On No Work of Words
On no work of words now for three lean months in the
bloody
Belly of the rich year and the big purse of my body
I bitterly take to task my poverty and craft:
To take to give is all, return what is hungrily given
Puffing the pounds of manna up through the dew to heaven,
The lovely gift of the gab bangs back on a blind shaft.
To lift to leave from treasures of man is pleasing death
That will rake at last all currencies of the marked breath
And count the taken, forsaken mysteries in a bad dark.
To surrender now is to pay the expensive ogre twice.
Ancient woods of my blood, dash down to the nut of the seas
If I take to burn or return this world which is each man's
work.
poem by Dylan Thomas

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What I Am Is God’s Gift, What I Become Is My Gift To God
WHAT I AM IS GOD’S GIFT, WHAT I BECOME IS MY GIFT TO GOD
What I am is God’s gift, what I become is my gift to God tells us that our own body and the life that breath in our body is God’s precious gift to us but what this body can become and what sense or impact of our being as a person to others and to God is our gift to the Almighty. Our own body and life is our own gift from God on the day of our creation from womb till we joined this world to become what we want to mirror in this journey of life. God has given us all the provisions to live and all the faculties we need to grow as a person. He gave us a body strong enough to withstand trials of life like illness, sorrows and pains to keep us not so much fragile to anything that we can paint our own journey in this life. No doubt the life we breath is indeed God’s most precious gift to all of us. Precious than anything like glittering gold or diamonds. Our life is really beyond compare being the ultimate reasons God had created this world and the very reason why He gave his only begotten Son to secure and protect such gift to all of us. Truly, our own life is our gift from God but what we become as a person is our gift in return to God.
What we wanted to become in the eyes of men and God is our gift in return to such noble and precious gift of life we had from God. Our body is the temple of God’s Kingdom when we let our soul glitter like diamond upon the eyes of God if sense of righteousness lives within every breath we take as we deal with other people and so with God. It is how we used this body as an instrument to fulfill our own mission in this life through our own vocation, work or services we take is our gift to God. Everything we do in this life in the service to other people and to God is our own gift to the Almighty. Everything we do to the temple of God’s Kingdom, our body, determines the impact of our sense of being as a person in the eyes of God and men. Truly, if we wanted to be looked upon as a glittering diamond in the yes of God and men, we must live in righteousness upholding all the fundamental truth and wisdom of God as we relate with other people and as we serve with prudence sharing our life and services to others.
Our own sense of being, purpose or mission through our various ways, vocations or services is the way how we return our gratitude and appreciation to our gift of life from God. The way how we share our own life to give life and light to others is our gift to God. Make this life then shine for others and to God for it is our own little way of returning the favor of God’s grace and love to us.
poem by Melvin Banggollay

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I am a King While Working
Working is very nice and fine
It gives a very healthy sign
The working pleasure is mine
I want to work again and again
I am adequately compensated
While working I am not irritated
By sweat my body is irrigated
My efforts will never get wasted
To work I feel very very hungry
Too much work makes me not angry
To do work I always love to agree
I behave like a well-watered tree
My hands may look dirty
My age may be fifty
I love to do my duty
My body ever feels thirsty
I will never grudge
I will ever budge
I will never dodge
I will take a pledge
I care not my body being sweated
I worry not by being disappointed
Only to work I am appointed
To do duty only I am created
Till my last breath
I will toil on this Earth
My birth must give mirth
Only six feet land I am worth!
I will distribute cash
Secretly I will not stash
To work I will make a dash
Lazy feelings equal trash
Day and night I will truly toil
Under the Sun which will boil
I will pray to the mother soil
To make sweat better than oil
O- God- Help me wake up
O- God- Help me make up
Any task, help me take up
Any riddle, help me rake up.
poem by Mailrangam Visvanathan Venkataraman

