The fabric of existence weaves itself whole.
quote by Charles Ives
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And woven into the fabric of this harsh existence was music.
quote by Lesley Garrett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thou hide thyself behind the Fabrics of life
weft is Energy and matter is
warp,
Weaving fabric after fabric of
worlds,
Filling your own breath in all,
Every breath is eternal story of
thy love,
thou are blind to thy own brightness,
Covering yourself with colourful fabric of life,
thou art that primordial existence and cause,
Primordial love,
Thou art the love, ever loving lover,
beloved of all life,
every life is a ray of thy love,
Every life is thy love story,
You weave the web of life,
Using corporeal and Empyreal illusions,
Every word is colourful and
powerful,
Every life is thy love song,
singing with different lyrics and tune,
Under the fabric of words,
Web of every words and scriptures hide you more,
Every heart is thine hide!
The heart that one with you in
love,
Only love these fabrics because of you,
Behind every form of
corporeal you hide more,
Thou are always naked,
Behind fabrics of life,
to the one who is silent,
bearfooted and naked in thy love!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Bu$hleaguer
How does he do it? How do they do it? Uncanny and immutable.
This is such a happening tailpipe of a party.
Like sugar, the guests are so refined.
A confidence man but why so beleagued?
He's not a leader he's a Texas leaguer.
Swinging for the fence. Got lucky with a strike.
Drilling for fear makes the job simple.
Born on third. Thinks he got a triple.
Blackout weaves its way through the cities.
Blackout weaves its way through the cities.
Blackout weaves its way.
I remember when you sang that song about today.
Now it's tomorrow and everything has changed.
A think tank of aloof multiplication.
A nicotine wish and a columbus decanter.
Retrenchment and hoggishness.
The aristocrat choir sings, "What's the ruckus?"
The haves have not a clue.
The immenseness of suffering.
And the odd negotiation. A rarity.
With onionskin plausibility of life.
And a keyboard reaffirmation.
Blackout weaves its way through the cities.
Blackout weaves its way through the cities.
Blackout weaves its way.
I remember when you sang that song about today.
Now it's tomorrow and everything has changed.
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He for himself weaves woe who weaves for others woe, and evil counsel on the counselor recoils.
Your Motto
From your 'sotto voco',
From your lotto,
From your motto! !
And with four bedrooms to crown the day;
But your lover is in 'Hotel St. James'.
The different shades of blue,
From the heat weaves and the beat-weaves!
And like the movie industry around you;
But, it will take a longer time for you to be like me.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Ignorant people see life as either existence or non-existence, but wise men see it beyond both existence and non-existence to something that transcends them both; this is an observation of the Middle Way.
quote by Lucius Annaeus Seneca
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Refrain
Of all the songs which poets sing
The ones which are most sweet
Are those which at close intervals
A low refrain repeat;
Some tender word, some syllable,
Over and over, ever and ever,
While the song lasts,
Altering never,
Music if sung, music if said,
Subtle like some golden thread
A shuttle casts,
In and out on a fabric red,
Till it glows all through
With the golden hue.
Oh! of all the songs sung,
No songs are so sweet
As the songs with refrains,
Which repeat and repeat.
Of all the lives lived,
No life is so sweet,
As the life where one thought,
In refrain doth repeat,
Over and over, ever and ever,
Till the life ends,
Altering never,
Joy which is felt, but is not said,
Subtler than any golden thread
Which the shuttle sends
In and out in a fabric red,
Till it glows all through
With a golden hue.
Oh! of all the lives lived,
Can be no life so sweet,
As the life where one thought
In refrain doth repeat,
"Now name for me a thought
To make life so sweet,
A thought of such joy
Its refrain to repeat."
Oh! foolish to ask me. Ever, ever
Who loveth believes,
But telleth never.
It might be a name, just a name not said,
But in every thought; like a golden thread
Which the shuttle weaves
In and out on a fabric red,
Till it glows all through
With a golden hue.
Oh! of all sweet lives,
Who can tell how sweet
Is the life which one name
In refrain doth repeat?
poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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Rip Up The Threads
We're all in this together.
We never were alone.
We've just been told
we're different.
And so the words were sewn
into a fabric, sewn up tight
by the dirty hands with the needle
and the threads became the grime.
It made the fabric
and wove the shame
into it tightly
without any name.
For without a name
there's just a blank space,
no visible face
to cast the blame on.
Rip up the threads.
Rip it in shreds.
Each race take a thread
and pull it apart.
Your common purpose
will be what you see.
And peace will finally start.
Love will be there
for we're creatures from God
that wants us to share
in a fabric made of love.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Quality is the result of a carefully constructed cultural environment. It has to be the fabric of the organization, not part of the fabric.
