The soul passeth from form to form; and the mansions of her pilgrimage are manifold.
quote by Georg Hermes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From one Soul of the Universe are all Souls derived... Of these Souls there are many changes, some into a more fortunate estate, and some quite contrary... Not all human souls but only the pious ones are divine. Once separated from the body, and after the struggle to acquire piety, which consists in knowing God and injuring none, such a soul becomes all intelligence. The impious soul, however, punishes itself by seeking a human body to enter into, for no other body can receive a human soul it cannot enter the body of an animal devoid of reason. Divine law preserves the human soul from such infamy... The soul passeth from form to form and the mansions of her pilgrimage are manifold. Thou puttest off thy bodies as raiment and as vesture dost thou fold them up. Thou art from old, O Soul of Man yea, thou art from everlasting.
quote by Hermes Trismegistus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O You Who've gone on Pilgrimage
O you who've gone on pilgrimage -
where are you, where, oh where?
Here, here is the Beloved!
Oh come now, come, oh come!
Your friend, he is your neighbor,
he is next to your wall -
You, erring in the desert -
what air of love is this?
If you'd see the Beloved's
form without any form -
You are the house, the master,
You are the Kaaba, you! . . .
Where is a bunch of roses,
if you would be this garden?
Where, one soul's pearly essence
when you're the Sea of God?
That's true - and yet your troubles
may turn to treasures rich -
How sad that you yourself veil
the treasure that is yours!
The War
There is a sound of thunder afar,
Storm in the south that darkens the day,
Storm of battle and thunder of war,
Well, if it do not roll our way.
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Be not deaf to the sound that warns!
Be not gull'd by a despot's plea!
Are figs of thistles or grapes of thorns?
How should a despot set men free?
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Let your Reforms for a moment go,
Look to your butts and make good aims.
Better a rotten borough or so,
Than a rotten fleet or a city of flames!
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
Form, be ready to do or die!
Form in freedom's name and the Queen's!
True, that we have a faithful ally,
But only the devil knows what he means!
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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A Sparrow's Thoughts.... (Number Six)
you can send the lie in the form
of the unemployment check, in the
form of food stamps, in the form
of Medicaid, in the form of new
policies, in the form of charity...
but the truth is you dont give a damn
until you are willing to share all
you have with fairness, until you're
willing to put your shoulders to the
load, until you're willing to get
involved in the work of equality!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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One of the aspects of form that I have been very interested in is stasis - the concept of form which is not so directional in time, not so much climactic form, but rather form which allows time, to stand still.
quote by La Monte Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Did that soul reach you, God
Did that soul reach you, God
It was a soul occupying a human form
Which had all good qualities of a
Good human being
That human form chose not to
Get itself involved in the usually
Worldly living practices
By keeping itself off from the family web
And thus with no real need to make a living
But to live and be totally devoted
That human form was always in your praise
Devoting most of its time
In talking about you
In reading about you
And doing only such things
Related to you and your devotees
It was a human form
Which attempted in all possible ways
To make its audience
Feel the divine’s presence
And to enhance faith
In a long-standing spiritual tradition
It spent days and nights
In deciphering the scripts
And interpreting them
For the use of even less inclined group
There could be occasions
When this human form would have
Stirred feelings of some
With displeasing messages
But people know that
Such expressions are only
Unmasked intensions
But its care and affection
Are sincere and its well wishing
Would you take any far
It takes pride in its known people
Growing well
And marking scales in the society
The soul from such a human form
Departed a week back
All we heard from this human being
Is that
When the soul leaves a body
Which has been real devotee
Is well received by the angels in the heaven
Dressed well and decorated by them
Matching the looks of other heaven dwellers
All look alike including
The heavenly god form
And just reached soul after these face lifts
Is presented before God
Did that soul reach you
Did that soul reach you, God
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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The rudimentary forms
Rivalry is the rudimentary
Form of enmity.
Solidarity is the rudimentary
Form of fear.
Sports and games are the rudimentary
Form of fight
Friendship across sex is the rudimentary
Form of sexual love
04.10.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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To A Lady, Offended By A Sportive Observation That Women Have No Souls
Nay, dearest Anna! why so grave?
I said, you had no soul, 'tis true!
For what you are, you cannot have:
'Tis I, that have one since I first had you!
_____________
I have heard of reasons manifold
Why Love must needs be blind,
But this the best of all I hold--
His eyes are in his mind.