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One Less To Give
So often exasperated, I draw another breath,
slow it down, go easy, I'm racing to my death
more work, more worry, no time left to live,
does each anxious gasp mean one less to give,
mad dash of frezy, running out of time,
more work, more flow, forced to dropp or climb
take a rest, need a rest, hear the grass grow
grind it out, burn it out, hear my mind blow,
so dead on your feet, your eyes can't sleep,
the work whistle blows, too afraid to weep,
you promise yourself time off with a friend,
the whistle still screams, there is no end,
awakened at night, dreaming of work,
absent of self, just another kneejerk,
what's it all for, is it just for more,
another gasp, your blood spills to the floor,
all of you breath living enslaved,
all of the time you haven't saved,
to languish sweetly in this world you live,
breath in deep, fearless of, One Less To Give
poem by keith Durante

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But somehow I feel like still it's a gift, and I wonder, how can I give this gift to others? Just work hard, and do whatever I can do, to be that, and to return the love to the fans. I like to give them joy and smiles to them. Give back to them.
Living Large In Poverty
All things being equal I'd rather be rich,
However, thing don't always work out,
So I'm resigned to spend my time in poverty,
Working in the dirt and grime.
Why, or why me Lord, I may ask,
Gently proding the almighty for just one task,
I wondered if it would be possible,
Just bless me temporarily the ability to pay my bills,
Then I will be a changed fellow.
I then figured then that money was my problem.
What I didn't realize then,
But I do now,
It isn't a matter of money,
It is a matter of know how.
Now matter how you work,
You may never get ahead,
And then there are people who just work themselves dead.
I looked in the mirror and then decided,
Give me the poverty,
And all I need is the serenity,
To be able to live comfortably,
Now, I live with my means,
Not wanting for things,
And I'm very happy.
You may ask, what did I learn?
I will say, ' Living in poverty is not so bad,
Especially if you have a rich dad! '
poem by Nadalia Bagratuni

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Y2K01
Y2K01
The year of our return into the light
We gonna leave the bad days far behind
Come with me and you will see
The future is our place to be
Come with me and you will see
Y2K01 Y2K01 Y2K01
We'll come back to you
And you will see
We'll burn all the bridges we have crossed
We'll make a new start
A ride to the stars
Y2K01 Y2K01 Y2K01
The year of our return into the light
We gonna leave the bad days far behind
Come with me and you will see
The future is our place to be
Come with me and you will see
Y2K01
The year of our return into the light
We gonna leave the bad days far behind
Come with me and you will see
The future is our place to be
Come with me and you will see
X-P is the family
The rhythm and groove and melody
The music made for the next decade
Just follow us 'cause we can't wait
Y2K01 Y2K01 Y2K01
The year of our return into the light
We gonna leave the bad days far behind
Come with me and you will see
The future is our place to be
Come with me and you will see
Y2K01
The year of our return into the light
We gonna leave the bad days far behind
Come with me and you will see
The future is our place to be
Come with me and you will see
Come with me and you will see
song performed by by X-Perience

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Y2K01
Y2K01
The year of our return into the light
We gonna leave the bad days far behind
Come with me and you will see
The future is our place to be
Come with me and you will see
Y2K01 Y2K01 Y2K01
We'll come back to you
And you will see
We'll burn all the bridges we have crossed
We'll make a new start
A ride to the stars
Y2K01 Y2K01 Y2K01
The year of our return into the light
We gonna leave the bad days far behind
Come with me and you will see
The future is our place to be
Come with me and you will see
Y2K01
The year of our return into the light
We gonna leave the bad days far behind
Come with me and you will see
The future is our place to be
Come with me and you will see
X-P is the family
The rhythm and groove and melody
The music made for the next decade
Just follow us 'cause we can't wait
Y2K01 Y2K01 Y2K01
The year of our return into the light
We gonna leave the bad days far behind
Come with me and you will see
The future is our place to be
Come with me and you will see
Y2K01
The year of our return into the light
We gonna leave the bad days far behind
Come with me and you will see
The future is our place to be
Come with me and you will see
Come with me and you will see
song performed by by X-Perience

