True and False Zeal
Zeal is that pure and heavenly flame,
The fire of love supplies ;
While that which often bears the name,
Is self in a disguise.
True zeal is merciful and mild,
Can pity and forbear ;
The false is headstrong, fierce and wild,
And breathes revenge and war.
poem by John Newton
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Political Precept
All that thou doest is right; but, friend, don't carry this precept
On too far,--be content, all that is right to effect.
It is enough to true zeal, if what is existing be perfect;
False zeal always would find finished perfection at once.
poem by Friedrich Schiller
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Zeal
Your zeal and my zeal,
Great cloud of witness to take us through;
But Adam and Eve fell into sin.
Of fleshly fathers to correct us,
Of fleashly mothers to care for us,
But to the great gathering of love is what we need.
Chasten your children and teach them the zeal of life,
For the great cloud of witness is with zeal.
My love is higher than the heavens and,
My works are easily noted by you;
But i will wander into the deserts and the mountains.
Perfected is my love by faith,
And i will to you very soon;
But let your zeal lead you on always.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Fire Ferocious
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
You show no mercy – no regard:
A writhing army uncontrolled.
At least you don’t discriminate,
Selecting to exterminate:
All dealt with equal pain untold.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
In time of drought you run amok –
An open chimney of the land.
Prefer to scorch than suffocate:
In blinding zeal, incinerate
To blackened vista now unmanned.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
Destruction be your only goal
For you to vent your jealous wrath
On gentle life with caring soul
And human victims to console:
As you are none, but psychopath.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
So there it is – you are but flame:
Reacting gases to adorn –
With orange flicks of flailing arms,
You’re flaunting your demonic charms!
Now leave us for bereaved to mourn.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
So many lives to claim.
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
Fire fire burning fire fire fire burning fire
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Keeper Of The Flame
Im the keeper of the flame
My torch of love lights his name
Ask no pity, beg my shame(? )
Im the keeper of the flame
Played with fire and I was burn
Gave a heart but I was spurn
All these time I have yearned
Just to have my love return
Years have passed by
The spark still remains
True love cant die
It smoulders in flame
When the fire is burning off
And the angels call my name
Dying love will leave no doubt
Im the keeper of the flame
Years have passed by
The spark still remains
True love cant die
It smoulders in flame
When the fire is burning out
And the angels call my love
Dying love will leave no doubt
Im the keeper of the flame
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fan The Fire
Maurice white, donald whitehead & wade flemons
**ohh its a shame
Its a shame its a shame
The flame of love is about to die
Somebody fan the fire
The flame of love is about to die
Somebody fan the fire
Love is dyin today
Somebody fan the fire
The flame of love is dyin I say
We gonna fan the fire, come on along
Little children starving in a foreign land,
Talk about it brother
Man afraid to shake his brothers hand
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
Woman in trouble callin but nobody cares
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
People denied the rights that are truly
Theirs
(its a shame)
*i believe I believe
(I believe I believe)
I believe I believe
(I believe I believe)
I believe the flame of love is about to die
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
I believe the flame of love is about to die
The flame of love is about to die
Somebody fan the fire
Flame of love is about to die
Were gonna fan the fire, come on along.
Violence striking down great men of peace
Poverty in the homes and crime in the streets
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
Kind-hearted people turnin to hate
(fan the fire, fan the fire)
Mans about to destroy the human race
(its a shame)
(*repeat)
(its a shame)
(* * repeat)
I believe the flame of love is about to die
(repeat)
song performed by by Earth Wind And Fire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Guantanamo
Allah the Just, the Merciful.
That must be so
otherwise human beings
would have no conception
of justice or mercy
which is a solemn thought.
Suppose,
and there is no reason that this should not be true,
Allah
watches the unfolding Guantanamo saga
and considers thus:
'That the ignorant of all nations
cry for revenge,
I weep over.
But that those who know the Law
and blazon it as their nation's badge of pride
and then make exception
without remedy,
for years,
that is a crime a hundred times greater.
So I, Allah, the Just, the Merciful,
will allow this injustice to capture the mind
of a hundred Muslim youths
for every detainee;
of these, some may understand the Law;
and weep with Me;
some may ignorantly, cry for revenge
and act it out.
Is this not just and merciful?
It is the Law of ignorance.
