Do not kill your conscience
What makes you think?
Everybody should like you
The greatest of the greats
Were hated by some one
They kept on
Pursuing there good work
Achieved their goal
Now are remembered
By each and every soul
Why not you
Keep doing your best
Do not
Kill your conscience
Do some thing
Simply to please
Somebody
21-02-2012
215-126-02-12
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
True Action!
We are laborer,
Absolutely Pure laborer!
Then why, suffering, complaining,
On own stresses, about unnecessary sweats and toiling!
Work that must be inspired,
Where worker should never come to tire.
No exhaustion but the enjoyment while working,
And true nobler are enthusiastic about goal pursuing!
True Goal is not achieving the goal,
But striving to reach the goal is the real goal.
One should keep the goal to shoot at the highest emplacement,
So that one can enjoy his whole life without getting retirement.
Goal should be so high so that none can reach,
Why should ideal be kept so high so that it can’t be reached?
Striving to reach the highest is the moment where we grow,
Reaching the goal is the end of the goal, hence it will simply blow.
poem by Warner Keisham
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Food, Clothing, Money, Shelter, and...
Food, clothing, money and shelter
I have them all
Why is this heaviness in life
Why is it to be hauled?
Food, clothing, money and shelter
are all requirements of my body
While pursuing all these material necessities
I forgot to feed my soul.
An engine needs fuel to be propelled
Soul needs a goal
Without goal the life is empty
Goal makes the life whole.
No goal means no life
Worry and fear cloud the soul
To live life to the fullest
I need to have something in the morning
to wake up for.
poem by Anshul Gupta
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Late Greats
The greatest lost track of all time:
The Late Greats' "Turpentine"
You can't hear it on the radio
You can't hear it anywhere you go
The best band will never get signed
K-Settes starring Butcher's Blind
Are so good, you won't ever know
They never even played a show
You can't hear 'em on the radio
The greatest singer in rock and roll
Would have to be Romeo
His vocal chords are made of gold
He just looks a little too old
The greatest lost track of all time:
The Late Greats' "Turpentine"
I can't hear it on the radio
I don't hear it anywhere I go
The best song will never get sung
The best life never leaves your lungs
So good, you won't ever know
I never hear it on the radio
Can't hear it on the radio
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Conscience
Conscience is instinct bred in the house,
Feeling and Thinking propagate the sin
By an unnatural breeding in and in.
I say, Turn it out doors,
Into the moors.
I love a life whose plot is simple,
And does not thicken with every pimple,
A soul so sound no sickly conscience binds it,
That makes the universe no worse than 't finds it.
I love an earnest soul,
Whose mighty joy and sorrow
Are not drowned in a bowl,
And brought to life to-morrow;
That lives one tragedy,
And not seventy;
A conscience worth keeping;
Laughing not weeping;
A conscience wise and steady,
And forever ready;
Not changing with events,
Dealing in compliments;
A conscience exercised about
Large things, where one may doubt.
I love a soul not all of wood,
Predestinated to be good,
But true to the backbone
Unto itself alone,
And false to none;
Born to its own affairs,
Its own joys and own cares;
By whom the work which God begun
Is finished, and not undone;
Taken up where he left off,
Whether to worship or to scoff;
If not good, why then evil,
If not good god, good devil.
Goodness! you hypocrite, come out of that,
Live your life, do your work, then take your hat.
I have no patience towards
Such conscientious cowards.
Give me simple laboring folk,
Who love their work,
Whose virtue is song
To cheer God along.
poem by Henry David Thoreau
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I'm not a company man.
Ghazal format
Some men strive hard chasing success
Whilst other men are content with less.
It all depends I must suppose.
On whom they're trying to impress.
I value self sufficiency
And use my time efficiently.
I choose to please myself.
There is no reason I can see.
For me to use my energy
Concentrating constantly.
Pursuing riches I don't need.
It simply makes no sense to me.
I understand that some will choose
To store up wealth they cannot use,
But that does not apply to me.
Because I know I can refuse.
To work for sixteen hours a day
I live my life a different way.
The company does not own me.
Though I work hard to earn my pay.
I spend time with my family.
Which I regard importantly.
There is much more to life than work.
I can state quite confidently.
I am contented with my lot.
I need no more than what I've got.
That is what success means to me.
My family first no matter what.