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As a working actor, all I want to do is work. That's it. It's terrifying when you don't work. It's very hard when you don't work. There have been times when I've been out of work for like six months. I feel theatre to me is like manna.
Work That Body Rap Song = 2012
Drive my car wear my jewels
Make me feel like the king of fools.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
David loved Bathsheba, Samson loved Delilah
I love you and your name is Twyla.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
Life without love is empty and cruel
Without God's grace I remain a fool.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
After death I pray to go to Heaven
For I've been saved since I was eleven.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
Life can be short, life can be long
God sees all we do right or wrong.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
The Lay of the Laborer
A spade! a rake! a hoe!
A pickaxe, or a bill!
A hook to reap, or a scythe to mow,
A flail, or what ye will—
And here's a ready hand
To ply the needful tool,
And skill'd enough, by lessons rough,
In Labor's rugged school.
To hedge, or dig the ditch,
To lop or fell the tree,
To lay the swarth on the sultry field,
Or plough the stubborn lea;
The harvest stack to bind,
The wheaten rick to thatch,
And never fear in my pouch to find
The tinder or the match.
To a flaming barn or farm
My fancies never roam;
The fire I yearn to kindle and burn
Is on the hearth of Home;
Where children huddle and crouch
Through dark long winter days,
Where starving children huddle and crouch,
To see the cheerful rays,
A-glowing on the haggard cheek,
And not in the haggard's blaze!
To Him who sends a drought
To parch the fields forlorn,
The rain to flood the meadows with mud,
The blight to blast the corn,
To Him I leave to guide
The bolt in its crooked path,
To strike the miser's rick, and show
The skies blood-red with wrath.
A spade! a rake! a hoe!
A pickaxe, or a bill!
A hook to reap, or a scythe to mow,
A flail, or what ye will—
The corn to thrash, or the hedge to plash,
The market-team to drive,
Or mend the fence by the cover side,
And leave the game alive.
Ay, only give me work,
And then you need not fear
That I shall snare his Worship's hare,
Or kill his Grace's deer;
Break into his lordship's house,
To steal the plate so rich;
Or leave the yeoman that had a purse
To welter in a ditch.
Wherever Nature needs,
Wherever Labor calls,
No job I'll shirk of the hardest work,
To shun the workhouse walls;
Where savage laws begrudge
The pauper babe its breath,
And doom a wife to a widow's life,
Before her partner's death.
My only claim is this,
With labor stiff and stark,
By lawful turn, my living to earn,
Between the light and dark;
My daily bread, and nightly bed,
My bacon, and drop of beer—
But all from the hand that holds the land,
And none from the overseer!
No parish money, or loaf,
No pauper badges for me,
A son of the soil, by right of toil
Entitled to my fee.
No alms I ask, give me my task:
Here are the arm, the leg,
The strength, the sinews of a Man,
To work, and not to beg.
Still one of Adam's heirs,
Though doom'd by chance of birth
To dress so mean, and to eat the lean
Instead of the fat of the earth;
To make such humble meals
As honest labor can,
A bone and a crust, with a grace to God,
And little thanks to man!
A spade! a rake! a hoe!
A pickaxe, or a bill!
A hook to reap, or a scythe to mow,
A flail, or what ye will—
Whatever the tool to ply,
Here is a willing drudge,
With muscle and limb, and woe to him
Who does their pay begrudge!
Who every weekly score
Docks labor's little mite,
Bestows on the poor at the temple door,
But robb'd them over night.
The very shilling he hoped to save,
As health and morals fail,
Shall visit me in the new Bastille,
The Spital, or the Gaol!
poem by Thomas Hood

