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Martha And Mary

Martha her love and joy expressed
By care to entertain her guest;
While Mary sat to hear her Lord,
And could not bear to lose a word.

The principle in both the same,
Produced in each a different aim;
The one to feast the Lord was led,
The other waited to be fed.

But Mary chose the better part,
Her Saviour's words refreshed her heart;
While busy Martha angry grew,
And lost her time and temper too.

With warmth she to her sister spoke,
But brought upon herself rebuke;
One thing is needful, and but one,
Why do thy thoughts on many run?

How oft are we like Martha vexed,
Encumbered, hurried, and perplexed!
While trifles so engross our thought,
The one thing needful is forgot.

Lord teach us this one thing to choose,
Which they who gain can never lose;
Sufficient in itself alone,
And needful, were the world our own.

Let groveling hearts the world admire,
Thy love is all that I require!
Gladly I may the rest resign,
If the one needful thing be mine!

poem by John Newton
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Martha Say

Written by John Mellencamp
Martha say she don't need no stinking man making no decisions for her.
She don't need his money, she don't need him between the sheets,
She ain't gonna sleep on the edge of the bed for no stinking man.
And that's the way she lives 'cause I saw her last night
Pouring water on a drowning man in the moonlight, saying:
Hi-de-hi-de-hi, brother,
Hi-de-hi-de-hey now, Martha.
Hi-de-hi-de-hi, sister.
Say what, hey you, look out, Martha.
Martha say she don't need no revolver to shoot some idiot down.
She can do it with her eyes, she can do it with her smile,
She can do it with a conversation just walking down the hall.
Man, now ain't that the truth 'cause i saw her take a bite out of
Some macho dude laying some corn ball line on her last night, saying:
Hi-de-hi-de-hi, brother,
Hi-de-hi-de-hey now, Martha.
Hi-de-hi-de-hi, sister.
Say what, hey you, look out, Martha.
Hi-de-hi-de-hi, brother. (Hi-de-hi-de-hi, brother.)
Hi-de-hi-de-ho, sister. (Hi-de-hi-de-hi, yeah.)
Hi-de-hi-de-hi. (Hi-de-hi-de-ho, yeah.)
Hi-de-hi-de-hi, Martha.
Say what, look out, shake it up Martha.
Martha say say she ain't changin', no nothin' for nobody for
no damn good reason.
It's the way that she wants it, it's the way that she gets it.
Well, the girl loves playing hardball, it leaves me in a
no win situation saying:
Hi-de-hi-de-hi, brother,
Hi-de-hi-de-hey now, Martha.
Hi-de-hi-de-hi, sister.
Say what, hey you, look out, Martha.
Repeat
Martha say she don't need no stinking man making no decisions for her.

song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sons of Martha

The Sons of Mary seldom bother, for they have inherited that good part;
But the Sons of Martha favour their Mother of the careful soul and the troubled heart.
And because she lost her temper once, and because she was rude to the Lord her Guest,
Her Sons must wait upon Mary's Sons, world without end, reprieve, or rest.

It is their care in all the ages to take the buffet and cushion the shock.
It is their care that the gear engages; it is their care that the switches lock.
It is their care that the wheels run truly; it is their care to embark and entrain,
Tally, transport, and deliver duly the Sons of Mary by land and main.

They say to mountains ``Be ye removèd.'' They say to the lesser floods ``Be dry.''
Under their rods are the rocks reprovèd---they are not afraid of that which is high.
Then do the hill-tops shake to the summit---then is the bed of the deep laid bare,
That the Sons of Mary may overcome it, pleasantly sleeping and unaware.

They finger Death at their gloves' end where they piece and repiece the living wires.
He rears against the gates they tend: they feed him hungry behind their fires.
Early at dawn, ere men see clear, they stumble into his terrible stall,
And hale him forth like a haltered steer, and goad and turn him till evenfall.

To these from birth is Belief forbidden; from these till death is Relief afar.
They are concerned with matters hidden---under the earthline their altars are---
The secret fountains to follow up, waters withdrawn to restore to the mouth,
And gather the floods as in a cup, and pour them again at a city's drouth.

They do not preach that their God will rouse them a little before the nuts work loose.
They do not preach that His Pity allows them to drop their job when they damn-well choose.
As in the thronged and the lighted ways, so in the dark and the desert they stand,
Wary and watchful all their days that their brethren's ways may be long in the land.

