Literature is always trying to show other parts of this immense universe in which we live. It's endless. I'm sure there will be other writers who will discover new worlds.

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Heaven Speaks

I am your final destiny,
Don't worry for small issues.
They are parts of your journey,
Don't exhaust, live with virtues.

You are a magnificent art,
That can never destroy.
Universe is too big,
It is endless to enjoy.

Be an honest well-being,
As you are a magnificent art,
Of universe, you can't be the king,
As you are mere a part.

I am your final destiny,
Issues are parts of your journey.

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I Live In Other Worlds

I LIVE IN OTHER WORLDS

I live in other worlds-
Far from those most people live in
I am happy in my worlds-mostly
They do not bite or sting-

I live in other worlds
There are inward worlds
Quiet worlds
They have poems and music and stories in them-

I listen to them
And I make and remake them
as my own little worlds
Word- worlds mostly-

Like this one.

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Albert Einstein

unified field theory

They say I did not reach my destination, that I was wrong, still I went on, our intent, our wisdom, folly, determination, steadfastness, passion are parts of our soul. You should see my discoveries in the other worlds I was born into, worlds far grander, more interesting in endless positive ways than the one you are in now.

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Two Different Worlds

I know this girl, shes always on my mind
She lives in her world and I live in mine
I should forget about her and Ive tried
Lord knows Ive tried
But I want to know her, and heres the other side
Ive got someone waiting for me every night
Shes the only one Ive ever loved
And its been that way for the longest time
Shes the one that makes my world go right
And it tears me in two because I know where Ill be tonight
I think she knows it
I think she knows
Two different worlds, two different worlds
One that belongs to me, one could be wrong for me
Two different worlds, two different worlds
Oh, two different worlds
Is she that different or is it the thrill of someone new
Strung out on her, I need her love
I need it bad, and I know, I know its true
Im the one that lies awake alone
I know, shes the one that makes me stray from home
And I know it
Yeah, I know it
Two different worlds, two different worlds
One that I may regret, one that I cant forget
Two different worlds, two different worlds
Oh, always two different worlds
No, I cant explain this emptiness
No, I know I cant go on like this
Two different worlds, two different worlds
Two different worlds
I live in two different worlds
One that I may regret, one that I wont forget
Two different worlds
But I cant live in both, I know
One world I must let go

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Literature I Loved

LITERATURE I LOVED

Literature I loved-
Reading gave new lives and new worlds-
Experience enriched beyond
What I could have ever have imagined alone-

The pleasure and joy of it
The discovery the adventure-

Literature I loved
And Life greater because of it.

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Ezra Pound

Literature does not exist in a vacuum. Writers as such have a definite social function exactly proportional to their ability as writers. This is their main use.

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Maya

Maya this song's for you
I have your name print tattooed upon my skin
There's so much to say to you
And where do I begin?
Cos all these prayers must be going somewhere
Somewhere I can never trace
But it seems so far look in the stars
And the empty space
Chorus:
There are worlds within worlds, that keep rotating
And so many thoughts that flow through my mind
If this universe is really shrinking
We'll be together in time
I had a vision of this place
It looked like heaven but the colours seemed to change
And no matter what I do yeah
It's slowly fading away
So all of these prayers have to be going somewhere
Somewhere I can never trace
And one could get lost in all of these stars
And drift in space
Chorus:
There are worlds within worlds, that keep rotating
And so many thoughts that flow through my mind
If this universe is really shrinking
We'll be together in time
Chorus:
There are worlds within worlds, that keep rotating
And so many thoughts that flow through my mind
If this universe is really shrinking
We'll be together in time
Chorus:
There are worlds within worlds, that keep rotating
And so many thoughts that flow through my mind
If this universe is really shrinking
We'll be together in time

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Show Me How To Live

In with the early dawn
Moving right along
I couldnt buy an eye of sleep
And in the aching night
Under satellite
I was not recieved
With the stolen parts
A telephone in my heart
Someone get me a priest
To put my mind to bed
This ringing in my head
Is this a cure is or is this a disease
Hey hey I said
Near as I can figure
You gave me life now
Show me how to live
Hey hey I said
Near as I can figure
You gave me life now
Show me how to live
In the afterbirth
On the quiet earth
Let this things remind me
You thought you made amend
You better think again
Before my row defines you
Hey hey I said
Near as I an figure
You gave me life now show me how to live
Hey hey I said
Near as I can figure
You gave me life now
Show me how to live
And in your waiting hands
I will land
And roll out of my skin
And in your final hours I will stand
Ready to begin
Ready to begin
Ready to begin
Ready to begin
Hey hey I said
Near as I can figure
You gave me life now
Show me how to live
Hey hey I said
Near as I can figure
You gave me life now
Show me how to live
Show me how to live
Show me how to live
Show me how to live
Show me how to live

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Oh The Poems

OH THE POEMS AND THE POEMS AND THE POEMS

Oh the poems and the poems and the poems
Oh the love of Literature
Oh all that stuff
I have given my life to-
Words and meanings and feelings
Pages and pages and pages –

What it is all this literary life for?
When out the window out the door
With our eyes we see in an instant other worlds other dreams?

I don’t know and I will never know
And Literature is certainly far more than I can say it is-

Oh the poems and this poem and this day turning grey
And all my life old and old and more old and more old-

Oh why oh why oh why
And always back to God
My last rescue and refuge and escape
I who have read so much Great Literature
And can only write this-

Oh the why and the oh oh oh and the words
And the whole world of Literature
I would belong to and do not.
Oh the words oh the world oh the Literature
Oh God help me please can’t you please help me a little or not?