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She Touches A Sad String Of Soft Recall
Return, return! all night my lamp is burning,
All night, like it, my wide eyes watch and burn;
Like it, I fade and pale, when day returning
Bears witness that the absent can return,
Return, return.
Like it, I lessen with a lengthening sadness,
Like it, I burn to waste and waste to burn,
Like it, I spend the golden oil of gladness
To feed the sorrowy signal for return,
Return, return.
Like it, like it, whene'er the east wind sings,
I bend and shake; like it, I quake and yearn,
When Hope's late butterflies, with whispering wings,
Fly in out of the dark, to fall and burn-
Burn in the watchfire of return,
Return, return.
Like it, the very flame whereby I pine
Consumes me to its nature. While I mourn
My soul becomes a better soul than mine,
And from its brightening beacon I discern
My starry love go forth from me, and shine
Across the seas a path for thy return,
Return, return.
Return, return! all night I see it burn,
All night it prays like me, and lifts a twin
Of palmèd praying hands that meet and yearn-
Yearn to the impleaded skies for thy return.
Day, like a golden fetter, locks them in,
And wans the light that withers, tho' it burn
As warmly still for thy return;
Still thro' the splendid load uplifts the thin
Pale, paler, palest patience that can learn
Nought but that votive sign for thy return-
That single suppliant sign for thy return,
Return, return.
Return, return! lest haply, love, or e'er
Thou touch the lamp the light have ceased to burn,
And thou, who thro' the window didst discern
The wonted flame, shalt reach the topmost stair
To find no wide eyes watching there,
No withered welcome waiting thy return!
A passing ghost, a smoke-wreath in the air,
The flameless ashes, and the soulless urn,
Warm with the famished fire that lived to burn-
Burn out its lingering life for thy return,
Its last of lingering life for thy return,
Its last of lingering life to light thy late return,
Return, return.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell

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Return!
RETURN, return! all night my lamp is burning,
All night, like it, my wide eyes watch and burn;
Like it, I fade and pale, when day returning
Bears witness that the absent can return,
Return, return.
Like it, I lessen with a lengthening sadness,
Like it, I burn to waste and waste to burn,
Like it, I spend the golden oil of gladness
To feed the sorrowy signal for return,
Return, return.
Like it, like it, whene'er the east wind sings,
I bend and shake; like it, I quake and yearn,
When Hope's late butterflies, with whispering wings,
Fly in out of the dark, to fall and burn--
Burn in the watchfire of return,
Return, return.
Like it, the very flame whereby I pine
Consumes me to its nature. While I mourn
My soul becomes a better soul than mine,
And from its brightening beacon I discern
My starry love go forth from me, and shine
Across the seas a path for thy return,
Return, return.
Return, return! all night I see it burn,
All night it prays like me, and lifts a twin
Of palmed praying hands that meet and yearn--
Yearn to the impleaded skies for thy return.
Day, like a golden fetter, locks them in,
And wans the light that withers, tho' it burn
As warmly still for thy return;
Still thro' the splendid load uplifts the thin
Pale, paler, palest patience that can learn
Naught but that votive sign for thy return--
That single suppliant sign for thy return,
Return, return.
Return, return! lest haply, love, or e'er
Thou touch the lamp the light have ceased to burn,
And thou, who thro' the window didst discern
The wonted flame, shalt reach the topmost stair
To find no wide eyes watching there,
No wither'd welcome waiting thy return!
A passing ghost, a smoke-wreath in the air,
The flameless ashes, and the soulless urn,
Warm with the famish'd fire that lived to burn--
Burn out its lingering life for thy return,
Its last of lingering life for thy return,
Its last of lingering life to light thy late return,
Return, return.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell

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Burn, Georgia, Burn
Words and music by tim lewis and roger murrah
Atlanta was on fire and so was she the night he left her.
Left her there to bear her pain alone, hoping soon to return.
Burn, georgia, burn.
The roaring of th guns filled the emptiness inside her where once she felt
The pounding of her heart.
When he held her in his arms, tenderness they learned.
Burn, georgia, burn.
He was the body, she was the soul of a love affair the couldnt control.
While the world was falling down around them, they were not concerned.
Burn, georgia, burn.
Winter brought the snow and a rider down from franklin with news of how the
War had taken toll and he would not return.
Burn, georgia, burn.
He was the body, she was the soul of a love affair they couldnt control.
While her world crumbled all around her, she was not concerned.
Burn, georgia, burn.
While strolling through her mind she stumbled on an old, familiar feeling of
How he touched her many years ago and how he made her yearn.
Burn, georgia, burn.
song performed by by Alabama

