Openings For New Occupancies
To dwell in sorrow,
Has to be a noisy experience.
Where there is little peace,
That exists.
Especially living in a place,
Where there is rarely a vacancy.
And leaving those to await patiently,
For a date announcing...
Openings for new occupancies.
It has to be noisy,
Living and sharing mindsets like these!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Beyond the Stream
Beyond the stream, I can behold the sun dancing on the horizon,
Where I walk every morning
I am alone with my thoughts and I carry my dreams in my pocket.
I carry my dreams in my pocket and nobody would ever surmise
How close to my heart and how close to my mind
This plethora of dreams has become.
Beyond the stream, beyond the horizon
Exists a land of my fantasies-
A place where lilacs and marigolds grow plentifully,
When the rain does fall, the raindrops are silver in their hue,
Reflecting the sunlight, as it shines through the mackerel clouds-
Here in this place where rain may fall, while still -sunlight is plentiful but
The air is never humid or stagnant, and
Each and every raindropp possesses a promise that
Those who dwell in this land shall never perish.
Those who dwell in this land shall never perish,
Those in this land shall never know pain or misfortune and
Each and every one of those raindrops which are silver in hue,
Reflecting eternal sunshine, also hold within
An image of peace, amity and unbroken promises-
This image of peace, amity and unbroken promises
Is reflected in each raindropp as would a magical pond in its utmost clarity-
But alas, there exists a granite stone wall
Which has been erected between this land and the forward steps that I take-
To break down this granite stone wall barring me from
Living out these fondest dreams that I carry
Would be my utmost desire, and I weep tears of frustration
Because I cannot find my place in this world here, so vast and so cruel.
Beyond the stream and beyond my tears I know exists
The dreams I carry inside of my pocket every single moment of every day.
I continue my journey searching for a way out of my demise, and as
My tears are like those raindrops silver in their hue-
I can see these dreams inside the reflection of that majestic land beyond the stream,
Beyond the horizon and I dream and dream on as if I were really there- This being
A land of unbroken promises I- know that my dreams shall come true someday-so
To these dreams- I shall hold inside my pocket, close to my heart, for always.
poem by Claudia Krizay
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My Soul
My soul is not the coward
that my body seems to be.
For my soul does remember
that my body will be free,
free of all its fears and fright
while passing through this earth,
free to experience once again
a brand new type of birth.
My soul is always patient.
Sometimes my body's not.
For my soul exists forever
while my body's just a dot
in the vastness of experience
that's come and gone for me.
And so patiently I'm learning
to acquire tranquility.
My soul will never leave me
as seasons come and go.
But my body will finally say adieu
to happiness and woe.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Next Train
Well I finally found tomorrow
'Cause I just now found today
But I'm left with all the sorrow
Lingering from yesterday
So I'm leaving this behind on the next train
To what place, well I don't know
When I leave I may not ride on the best train
But it's time for me to let go
Well I'd love for you to be there
On the day I say goodbye
But I've lost too much to your stare
To even waste a sigh
So I'm leaving this behind on the next train
To what place, well I don't know
When I leave I may not ride on the best train
But it's time for me to let go
Yes it's time for me to let go
You're the drug that's in my veins
You lift me up and leave me pain
I'm broken, beaten, barely sane
And I'm leaving on the next train
I gladly stayed to wade it through
And find out what I've meant to you
Now it's clear to me this time
So I'm leaving this behind
So I'm leaving this behind on the next train
To what place, well I don't know
When I leave I may not ride on the best train
But it's time for me to let go
So I'm leaving this behind on the next train
To what place, well I don't know
When I leave I may not ride on the best train
But it's time for me to let go
Yes it's time for me to let go
song performed by by Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Psalm 92
The sun arises in the morn
And so begins another day
And hope in me it is re-born
I come before my Lord and pray
The foolish man cannot conceive
The glory of your majesty
The senseless man does not believe
For he is blind he cannot see
He shall be gone come the morrow
And dwell forever in his sorrow
The righteous man shall dwell in peace
And his fruitfulness shall never cease
poem by Frank McEleny
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Where Is The Peace?
Where is the peace we all do need?
Has it been choked by evil deed?
Is it still there underneath the sky
where all winged creatures continue to fly?
It's hard to find but we pursue
and try to fathom where it flew.
Where does it dwell amongst all men?
Has it been strangled by hands that can
never seem to let go their hold
in search of power, greed and gold?
In defense of peace there's always war
that kills all we are searching for.
Peace is a dream that's too far away.
It's now just a word that people say.
Its meaning has been lost in sorrow.
It's never today, always tomorrow.
And tomorrow's an ambiguous place,
never found in our time and space.
Where is the peace we all do need?
Can you find it in places where men bleed?
If that be the case we'd be on our knees
with prayers of thanks and feelings of ease.
