Self-control means wanting to be effective at some random point in the infinite radiations of my spiritual existence.
quote by Franz Kafka
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Getting To The Point
Its out of control (out of control)
And theres nothing I can do now
Out of control (out of control)
Spinning softly through the blue now
And look beyond these walls
As the meaning starts to dawn
Its getting to the point
Getting to the point.
Its out of control (nothing I can do)
Like a fire that keeps on burning
And nobody knows (what Im going through)
And the thoughts just keep returning
And all you had to say
Was that you were gonna stay
Its getting to the point
Getting to the point.
Chorus:
Its getting to the point
Where nobody can stop it now
Its getting to the point
Of no return
And all that I can do
Is stand and watch it now
Watch it burn, burn, burn
Its getting to the point
Where reasons are forgotten
Its getting to the point
Where no one knows
And all that I can do
Is say Im sorry
But thats the way it goes...
Getting to the point.
Forever
Is a long, long way
Forever
Takes your breath away
Id like to talk about it, try to understand
Its getting to the point
Getting to the point.
Repeat chorus
Its getting to the point (getting to the point)
Getting to the point (getting to the point)
Its getting to the point (getting to the point)
Getting to the point.
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On the spiritual theory, man consists essentially of a spiritual nature or mind intimately associated with a spiritual body or soul, both of which are developed in and by means of a material organism.
quote by Alfred Russel Wallace
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He who proclaims the existence of the Infinite, and none can avoid it — accumulates in that affirmation more of the supernatural than is to be found in all the miracles of all the religions; for the notion of the Infinite presents that double character that forces itself upon us and yet is incomprehensible. When this notion seizes upon our understanding we can but kneel ... I see everywhere the inevitable expression of the Infinite in the world; through it the supernatural is at the bottom of every heart. The idea of God is a form of the idea of the Infinite. As long as the mystery of the infinite weighs on human thought, temples will be erected for the worship of the Infinite, whether God is called Brahma, Allah, Jehovah, or Jesus; and on the pavement of these temples, men will be seen kneeling, prostrated, annihilated by the thought of the Infinite.
quote by Louis Pasteur
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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My Willing Prey
As if a hungry lion could tell the lamb
to stay away and run,
I could not to you.
How could I? I need you.
But needing you means leaving you none-
taking away your heartbeat
till you can breathe no more.
As a deadly snake could not turn away
from a helpless child,
I could not turn away from you;
for how could I? I want you.
But wanting you means wanting you tied
to the wide chasm of eternal sleep
till you can dream no more.
Should a destroying angel pass by the soul
so eager to be kissed by the lips of death?
I wish I could, but I could not to you.
How could I? I love you...
but not enough to tell you what it means.
I only wish you could open your eyes
and see beyond what you see in me -
that I may be needing you, wanting you,
loving you... to hurt you after all.
30August2012
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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Brink Of Extinction
Creating with a solicitation,
A lazy and undisciplined existence.
To identify a segment of one's population,
As dysfunctional.
May for those responsible,
In the implementation of this...
Boost egos.
But cost effective?
No!
Only fools feeding an isolated greed,
Would keep this as their belief.
Only a complete ignorance,
Would perceive this approach...
To be an effective reflection of greatness.
Those assigned to oppress minds,
From the time of their birth...
Would find this uplifting to their self worth.
And not an encouragement nourishing,
One to the brink of extinction.
Those assigned to oppress minds,
Of those threatening their insecurities...
Eventually will find this point of view of superiority,
A mentally degrading aspect...
Of their own growth process and not an asset.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Gun control means control. It means control for the government and the government starts controlling the people.
quote by Luke Scott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Draanen
She wants to know more about this boy,
He wants to know more about this girl,
And like what is seen around us in the name of modern society!
But i am Draanen in the land of joy.
A random love,
A random poem,
A random story,
A random muse,
And like the joy of your heart!
But falling in love is part of us on this earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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When He Himself Reveals Himself
When he himself reveals himself,
Brahma brings into manifestation
That which can never be seen.
