In Secret We Thirst
Graceful, spiritual,
with the gentleness of arabesques
our life is similar
to the existence of fairies
that spin in soft cadence
around nothingness
to which we sacrifice
the here and now
Dreams of beauty, youthful joy
like a breath in pure harmony
with the depth of your young surface
where sparkles the longing for the night
for blood and barbarity
In the emptiness, spinning, without aims or needs
dance free our lives
always ready for the game
yet, secretly, we thirst for reality
for the conceiving, for the birth
we are thirst for sorrows and death
poem by Hermann Hesse
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Related quotes
Great Someone
leave me not on the hope of believing the
genuine heart of waiting sober the stone
of doubt, where the flaming stone of
passion, engulf the capture soul for eternal
rendition
oh! great wisdom you’ve take, may the
spirit adoration of face come the iniquity
of surrender shower the wonder of your
beauty and let the lasting glory of
cascading gesture blend its eternal destiny
of dark night path walk
come dine with me on the table of forever
pure and breath the idyllic harmony of joy;
for each beginning thirst; waits a great
somewhere, who listen beyond every
breathe of an endless voice
alas! a great someone in the great
somewhere leave not my life for
nothingness, the doom of precious blood
had save the joy of life reborn the heaven
of eternal life
poem by Antonio Liao
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Spiritual City
Spiritual thought
Spiritual life
Spiritual city
Spiritual wife
Spiritual work
Spiritual war
Spiritual people
Spiritual law
Hey ho skdoodle-addle-o
Spiritual city gonna watch you grow
Hey ho skdoodle-addle-o
Spiritual city gonna watch you grow
Spiritual call
Spiritual tie
Spiritual seeker
Spiritual high
Spiritual need
Spiritual thirst
Spiritual beauty
Spiritual birth
Hey ho skdoodle-addle-o
Spiritual city gonna watch you grow
Hey ho skdoodle-addle-o
Spiritual city gonna watch you grow
Spiritual child
Spiritual man
Spiritual power
Spiritual land
Spiritual love
Spiritual rage
Spiritual vision
Spiritual age
Hey ho skdoodle-addle-o
Spiritual city gonna watch you grow
Hey ho skdoodle-addle-o
Spiritual city gonna watch you grow
Blood of the world, mother of mine
Gonna see you rise higher in time
Blood of the world, mother of mine
Gonna see you rise higher in time
Blood of the world, mother of mine
Gonna see you rise higher in time
Blood of the world, mother of mine
Open your eyes and let em shine !
Everybodys born to do a certain thing
And if youre dead jammy you find it.
And if youre good at it just keep doing it
Until youre fed up then do something else.
Youre here to make babies and look after the place.
You know ? (billy connolly)
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sacrifice
i've seen you
thirst
i feel what
thirst is
you look for
water
or whatever
that satisfies
the dreams of
your lips& tongue
i thirst for
thirst itself
but i do not
look for water
or even if there
is this pool
i still do not
wish to drink anything
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Philosophical Note On Life After Death
Death’s is a plunge into oblivion self
As an extinction of being.
It annihilates sensations and our becoming
To replace them with death's existence,
Life-a non existent death
And death-a non existent life.
As Epicurus said 'When I am, death is not,
And when death is, I am not, '
We can decline the religious afterlife,
As Gonzalez-Cruzzi did,
But we will never be able to understand
Our born life.
We can deny the visions of crossing over into the light,
When we need to believe
In darkness, silence and engulfing emptiness,
Always understanding that the nothingness needs rectifying.
Because we can fall into nothingness, to remain there eternally.
Coming into life can be a re-awakening of self
The real death is “eternal night”, as Swinburne defined it.
Nothingness can be anything positively existent,
But blackness and emptiness
Are black holes swallowing up the victims of death.
Thinking of Edwards' celebrities,
We may imagine a universe devoid of souls, spirits and mental essences,
A universe having an essential core identity
And divisible selves,
Anticipating the nothingness.
