Alpha
I am in the strange bush of dreams with you,
And with a gallant act to reach the top;
But the story from the village is all about us.
Alpha, many people are not well cultured!
And this world is full of illusions and disillusions.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Disillusion
Changing, moving, in a circle
I can see your face in all of my dreams
Smiling, laughing, from the shadows
When I hear your voice I know what it means
I know it doesnt matter just how hard I try
Youre all the reason for my life
Disillusion, disillusions all you left for me
How can I forget you when my world is breaking down
Youre all I had, youre all I want
Disillusion, disillusions now, thats all I have
Wishing, hoping, chasing shadows
Did I see your face somewhere in the crowd
Thinking, wondering, what youre doing
I can stop myself from crying out loud
They say my wound will heal and only leave a scar
But then, theyd never shared our love
Disillusion, disillusions all you left for me
How can I forget you when my world is breaking down
Youre all I had, youre all I want
Disillusion, disillusions now, thats all I have
Disillusion, disillusions now, thats all I have
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Keep It Dark
Found that man reported missing,
He wandered in his home.
It dont seem to bad if you consider
Just what hes been through.
Seems he met up with a gang of thieves,
Who mistook him for a man of means,
They locked him up then found he had no money,
So they let him go again.
Now hes back at home and happy
Just to see the kids.
I wish that I could really tell you
All the things that happened to me
And all that I have seen.
A world full of people their hearts full of joy,
Cities of light with no fear of war,
And thousands of creatures with happier lives,
And dreams of a future with meaning and no need to hide.
Oh, keep it dark.
It seems strange to have to lie,
About a world so bright.
And tell instead a made-up story,
From the world of night.
I wish, that I could really tell you,
All the things that happened to me
And all that I have seen,
A world full of people their hearts full of joy,
Cities of light with no fear of war,
And thousands of creatures with happier lives,
And dreams of a future with meaning and no need to lie,
No need to hate,
No need to hide.
Oh, keep it dark.
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Have no illusions
Have no illusions –
Life is challenging
Have no illusions –
Marriage is not easy
Have no illusions –
Sometimes you’ll question
Have no illusions –
You will find fault
Have no illusions –
This is marriage
Have no illusions –
You will work it out
Have no illusions –
Hardship brings strength
Have no illusions –
You are each other’s rock
Have no illusions –
Love will endure.
poem by Melanie James
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The Story Of Ali Rıza And Ahmet
How strange is the story of
Ali Rıza and Ahmet
One lives in the village
The other in the city
And every morning
The one in the city goes to the village
And the one in the village to the city
poem by Orhan Veli Kanik
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When the Full Moon Shines Through the Clouds
Strange shapes can be seen
when the full moon shines through the clouds.
Stange shapes can be seen,
frightengly realistic images
of faces and figures,
some human, some demonic.
And, right now
in the world,
under that same moon
shining through different clouds,
people are cowering in fear.
In parts of the world,
people are sick, and dying,
people are being murdered,
tortured,
people are mourning
and crying over their losses.
And I sit here, in this room,
typing,
in cogitation,
with food,
with drink.
My most pressing current concern
is that a cold October draft
is forcing its way through my window.
I reach to make sure my window is fully closed;
a full moon beams its light into my room
along with that cold October daft,
and I notice:
Strange shapes can be seen
when the full moon shines through the clouds.
poem by Derek R. Audette
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The Frog In The Well
'Welcome to this well,
My friend, please tell
How big is your sea-well? '
Asked a frog in the well.
The sea isn't a well,
And has no circular wall
Why don't you go and see? '
Said the frog of the sea.
'No, if there's no wall
As tall as this well,
The sea water will
Seep out as well.'
'You'll go to the hell,
To me, if you again tell
That sea has no wall.'
Said the frog in the well.
Aren't there village folks
Even today, in their walks
Of life full of darkness
About the scientific progress?
Ask some of them why
An eclipse on the sky,
Of Solar or Lunar?
This'll be their answer.
'With its mouth wide open,
A serpent swallows the sun
Or the moon, causing eclipse.'
What an unbelievable nonsense?
'The end of the world is near.
Let people start their prayer
On the nearby mountain
As the catastrophe is certain.'
Some run up and down,
So saying to every one,
For this danger unseen
By the people, not keen.
The scientific knowledge
Should reach every village.
Then will there dwell
Any frog in the well?
poem by Rajaram Ramachandran
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The First Lady
She is
A white pigeon
With brown hair
She loves reading
She loves culture
And cultured people
That's why
All cultured people
Of the world
Love her
More
In Egypt
We love her
More
and more
When she talks
Specially
When she talks
To children
Mother
Of Egyptian children
God bless her....
poem by Eman Elbadawi
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The Story Of Modern Verses
The story that had started in wonder
The story that had started in pain
The story that always remained untold
The story that could never unfold
The reality of complex human natures
The story that could only capture
The superficial aspects of humanity
That is the story of modern verses
That is the only story of our modern age.