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Large Intestine
Look in the mirror. Let us both look.
Here is my naked body.
Apparently you like it,
I have no reason to.
Who bound us, me and my body?
Why must I die
together with it?
I have the right to know where the borderline
between us is drawn.
Where am I, I, I myself.
Belly, am I in the belly? In the intestines?
In the hollow of the sex? In a toe?
Apparently in the brain. I do not see it.
Take my brain out of my skull. I have the right
to see myself. Don’t laugh.
That’s macabre, you say.
It’s not me who made
my body.
I wear the used rags of my family,
an alien brain, fruit of chance, hair
after my grandmother, the nose
glued together from a few dead noses.
What do I have in common with all that?
What do I have in common with you, who like
my knee, what is my knee to me?
Surely
I would have chosen a different model.
I will leave both of you here,
my knee and you.
Don’t make a wry face, I will leave you all my body
to play with.
And I will go.
There is no place for me here,
in this blind darkness waiting for
corruption.
I will run out, I will race
away from myself.
I will look for myself
running
like crazy
till my last breath.
One must hurry
before death comes. For by then
like a dog jerked by its chain
I will have to return
into this stridently suffering body.
To go through the last
most strident ceremony of the body.
Defeated by the body,
slowly annihilated because of the body
I will become kidney failure
or the gangrene of the large intestine.
And I will expire in shame.
And the universe will expire with me,
reduced as it is
to a kidney failure
and the gangrene of the large intestine.
poem by Anna Swirszczynska

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Surrender
Will you tell me
All your secrets
Could you really be sincere
Whisper all your inhibitions
The things you most fear
Dont turn away
I want to get to know you in the worst, worst way
Come back baby come back
Come back baby come back
Come back baby come back
Surrender su-su-surrender to me
Surrender su-su-su-su-surrender
Surrender su-su-surrender to me
Surrender su-su-su-su-surrender
Will you show me
All your treasures
That wich is most near and dear
Share with me your
Prized possessions
Not just some souvenirs
Dont be afraid
A little tiny bit can go a long long way
Come back baby come back
Come back baby come back
Come back baby come back
Surrender su-su-surrender to me
Surrender su-su-su-su-surrender
Surrender su-su-surrender to me
Surrender su-su-su-su-surrender
Babe I love you cant you see
Baby tell me haow you feel about me
Do you want me
Do you need me
Baby tell me honestly
Do you want my
Love forever or temporarily
Youve got the key
So open up your heart and
Be my destiny
Come back baby come back
Come back baby come back
Surrender su-su-surrender to me
Surrender su-su-su-su-surrender
Surrender su-su-surrender to me
Surrender su-su-su-su-surrender
Surrender su-su-surrender to me
Surrender su-su-su-su-surrender
Surrender su-su-surrender to me
Surrender su-su-su-su-surrender
song performed by by Gloria Estefan