'When I die I won't go to heaven or hell
, there will just be nothingness', Isaac Asimov said once.
'That stuff which does not exist”, he wrote.
I don't know if there exists something that doesn't exist, but
All I know is that the nothingness exists because we are existent
In after death to define it as being existent.
''This life is the only existence there is; afterward there is nothing.”
Robert Nozick also wrote.
Yes, maybe 'nothing” may be a state into which we go, never to return
Or may not be, as Paul Edwards said.
Remember that Anthony Burgess wrote that if there is only darkness after death,
Then that darkness is the ultimate reality
And that love of life is no preparation for it,
Light -keeping the life
Darkness-keeping the death.
This rage against the dying of the light is very human,
Light never dies
It may be reborn from darkness
And vice versus.
But this rage may sound like madness.
And Burgess was raging more than ever
Against the imminent arrival of nothingness,
The eternal experience of no experience, in which
We witness our own extinction,
Or we become pseudo-selves.
Try to imagine the fear in front of that black abyss
And that your death is not the end of a divisible self experience,
But it’s like unconscious periods- pauses between periods of
Different consciousness,
Death-defying connections between consciousnesses
Self becoming impotent in its confrontation with blackness,
An abyss from which we manage to escape.
The 'nothingness' of unconsciousness may be a permanent death,
Which cannot be experienced.
Try to project yourself into the future,
Entering the blackness or emptiness of your non-experience.
The permanent death is coincident with the end of the entire universe
God is alone between two Bing Bang periods
We are aspired- in composing and recomposing
All the boring eons that passes without someone's existence
Would be irrelevant for the person who comes into being,
Even all the conscious entities of the same period ceased to exist.
But, usually, when someone dies people around continue to exist.
Death and birth are 'functionally equivalent' to transformation.
The Christian view of life after death has justice
Being meted out to sinners
And the righteous receiving the reward that they deserve.
My question is,
Who can live an authentic life without knowing the meaning of the life?
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Love Written In Passion Blood
love is written in warm passion blood
life is written in lust stirring flow blood
union is written in rich soul merging blood
blood in all union gift birth children born
blood bled in surge birth new life
blood corrupted death end finale life
blood love warm pure pumps renewal
blood flesh pierced sword's blade
blood climatic performance act ends
blood in taste of virgin experience death
contradiction the birth of life the birth of death
music cosmic soars at moment of conception
a moment seals love passion or life rape ripped
life poem writ contains such complexity such depth
lucky are lines life focus love given in glad glee read
glad for startling insight thoughts reflections merry
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Who Created This Beautiful World?
Who created this beautiful world?
What a harmony and perfection!
Who thought this beauty, who brought it out?
Who is he that perfected it?
What matching patterns spawn the wonder?
What concinnous rhythms create this charm?
What is that grand invisible hand
That weaves this beauty with rhythms and patterns
That makes beauty, beauty; a divine music?
What a match of place, time and form
That makes this world a joyous feeling!
Beauty infuses life to the world,
Beauty makes the world to speak and sing,
To awaken soul to the creator’s skills
Who gave his rare gifts in abundance.
What brings those hues to youthful glows,
What brings those shapes to enchanting slopes,
What brings gentleness to graceful love,
What brings those grace to ripening age,
What brings brooding beauty to day-break’s freshness,
What brings that beauty to the width of the sky,
To the height of hills and depth of seas,
To the shapes of clouds, to the moods of men
In liquid ease and endless abundance
That no more the world is what it is made of,
But a celestial charm of unknown depth.
A subtle music in joyous rhythms,
A pregnant pattern in brilliant colours,
In human forms, in nature’s moods,
In fast changing life’s variegated hues,
In tides of sea, in tides of life,
Surface to those inner ears and eyes
That keep itself wide open always;
A living rhythm is at work in womb
In hide and seek of light and shadow,
In fall and rise of hills and vales,
In love and hate, in war and peace;
The twinkles of eyes, the gentle smiles,
The blue of the sky, the warm sunshine,
Each is a rich work of a master craftsman.
