Life is simply the reification of the process of living.
quote by Ernst Mayr
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Simply Best
Just want to forget all my pain for a little while. Do not want to think of anything for a little while because even thinking does not actually help. Thinking too much only increases a process in life. Life already has so many processes involved in it and that is just a crazy thing about life. Just relaxing for a while can be highly beneficial for life. Making most from life is often the only process which is available as an option. I guess sometimes just letting things go at a normal speed is simply best.
poem by Rohit Sapra
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Consumed Within the Process
Consumed within the process
That process we call life.
Immuned? Not from this process.
It keeps the vision near yet uncompromised.
And far enough to become realized.
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed within the process.
That process we call life.
Immuned?
Not from this process!
It keeps the vision near yet uncompromised.
And far enough to become realized.
Closing its eyes only when it wishes,
To call itself out!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
It keeps the vision in precision,
Until it's in 'all' sights.
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
It keeps the vision in precision,
Until it's in 'all' sights.
Consumed.
Within the process.
Just consumed.
Within the process this process.
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Political ideological systems are based on conceptions of the natural life process. They may further or hinder the natural life process. They themselves, however, do not function at the roots of the social process. They may be democratic; in that case they further the natural human life process. They may be authoritarian and dictatorial; in that case they are its deadly enemy.
quote by Wilhelm Reich
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Life is a process. We are a process. The universe is a process.
quote by Anne Wilson Schaef
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christianity is not a theory or speculation, but a life; not a philosophy of life, but a life and a living process.
quote by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death occurs, it does not exist
Death, as we all know
Marks the termination
Of a life process
It is the climax of a
Natural process
Where a life system takes birth
Grows, matures
And meets end
It only occurs
And has no existence as such
We fear death
As we know we are going to die one day
We fear most
The aftermath of our departure
Than what really is going to happen to us after death
Death takes not even a split of a second
To fructify
But we ponder over that
And its impact
Much much longer
We just need to know
That we cannot escape this ultimate end
And enjoy living as much as we can
In a fair and socially acceptable manner
Without troubling others around
Factually, living itself
Is indeed a preparation for death only
Because you are going to die the way you lived
A matured, well balanced living
Leads to a similar departure
A chasing, hurried living
Leads to a unplanned demise
Leaving behind others to chase and hurry
An ever complaining ways of living
Leads to a death
After which the near and dear ones
Have a lot to complain
A compassionate and considerate living
Leads to a death
Making others be the same with every one
Death is peaceful only
Health conditions may at times
Someone be hospitalised for long
And someone incapacitated
And some others becoming a real burden
All these have nothing to do with dying peacefully
As long the person to die
Remains in peace and comfort
No need to get reminded
That we die each time we breathe out
As we are not sure
Whether or not we are going to
Brathe in immediately after that
Let us live
Strengthening ourselves
With the understanding
That death does not exist
But, it is going to occur
Only once, somewhere, somehow, sometime
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Dusk and Dying
Dusk purple trees reach out high,
Gently brushing the Cotton Candy sky,
The nostalgic horizon passes by
And time races toward the time to die.
And I cannot help but wonder “But Why”?
Time is simply passing by, passing by,
Passing by….
But does it pause for me? Not I.
For me time simply passes by,
Like these leaves that patch this somber sky,
Time simply passes by
Like these leaves that have dried,
Skipping over the concrete, so spry.
“Simply live and let live! ” I try,
But life and living keep passing me by.
So, as my verse so aptly implies,
Whether I live, or whether I die,
I simply bid you fond goodbyes,
Like the sun as it sinks ‘low the cotton candy skies…
poem by Rachel L. Moore
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Over Medicating With A Self Importance
We can't imitate the living of life.
We can,
However.
Prevent others from doing so.
To limit eventually,
Our own growth process.
And the evidence of that,
Does not need a tour guide.
We can't imitate the living of life.
Nor can we insist what is not visible exists.
But so much of life lived is not visible...
To expose to anyone to prove it being done.
Most of life lived when given,
Is based on sheer faith and confidence.
Patience and the giving of sacrificial time.
With the knowing in one's mind.