Raise ye the stone or cleave the wood to make a path more fair or flat;
Lo, it is black already with the blood some Son of Martha spilled for that!
Not as a ladder from earth to Heaven, not as a witness to any creed,
But simple service simply given to his own kind in their common need.

And the Sons of Mary smile and are blessèd---they know the Angels are on their side.
They know in them is the Grace confessèd, and for them are the Mercies multiplied.
They sit at the feet---they hear the Word---they see how truly the Promise runs.
They have cast their burden upon the Lord, and---the Lord He lays it on Martha's Sons!

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Do The Right Thing

Once you told me you were gonna love me
That it was meant to be and theres no other way
Then came someone showed you more fun
Weve had a good run better think it over
Do the right thing baby do the right thing
Go with your heart and do the right thing
Hes got a good line, shows you a good time
Did he change your mind guess its your move
Ill lose my pride Id even step aside
Honey you really must decide whos best for you
Do the right thing baby do the right thing
Go with your heart and do the right thing
Do the right thing baby do the right thing
Go with your heart and do the right thing
You might chose me or chose to lose me
Someday youll see the good thing you had
Do the right thing baby do the right thing
Go with your heart and do the right thing
Do the right thing baby do the right thing
Go with your heart and do the right thing
Go with your heart and do the right thing

song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Time

at present
so busy
no time

time keeps slip
slip slip... sliding away

so busy with work
so busy with myriads
of things needing to be done

a working solo mum
is always on the run
so little time to get all done

not enough time
contained to work in each days sun
to complete so many errands
she must continually run run run to get all done

stop take a breathe
stop take a needful rest
stop take a needful quiet peaceful rest

rest body spirit soul
rest body spirit soul then rise
rise to spread the loving glory of your light

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Lazarus

“No, Mary, there was nothing—not a word.
Nothing, and always nothing. Go again
Yourself, and he may listen—or at least
Look up at you, and let you see his eyes.
I might as well have been the sound of rain,
A wind among the cedars, or a bird;
Or nothing. Mary, make him look at you;
And even if he should say that we are nothing,
To know that you have heard him will be something.
And yet he loved us, and it was for love
The Master gave him back. Why did he wait
So long before he came? Why did he weep?
I thought he would be glad—and Lazarus—
To see us all again as he had left us—
All as it was, all as it was before.”

Mary, who felt her sister’s frightened arms
Like those of someone drowning who had seized her,
Fearing at last they were to fail and sink
Together in this fog-stricken sea of strangeness,
Fought sadly, with bereaved indignant eyes,
To find again the fading shores of home
That she had seen but now could see no longer
Now she could only gaze into the twilight,
And in the dimness know that he was there,
Like someone that was not. He who had been
Their brother, and was dead, now seemed alive
Only in death again—or worse than death;
For tombs at least, always until today,
Though sad were certain. There was nothing certain
For man or God in such a day as this;
For there they were alone, and there was he—
Alone; and somewhere out of Bethany,
The Master—who had come to them so late,
Only for love of them and then so slowly,
And was for their sake hunted now by men
Who feared Him as they feared no other prey—
For the world’s sake was hidden. “Better the tomb
For Lazarus than life, if this be life,”
She thought; and then to Martha, “No, my dear,”
She said aloud; “not as it was before.
Nothing is ever as it was before,
Where Time has been. Here there is more than Time;
And we that are so lonely and so far
From home, since he is with us here again,
Are farther now from him and from ourselves
Than we are from the stars. He will not speak
Until the spirit that is in him speaks;
And we must wait for all we are to know,
Or even to learn that we are not to know.
Martha, we are too near to this for knowledge,
And that is why it is that we must wait.
Our friends are coming if we call for them,
And there are covers we’ll put over him
To make him warmer. We are too young, perhaps,
To say that we know better what is best
Than he. We do not know how old he is.
If you remember what the Master said,
Try to believe that we need have no fear.
Let me, the selfish and the careless one,
Be housewife and a mother for tonight;
For I am not so fearful as you are,
And I was not so eager.”

Martha sank
Down at her sister’s feet and there sat watching
A flower that had a small familiar name
That was as old as memory, but was not
The name of what she saw now in its brief
And infinite mystery that so frightened her
That life became a terror. Tears again
Flooded her eyes and overflowed. “No, Mary,”
She murmured slowly, hating her own words
Before she heard them, “you are not so eager
To see our brother as we see him now;
Neither is he who gave him back to us.
I was to be the simple one, as always,
And this was all for me.” She stared again
Over among the trees where Lazarus,
Who seemed to be a man who was not there,
Might have been one more shadow among shadows,
If she had not remembered. Then she felt
The cool calm hands of Mary on her face,
And shivered, wondering if such hands were real.