Day is beauty, night is beauty;
Youth is beauty, old age is beauty;
Desire is beauty, contentment, beauty;
Heart-break is beauty, fulfilment, beauty;
Perfection is beauty, ugliness, beauty;
All are beautiful deep ’neath bones
Like sunrise and sunset or sunshine or rain,
In the magical hands of the master craftsman.
Is this world his own image,
A reflection of his model perfection
Like the pleasures of pleasure and the pleasures of pain
Make the world a divine charm;
Work and leisure, pain and pleasure,
Penury and wealth, life and death
Hand in hand bring harmony to the world;
Mongoose kills snakes; snake, rats,
In living rhythms of life and death;
Beauty, the world breathes, is beyond cause,
Beyond source, beyond course,
That surfaces itself to the joy of all
On the will of the great divine artist.
A speck of dirt, dark spots on the moon
Have the same charm and perfect rhythms;
Tears of pain and tears of pleasure
Have the same simple grace hidden in them;
Like silk-worms that weave soft sheath around,
He builds the world with his own inner charm,
It be a mole or a mountain;
And this we have,
The wonderous world of perfect beauty;
Beauty within and beauty outside,
Beauty between and beauty a’where,
In gentle flesh and youthful forms,
In fall and rise, in rage and patience,
In nature’s arts and man’s crafts,
In old and new or foul garbage;
For, the creator sits in all of them
And builds a bridge to all hearts and souls.
poem by Praveen Kumar
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Beautiful Soul
The wilderness is her getaway; out of
civilization, away from pollutes and
stress, lives free like a soul without sin,
like butterflies and fairies; she dresses
soft, with color and textures of silk and
pastel. She can be spotted from a distance,
her moves like flying fairies captures the
eye. When she needs rest; she strips down
to pure nudeness, she lays on the fresh grass;
becoming the essences of a frame. She falls
asleep like a Goddess princes, she becomes
meaningful to every creatures sight. The young
pigeons come and gather petals and cover her
nakedness beauty. She walks away leaving
her unforgotten image in the eyes of one.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Remembering Thirst
it was when there was not water anymore
when i remember thirst
i hold the glass peering carefully if there is still any water left
there is none and so i go on and on the usual way that was
everything still contained in the vessel of my childhood
the ordinary wants still unsatisfied sleeping the whole night in thirst
even so thirsty in dreams until
finally forgetting thirst
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Kids Arent Alright
When we were young, the future was so bright, whoa
The old neighborhood was so alive, whoa
And every kid on the whole damn street, whoa
Was gonna make it big and not be beat
Now, the neighborhoods cracked and torn, whoa
The kids are grown up, but their lives are worn, whoa
How can one little street
Swallow so many lives
Chances thrown, nothings free
Longing for what used to be
Still, its hard, hard to see
Fragile lives, shattered dreams
Jamie had a chance, well, she really did, whoa
Instead, she dropped out and had a couple of kids, whoa
Mark still lives at home cause hes got no job, whoa
He just plays guitar and smokes a lotta pot
Jay committed suicide, whoa
Brandon odd and died, whoa
What the hell is going on
The cruelest dream, reality
Chances thrown, nothings free
Longing for what used to be
Still, its hard, hard to see
Fragile lives, shattered dreams
Go!
Chances thrown, nothings free
Longing for what used to be
Still, its hard, hard to see
Fragile lives, shattered dreams
song performed by by Offspring
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Quick As If to Quench One's Thirst
If lifetimes have been spent in pretense...
There is no value for reality.
Limitations of fear, greed and conflict,
Isolates like a disease.
And those afflicted...
Insist upon evil and wickedness,
For their survival.