Just suppose
He thinks that way.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Modern Love XLI: How Many a Thing
How many a thing which we cast to the ground,
When others pick it up becomes a gem!
We grasp at all the wealth it is to them;
And by reflected light its worth is found.
Yet for us still 'tis nothing! and that zeal
Of false appreciation quickly fades.
This truth is little known to human shades,
How rare from their own instinct 'tis to feel!
They waste the soul with spurious desire,
That is not the ripe flame upon the bough.
We two have taken up a lifeless vow
To rob a living passion: dust for fire!
Madam is grave, and eyes the clock that tells
Approaching midnight. We have struck despair
Into two hearts. O, look we like a pair
Who for fresh nuptials joyfully yield all else?
poem by George Meredith
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Be wild and mild
Be wild; others become mild.
Be mild; others become wild.
Rarely works wild to wild
Or mild to mild combination.
06.12.2001, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Mercy II
Have mercy on me with your love and,
Do satisfy me with the muse of your name;
For that is the way that nature planned it,
And i am around to learn from you.
You are called Mercy and,
I can depend on you because of your mercy;
For the zeal of your heart is like your sweet meal presented to me,
And like the zeal of your love.
Living,
My life;
Creation,
Your life;
But a perfect lover needs mercy!
And i hope that we can live together on this love,
For you have the golden hen around you.
Memories,
To keep it real for Mama Africa! !
But come and take me away with your sweet love,
For you are always on my mind;
And i will be free to fly like a bird up high in the sky.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Revenge
Live to die
For a heart jam
Fight to love a
Super bitch
Drive her roots
Straight to hell
Atomic ass 99
Another cosmic monster
Spits his teeth
In your eye
More dead than alive
Revenge is better than
Love
Revenge is better than
Love
Frankenstein
Was built for you
But he must be
Destroyed
Cut him down yeah
In his prime
And let the party
Begin
Not much of a face
tombstone laughing
More dead than alive
Revenge is better than
Love
Revenge is better than
Love
Revenge
Revenge
Revenge
Revenge
They sharpened their war
Pure fear as a weapon
Brilliance through
Centuries
Time rolls on and on and
The river of life
Drowning everyone but me
Turn my back
And disappear
Chill is in my gut
Turns me loose
Head splits like wood
Mind collide confession
Rambling remember when
Sweat meant something
More dead than alive
Revenge is better than
Love
Revenge is better than
Love
song performed by by White Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Revenge
Live to die
For a heart jam
Fight to love a
Super bitch
Drive her roots
Straight to hell
Atomic ass 99
Another cosmic monster
Spits his teeth
In your eye
More dead than alive
Revenge is better than
Love
Revenge is better than
Love
Frankenstein
Was built for you
But he must be
Destroyed
Cut him down yeah
In his prime
And let the party
Begin
Not much of a face
Tombstone laughing
More dead than alive
Revenge is better than
Love
Revenge is better than
Love
Revenge
Revenge
Revenge
Revenge
They sharpened their war
Pure fear as a weapon
Brilliance through
Centuries
Time rolls on and on and
The river of life
Drowning everyone but me
Turn my back
And disappear
Chill is in my gut
Turns me loose
Head splits like wood
Mind collide confession
Rambling remember when
Sweat meant something
More dead than alive
Revenge is better than
Love
Revenge is better than
Love
song performed by by Rob Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Amen
A people of joy and a people of peace,
They have forgotten Yahweh and they now vow to Amen;
But where is your zeal and where is your strength?
For the lady in red is my lover and she is like,
The melting fire which burns along the way!
Pleasure things,
Come and learn the value of true love;
For Rome was not built in a day,
And i have the mind to teach you always.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Merciful Maker of Waters and Whiles
Merciful Maker of waters and whiles,
Spare please my son from the fierce crocodiles,
Then he too will know you.
I'll rear him to fear you.
He cannot survive in the waters of the Nile.
This trial is too great! The boy is my child!
O Merciful Maker of waters and whiles,
Spare please my son from the fierce crocodiles.
Pharoah's command is most certainly vile:
'Kill each boy child born in all of Israel! '
I hear mothers weeping.
The monsters are feasting.
A child's meat is sweet to those beasts in the Nile.
Revile this intrusion lest I fall beguiled,
O Merciful Maker of waters and whiles.
Spare please my son from the fierce crocodiles!
Alas, and I fear never more will I smile.