As the seed is in the plant,
as the shade is in the tree,
as the void is in the sky,
as infinite forms are in the void-
So from beyond the Infinite,
the Infinite comes;
and from the Infinite the finite extends.
The creature is in Brahma,
and Brahma is in the creature:
they are ever distinct,
yet ever united.
He Himself is the tree, the seed, and the germ.
He Himself is the flower, the fruit, and the shade.
He Himself is the sun, the light, and the lighted.
He Himself is Brahma, creature, and Maya.
He Himself is the manifold form, the infinite space;
He is the breath, the word, and the meaning.
He Himself is the limit and the limitless:
and beyond both the limited and the limitless is He,
the Pure Being.
He is the Immanent Mind in Brahma and in the creature.
The Supreme Soul is seen within the soul,
The Point is seen within the Supreme Soul,
And within the Point, the reflection is seen again.
Kabîr is blest because he has this supreme vision!
The Unmoved Mover, see who am I!
The Unmoved Mover!
The universe that moving,
The universe that is changing,
The universe that is playing,
Projecting and hiding,
Playing that hide and seek,
Who is that hides and who is that seeks,
Who is that moving the infinite universe?
The one, who that can Be moved by prayers,
Does he really move,
And can He move, before He move worlds for us?
He is infinite, filling all space,
Can he move the universe,
can he move it without the space
Can He move it without 'Time'
When He fills the space,
how can he move himself
or how can he move something in space?
He is the Unmoved Mover of universe,
He himself created room,
He Himself moved Himself in Himself
Creating Himself the time and space,
He Himself manifested at different points
And keeping space between these points,
Infinite He split himself into elements
five or a few
And created particles and forces between,
That expanded matter and space,
Created events,
so that the time has any meaning,
He Himself became nucleotides and cells,
Joined them as building blocks,
To build house for himself,
And became homesick always,
Yet wept for his lost glory and beauty,
Wanted to have back all that lost and hide,
When He was busy in building a nest for own!
He was thinker without brain,
And He is that,
He is I am,
'I am' is he,
If you ask 'who are you thee and
where are you thee? '
He replies, Iam tree in this tree,
I am the stone in this stone,
I am the star in this star,
Iam the air in atmosphere,
Iam the water in rivers and ocean,
I am the bacteria in this bacterial house,
Iam the bull in this bulls body,
I am the grass at your feet,
I am you in your body,
I am that in which I feel,
When you ask me who are me,
I say I a proud Hindu,
Or I say I am a proud sikh
Or I am a proud muslim
Or I am proud Christian,
Or A proud Aryan But I fail to say,
I am humble human,
Iam like point in infinite
universe, and is a child of God, all
are his children, so we are
brother and sisters!
And I am that infinite when I am in my own infinite glory and infinite beauty!
Look through you, I look at myself,
Look around, I look at myself from all around,
Look I am talking to myself,
I am that call myself as you when I see from that point from this point of space and time, both which have no existence without my folly in wisdom or wisdom in folly!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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(Strange Poem) Angry Aliens
Angry aliens their coming to get you.
Invading the body by unknowing means.
Taking control of your mind.
Their is nothing you can do.
Your fear is pointless.
Your defenses are useless.
When they're done, their will no one left save.
Angry aliens their coming to get you.
Invading the body by unknowing means.
Taking control of your mind.
With instruments both sharp and dull.
An incision right across you skull.
An plantation technology unknown.
You will be a clone.
Do what they say.
How they say.
Their is just no other way.
Angry aliens their coming to get you.
Invading the body by unknowing means.
Taking control of your mind.
They will not explain their reasoning.
For your limited minds could never comprehend such matters.
It would drive you completely insane.
They do not understand why you struggle so much.
They see you as cows they need to herd in their pens.
For food, for experimentation, for divination.
Does the reason even matter.
A purpose that will never be exposed.
Angry aliens their coming to get you.
Invading the body by unknowing means.
Taking control of your mind.
Angry aliens their coming to get you.
Invading the body by unknowing means.
Taking control of your mind.
If you had the power would you not do the same.
Do we not do this to other creatures we consider of lesser intelligence.
And if given the power do you think they would take upon a swift vengeance.
Angry aliens their coming to get you.