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bernadette
I dont wanna leave, bernadette,
But I dont wanna live with the jet set.
I dont wanna leave with you payin all my debts,
With that alimony, palimony, whatever it is you get.
Ooh, bernadette, you are so expensive.
Youve never done a days work in your life,
Youve got no incentive.
Youve made a career out of punting off all of the men youve slept with.
Ooh, bernadette, you are so expensive.
I cant get a job, bernadette,
So all that I can offer are a lot of bad debts
If you marry me, bernadette,
Youll lose the alimony, palimony, whatever it is you get.
Ooh, bernadette, you are so expensive.
Youve never done a days work in your life,
Youve got no incentive.
Youve made a career out of punting off all of the men youve slept with.
Ooh, bernadette, you are so expensive.
Ooh, bernadette, bernadette.
Ooh, bernadette, bernadette.
[bernadettes got a house in the country,
Shes really got it made.
Her lawyers made her filthy rich,
Shes got all expenses paid.]
Maybe a famous rock star will fly you away,
Then youll eat him all up,
And spit him out,
With a dash of perrier.
And when youve had enough
Youll throw him away,
And take him for all you can get.
Yeah, you like it dont you, bernadette?
I dont want to leave bernadette,
But I wanna keep a little bit of self respect.
I dont want to leave with you paying all my debts,
With that alimony, palimony, whatever it is you get.
Ooh, bernadette, you are so expensive.
Youve never done a days work in your life.
Youve got no incentive.
Women like you oughta be locked up,
For giving others a bad name.
Ohh, bernadette, you are so expensive.
Ooh, bernadette, bernadette.
Ooh, bernadette.
I think youre sad.
song performed by by Kinks

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One World
This song was first released on the one world album. it is the only album it has been released on.
Dont want to live in new york city, man
Dont want to live in tokyo
I want to stay in my own village, man
Is nowhere else I need to go
Is nothing that I want for myself
That I dont want for everyone
To work in peace to live in freedom
To look and never see a gun
Why are you calling this the third world
I only know that it is my world
Maybe someday it can be our world
Can you imagine one world, one world
My heart it hurts more than my belly
So hard to live in poverty
I want to work for my own living, man
Dont want someone to care for me
Dont want to speak to revolution
It starts to sounding like a fight
I give myself to evolution
One world will make it be all right
Why are you calling this the third world
I only know that it is my world
Maybe someday it can be our world
Can you imagine one world, one world
This world is made for everybody
This life is gift for everyone
This earth is bound to keep on turning
This day is flowers in the sunshine, sunshine
Why are you calling this the third world
I only know that it is my world
Maybe someday it will be our world
Can you imagine someday one world, one world
Why are you calling this the third world
I only know that it is my world
Maybe someday it can be our world
Can you imagine one world, one world
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Arbeit Macht Frei
Dark days are all I have
They took my will, soul, and life
I sleep only to awake in a nightmare
Trapped behind black gates
Reminding work will set me free
Broke my back, but I have to work
It's not my choice for I am a slave
I pray for death, hoping heaven awaits
I'm alive but in a man made hell
Maybe work will set me free?
I'm cursing God
He has forsaken us
If we're his children, then why let us suffer?
I hold so much rage and hate within
But I'm just tired of my life
Can my work be done?
I smell the infernos of hell
Maybe they'll take me to my family?
My freedom is finally in sight
The deep sleep is near
It is true; work brings freedom thorugh the chimney
poem by J.D. Decker

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Work That Body
Drive my car wear my jewels
Make me feel like the king of fools.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
David loved Bathsheba, Samson loved Delilah
I love you and your name is Twyla.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
Life without love is empty and cruel
Without God's grace I remain a fool.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
After death I pray to go to Heaven
For I've been saved since I was eleven.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
Life can be short, life can be long
God sees all we do right or wrong.
Work that body
Work that body
Try not to hurt nobody
By Tom Zart
Most Published Poet On The Web!
Tom's 465 Poems Are Free To Share!
By God's Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet
On The Web!
Tom Zart www.internetvoicesradio.com/t_zart/
http: //www.veteranstodayforum.com/viewforum.php? f=38
Chaotic brain
What am I thinking about?
What's the fucking sound out?
Lift upside down
She is come to pass
Work is hard
Work is not SEGA
'shut up boy! That's a good idear to chock your head! '
Or you shoot my head
Or you give me novocaine
That I can feel better that to breath the stink air
'am I standing right? '
I can't work it out
I can't work it out
Should I work it out?
I can't work it out
It's 0: 23 now, What's your idear?
'hey man, tell me the nearst bar.'
poem by Old Amsterdam

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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