Something divine is keeping track of the mess,
Human beings have made in attempts to perfect nonsense.
We can't imitate the living of life.
Once one has been blessed with it.
There is something genuine and real,
About the feelings one has.
We can,
However.
Prevent others from doing so.
To leave them to live their own lives.
And allow others to learn and grow,
For the sharing of those experiences.
But many don't get this!
Without that interdependence.
We limit eventually,
Our own growth process.
And the evidence of that,
Does not need a tour guide.
We would rather destroy other lives,
With the enforcement of values and standards...
We perceive with beliefs are best for others,
When in fact.
We are hard pressed to show any evidence,
To convince within our own minds.
Of that working for ourselves.
But an over medicating with a self importance?
We can do with the right prescription.
Not to take but to test.
With the observing of the affects on others.
To arrive at a feeling of perfection.
And that,
As of yet.
Can not be found.
However.
We can always say,
What we believe has been achieved.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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for Rose and Arvin
now you have seen
the secret garden
the flowers here
are edible
the seeds life giving
but we do not eat
anything
we do not even chew
any leaf
in here we are cursed
to simply utter
to let time pass
in here we are simply
living on that unseen shape
of awe
on that indescribable taste
of wonder
the stars may be far
as distant as our unfulfilled dreams
but they are always ours
and we are always
their chosen gods.
we shall reign here
on our self-made thrones.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Education, therefore, is a process of living and not a preparation for future living.
quote by John Dewey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Delivered To A Place That Dispenses Wings
Let's not carry on our backs,
Accepted agonies anticipated.
Let's take steps to rid ourselves,
Of those deficiencies...
We were led to believe,
Were birth marks to confirm...
As inspected.
And told they'd be there with us,
For the rest of our lives.
With a tolerance of them...
While others kept us suppressed.
As we continue to solicit,
A disrespecting done of our identities.
There is a need to awaken,
From this mental disease.
Let's not carry on our backs,
Accepted agonies anticipated.
Let's take steps to rid ourselves,
Of those deficiencies...
We were led to believe,
Were birth marks to confirm...
As inspected.
Well...
They are not,
Brandings of birth marks.
They are implications we kept...
With an expectation,
That one day if we stayed praying...
We would be delivered to a place,
That dispenses wings!
Dieing is a process!
Living the gift of life is a determination...
Some have refused to do,
Without the approval of acceptance.
From those sought to impress.
And if anyone has a need to ask,
To live a life that has been divinely given...
A praying done,
Is an unconscious routine.
Much like feeding an expectation,
That does not with 'intention' connect to the 'source'...
Through the doing of the process of living one's life!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Process
This process.
As difficult as it is,
Gives an ease that seems to flow.
There is a representation that creates an image.
And that picture painted,
Allows what is in one mind to another show.
This process can also deliver emotions as well.
And the skill of it,
Can bring hardened eyes to soften with tears.
This process can even produce a fear.
With a rushing done by someone stunned,
To run from room to room...
With the turning on of every light,
With something firmly tight held near.
This process can invite those feelings of love.
And melt a cold shoulder.
Or...
Even heat a flame under burning sheets.
This process can also get extremely tired.
With a nodding of a process,
That introduces...
Sleep!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Process continues
All the eggs don’t hatch.
All the seeds don’t burst.
All the loves don’t spark.
Yet the process continues.
All the chicks don’t live.
All the sprouts don’t grow.
All the loves don’t bloom.
But the process continues.
Pest takes toll of the siblings.
Drought takes the toll of the seedlings.
Fate stalls many loves in making.
Still the process continues.
The process spurts the hope.
The process spurs the heart.
The process thrills the senses.
Evolution, thus, continues.
03.10.2000, Pkmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Time waits...