But when the blood runs cold and life departs,
peace can only be found in our hearts.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Sorrow and joy
Being in poverty is sorrow.
Leaving comfort is sorrow.
Wish withheld is sorrow.
Fear upheld is sorrow.
Contact with unpleasantness is sorrow.
Separation from pleasantness is sorrow.
If there is no shadow
There will be no ray.
Both compliments each other..
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Altered With Grace
Tunnel vision into the future
With flashbacks from the past
Fine tuning words of literature
For lost & stolen thoughts to last
Shaping & realigning life's contour
Mind & body conditioning the last task
Making way for a new living structure
Patiently awaiting to unveil the mask
Absorbing penetration of a mind tour
Appointed vacancy ready for full mass
(7/08/09)
poem by Arthur Garcia
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I would vote for the man who's lived life, who's done different occupations, who's been out in the real world and struggled to make a living, struggled to raise a family, struggled with life as it exists. So I'd vote for experience, honest experience.
quote by Oliver Stone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Happiness of Death
He leaned in and kissed my forehead
He whispered
Tonight my dear you will cry no more
I have seen that you have suffered
Unable to bear the pain
I am calling your name
Well done my servant
Tonight you will be of perfection
In a perfect world
Leaving behind this world of sin
Tonight the heavens will celebrate your arrival
They will rejoice the saving of another soul
Tonight my dear you will reach your goal
Cry not tears of sorrow
But tears of joy
For tears of sorrow hurt
Be not sad to leave
Leave this sinful nature behind
For a better place await
Tonight marks the date
I will see you, my faithful servant at heaven’s gate
My child
My child
Cry not
poem by Rachael Hardy
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Element of Coalesce
One has distress
Another’s got a hopeless longing
There exists such sorrow
Our precious treasured element
“Affection”
Life would be so valuable
To know that every personal you’d pass by
Is embracing you in their heart
Alluring you with a warm smile day after day
One has distress
Another’s got a hopeless longing
There exists such sorrow
Our precious treasured element
“Connection”
If you were to come across a girl in deep sorrow,
What would you do?
If you have distress, what can you do?
Would being there for her be enough to divulge the light?
For the first time, I feel like I didn’t say enough
Don’t stop breathing, this is only the beginning
I can’t keep swimming in this bitter world, knowing that you’re alone
I hate what the world’s done to you, to I, to us
One has distress
Another’s got a hopeless longing
There exists such sorrow
Our precious treasured element
“Love”
Look closely on the floor, you’ll see with your own eyes
The path that we took all those years to get here has already disintegrated
poem by Aiden Florence
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Fruitless
A fruitless life one lives and perceives,
May be for many...
An actuality.
But how could that be?
When all that exists on Earth,
Is an experience of abundance and variety?
To all of this is an applied worth!
Whoever that is feeling useless and negative,
Have decided for themselves,
To await a process that has a more suitable fit.
And nothing will ever be suitable,
For one excusing a life gifted and given...
Just to sit and waste what one takes for granted,
To compare what is there without exploring the advantages.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Poem For The People
If the people only knew
If they could visualize
Just open their eyes
Even stop to think about
If they could open their minds
They could get beyond
The worlds a funny place you know
Most of what goes on
Is rarely funny
Rarely funny
Could the people understand
In only whisper and screams
And colorless dreams
Could they finally comprehend
If they could suddenly see
And suddenly feel
The worlds a funny place you know
Most of what goes on
Is rarely funny
Rarely funny
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Christ alone
There is a place where I can go
A place of quietness that I know
A place of serenity and peace
Where all sorrows and sadness cease.
O blessèd place of perfect rest
In Christ alone am I so blest
In His arms of love I can dwell
Safe from the harm of death and hell
An Evolution That Has Erased The Yesterdays
Too much ugliness exists.
And too much of it is persisted.
Clear choices today are being readily defined.
Making up one's mind as to which road to take,
Is for many not a decision to contemplate.
It may be difficult for some to switch up...
From steps taken to reverse what has been done.
But it can be done...
If a wish for happiness is to come!
Too much ugliness exists.
And too much of it is persisted.
There are those confused,
By the suddenness of change.
But it's not as if it had been hidden.
Not for those who have witnessed,
A quality of life that is not the same.
Closed eyes are different from those that are blind.
Some choose not to see what is.
Others who can not see period...
Have survived with sharpened minds.
And are quick to sense...
The atmosphere has been stimulated,
By the addition of increased decadence.
Too much ugliness exists.
And too much of it is persisted.
A higher consciousness has arrived,
And it struggles with accepted commonness.
But this slide that delights some,
Comes to an end to unravel comforts under the Sun.
To achieve a peace slowly becoming noticed.
And those overdosed with delusions that limit...
Will find themselves anguished,
By an evolution that has erased the yesterdays.
Leaving them revolving in memories dissolving.
And not a sign ahead that shows,
Those times will be revisited.