Philip Crosby in Reflections on Quality
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We all participate in weaving the social fabric; we should therefore all participate in patching the fabric when it develops holes mismatches between old expectations and current realities.
quote by Anne C. Weisberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wind Against Your Body
BEHIND the bold lines
of black and the
alternating yellow fabric
is your body,
the winds against your body
the fabric shows well
the curve
the pointed breasts
the valley
of cleavage
i cannot stop looking
longer this time
and i
exploded into a firework
of golden lights
to the skies
to the seas.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Writer In Me
there is silence
in my struggle
there is dignity
in my suffering
coat and tie
flawless fabric
of my
existence
there is secrecy
in my quest
there is no sharing
of my misery
i have only sorrow
as company of my sorrow
i have only some tears
for my joys
i always have
open arms for Thy Will
I seal my fate with
a kiss
i always take the
incoming as
a form of hope
i keep this silence
i write these words.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bat
IN broad daylight
He should not be:
Yet toward and froward,
Froward and toward
He weaves a flight.
Who will guide him back to his cave,
A little Bat astray,
Where he'll rest on the breast of night,
Away from day's bright miscreation?
The linnet throbs through the air,
The magpie coquettes with day,
The rook caws 'Time to be gone,'
And travels on;
While toward and froward,
Froward and toward,
The Bat ... a fathom
Of flight . . . weaves.
poem by Padraic Colum
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Fluidity
People are everywhere you go.
Pottering from A to B.
The fabric of a nation.
People are everywhere you may be.
They can nearly always see.
Pottering from to and fro,
Always dying to 'go'.
Looking for the man in the 'know'.
Eccentric, pedantic,
A million varieties.
-Always looking for more.
Never certain where to go.
People are everywhere.
On the river, down the lane.
Pottering from B to A.
The fabric of a nation,
Its daydream whims
Turned into reality.
Fluid is the day of night.
poem by Peter Vealey
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I Am Consciousness
I am consciousness, existences and bliss.
Hold the light for everyone you do insist.
I am consciousness, existence, bliss,
bless the people you have on your list.
I am consciousness, existence bliss,
think a good thought to those that are missed.
I am consciousness, existence, bliss,
bless those you wouldn’t even kiss.
I am consciousness, existence, bliss,
heal relationships where anger exists.
I am consciousness, existence, bliss,
bless those you cherish.
Written By Christina Sunrise on February 4,2012
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Zorah
An Arab beats upon a kettle drum,
And tuneless is the wailing of the flutes
As on the sands a slavegirl executes
Her dance of wantonwild delirium;
Her body swaying like a pendulum
Backwards and forwards, while in evolutes
She weaves and weaves before fierce pagan brutes
Who gaze at her in wonder that is dumb.
I look upon her limbs bronzed by the sun,
And see within her eyes strange caravans,
Marching all day across blank desert lands,
Until they come at night to where in rings
The Nomad fires glimmer, one by one,
around the tombs of longforgotten kings.
poem by Harry Crosby
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Love The Lie
He weaves tales
Of love and romance
But his own heart
Is broken
And lost
No luminescent
In his black
Lifeless eyes
Could love no more
Then the love
Reaper took from him
So he told himself this
I will be alone
Till death take me
To presence
Of my parted truth
But his heart has healed
And he refuses to believe
That once again
His heart chose
His path
So he weaves his tales
Of love and romance
To hide from his
Bleeding heart
And realize
He has begun to love the lie
poem by Eric Andrew James
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I Am Consciousness
I am consciousness, existences and bliss.
Hold the light for everyone you do insist.
I am consciousness, existence, bliss,
bless the people you have on your list.
I am consciousness, existence bliss,
think a good thought to those that are missed.
I am consciousness, existence, bliss,
bless those you wouldn’t even kiss.
I am consciousness, existence, bliss,
heal relationships where anger exists.
I am consciousness, existence, bliss,
bless those you cherish.
Written By Christina Sunrise on February 4,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Knowing More About A Hanging Curtain By The Window Of A Hotel
inside the hotel i study the curtain
take a shot, put more light,
it is striking,
i remove the light, make it hazy
infuse more darkness
it too has many faces
imbued with a variety of emotions
that i have uncovered
from its hanging existence
the window has become restless
how it wish it were me
experimenting on life
wanting to extort what is there that has remained hidden
in fabric, in the space of lighted exhaustion
i remember you talking to a tree
i laugh
it is true, the link is there
i have never really minded it
until i get here
in the middle of this crowded city
where heat is high
where indifference is normal
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Splitting the Sparkle
Splitting the sparkle from seams in the sky
Running in fabric with threads flying by
Twisting contorting a glimmer of light
Running in spectrums that seemed out of sight
Bending and breaking spectacular tests
Over and under, repeating its bests
Showing and slowing this glimmer of light
Over and under, all spectrums of sight
Running over and under these fabrics so tense
It’s hard to remember to question from whence
Spectrums and glimmers that came from a dense
Point in the universe shouts existence
poem by Paul Moosberg
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