There comes the hatred full of love
And love full of hatred
There stands the familiarity at a distance
And a distant association and nearness
More glorified than any day to day familiarity.
The story of modern verses always reminds us
About the shallowness of modernity
About the obscurity of the material world.
This story once told shall touch the base
And would make everybody else to lose the race
Because winning is no more the destiny,
The destiny is only love, faith and submission
The destiny is only achieved by losing
At all phases of life - as the winning game
Is full of distortions and unhappiness.
The story of modern verses clicks in the mind of society
To push it through the hollow modern age
And make it reach the destiny of truth and harmony.
poem by Somsubhro Ghosh
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When All The Illusions Are Gone
stripped of our illusions
what are we?
stones on the river
dry leaves on the pavement
rusty fan on storage bins
dilapidated cottages
abandoned houses
desert, bush, turtles
with their backs taken
rabbits without ears
crocodiles without their
teeth
if we let that be.
but there is no need actually of an illusion
because we are real, we touch ourselves,
feel the warmth of our bodies
i try it by simply being myself
less my caprices and whims
less the ambition and the dreams
reduced in the most simple of simpler terms
to the core of it all, i am a happy man
knowing now the limits of my
domains, settling for what is there
nothing more, nothing less
it can be done, illusions are gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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God, is this the world you have created?
1-The minds full of lust
The minds full of lies
2-The world full of darkness
The world full of dirts
3-The world full of people like you like me
Using beautiful words when we need
4-The world full of injustice
Both in West and East
5-The world full of women who have lost their purity
For earning property
6-The world full of hate
In each time, in each date
7-So many racism, so many contempt
So many people who always pretend
8-GOD,
Is this the world you created
9-GOD,
I am sick and tired of living
there haven't been anything interesting
for me on your earth
poem by Nader Baheri
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27 Years In The Bush
27 years in the bush!
I am still finding my way through to reach to the city;
And i need a teacher on this issue to guid eme through this thick bush.
Life is very hard for me alone in this bush,
But i have to hide to save my name;
For the bombs are everywhere and many of my friends are dead already,
And i need a clever teacher who knows the bush very well to lead me on.
27 years in the bush!
Life in Africa does have many colours;
But my faith will surely lead me on till i reach to the city of love,
And i have to save myself from these bombs.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Prolog
Having lots of precious things is hard
If we want something
Sometimes we should sacrifice other
Precious thing like heart
In this world there are so many kind of people
And so many kind of dreams
People are fighting each other
Crying and laughting one another
Between all of them
How many people succeed their dreams
And how many
who reach their dreams and feel satisfied
Maybe no one ever know that
Because
Who decide the answer are us
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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That Beating Of The Bush
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I have this 'thing' about honest and truth.
And those who become offended,
By declaring them too harsh to accept!
There has not been an experience I received,
I regretted with a wish to forget!
And those attempting to live their lives,
In pretense to deceive believing this is not deception...
Will always escape with excuses and alibis to make.
Charading as if...
No one recognizes,
Who is in masquerade.
And who amongst them fakes!
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
An honesty and truth spoken,
From deceivers is rare.
Those who deceive perceive...
Those who are direct and honest,
Are insensitive and do not care!
With a sharing of this mentality...
To those empathetic,
In a keeping of delusions...
Spared from despair!
But I know I'm not the only one...
Who elects to see,
Dishonesty from all people get up and leave.
I can't be!
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Primordial One
The Primordial One is immanent, while He’s never transcendent
And this existent world, at the beginning, was only His vision.
The Lord has Being to create his vision-world without lightweight
For this real world of Becoming, with His meticulous precision.
At the beginning, we were His imagination; we were a reason for creation
And, only for being with Him, He made us, in time, to become so real.
Tower of Babel wasn’t an illusion, when people suffered tongues confusion,
God isn’t an illusion in our perfection, when His plans He wants to reveal.
We are in our Apollinian illusion, when we think that God means confusion
And our own perfectionism we try to reach in the mean time.
But in the reality of our Apollinian confusion, God is no longer an illusion.
In this ache of Being and in this agony of Becoming, He’s sublime.
To reach our perfection we sing a hymn, we need to be with Him,
Because when we are not with Him, we are in the illusion of Being.
Without transmogrifying us, to transfigure Him, sometimes, we have a whim,
Because we need to understand our illusory own perfection in wellbeing.