Wednesday,26 September 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Fear Nothing But One
Fear Love for it will kill you both in such thrill
Makes you suffer when you're happy
Makes you perish when you're ill
Fear it for it makes you decide in such a deadly way
Makes you choose if you are for your happiness
Makes you decide to work or play
Fear Dark for it will blind you and always let you fall
Makes you fall without such judgment
Makes you cry in no such call
Fear it for it makes you clueless and not updated and aware
Makes you tremble without knowing
Makes you hardly even care
Fear Needles for it will bleed you and strike you in the eye
Makes you suffer bleeding hard
Makes you simply knowing you're alive
Fear it for it will simply have a permanent scar on your face
Makes you feel be wasted
Makes you wanted it to erase
Fear everything else but nothing beats them all but him
God sets the beginning of everything
God sets the end of everything
Fear him for he can do anything even impossible in the eye
God will make you face your fear
God will make you sigh
poem by Princess Bernadette Anillo
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I am doomed to an eternity of compulsive work. No set goal achieved satisfies. Success only breeds a new goal. The golden apple devoured has seeds. It is endless.
Bette Davis in The Lonely Life (1962)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perugino
I am the greatest painter who ever breathed.
Any fool enough to dispute this claim
Should simply inspect my work in the Cambio
At Perusia, in the college of that name.
Or better, see my Ascension, which so pleased
the hosts et all at cleanly San Pietro.
Sure there's good work done in Florence, too-
Up there everything's Leonardo, Leonardo!
A few in Flanders know a thing or two
But no one, No One, beats the Perugino,
Present or past, in these Italian hills
So help me God. But yesterday, I swear,
I saw an angel of my young student Rafaels'
So fair-my God, I fear you love him more!
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Good With The Bad
At work today in a quiet moment
I remembered where I used to work
over forty years ago.
I remembered the faces,
most of them have passed away
and the others are scattered
to the four winds of providence,
wherever that may be.
It was the silly and embarrassing things
that sprang to my memory,
then came, the upsets and defeats,
the shouts and arguments.
As with all memories,
you’re going to get the good with the bad
and the bad always seem
to outweigh the good.
22 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Sonnet- About Sin
Sin is one thing God abhors forever;
Sin is one thing that Man alone can do;
Sin is one thing which shouldn't stain soul, brother;
Sin is the devil's bond with man to woo.
One can do sin alone and in your mind;
One can commit it with others present;
We sin in thought and action, ne'er rescind;
Failure to do our duty's sin too, meant.
To err has become Man’s second nature;
The conscience's a clean forgotten thing;
Sin's rift with God, one must early suture;
Otherwise, it can defy good healing.
A sinful soul can't enter God's Kingdom;
Yet, God has given Man so much freedom.
poem by John Celes
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Changes We Need... Nov 28th,2012
CHANGES WE NEED … NOV 28TH,2012
BY
JAMES BREDIN
We get no propositions and can't use the notwithstanding clause,
And death-with-dignity they say is not their good cause,
We have no binding referendums or judicial reviews,
Politically speaking; they have completely different views.
Judges and senators are appointed - never elected,
And in order to get there; they must be connected,
There are no compulsory votes so less than half of us vote,
No set-date elections while some of our politicians even gloat.
We can kill thousands of unborn babies but we can't kill ourselves,
None of this makes sense I know but it's on their bookshelves,
We need someone to rewrite Trudeau's Charter; this time for us,
Not every terrorist and oddball who can just kick up a fuss.
NOV 28TH,2012
poem by James Bredin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Snake In The Grass
We do not know your method...
As of yet, it is unclear
Like a snake in the grass, you move
Filling us full of crap, my dear! ! ! !
Can feel it, when under the influence...
As the blood pressure truly soars
Heart beat is rapid and irregular
Yet you continue on with more and more;
How many trips to the doctor will it take?
How many tests on our food and drink?
What will it take to make you stop?
If you have a conscience-what do you think?
Call it whatever you want but its criminal
For now we will just call it crack cocaine
And WE WILL get the proof that is needed...
Even if, this all causes a world of pain;
What is it that you are after?
Because you have achieved at making people ill
Were you hired by Mr. West Coast-Boston?
Or are you just out for the thrill of the kill?
By, Theodora Onken
A write about the illegal spiking of ones
Food or drink with drugs that kill...
Premeditated Homicide In The Making
An ongoing problem-A Reality
By, Theodora Onken
February 28,2012
poem by Theodora Onken
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The Boy Racer
Hes just too good-natured and
Hes got too much money and
Hes got too many girlfriends
Im jealous, thats all
Have you seen him go, though, oh ?
Have you seen him go, though, oh ?
Boy racer
Boy racer, oh
Were gonna kill this pretty thing
Boy racer
Boy racer, oh
Were gonna kill this pretty thing
Hes got too many girlfriends
He thinks he owns this city
He overspeeds and he never gets pulled over
Have you seen him go, though, oh ?