Invading the body by unknowing means.
Taking control of your mind.
Angry aliens their coming to get you.
Invading the body by unknowing means.
Taking control of your mind.
Their no stopping them now.
You better just listen to what say.
They expect you to completely and fully obey.
They are the angry aliens.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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To relate oneself in the spirit of reverence for life to the multiform manifestations of the will-to-live which together constitute the world is ethical mysticism. All profound world-view is mysticism, the essence of which is just this: that out of my unsophisticated and naïve existence in the world there comes, as a result of thought about self and the world, spiritual self-devotion to the mysterious infinite Will which is continuously manifested in the universe.
quote by Albert Schweitzer
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Meaning Of War
Meaning of war
War means bombing
War means explosions
War means fire
War means destruction
War means hating
War means mutilation
War means killing
War means tears
War means guns
War means loss
War means not of who is right
War means not of who is wrong
War means only of whom is left
poem by Oscar Montano
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Definitely Crazed
These madcow eaters are ready to strike.
With no regard at all for human life.
They are out to prove a point.
Power means blight.
And they are prepared to block the Sun...
From providing natural light!
They wish to attack,
To keep an ignorance intact.
Control they feel they must.
To spread their lustful ways.
Even if it means...
The last of life in the coming days!
They are sick and wicked.
And definitely crazed!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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War Means
War Means death
War Means destruction
War Means fire
War Means bombing
War Means sorrow
War Means turmoil
War Means tears
War Means guns
War Means blood
War Means confusion
War Means explosions
War Means mutilation
War Means sickness
War Means killing
War Means occupation
War Means loss
And lots more
But after one side
Or the other side
Has finally had enough
And lays down their arms
To surrender and give up
War Means Peace
poem by Mrunal Nandankar
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War Means
War Means death
War Means destruction
War Means fire
War Means bombing
War Means sorrow
War Means turmoil
War Means tears
War Means guns
War Means blood
War Means confusion
War Means explosions
War Means mutilation
War Means sickness
War Means killing
War Means occupation
War Means loss
And lots more
But after one side
Or the other side
Has finally had enough
And lays down their arms
To surrender and give up
War Means Peace
poem by Brie Carter
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For Lorenzo
there is always a choice between
a barong and something more Filipino
but he goes astray
wanting to portray who he really is
a matter of self-expression
he says is important
one asserts to keep one away
from the enslavement of inferiority
in facing the Chief Justice he drives
the main point of his existence
a pink tie, a pouting mouth,
the famous sway of the hip
a la maya angelou.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Dread the Silence
I need noise when I’m awake
I dread the silence when I am not asleep
It’s either pounding my eardrums with songs, music or any mp3s
or razzing it to an audio book or MTVs
Noise has been a means to cover up the reality
I dread the silence for it prods a cognizance that I’m alone despite the crowd.
I dread the silence fearing that I wake up from my self-created imaginary world
I dread the silence for fear that it made me question about my existence
I dread the silence fearing that I will hear the inner voice
clamoring and wanting to escape from this dragging circumstances
That still small voice which prefers peace
that still small voice wanting to get away from this kind of place.
that still small voice, crying from this senseless pace.
that still small voice, wanting a break from this pointless race.
poem by Champs Ulysses Cabinatan
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The End
Birth.. a human cycle begins
so far from remember when
Living for what?
We turn away.. from the last chapter
all are shown someday.
Try to remember, light in your eyes
the beginning is..
no one dies!
Our thin entropic skin
holds an entity that has NO END
we are infinite.. every spiritual core
you won't believe what you came here for!
How close you are to the real meaning
means nothing to you if it's always raining.
You will have your place in the sun again
the beginning was..
there is no end.
poem by Robert Scott Cohn
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More Effective Means
Many times you have tried,
To misrepresent my intentions.
And to manipulate my deeds.
And many times my tolerance,
Sat and watch this purposely.
Over the years my intentions have changed.
And I am not reluctant to express impatience.
Nor is my tolerance one I am proud of.
And my methods now use more effective means...
To get my point across.
So grateful am I to find constant prayer,
Enables me to do this!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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