Too much ugliness exists.
And too much of it is persisted with...
But,
Not for long!
Drastic changes have come to move us on!
With or without the necessity for debate.
Or an appreciative applause in waiting.
Many are already too stunned with disbelief...
That the onslaught of love has come,
To achieve the 'real' version of peace.
Too much ugliness exists.
And too much of it is persisted with...
But,
Not for long!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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* * *
In a bid to seek peace
in a place not similar to home
where hope is thought to come
here comes the solitude i sought
within the environs of a church.
but very contrary to my thought'
around me are three individuals
sorry, betrayal, and anonymity
are names that suited the ambiguity.
I feel sorry for sorry,
for the dirty game i played,
her feelings were forsaken
in a state of emotional agitation
by me she was heartbroken.
The bitterness behind betrayal
is far much beyond compare
Throwing her chastity somewhere
yet a loving soul waited patiently
only to get the shock of his life.
his love & respect kicked away
just for no reason than 'exam stress'.
from anonymity i seek hope
with enough caution to get peace
and not to lose myself to nowhere.
A love to be build from experience
aware of all the pit holes
ready to abound more and more
in love, happiness and peace.
poem by Marbet Daniel
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What Kind Of Fool
There was a time when we were down and out
There was a place when we were starting over
We let the bough break
We let the heartache in
Whos sorry now
Whos sorry now
There was a world when we were standing still
And for a moment we were separated
And then you found her
You let the stranger in
Whos sorry now
Whos sorry now
What , what kind of fool
Tears it apart
Leaving me pain and sorrow
Losing you now
How can I win
Where will I be tomorrow
There was a time when we were down and out
There was a place when we were starting over
We let the bough break
We let the heartache in
Whos sorry now
Whos sorry now
What , what kind of fool
Tears it apart
Leaving me pain and sorrow
Losing you now
How can I win
Where will I be tomorrow
Was there a moment when I cut you down
Played around
What have I done
I only apologize
For being as they say , the last to know
It has to show
When someone is in your eyes
What, what kind of fool
Tears it apart
Leaving me pain and sorrow
Losing you now
Wondering why
Where will I be tomorrow
What, what kind of fool
Tears it apart
Leaving me pain and sorrow
Losing you now
How can I win
Where will I be tomorrow (fade)
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I await the tree of wisdoms fruit to grow.
The horizon is a wavering constant
Forever beckoning wherever we may be.
Outside, slow, slumbersome clouds
Roll into the valley green, leaving me
Searching for a meaning to the dreams
That keep me awake at night un-sleeping.
I await the tree of wisdoms fruit to grow.
I await to know the seeds of tomorrow.
I await winters snow to thaw,
As here I remain clawing
At the boundaries of sanity
That keep the ghost of vanity
A shadow ever present
As opposed to a fading
Memory in decent.
poem by David Lacey
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Without You
well I can't forget this evening
though your face as you were leaving
But I guess thats just the way the story goes
You always smile but in your eyes the
sorrow show---yes it shows
And I can't forget tomorrow when I think
of all your sorrow - when I had you there
and then let you go
And now it's only fair that I should let you know
Yeah -- gotta know
I can't live- if living is without you
I can't give- I can't give anymore
I can't live -if living is without you
I can't give- I can't give anymore
Well I can't forget this evening
though your face as you were leaving
But I guess thats just the way the story goes
You always smile but in your eyes your sorrow shows
yes it shows
I can't live- if living is without you
I can't give- I can't give anymore -no no more
(repeat)chorus
song performed by by Heart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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City
Living in tenements
surrounded by stone
Living in cities,
never alone.
Bodies moving,
never standing still.
A pace of living
that peace can't fill.
Shuttered in brownstones,
escaping the poor,
must face them eventually
when leaving their door.
For out in the cement
the faces are there
of each city dweller
that breathes dusty air.
Neons flashing
all through the night,
Never quite absent
from their sight.
Garrish, not soothing
reminders each day
that even at night
they don't go away.
Dog-walkers walking,
drug dealers stalking
smells of the city
never take pity
on the homeless sleeping
on sidewalk grates
while high-tech money men
await their fates.
Entombed in tunnels
like zombies in motion,
faces on subways,
devoid of emotion
doomed to ride
under streets of cement
return at night
to their tenement.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Noble Spanish Soldier
O, SORROW, SORROW, say where dost thou dwell?
In the lowest room of hell.
Art thou born of human race?
No, no, I have a furier face.
Art thou in city, town, or court?
I to every place resort?
O, why into the world is Sorrow sent?
Men afflicted best repent.
What dost thou feed on?
Broken sleep.
What takest thou pleasure in?
To weep,
To sigh, to sob, to pine, to groan,
To wring my hands, to sit alone.
O when, O when shall Sorrow quiet have?
Never, never, never, never,
Never till she finds a grave.
poem by Thomas Dekker
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