What outward form and feature are
He guesseth but in part;
But what within is good and fair
He seeth with the heart.
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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He was the first to conceive of movies as an art form. His belief was that if the traditional art form would not find room for him, then he would make an art form of his own.
quote by Richard Schickel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is a peculiar art form, but I think it's a necessary art form - and I do believe it's a noble art form.
quote by Paul Conrad
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Sonnet 11
is it any wonder i have no words to tell
how my heart yearns in absence of you?
the night revives this constant hell-
no vision replaces dark with bright view,
prefiguring the visitation of your form
in sacred majesty, transfiguring night
in darkened soul to that majesty. in turn,
unformed dark, unchanged by celestial Light
formless dark remains, unilluminated by art.
your timeless form, unsculpted by love's pencil,
lends no body to the unformed in my heart.
no form heart forms new, nor does it chisel.
thus your form, unchiselled in my inner eye,
and your heart, my inner sense can't spy.
poem by Doug Bentley
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0342 Like me, like you
Landing airplanes form a high queue;
Busy ants all form a low queue;
Salespersons should pretend they like you;
But only poets can form a haiku.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Houses—so the Wise Men tell me—
"Houses"—so the Wise Men tell me—
"Mansions"! Mansions must be warm!
Mansions cannot let the tears in,
Mansions must exclude the storm!
"Many Mansions," by "his Father,"
I don't know him; snugly built!
Could the Children find the way there—
Some, would even trudge tonight!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Forms (A Serious Side)
Just think of all the paper
that is used to create a form.
Think of all the trees
that have to be cut down,
And all the rainforests
that disappear, each year.
So when you get another form to fill in.
Just remind the sender
of all the wildlife they destroy
and ask when they are planting more trees.
Because this form has taken
just one too many trees
from our wonderful world.
poem by David Harris
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The British ballads became a new kind of form in their hand. And out of them came the blues, a new kind of song of commentary and satire, a song form which, after all, has become the main musical form of the whole human species.
quote by Alan Lomax
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Human Or a Soul?
What were we first, a human or a soul?
Humans age, die and then grow old.
Souls incarnate in form and never by itself grow old.
Why not make laws that help the soul grow,
not keep us in bondage in the human form.
All revolutions of mankind in controlled kingdoms,
where because the soul was stuck and needed it’s freedom.
Why not learn more about how a Highly Evolved Being would act,
Look at how they behave, think and live in a pack.
Why on our planet we need a new cultural story,
One that makes united as a people in all it’s glory.
Not this wasted time on wars and horror stories.
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Human Or a Soul?
What were we first, a human or a soul?
Humans age, die and then grow old.
Souls incarnate in form and never by itself grow old.
Why not make laws that help the soul grow,
not keep us in bondage in the human form.
All revolutions of mankind in controlled kingdoms,
where because the soul was stuck and needed it’s freedom.
Why not learn more about how a Highly Evolved Being would act,
Look at how they behave, think and live in a pack.
Why on our planet we need a new cultural story,
One that makes united as a people in all it’s glory.
Not this wasted time on wars and horror stories.
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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The Parallel
Prometheus, forming Mr. Day,
Carved something like a man in clay:
The mortal's work might well miscarry;
He that does heaven and earth control
Has only power to form a soul;
His hand is evident in Harry,
Since one is but a moving clod,
Th' other the lively form of God.
'Squire Wallis, you will scarce be able
To prove all poetry but fable.
poem by Matthew Prior
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4. Elements – Fire
The element of fire
Constructive, destructive
The bright light of fire
The slight of fire
The all consuming fire
Does not exist
In its natural form
Exists by consuming
Another form
It transforms from one
Form to another form
Fuels our passion
Leaves everything ashen
Duels the darkness
Heaves on compassion
Fire, constructively destructive
Fire, destructively constructive
Fire, living death
Fire, dying life
poem by Anand Dixit
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Fire Element
The element of fire
Constructive, destructive
The bright light of fire
The slight of fire
The all consuming fire
Does not exist
In its natural form
Exists by consuming
Another form
It transforms from one
Form to another form
Fuels our passion
Leaves everything ashen
Duels the darkness
Heaves on compassion
Fire, constructively destructive
Fire, destructively constructive
Fire, living death
Fire, dying life
poem by Ricky Baker
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