“The Master loved you as he loved us all,
Martha; and you are saying only things
That children say when they have had no sleep.
Try somehow now to rest a little while;
You know that I am here, and that our friends
Are coming if I call.”

Martha at last
Arose, and went with Mary to the door,
Where they stood looking off at the same place,
And at the same shape that was always there
As if it would not ever move or speak,
And always would be there. “Mary, go now,
Before the dark that will be coming hides him.
I am afraid of him out there alone,
Unless I see him; and I have forgotten
What sleep is. Go now—make him look at you—
And I shall hear him if he stirs or whispers.
Go!—or I’ll scream and bring all Bethany
To come and make him speak. Make him say once
That he is glad, and God may say the rest.
Though He say I shall sleep, and sleep for ever,
I shall not care for that… Go!”

Mary, moving
Almost as if an angry child had pushed her,
Went forward a few steps; and having waited
As long as Martha’s eyes would look at hers,
Went forward a few more, and a few more;
And so, until she came to Lazarus,
Who crouched with his face hidden in his hands,
Like one that had no face. Before she spoke,
Feeling her sister’s eyes that were behind her
As if the door where Martha stood were now
As far from her as Egypt, Mary turned
Once more to see that she was there. Then, softly,
Fearing him not so much as wondering
What his first word might be, said, “Lazarus,
Forgive us if we seemed afraid of you;”
And having spoken, pitied her poor speech
That had so little seeming gladness in it,
So little comfort, and so little love.

There was no sign from him that he had heard,
Or that he knew that she was there, or cared
Whether she spoke to him again or died
There at his feet. “We love you, Lazarus,
And we are not afraid. The Master said
We need not be afraid. Will you not say
To me that you are glad? Look, Lazarus!
Look at my face, and see me. This is Mary.”
She found his hands and held them. They were cool,
Like hers, but they were not so calm as hers.
Through the white robes in which his friends had wrapped him
When he had groped out of that awful sleep,
She felt him trembling and she was afraid.
At last he sighed; and she prayed hungrily
To God that she might hear again the voice
Of Lazarus, whose hands were giving her now
The recognition of a living pressure
That was almost a language. When he spoke,
Only one word that she had waited for
Came from his lips, and that word was her name.

“I heard them saying, Mary, that he wept
Before I woke.” The words were low and shaken,
Yet Mary knew that he who uttered them
Was Lazarus; and that would be enough
Until there should be more… “Who made him come,
That he should weep for me?… Was it you, Mary?”
The questions held in his incredulous eyes
Were more than she would see. She looked away;
But she had felt them and should feel for ever,
She thought, their cold and lonely desperation
That had the bitterness of all cold things
That were not cruel. “I should have wept,” he said,
“If I had been the Master….”

Now she could feel
His hands above her hair—the same black hair
That once he made a jest of, praising it,
While Martha’s busy eyes had left their work
To flash with laughing envy. Nothing of that
Was to be theirs again; and such a thought
Was like the flying by of a quick bird
Seen through a shadowy doorway in the twilight.
For now she felt his hands upon her head,
Like weights of kindness: “I forgive you, Mary….
You did not know—Martha could not have known—
Only the Master knew…. Where is he now?
Yes, I remember. They came after him.
May the good God forgive him…. I forgive him.
I must; and I may know only from him
The burden of all this… Martha was here—
But I was not yet here. She was afraid….
Why did he do it, Mary? Was it—you?
Was it for you?… Where are the friends I saw?
Yes, I remember. They all went away.
I made them go away…. Where is he now?…
What do I see down there? Do I see Martha—
Down by the door?… I must have time for this.”

Lazarus looked about him fearfully,
And then again at Mary, who discovered
Awakening apprehension in his eyes,
And shivered at his feet. All she had feared
Was here; and only in the slow reproach
Of his forgiveness lived his gratitude.
Why had he asked if it was all for her
That he was here? And what had Martha meant?
Why had the Master waited? What was coming
To Lazarus, and to them, that had not come?
What had the Master seen before he came,
That he had come so late?

“Where is he, Mary?”
Lazarus asked again. “Where did he go?”
Once more he gazed about him, and once more
At Mary for an answer. “Have they found him?
Or did he go away because he wished
Never to look into my eyes again?…
That, I could understand…. Where is he, Mary?”