Have you seen him go, though, oh ?
Boy racer
Boy racer, oh
Were gonna kill this pretty thing
Boy racer
Boy racer, oh
Were gonna kill this pretty thing
He thinks he got the whole world in his hands
Stood at the urinal
He thinks he got the whole world in his hands
And Im gonna ... kill him !
Oh, no !
Oh, no !
Oh, no !
Oh, no !
Oh, no !
Oh, no !
Oh, no !
Oh, no !
Oh, no !
Oh ....
Boy racer
Boy racer, oh
Were gonna kill this pretty thing
Boy racer
Boy racer, oh
Were gonna kill this pretty thing
Boy racer
Boy racer, oh
Were gonna kill this pretty thing
Hes just too good-looking
Hes just too good-looking
Hes just too good-looking, and
And, and ...
Boy racer
Boy racer, oh
Were gonna kill this pretty thing
Boy racer
Boy racer, oh
Were gonna kill this pretty thing
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Out Of Ten
goal was only
to write one good
poem out of ten...
therefore
just writing
is important
poems people actually
like can be surprising?
but a simple one in ten...
goal means 240 intriguing
or good poems achieved?
to write at least one interesting
element or altered
perspective was relative
to composed most...
even posted
poetic failures
as strangely
some like
enjoy fractures
go figure...
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wantaritencant
It watched me in the cradle laid, and from my boyhood’s home
It glared above my shoulder-blade when I wrote my first “pome”;
It’s sidled by me ever since, with greeny eyes aslant—
It is the thing (O, Priest and Prince!) that wants to write, but can’t.
It yells and slobbers, mows and whines, It follows everywhere;
’Tis gloating on these very lines with red and baleful glare.
It murders friendship, love and truth (It makes the “reader” pant),
It ruins editorial youth, the Wantaritencant.
Its slime is ever on my work, and ever on my name;
No toil nor trouble does It shirk—for It will write, all the same!
It tantalized when great thoughts burned, in trouble and in want;
It makes it hell for all concerned, the Wantaritencant.
And now that I would gladly die, or rest my weary mind,
I cannot rest to think that I must leave the Thing behind.
Its green rot damns the dead, for sure—that greatest curse extant,
’Twill kill Australian literature, the Wantaritencant!
You cannot kill or keep It still, or ease It off a bit;
It talks about Itself until the world believes in It.
It is a Scare, a Fright, a Ghast, a Gibber, and a Rant,
A future Horror and a Past, the Wantaritencant!
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Many Good and Bad Things
The most beautiful day, day of today!
The biggest obstacle, the fear to take risk!
The easiest thing, fail always!
The biggest mistake, give up easily!
The worst feeling, bad Karma!
More bad feeling, the sins I committed!
The best feeling, good Karma!
The best gift, God loves me!
The greatest strength, Have faith in God!
The greatest thing in the world, love everyone.
The greatest news, God Have Mercy
The greatest survival, We are safe from Evil.
These and That's All
The Many Good and Bad Things
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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Gallery
Oh I have seen your face before
It is a work of art
For which you need no badge
Oh I have seen your face before
It is accessible here
And easier to manage
Oh I have seen your face before
Now in this space
Of historical greats
Oh I have seen your face before
In this gallery themes change
But simply walk to navigate
poem by Harriet James
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The Very Thing That Makes You Rich
My father told me, lying on his bed of death,
"boy," he says, "woman she's gonna make it, don't fool your self
'cause she's got something to make a man lay that money, uh, right in her hand
And the very thing that makes her rich will make you poor
The very thing that makes her rich will make you poor"
That's right!
Well, i put you behind the wheel of a deuce and a quarter, yes i did
Had you living like a rich man's daughter, yes i did, i sure did
While you were living high on the hog
You had me down here scuffling like a dog
Well, the very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
The very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
Don't you never ever make such a bad mistake
You know i'd rather climb into bed with a rattlesnake
Then to work hard every day bringing that woman all my pay
The very thing that makes you rich makes me poor,
Makes me so damn poor
The thing that makes her rich makes me poor
The very thing that makes you rich make me poor
Very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
Makes me so damned poor
Money won't change it, no no...
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The greatest thing to be achieved in advertising, in my opinion, is believability, and nothing is more believable than the product itself.
quote by Leo Burnett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Picture yourself in your minds eye as having already achieved this goal. See yourself doing the things you'll be doing when you've reached your goal.
quote by Earl Nightingale
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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