Or the lack of it,
Thereof!
And an appreciation for their existence,
Becomes dismissed!
As easily as extinguishing lives disrespected.
Quick as if to quench one's thirst for blood!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Beyond Life's Metronome (Revised)
Wanting to prolong joy I keep a soap-bubble moment
alive - watching two young dancers perform the same
enchanting scenes again, delighting in creamed icing
of true classical ballet
Less enamoured with the dance and being impatient
you could not, you'd rather continue to walk in dreary
reality without the edges shining - whereas I need to
drink in all joy and beauty to fortify my heart
When returned to the darkest parts of reality, the
repetitive dissonance of a grey monotone reciting
litanies of criminal deeds with recriminations has
me buried by it - unable to dream of assistance
Failure is a testament to the strength of my desire to
reach for spiritual life where my need for roots and
anchors led to my changing into a root anchoring
me without beauty, music and harmony - though
I listen to song, sway with the dance - beyond life's
metronome slowly comes to a standstill
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Spinning Destiny
SPINNING DESTINY
Spinning of Destiny
Never stops.
Unseen its designs,
Defying all rationale,
Mocking human scrutiny
And cures to avert its decrees!
Its moves unknown
But not unfelt.
Its hushed hooves
Shocking and stunning us
All unawares!
History is a museum
Of the dead,
The sepulcher
Of the sagacious and the saintly,
The virtuous and vicious,
Wherein guide
The ghostly moves
Of the curate-
Our present
In the shadows and reflections
Into the deceptive future,
Through the hoary past,
With rosy innocence!
And the innocent mortals,
In all their smartness,
Are liberally duped,
And smarted
Into the cadence of life.
Spinning never stops.
So spin, spin life in,
And spin life out,
Within and without.
O dear destiny!
poem by Raghukul Bhushan
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Our Soldiers
A loaf of bread inside his hat
The young soldier was found there
At the middle of the road
His pure body was laying down there alone
Ah adorable ones broken are our hearts
How an ugly an admiring fact
The difference between the both
The goodness and the Badness
The destruction and sacrifice
How can some destroy and steal lives
The existence of the both
Simply two extreme points
The darkness of the haters souls
And the lightened pure spirited souls
How if we look to the world through soldiers pure souls
How peaceful would be the world for whole
On behalf of protecting other's lives they sacrifice their lives
For their country's sake and for their prides
Our martyrs the heroes who deserve the heavens above
Those who sacrifice their precious lives on behalf of others pride
Will forever live in our hearts adorable precious ones
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Birth, Death, Rebirth
Television news reports
a friend’s brother has died
I telephone his home, a stranger’s voice -
then my friend says “hello”
we reminisce his brother’s adventure -
sharing sadness; laughter; tears
A TV special about our universe depicts the birth,
death, rebirth of stars, planets, galaxies
Christmas cards - with photos
of families; past year stories
new babies; friends leaving
Outside the window - frozen shadows,
serpentine outline of nude shad tree
a tree with white flowers - each spring until last
Nearby, two heated birdbaths
quench thirst, give life
as I write, a squirrel’s paws patter
across roof above
I pause …………………. ponder
cyclical process of passage
existence of emotions
depth of each breath
then I finish giving birth
to this poem
poem by William Waterway
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Ageless Beauty for M lady Ernestine
True beauty lies beneath the skin.
It’s not something for surface show.
A quality which lies within
but others can bask in its glow.
Some beauty fades as years pass by.
No matter how hard you may fight
to hide the signs you can’t deny
True beauty shines through ever bright.
True beauty is not visible
but rather something which you feel.
Something which makes you comfortable
the passing years can never steal.
True beauty thinks of others first
and offers love without reserve.
As a cool drink will quench our thirst
it gives us more than we deserve.
True beauty is a quality
which lasts until the day you die.
A precious gift that’s given free
which no amount of cash can buy.
Beauty is skin deep so they say.