“I do not know,” she said. “Yet in my heart
I know that he is living, as you are living—
Living, and here. He is not far from us.
He will come back to us and find us all—
Lazarus, Martha, Mary—everything—
All as it was before. Martha said that.
And he said we were not to be afraid.”
Lazarus closed his eyes while on his face
A tortured adumbration of a smile
Flickered an instant. “All as it was before,”
He murmured wearily. “Martha said that;
And he said you were not to be afraid …
Not you… Not you… Why should you be afraid?
Give all your little fears, and Martha’s with them,
To me; and I will add them unto mine,
Like a few rain-drops to Gennesaret.”

“If you had frightened me in other ways,
Not willing it,” Mary said, “I should have known
You still for Lazarus. But who is this?
Tell me again that you are Lazarus;
And tell me if the Master gave to you
No sign of a new joy that shall be coming
To this house that he loved. Are you afraid?
Are you afraid, who have felt everything—
And seen…?”

But Lazarus only shook his head,
Staring with his bewildered shining eyes
Hard into Mary’s face. “I do not know,
Mary,” he said, after a long time.
“When I came back, I knew the Master’s eyes
Were looking into mine. I looked at his,
And there was more in them than I could see.
At first I could see nothing but his eyes;
Nothing else anywhere was to be seen—
Only his eyes. And they looked into mine—
Long into mine, Mary, as if he knew.”

Mary began to be afraid of words
As she had never been afraid before
Of loneliness or darkness, or of death,
But now she must have more of them or die:
“He cannot know that there is worse than death,”
She said. “And you…”

“Yes, there is worse than death.”
Said Lazarus; “and that was what he knew;
And that is what it was that I could see
This morning in his eyes. I was afraid,
But not as you are. There is worse than death,
Mary; and there is nothing that is good
For you in dying while you are still here.
Mary, never go back to that again.
You would not hear me if I told you more,
For I should say it only in a language
That you are not to learn by going back.
To be a child again is to go forward—
And that is much to know. Many grow old,
And fade, and go away, not knowing how much
That is to know. Mary, the night is coming,
And there will soon be darkness all around you.
Let us go down where Martha waits for us,
And let there be light shining in this house.”

He rose, but Mary would not let him go:
“Martha, when she came back from here, said only
That she heard nothing. And have you no more
For Mary now than you had then for Martha?
Is Nothing, Lazarus, all you have for me?
Was Nothing all you found where you have been?
If that be so, what is there worse than that—
Or better—if that be so? And why should you,
With even our love, go the same dark road over?”

“I could not answer that, if that were so,”
Said Lazarus,—“not even if I were God.
Why should He care whether I came or stayed,
If that were so? Why should the Master weep—
For me, or for the world,—or save himself
Longer for nothing? And if that were so,
Why should a few years’ more mortality
Make him a fugitive where flight were needless,
Had he but held his peace and given his nod
To an old Law that would be new as any?
I cannot say the answer to all that;
Though I may say that he is not afraid,
And that it is not for the joy there is
In serving an eternal Ignorance
Of our futility that he is here.
Is that what you and Martha mean by Nothing?
Is that what you are fearing? If that be so,
There are more weeds than lentils in your garden.
And one whose weeds are laughing at his harvest
May as well have no garden; for not there
Shall he be gleaning the few bits and orts
Of life that are to save him. For my part,
I am again with you, here among shadows
That will not always be so dark as this;
Though now I see there’s yet an evil in me
That made me let you be afraid of me.
No, I was not afraid—not even of life.
I thought I was…I must have time for this;
And all the time there is will not be long.
I cannot tell you what the Master saw
This morning in my eyes. I do not know.
I cannot yet say how far I have gone,
Or why it is that I am here again,
Or where the old road leads. I do not know.
I know that when I did come back, I saw
His eyes again among the trees and faces—
Only his eyes; and they looked into mine—
Long into mine—long, long, as if he knew.”

