yourself you shape
Yourself the stone
Yourself the sculptor
Yourself the chisel
Yourself you shape
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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A sculptor is a person who is interested in the shape of things, a poet in words, a musician by sounds.
quote by Henry Moore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tao (Social Activism)
the Tao of social activism,
found in the newborn baby's cry.
in the hands that plow the earth,
that build, shape, and mold.
in the colors of the prism,
dividing light stream by stream.
in the raw and beating heart,
and the red blood pulsing.
in the day that follows darkness
without thought or plan.
in the breath inhaled and exhaled,
in the hand that fits in mine!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Truth And Justice.... (Part Four)
we do not have the right as
a 'free country' to mold and
shape the world by military
force for our own economic
gain...
... WE JUST DO NOT!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Superman
crucified
for eternal sins
re-invent myself
shape my alter skin
try to break the mold
severed hold
first you find your threshold bevels
breathing out your toxic levels
?lung so rope is hangin
now we know what's comin
oh superman
where have you gone
with a little more time
and a six leaf clover
just a little more head
to make you bolder
just a little more sound
been playing tricks you know
she got sucked so dry
we destroy ourselves
to rise again
open up yourself
like a jesus son
only way out is through
way past you
first you get to human levels
run right through your bullshit pedals
lung so rope is hanging
now we know what's coming
oh superman
where have you gone
with a little more time
and a six leaf clover
just a little more head
to make you bolder
just a little more sound
just a little more sound
been playing tricks you know
he got sucked so dry and you oughta know how to lose
lung so rope is hanging
oh superman
what have you done
with a little more time
and a six leaf clover
just a little more head
to make you bolder
just a little more sound
just a little more sound
song performed by by Bush from Golden State
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The people at the top of the league think they need to rein me in so I don't become another Michael Jordan, somebody they aren't able to mold and shape and make their puppet.
quote by Dennis Rodman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Carpenter By Trade
His future had been laid- for he was a carpenter by trade.
Just as a carpenter can mold anything out of wood
He could mold mans hearts and souls into good.
He would mold mans hearts with accurate precision
For this was his fathers decision.
He came to mold all the hearts of mankind
And open the eyes of the blind.
The world would come to know him as the king of kings
And see all the love that he would bring.
Throughout the centuries it will be told
He is the master craftsman of the heart and soul.
Now when we feel a tingle of sensation
And a wanting to get more of inspiration
Look for the craftsman who could mold
The hearts and souls of man
To give you a helping hand.
when he made the heart of man
He left a corner deep within
Where the love for him can forever grow
And his love you could show.
Let all who know you - know this carpenter man
Who from evil he took his stand.
He has entered in you to mold you from the inside out
So you would know what loves about.
poem by Louis Rams
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Show-Piece
Behold! knees curled up to his chin
Head down, his empty bowl shaken
Fatigued and languished with weary mind
On penniless status for his bread...
Pity, even unaware of somebody playing upon
Poor beggar, a pose of hapless repose
An act of begging on loss
But an utility for a sculptor behind
The chisel shaping up poverty well formed
Benefitted is the sculptor in bucks
Soiled emotions to the beggar glue
His concaved belly nothing to pursue
Unnoticeably trespassed the sculptor to crop
A faint sitting target artistically on whop
Sold off by re-makes, the sculptor's ooh!
In a rich man's house seated respectfully
Is the pauper carved carefully
Out of a heavy stone looking meaningfully
With unshaken bowl for pennies hopefully!
poem by Indira Renganathan
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No person who is not a great sculptor or painter can be an architect. If he is not a sculptor or painter, he can only be a builder.
quote by John Ruskin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Falling Down
Is this world spinning round
Has this ship run aground
What's that shape
What's that sound
That's just me falling down
Some of us are free
Some are bound
Some will swim
Some will drown
Some of us are saints
Some are clowns
Just like me they're falling down
Well I lied to the nation
While my reputation ran dry
From my lungs to my liver
I clung to the river bank's side
Yeah well I'm back in the water
Doing what I oughta
Trying to lead an ordinary life
Is this world spinning round
Has this ship run aground
What's that shape
What's that sound
That's just me falling down
Some of us are green
Some are brown
Some are lost
Some are found
Sight unseen baby
Sound on sound
Pray for me I'm falling down
I was lost in the jungle
Crossed over enemy lines
Well I got me a red nose
By sleeping under hedgerows at night
Yeah well I tried levitation
Flying in formation
Heaven kows the weight of this crime
Is this
Is this world spinning round
Has this ship run aground
What's that shape
What's that sound
That's just me falling down
La
song performed by by Tears For Fears from Raoul & The Kings Of Spain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What's That
Before it came inside
I had watched it from my kitchen window,
watched it swell like a new balloon,
watched it slump and then divide,
like something I know I know -
a broken pear or two halves of the moon,
or round white plates floating nowhere
or fat hands waving in the summer air
until they fold together like a fist or a knee.
After that it came to my door. Now it lives here.
And of course: it is a soft sound, soft as a seal's ear
that was caught between a shape and a shape and then returned to me.
You know how parents call
from sweet beaches anywhere,
come in come in
,
and how you sank under water to put out
the sound, or how one of them touched in the hall
at night: the rustle and the skin
you couldn't know, but heard, the stout
slap of tides and the dog snoring. It's here
now, caught back from time in my adult year -
the image we did forget: the cranking shells on our feet
or the swing of the spoon in soup. It is real
as splinters stuck in your ear. The noise we steal
is half a bell. And outside cars whisk by on the suburban street
and are there and are true.
What else is this, this intricate shape of air?
calling me, calling you.
poem by Anne Sexton
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The Abuser
it does not matter if you're male or female
in the mind of a abuser
they will always prevail.
when you allow the abuse from the start
in you life, it becomes a part.
whether it's verbal or physical, it matters not
you let it start, and it won't stop.
the verbal can be more damaging than the physical
because it becomes daily.
like a sculptor chipping away at its mold
until it becomes the way that they want it to be.
and if you don't stop it
you will never be free.
they do it because of their own inadequacy.
which is something that their mind won't see.
how much abuse should you take
before it becomes much to late?
the verbal abuser will always put you to the ground
and expect you to not make a sound.
they will tell you that you was put here to serve.
and to make a move, you have no nerve.
that you must obey their every command
and that you are the scum of the land.
if you have no - or low self esteem
it is something which will be seen.
and when an abuser has you in their sight
no matter what you do, it won't be right.
STOP the abuse, before it's too late.
for this can not be your destined fate.
the verbal abuse will always start first
then from there, it will get worse.
YOU must walk away, so that they can see
a victim you will not be.
(abuse is like a broken tool, it could damage whatever is good)
poem by Louis Rams
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For a Statue of Æscalupius
Far as Miletus travelled Paean's son;
There to be guest of Nicias, guest of one
Who heals all sickness; and who still reveres
Him, for his sake this cedarn image rears.
The sculptor's hand right well did Nicias fill;
And here the sculptor lavished all his skill.
poem by Theocritus
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You have to create a track record of breaking your own mold, or at least other people's idea of that mold.
quote by William Hurt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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