Time waits for none
Neither it spares nor saves any one
Restlessly you may watch as time is ticking on
Life is to be won or simply it is gone
Resent nothing as it doesn't belongs to you
I don't say it may be wholly true
Life is place to enjoy and prove
Cautiously approach and simply move
It is constant process
You should have master key for access
Nature never locks its secrets
You have vision and will power to let
Go all out to enjoy at heart
That is called human art
You may be at odd and find no good start
But they are all inseparable part
Be little ahead of time
It may help sometimes
You may not escape dragnet
But certainly know the fate
Time and destiny both are decided
Only time and place is to be coincided
That may come soon and catch you unaware
Move in time with all preparedness and dare
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Life Is Just Life
life is neither a heaven nor a hell.
not a puzzle to get displace.
life is life n only life
which we have to live n survive..
life is not a trauma of tumult..
nor of sporadic spryness or sundry sadness
life is living n to live is life
life is not a season of summer or springs..
or of being at shed or scortching heat
life is what it is l-iving i-t f-ullest e-clatically
is the message it gives..
life is not a sea of sorrow or plethora of pleasure
nothing so special nothin to err
life is living n only living..
& the one who defines it, does it for living
life is not a boon nor a bane
& nthng being so estrange
life is to live n to live is life..
& living life makes us suffice.........
poem by Srishti Shrivastava
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From this process has emerged a parallel process of translating traditional working and living values into a new political and economic power - a power increasingly based upon the strength of money and those material things money can purchase.
quote by Alex Campbell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The End Of Us
Whats the matter with you I pour my heart out and you cast it away, I give you my world, but like a theft you stole my soul. What went wrong, we use to shine like the sun now its like we're burning by our own solar flares. We mentioned love but why must it be so complicated, for love is never angry but why are we always fighting. Oh darling you changed my life, while I changed yours, but now it is us who need a change from eachother. I never thought we would end like this, I never thought we be this way, we were only growing like a rose, but sadly our thorns came to early, and we perished back to the dust we came from.
For together we feel like god, but apart we realize who we are, mere man with the burden of living life with our headaches, heartbreaks, and especially our stupid mistakes. Now that we have come to our fork in the path never knowing what is coming, and clueless on where we're going, still we walk, why because we don't have a choice, because we can never slow down, because even if we die today who would notice, for as the world was going as we entered it, it will still continued as we leave. So this is my new chapter of my life, a chapter without you, and a man simply looking to find the end of the book, his book, the book of his very life, for life with you isn't a book at all, or a life worth living, simply blank pages in a tablet, ...waiting to be forgotten.
poem by Augustus Gatlin
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A Process in the Weather of the Heart
A process in the weather of the heart
Turns damp to dry; the golden shot
Storms in the freezing tomb.
A weather in the quarter of the veins
Turns night to day; blood in their suns
Lights up the living worm.
A process in the eye forwarns
The bones of blindness; and the womb
Drives in a death as life leaks out.
A darkness in the weather of the eye
Is half its light; the fathomed sea
Breaks on unangled land.
The seed that makes a forest of the loin
Forks half its fruit; and half drops down,
Slow in a sleeping wind.
A weather in the flesh and bone
Is damp and dry; the quick and dead
Move like two ghosts before the eye.
A process in the weather of the world
Turns ghost to ghost; each mothered child
Sits in their double shade.
A process blows the moon into the sun,
Pulls down the shabby curtains of the skin;
And the heart gives up its dead.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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I Guess Living Is So True
In trying to get all the clues
What living might be about
I know a man who said
You had a good life
If there are many people smiling
When you first shed the tears of being born
And if there are many people crying
When you’re long dead gone
I forgot his name
But I believe this is
What living might be about
A cradle and funeral treasure
I guess living is so true
In trying to get all the clues
What living might be about
Tasting the feel of questions
The dough of answers dwelling in different thoughts
And a blissful moment
When you suddenly do not care about either
But simply live a moment of your own truth
With an absurd credo that everything will be ok
Cannot prove anyhting
But pure joy of the choice you’ve made
A cradle and funeral treasure
I guess living is so true
In trying to get all the clues
What living might be about
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Certainly we ought to be discontented, we ought not simply to find out ways of making the best of a bad job, and yet if we kill all pleasure in the actual process of life, what sort of future are we preparing for ourselves? If a man cannot enjoy the return of spring, why should he be happy in a labour-saving Utopia? What will he do with the leisure that the machine will give him?
quote by George Orwell
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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