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Forty Years Old

The tidings of your melancholy loss,
And received at the other hand to crown your glory;
But ten times more of needful things like the muse of your love,
For i love you with my sincere heart.
Life is like the natural tune coming out from my radio,
And you are mine and i am yours;
For i will repay all that you've lost in this town,
So be confident with your thoughts towards me.
Bound to me only by the links of this love is your muse,
Because you are my daily joy as compared to a common man's life;
But the hiding places beyond the seas are with cheerfulness!
And i will bear your memory with me always.
It was like the love letters full of wondrous news,
And of the forty years old love songs to boast your muse;
But both of us will live to see a better day on this love.
Stong and hale,
Weak and pale,
And like a fairly tale;
But lay now the corner stone with a joyful heart!
And like a leisure hour out of sight,
But we will be pure as the naked heavens one day.
There is comfort in the strength of love,
And of the tidings of your melancholy loss;
But ten time more of needful things like the muse of your love.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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What The World Needs Now

(hal david/burt bacharach)
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
It's the only thing that there's just too little of
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
No not just for some but for everyone
Lord we don't need another mountain
There are mountains and hillsides
Enough to climb
There are oceans and rivers
Enough to cross. enough to last
'till the end of time
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
It's the only thing that there's just too little of
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
No not just for some but for everyone
Lord we don't need another meadow
There are corn fields and wheat fields
Enough to grow
There are sun beams and moon beams
Enough to shine
Oh listen lord if you want to know
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
It's the only thing that there's just too little of
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
No not just for some but for everyone
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
What the world needs now is love, sweet love
What the world needs now

song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Am I The Only Thing You've Done Wrong

You're the life of the party
You stand out in a crowd
When I think of all the things you've done
It always makes me proud
But tonight I'm feeling empty
It seems I'm always here alone
Am I the only thing you've done wrong

Am I the only one that you've forgotten on the way
To gain the world and lose our love
Is to high a price to pay
In your long line of successes
Tell me where do I belong
Am I the only thing you've done wrong

You got another big promotion
You're the best man on the crew
When you set your mind on something
There's nothing you can't do
This house you built is perfect
We're the envy of the town
But Lord it's lonley here when you're not around

Am I the only one that you've forgotten on the way
To gain the world and lose our love
Is to high a price to pay
In your long line of successes
Tell me where do I belong
Am I the only thing you've done wrong

Oh am I the only thing you've done wrong

song performed by by Lee Ann Womack from Lee Ann Womack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. John (Chapter 11)

A man called Lazarus was ill,
Brother of Mary, Bethany;
This Mary had anointed Lord’s feet
By perfumed oil, dried by her hair!

So, Mary sent word to Jesus,
‘Master, the one you love is ill.’
(Meaning her brother Lazarus)

When Jesus heard, then He remarked,
‘This illness isn’t to end in death.
But for the glory of God’s works
And that the Son be glorified.’

Now Jesus loved Martha, Mary
And Lazarus who’d fallen ill;
He went to Judea later;
His disciples told Him, ‘Rabbi,
The Jews had wanted to stone you,
You want to go back to that place? ’

Then Jesus answered, ‘Are there not
Twelve hours by day for one to walk?
None stumble then for world has light.
But when he walks alone at night,
He stumbles as he has no sight!

Then Jesus said, ‘Friend Lazarus
Has gone asleep, let me wake him.’
They said, ‘If he sleeps, he’ll be saved! ’
But Jesus talked of deathly sleep,
While disciples, of slumber deep.

Jesus told, ‘Lazarus is dead! ’
Let’s go to him that you believe.
So, Thomas said, ‘Let’s die with him! ’

When Jesus reached Lazarus’ house,
He had died four days earlier.
Bethany lay two miles away!

Some Jews arrived to comfort them;
When Martha heard Jesus would come,
She went to meet; Mary sat home.

Then Martha told Him, ‘Lord, if you’d
Been here, my brother wouldn’t have died.’
‘But even now, I know whatev’r
You ask of God, He will give you.’

Jesus said, ‘Your brother will rise! ’
Martha replied, ‘Yes, Lord, I know,
He’ll resurrect on the last day.’

‘I am the resurrection, life! ’
Then Jesus said. ‘Whoev’r believes
In me, ev’n if he dies, will live!
And everyone who lives, believes
In me, will never die at all.
‘Do you believe this? ’ asked Jesus.

Then Martha replied, ‘Yes, my Lord.
I do believe you’re Son of God;
I know that you’re the Messiah,
The one who’s coming to the world!

She told her sister in secret,
‘The Teacher’s here and asks for you! ’
On hearing, Mary rose to greet.
But Jesus had not reached village.

When Mary saw Jesus, she fell
At his feet and said to Him, ‘Lord
If only you had been here then,
My brother would not be now dead.’