We try to put ourselves in His place, in order to understand His grace
We need the Dionysian illusion of Being to experience the world we know.
In both Dionysian and Apolllinian illusions, we jump to our conclusions.
We are illusory Primordial Beings creating our Apollinian powerful show.
I am this person staring back from His mirror at me, I want existent to be.
I want to identify this image with myself and to realize who I really am.
Because of my sins I lost my serenity, I have a sense of my mistaken identity.
I was His dream, I am His child and for saving me He sent me His lamb.
Everyone is dreaming, but it seems that no one really believes in dreams.
One by one we need to wake up out of our own illusions of self.
The world of minds is the God's mental projection, it has interconnection.
Without this major pervasive reality, the world is not existent in itself.
The sufferings of people can be for some an illusory space, having no grace,
And they live in their own world of solely material realities without restricts.
Others believe in the world, which is non-physical and it's essentially spiritual,
They need a mental, spiritual and moral dimension to life, without conflicts.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Global Village
Global village
Though we are all human
we are made to be different
by forces beyond our clout
Yet they want remake us
in a new image of their choice
in a village too big to be safe
The world they now call
a single village in the globe
with a big brother to match
As long as we are second class
within that large village fashioned
we would be subjected to
someone’s standards
someone’s culture
someone’s technology
someone’s understanding
someone’s world view
someone’s theories and concepts
They try hard in harder ways
to make us part of that village
but we know we are different
and shall strive to leave outside
that fashioned unsafe village
poem by Yusuf Adamu
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For Dreams That Do Not Come True
you sit on one of the marble pavements
of the hospital in the city
looking like a hopeless boy abandoned
by his mother
and people that pass you by think that you
are one of the beggars
you wonder why dreams do not come true
no matter how you pray
you look far without having to see
anything and anybody that is real
you blame no one though
not even the gloomy day
grays clouds heavy and about to rain
air so polluted and faces of people without the smiles
buses running senselessly
indifferent hawkers and arrogant schoolchildren pulling
their bags like a dragging day
everything seems to be surreal
gossamer-like as you float in the air
feeling like one of the illusions in your mind
you accept dreams that do not come true and you think
perhaps some day
yes someday, dreams may come and be real- true
concrete and smooth and confident to the hold of your hands
and then you stand like a true man on unreal dreams
you leave the pavements of illusions
you go back to one of the rooms in the hospital
'No tears! No tears! ' you tell yourself because now
you have learned to be brave and strong and logical.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Who Gave It To You?
I was not using it and,
You were not using it either!
But, who gave it to you?
Hew, dew, few, brew, drew, threw;
But this story started long ago!
And your lips are now red,
So, who gave it to you?
Slew, sew, stew, pew, spew, mew;
Strange food,
Strange meat,
Strange people,
Strange land,
Strange culture,
Strange love,
Crew, grew, new, strew, screw;
But, with your red lips! !
So, who gave it to you?
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Winter Pack
The wolves run in the night
Searching for something thats just out of sight
They hunt together on this frigid winter's night
Searching for food that will take the hunger away
The alpha stops, followed by his pack
Along a frozen lake shore is an elk
Who plays alone in the deep winter snow
The wolves are hungry they're ready for attack
The wolves circle 'round without a sound
The elk doesn't notice at all
One sharp yap and the wolves charge
The elk has fallen and tonight will be a feast
The alpha eats with hungry gazes upon him
When the rest of the pack eat it is time for sleep
But first the alpha howls and it rises through the pack
This is not a mournful hungry howl, but a joyus happy one
The wolves go to sleep under the full moon
They are happy and filled with food
They dream dreams of the coming spring
When the toll of winter will leave this winter pack.
poem by Hannah Branz
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Not Everyone Can Be Famous
Not everyone can be famous though many yearn for fame
In a World where millions do die without a penny to their name
And that any hope of an egalatarian Human World cannot exist cannot be denied
Whilst the gap between the haves and the have nots is growing ever wide
Their dreams of great wealth and fame millions do pursue
But for many of course such dreams never come true
And many who have great dreams die in poverty
For dreams are just dreams that's how it seems to be
Around the World today in every village, city and town
People daydream of great things of wealth and renown
And though to live in poverty only the saintlike would choose
For one for to win many destined to lose
To achieve in a big way seems a human need
And though many strive for success only few do succeed.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Progress
THEY’VE builded wooden timber tracks,
And a trolly with screaming brakes
Noses into the secret bush,
Into the birdless brooding bush,
And the tall old gums it takes.
And down in the sunny valley,
The snorting saw screams slow;
O bush that nursed my people,
O bush that cursed my people,
That flayed and made my people,
I weep to watch you go
poem by Frank Wilmot
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