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Anais Nin

One handles truths like dynamite. Literature is one vast hypocrisy, a giant deception, treachery. All writers have concealed more than they revealed. But paradoxically, we create fiction out of human concern for the victims of the revelations. This concern is at the root of literature.

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One aspect of this is the way we have come during recent centuries to appreciate that the world and indeed the very universe in which we live have evolved over immense periods of time.

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Infinetry

If the universe is of infinite size
On just one planet would life arise?
Or are there many where life can swarm,
Advanced like us and of similar form?
In lands bizarre and on planets strange,
Do alien writers their words arrange?
So do we live in a universe
Where infinite poets write infinite verse?

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When they discover the center of the universe, a lot of people will be disappointed to discover they are not it.

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Pulling myself together for M'lady Ann Beard

In dreams I can communicate
with disparate parts of me.
I’m learning to appreciate.
The frightening complexity

Of the different parts of me.
Which I must balance constantly
A task I must face every day
so they combine to make me, me..

I am a father and a son.
I am a brother and a friend.
The endless list goes on and on.
It seems as though it has no end.

Somehow I manage to control
at least the parts on public view.
The scattered parts which make the whole
But still conceal a thing or two.

The parts of me I need to change.
I’m sure I can do given time.
Some parts of me are weird and strange.
Like creatures from an earlier time.

The Id tries to assert its will.
The ego sure to disagree.
The super ego bids them both be still.
I just accept they’re part of me.

When other people look at me.
I wonder if they wonder too
If they can see reality.
I am not certain that I do.

Wednesday,02 December 2009
http: //blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.

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Angels

The further you get, the better you see
Ooh yeah, it all goes on and on, infinitely
The closer you are, the better you see
Oh, within, within, there is infinity
worlds within worlds within worlds within worlds
Let your soul take you higher
There are no bounds
Let your soul take you higher
(chase your fire)
(out of love, with empty souls)
Oh look back from the stars and see we are dust
It all goes on and on and we are the dust
So why don't we laugh, and why-
why don't we sing...
in endless chords and harmonies
We're angels, dancing 'round
(repeat chorus to fade)

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The prophets and the writers of the Psalms were clear that God was continuing to work in the universe and in all history. They declared that He had created the universe.

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John Donne

Holy Sonnet V: I Am A Little World Made Cunningly

I am a little world made cunningly
Of elements, and an angelic sprite;
But black sin hath betrayed to endless night
My worlds both parts, and (oh!) both parts must die.
You which beyond that heaven which was most high
Have found new spheres, and of new lands can write,
Pour new seas in mine eyes, that so I might
Drown my world with my weeping earnestly,
Or wash it if it must be drowned no more:
But oh it must be burnt! alas the fire
Of lust and envy have burnt it heretofore,
And made it fouler: Let their flames retire,
And burn me, O Lord, with a fiery zeal
Of Thee and Thy house, which doth in eating heal.

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Four Main Types of Writers (personal opinion)

The Lonely Writer

Some writings tell me
This person is lonely
And is reaching out
For the touch of a friendly comment
These writers are sad, solitary,
Isolated, but good persons
And quite often very good writers

The needy juvenile writer

Some writings contain words
Or language meant to shock
And to offend.
These writers are lonely also
But in a different way.
These writers are simply saying
Like a little child
“hey! I exist! Someone better
Acknowledge me! ”
These writers can often write well
But usually don’t, can’t, or choose not to

The Spite Writer

This writer can be of either gender
But seems to be in a female majority
They’ve been spurned or rejected
Two-timed or lied to.
And they are going to vent their ire
In the most public way they can.
These writers can also be very good writers
But too often let their anger get in the way.

The Religious Writer

These writers show people passionate
And zealously devoted to singing the praises
Of the Lord and goodness and charity.
They’re probably austere, honest people
Who almost always write very well.
For the most part these writers seem
To want to spread the word and
At the same time tend to be rather singular
In the subject matter of their writings,
Rarely attempting other genres.

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Rabindranath Tagore

On the Seashore

On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
The infinite sky is motionless overhead and the restless water is boisterous. On the seashore of endless worlds the children meet with shouts and dances.
They build their houses with sand, and they play with empty shells. With withered leaves they weave their boats and smilingly float them on the vast deep. Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.
They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets. Pearl-fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships, while children gather pebbles and scatter them again. They seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.
The sea surges up with laughter, and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach. Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children, even like a mother while rocking her baby's cradle. The sea plays with children, and pale gleams the smile of the sea-beach.
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet. Tempest roams in the pathless sky, ships are wrecked in the trackless water, death is abroad and children play. On the seashore of endless worlds is the great meeting of children.

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Rabindranath Tagore

Seashore

On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
The infinite sky is motionless overhead
and the restless water is boisterous.
On the seashore of endless worlds
the children meet with shouts and dances.

They build their houses with sand
and they play with empty shells.
With withered leaves they weave their boats
and smilingly float them on the vast deep.
Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.

They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets.
Pearl fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships,
while children gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.

The sea surges up with laughter
and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach.
Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children,
even like a mother while rocking her baby's cradle.
The sea plays with children,
and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach.

On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
Tempest roams in the pathless sky,
ships get wrecked in the trackless water,
death is abroad and children play.
On the seashore of endless worlds is the
great meeting of children.

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