They've taken my baby boy down to the Nile.
My son is not screaming.
It sounds like he's singing;
Though soon he will bathe as among pedophiles.
Denial will not spare him nor savoring bile.
O Merciful Maker of waters and whiles,
Spare please my son from the fierce crocodiles.
Merciful Maker of waters and whiles,
Who spared not my son from the fierce crocodiles,
But spared instead Moses,
And he will deliver
All children of Israel from out of the Nile.
In this trial I'll praise you and smile in this while,
O Merciful Maker of waters and whiles,
Who spared not my son from the fierce crocodiles.
Deliverer Moses resembles your child,
O Merciful Maker of waters and whiles;
Though Moses was rescued
But your son not spared-
Devoured his flesh as with beasts of the Nile.
You meanwhile were pleased as you stood by and smiled,
O Merciful Maker of waters and whiles,
Who spared not your own son to make me your child.
Hot Burning Fire!
Hot burning fire!
With the muse of love in the land of Africa;
Where the people gather by the fire side to hear tales by the moonlight!
But to accomplish the zeal of my love is like,
The beautifully laid beds of love in the land of red roses! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Fanaticism is the child of false zeal and of superstition, the father of intolerance and of persecution.
quote by John William Fletcher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The City of Sleep
Over the edge of the purple down,
Where the single lamplight gleams,
Know ye the road to the Merciful Town
That is hard by the Sea of Dreams--
Where the poor may lay their wrongs away,
And the sick may forget to weep?
But we--pity us! Oh, pity us!
We wakeful; ah, pity us! --
We must go back with Policeman Day--
Back from the City of Sleep!
Weary they turn from the scroll and crown,
Fetter and prayer and plough--
They that go up to the Merciful Town,
For her gates are closing now.
It is their right in the Baths of Night
Body and soul to steep,
But we--pity us! ah, pity us!
We wakeful; oh, pity us!--
We must go back with Policeman Day--
Back from the City of Sleep!
Over the edge of the purple down,
Ere the tender dreams begin,
Look--we may look--at the Merciful Town,
But we may not enter in!
Outcasts all, from her guarded wall
Back to our watch we creep:
We--pity us! ah, pity us!
We wakeful; oh, pity us!--
We that go back with Policeman Day--
Back from the City of Sleep!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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If You Are
If you are pure in heart
Success is there at your door
If you are pure in heart
I am yours.
Love and love
And not wars
That is with us always
O my dear I am here
Come and speak a few words
Listening that I can awake.
I know You are transparent like glass
Like sky like light like love-fight
I know you are calling me day and night
And I am here preparing myself with
Full valor and zeal and flying like a kite.
O my dear, I am certained
And confidence is with me
You must come to me and stay
For a while with the life I maintained
With rules and regulations as you contained.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Sing a New Song
O sing a new song, to our God above,
Avoid profane ones, 'tis for holy choir:
Let Israel sing song of holy love
To him that made them, with their hearts on fire:
Let Zion's sons life up their voice, and sing
Carols and anthems to their heavenly king.
Let not your voice alone his praise forth tell,
But move withal, and praise him in the dance;
Cymbals and harps, let them be tuned well,
'Tis he that doth the poor's estate advance:
Do this not only on the solemn days,
But on your secret beds you spirits raise.
O let the saints bear in their mouth his praise,
And a two-edged sword drawn in their hand,
Therewith for to revenge the former days,
Upon all nations, that their zeal withstand;
To bind their kings in chains of iron strong,
And manacle their nobles for their wrong.
Expect the time, for 'tis decreed in heaven,
Such honor shall unto his saints be given.
poem by Sir Francis Bacon
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XXIX
TO HER WHO WOULD COMFORT HIM
I did not ask your pity, dear. Your zeal
I know. It cannot cure me of my woes.
And you, in your sweet happiness, who knows,
Deserve it rather I should pity feel
For what the coming years from you conceal.
I did but cry, thou dear Samaritan,
Out of my bitterness of soul. Each man
Has his own sorrow treading on his heel,
Ready to strike him, and must keep his shield
To his own back. Fate's arrows thickly fly,
And, if they strike not now, will strike at even.
And so I ask no pity. On life's field
The wounded crawl together, but their cry
Is not to one another but to Heaven.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Zeal is like fire: it needs both feeding and watching.