Of mere good looks that is quite true.
Youthful prettiness fades away
but inner beauty still shines through.
23-Jun-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Dance with Death
Consecrated cold earth
There is no dignity
Sworn to die from birth
Here to lie for eternity
So is there glory in death
Never again to feel warm
Or see the light of day
Is death the prize for life
I’ve got the stench of death
On my hands
I just buried a friend
Dance with Death
I saved his life
To put him in the ground
Such a high price
Can’t break the chains, I’m bound
I have a fire inside me
Feels like I’m from hell
What else could it be
Death has me in its spell
I have to say good bye
It would be much better
But I keep seeing his eyes
I know I’ll see them forever
I’ve gotta let him go
I need to end the pain
But I don’t know how
Seems I’m caught in this game
I have the stench of death
On my hands
I just buried a friend
Dance with Death
I’m in that dance
The waltz of endings
The horrid trance
Of new beginnings
I’ve got a dance with death
Swing to his song
Take your last breath
It won’t be long
You’ve gotta move to the beat
Dance with death
Play his song for me
Dance with death
poem by Haley Revell
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Bloody Red Tears
Tears of blood
Oh, bloody red tears
They fall on my pillow
And it soaks in blood, red and liquefied
They fall to the floor bellow
And once dried...
It's covered in blood, brown and hardened
Oh, bloody red tears
They're the result of what no-one can mend
All my hurt that built up over the years
Bloody red tears
They're so beautiful to me
They quench my thirst nobody knows of or hears
Only one thirst could that be
The thirst to see blood and pain
Oh, it's so good to my eyes
But, my hurt, I also have a thirst to drain
All those lies!
They cause some of my bloody red tears
They cause my hardened heart, even when someone dies
Oh, bloddy red tears
They're so good to me
And have been all these years
poem by Amy Parkinson
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Spinning Top
(d. pickerill/p. odonoughue)
You let me go
til Im weared out
And when Im ready you say youre not
You start a flame, Im not to blame
For what I do
You heat me up, Im all aglow
I move too fast to take it slow
If you could see what you do to me
Youd feel so low
Chorus:
You keep me moving, dont let me stop
You got the whip, Im your spinning top
You keep me moving, dont let me stop
You love keeps spinning me round
You take me up to get me high
And yet you know I cant fly
If I take a chance on this romance
I know Ill fall
Chorus
You turn me round so I dont know
My left from right or where to go
You just dont care and thats not fair
Youre hurting me
Chorus (x2)
Your love keeps spinning me round
Im just your spinning top
Im just your spinning top
Your spinning top
Im just your spinning top
Oh, your spinning top
Spin me, spin me
Im your spinning top
Im just your spinning top
Spinning, spinning top.
song performed by by Lisa Stansfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Free State!
Birth, growth, decay and death
All living beings undergo sure!
Hunger and old age make all
Depend each other for survival!
Sans discipline, rationality and
Control freedom can't be enjoyed!
To have carefree freedom from
All worries man should be birth-less!
Birth fixes death for all beings;
Birth and death are for body;
Body with mind and heart
Man lives life with all things.
Spiritual state is the free state
All have to strive to overcome woes!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Sunrise Gone
Night 's goes from there to here as gentle winds blow north to south flowing west to east the moon bright and full and as bright like a fire but not as warm one star two stars one million stars later flickering away into the night sky existence meaninful to meaningless as a heart bearts heavy and true one second until eternity counting back and forth until first light there goes night hello morning days anew this heart beats slow soft just like a old clock second after second like minutes that turn to hours these seconds that takes away in this beautiful things called life as sacred as your next breath in is reality this existence likes seasons and death birth life flows once more night comes again and darkness covers everything like a blanket one millions stars shimmer back into the picture sparkling away but then night goes fromhere to there back to there and a brand new cycles start all over again......nuff said! !
poem by Dorian Suchelle
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