On seeing Mary and Jews weep,
Then Jesus perturbed, became sad.
He asked, ‘Where has he been entombed? ’

They said to Him, ‘Sir, come and see! ’
And Jesus wept while Jews all said,
‘Look, how He loved poor Lazarus! ’

But some remarked, ‘Could not the one
Who opened eyes of blind beggar,
Have done something to avoid death?

So, Jesus reached the place of tomb;
It was a cave with stone across;
Jesus said, ‘Take the stone away.
Then Martha said, ’Tis four days now,
Should there a stench be, all around? ’

Then Jesus asked, ‘Did I not tell
If you believe, God’s glory’s seen!
Then Jesus raised his eyes to Heav’n,
And said, ‘I thank you Father, God.
I know You always have heard me,
I said so, that they may believe.’

And having said this, Jesus cried,
‘Lazarus, Come out! ’ in voice loud.
The dead man came with hands, feet tied,
With burial bands and face cloth-wrapped.
So Jesus said, ‘Untie him soon! ’

Now many Jews who had come there,
Began to believe in Jesus.
But some went to the Pharisees,
And told them what he ‘ad done that day.

So, they convened the Sanhedrin,
And said, ‘What do we do hence-forth?
This man performs so many signs.’
If we leave Him alone for now,
All will believe in Him and Rome
Will take away, our nation whole.’

But one Caiaphas, high-priest that year
Remarked, ‘You know not anything,
Nor do you consider better
That one man dies, not more people
And whole nation may not perish,
And gather dispersed God’s children.’

They planned to kill Him, from that day!
So, Jesus didn’t walk in public,
And left for Ephraim, desert-town,
And there He stayed with disciples.

The Jewish Passover was near.
Many came to Jerusalem.
They looked for Jesus everywhere
And wondered if He will ev’r come.

For, Pharisees and chief priests all,
Had given orders to inform,
If they should come across Jesus,
So that, they could arrest Him soon.

Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-24-2007

poem by John Celes
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Mary Mary Magdalene

Mary Mary Magdalene,
what do all those stories mean?
Mary, Mary, is it true,
Jesus had a thing for you?

Mary, Mary – He lay with you?
Mary, Mary, tell me true
Mary, Mary, red hair wild,
did He leave you great with child?

Mary, was your love so steady,
that you had had His kids already?
Mary, Mary, at the Cross,
did it feel a gain or loss?

Mary, Mary – on that third day,
what was it like with the stone rolled away?
Mary, Mary, running there with love,
what did you think when He rose above?

Mary, Mary – what was it like, after?
Were there tears or joyful laughter?
Mary, Mary – the kids you had –
did they turn out like their Dad?

Mary, Mary, whore redeemed,
did it work out like you dreamed?
Mary, Mary – your afterlife –
was it mostly love, or mostly strife?

Mary, Mary, were you worshipped or despised
As Mary’s daughter-in-law, Mrs. Christ?
Mary, Mary, did you stay,
or feel you had to take the kids away?

Mary, Mary, with so much love,
did you, too, rise to heaven above?
Mary, Mary, in the sky,
all we ask are the reasons why…

Mary, Mary Magdalene,
What is really true? What does it really mean?

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Its About Time

I used to be a famous artist
Proud as I could be
Struggling to express myself
For the whole world to see
I used to blow my mind sky high
Searching for the lost elation
Little did I know the joy I was to find
In knowing I am only me
Im singin in my heart
Im singin in my heart
Im singin love to sing
I love to sing it from my heart
Oh the creation yeah
Of a good time doin my part
With an open-hearted laugh of realization in my mind
And now Im but a child who art
Erect in humility
Serving out a love for everyone I meet
In truth who are really me
Im singin in my heart
Im singin in my heart
Im singin love to sing
I love to sing it from my heart
No-no-no no no
Hoo no hey yeah no-no-no-no
Its about time now its about time now
Its about time now dont you know now
Its about time now its about time now
Its about time now dont you know now
Its about time we get together
To be out front and love one another
Brothers sisters everybody
We better start to help each other now
We need it now
When were sharin our love brother
Thats when we know we can shape another world
Lord lord lord lord lord lord lord lord lord lord lord lord lord lord lord
Oooh lord
Lord lord lord lord lord oh oh
Oh no lord no no oh

song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How could there be any question of acquiring or possessing, when the one thing needful for a man is to become - to be at last, and to die in the fullness of his being.

quote by Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mary, Mary

Words and music by michael nesmith
Mary, mary, where you goin to?
Mary, mary, can I go too.
This one thing I will vow ya,
Id rather die than to live without ya.
Mary, mary, where you goin to?
Mary, mary, tell me truly
What did I do to make you leave me.
Whatever it was I didnt mean to,
You know I never would try and hurt ya.
Mary, mary, where you goin to?
What more, mary, can I do
To prove my love is truly yours?
Ive done more now than a clear-thinkin man would do.
Mary, mary, its not over.
Where you go, I will follow.
til I win your love again
And walk beside you,
But until then.
Mary, mary, where you goin to?
Mary, mary, where you goin to?
Mary, where you goin to?
Mary, mary, mary, mary, mary, where you goin to?
[repeat adlib]

song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lovers Prayer

Lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
Lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
Lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
Just wanna be with my love tonight
I dont want no jive artists calling me on the telephone
Dont wanna watch the carson show all alone
I just wanna lay back, take my rest
With the one I loves head resting on my chest
Lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
Lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
Lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
Just wanna be with my love tonight
And I dont want my best friends even coming round
cos if they do I might put em down
Carsons over and the lights way down low
And all I got, I got a heart full of soul
Lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
I said, lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
I said, lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
Just wanna be with my love tonight
And its a lovers prayer, oh yes it is
Takes a little time, takes a little care, yeah, yeah, yeah
And when it gets way on in the midnight hour
I just wanna play my guitar
I just wanna see you smile, touch your face
Be with you in my own place
Lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
I said, lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
Lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
Just wanna be with my love tonight
Just wanna be with my love tonight
Just wanna be with my love tonight

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spectator ab Extra

As I sat in the Café I said to myself,
They may talk as they please about what they call pelf,
They may sneer as they like about eating and drinking,
But help it I cannot, I cannot help thinking
How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
How pleasant it is to have money.

I sit at my table en grand seigneur,
And when I have done, throw a crust to the poor;
Not only the pleasure itself of good living,
But also the pleasure of now and then giving:
So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So pleasant it is to have money.

They may talk as they please about what they call pelf,
And how one ought never to think of one’s self,
How pleasures of thought surpass eating and drinking—
My pleasure of thought is the pleasure of thinking
How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
How pleasant it is to have money.

II
Le Diner

Come along, ‘tis the time, ten or more minutes past,
And he who came first had to wait for the last;
The oysters ere this had been in and been out;
Whilst I have been sitting and thinking about
How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
How pleasant it is to have money.

A clear soup with eggs, voilà tout; of the fish
The filets de sole are a moderate dish
A la Orly, but you’re for the red mullet, you say:
By the gods of good fare, who can question today
How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
How pleasant it is to have money.

After oysters, sauterne; then sherry; champagne,
Ere one bottle goes, comes another again;
Fly up, thou bold cork, to the ceiling above,
And tell to our ears in the sound that they love
How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
How pleasant it is to have money.

I’ve the simplest of palates; absurd it may be,
But I almost could dine on a poulet-au-riz,
Fish and soup and omelette and that – but the deuce –
There were to be woodcocks, and not Charlotte Russe!
So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So pleasant it is to have money.

Your Chablis is acid, away with the Hock,
Give me the pure juice of the purple Médoc:
St Peray is exquisite; but, if you please,
Some Burgundy just before tasting the cheese.
So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So pleasant it is to have money.

As for that, pass the bottle, and d—n the expense,
I’ve seen it observed by a writer of sense,
That the labouring classes could scarce live a day,
If people like us didn’t eat, drink, and pay.
So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So useful it is to have money.

One ought to be grateful, I quite apprehend,
Having dinner and supper and plenty to spend,
And so suppose now, while the things go away,
By way of a grace we all stand up and say
How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!
How pleasant it is to have money.

III
Parvenant

I cannot but ask, in the park and the streets
When I look at the number of persons one meets,
What e’er in the world the poor devils can do
Whose fathers and mothers can’t give them a sou.
So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.

I ride, and I drive, and I care not a d—n,
The people look up and they ask who I am;
And if I should chance to run over a cad,
I can pay for the damage, if ever so bad.
So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So useful it is to have money.

It was but this winter I came up to town,
And already I’m gaining a sort of renown;
Find my way to good houses without much ado,
And beginning to see the nobility too.
So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So useful it is to have money.

O dear what a pity they ever should lose it,
Sine they are the people that know how to use it;
So easy, so stately, such manners, such dinners,
And yet, after all, it is we are the winners.
So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.

It’s all very well to be handsome and tall,
Which certainly makes you look well at a ball;
It’s all very well to be clever and witty,
But if you are poor, why it’s only a pity.
So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.

There’s something undoubtedly in a fine air,
To know how to smile and be able to stare,
High breeding is something, but well-bred or not,
In the end the one question is, what have you got.
So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.

And the angels in pink and the angels in blue,
In muslins and moirés so lovely and new,
What is it they want, and so wish you to guess,
But if you have money, the answer is Yes.
So needful, they tell you, is money, heigh-ho!
So needful it is to have money.

poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh My!

And Martha asks the Lord Jesus
Why is Mary not in the kitchen
To help me prepare the food?

And of course, you know the
Answer, or if you don’t

Oh my! Start being envious.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On A Treadmill

On a treadmill, designed by him, the one who fills our life with sin,
Making us too busy to seek God, while we agree and simply nod.
He is the enemy of the Cross, and wants to fill our life with dross,
As we go about another day, in that same old frenzied, busy way.

We may even be busy for Christ, but, too busy, comes at a price,
As the enemy then fills our life, through the busy with undue strife.
While today bleeds into tomorrow, which leads hearts into sorrow,
As his goal from the very start, is overwhelming a believer’s heart.

That treadmill which has no end, in essence, is the time we spend,
With at times no peace of mind, to be found within the daily grind.
Adding simply one more thing, more stress it only seems to bring,
All with no apparent end in sight, while we seek to do what’s right.

Just like Martha spent and frayed, with a heart that’s so dismayed,
Working her fingers to the bone, but, sad to say, she is not alone.
Feverishly working without peace, with burdens that do not cease,
Not at all like her sister Mary, who had lived her life rather contrary.

For Mary’s choice was the best, for living this life we need to rest,
Within our Savior’s loving hand, while we live in such a weary land,
Taking on His yoke which is light, as we learn to do all that is right,
Getting off the treadmill of life, and into the Peace of Jesus Christ.

(Copyright ©05/2008)

poem by Bob Gotti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mary Jane

Now when I go to work, I work all day,
Always turns out the same.
When I bring home my hard-earned pay
I spend my money all on mary jane.
Mary jane, mary jane, lord, my mary jane.
Oh if a man should look tame now, mean and mature,
They all turn out the same.
cause they cant do nothing to make a man feel good
Like my old mary jane.
Mary jane, mary jane, lord, my mary jane.
Now I walk in the street now lookin for a friend
One that can lend me some change.
And he never questions my reason why,
cause he too loves mary jane.
Mary jane, mary jane, lord, my mary jane.
Well, I have known women that wanted no man,
Some that wanted to stay.
But I never knew what happened in this world
Till I met up with mary jane,
Mary jane, mary jane, lord my mary jane.
Oh, when Im feelin lonesome and Im feelin blue,
Theres only one way to change.
Now I walk down the street now lookin for a man,
One that knows my mary jane,
Mary jane, mary jane, lord my mary jane.

song performed by by Janis Joplin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Martha

(Written by Dave Colwell, Carnes, Finley, Lister)
Hello little Martha
There you stand with the stems of the roses still in your hand
The seasons of time
The weather, your face, you little Martha, there's no disgrace
So now little Martha, here you live
You're just 12 years old, have no time to play
The sun don't arise when you're not in my eyes
Not a day goes by without you
Even though you're looking down on me
Tell me angel, will you remember me?
Oh little Martha, as I stand at your feet
I see now that the circle is ought to complete
Now while I stand here feeling so sad
Because we both know the good times we had
So now little Martha, here you live
Your life is all gone, no time to play, oh
The sun don't arise when you're not in my eyes
Not a day goes by without you
Even though you're looking down on me
Tell me angel
The sun don't arise when you're not in my eyes
Not a day goes by without you
Even though you're looking down on me
Tell me angel, will you remember me?
Oh little Martha

song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Am I The Only Thing You ve Done Wrong

(billy joe faster/lee ann womack/jason sellers)
Youre the life of the party
You stand out in a crowd
When I think of all the things youve done
It always makes me proud
But tonight Im feeling empty
It seems Im always here alone
Am I the only thing youve done wrong
Am I the only one that youve forgotten on the way
To gain the world and lose our love
Is to high a price to pay
In your long line of successes
Tell me where do I belong
Am I the only thing youve done wrong
You got another big promotion
Youre the best man on the crew
When you set your mind on something
Theres nothing you cant do
This house you built is perfect
Were the envy of the town
But lord its lonley here when youre not around

song performed by by Lee Ann Womack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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