We Battle To See Acts Of Love
You can battle any illness you wish...
But,
Battle with the act of love.
You can fill you mind with terrorists...
That keep your fears endearing.
But the fact your battles fought have no love.
And don't you know that you...
The giving up of anything,
Will return.
So why not battle with the act of love.
Burdens carried on one's back,
Seem to be attached...
'Cause they don't do their,
Battles with love.
Those who pick their battles,
Pick their battles without facts.
'Cause many have no protected love.
If there is love,
There is a battle...
But the battle can be won,
With a love that's felt in everyone.
Those who pick their battles,
Pick their battles without facts.
'Cause many have no protected love.
You can battle any illness you wish...
But,
Battle with the act of love.
You can battle any illness you wish...
But,
Battle with the act of love.
Those who pick their battles,
Pick their battles without facts.
'Cause many have no protected love.
Those who pick their battles,
Pick their battles without facts.
'Cause many have no protected love.
If we pick our battles,
We must be matter of fact....
That we battle to see acts of love.
We battle to see acts of love.
Let's say we do it...
That we battle to see acts of love!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
The Gash
Is that gash in your leg
Really why you have stopped?
?Cause I've noticed all the others
Though they're gashed, they're still going
?Cause I feel like the real reason
That you're quitting, that you're admitting
That you've lost all the will to battle on
Will the fight for our sanity
Be the fight of our lives?
Now that we've lost all the reasons
That we thought that we had
Still the battle that we're in
Rages on till the end
With explosions, wounds are open
Sights and smells, eyes and noses
But the thought that went unspoken
Was understanding that you're broken
Still the last volunteer battles on
Battles on
Battles on
song performed by by Flaming Lips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Almighty Comes To Defend With A Rescue
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles from a saddle I no longer sit!
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles from a saddle I no longer sit!
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
I...
Do believe,
My Creator has a plan for me.
Without those battles,
Fought straddled to a saddle.
And I don't,
Fight any battle
Strapped high on any saddle.
No I don't,
Fight any battle
Strapped high on any saddle.
My Almighty comes,
To defend
With a rescue.
And to fight my battles.
Those battles fought from saddles.
My Almighty comes,
To defend
With a rescue.
And to fight my battles.
Those battles fought from saddles.
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles from a saddle I no longer sit!
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles from a saddle I no longer sit!
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
My Almighty comes,
To defend
With a rescue.
And to fight my battles.
Those battles fought from saddles.
My Almighty comes,
To defend
With a rescue.
And to fight my battles.
Those battles fought from saddles.
My Almighty comes,
To defend
With a rescue.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Several battles of a holy war
When I was in my mother’s womb
I fought my first battle.
I waged my second on her lap,
The third one the chest of my father,
The fourth necessarily with the girlfriends,
The fifth, a heroic battle at first night,
And the sixth one with my children.
Then battles were with elusive women
The penultimate one is with grandchildren
The last battle is to be with Yemah.
29.08.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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in the steps of Rumi 85: war
War?
Far harder than the battles of men
is the battle to surrender
to that which was there
before all battles.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Soldier
The soldier, he has many battle scars.
But there's only a few, others can see.
The wounds, they did not kill him,
They made him who he was called to be.
Although some of his battles were easy,
Through each of his battles he died.
The pieces, which were his true enemy.
Were the pieces that did not survive.
When the soldier, he goes into battle,
He must know who his enemies are.
They are the ones that would harm another,
And make the soldier, seem like he, was the star.
It is only once you discover the enemy,
The march to victory, then can begin.
For the war that the soldier is fighting.
Is the battle he fights from within.
In each of us there is a soldier.
And each day, we fight the good fight.
For the ones who walk into victory,
Are the ones who find their true light.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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As the knight of the quill never ventured into the fight, and only snuffed the battle afar, he knew nothing accurately of battles, but managed to pick up a few real or supposed incidents from the wounded and from stragglers.
quote by Daniel H. Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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War Never Solves Anything
Of battles won and noble soldiers you hear the old balladeer sing
But war only brings death and suffering and war never solves anything
And the mental scars of war keep festering long after the battle does end
You badly injure or kill someone's loved one that person will not be your friend.
For God and the flag of their Nation too many in battle have died
And the Government honour war heroes in their false show of patriotic pride
But the fact is their young lives were wasted and the fact with us sadly remain
That old battles are never over and for old grieviances human blood spilt again.
War weaponry and explosives big business in a World where human life is taken cheap
By some a human life seen as of no more value than that of a cow's or a sheep
From history we have not learned the war supposed to end all wars long gone
Yet every day more violence and terror and war and war mongering lives on.
Of battles won and acts of war bravery so many songs written and sung
And war instigated by old men must always be fought by the young
But the song for the young dead war hero to the hero's mum to it has a bitter ring
And war is a waste of human life for war never solves anything.
poem by Francis Duggan
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War
Across a scorched and crimson earth,
tattered battle flags fly.
Men and boys in tangled shaped,
lay where they fell to die.
They tell the tale no one wants to know,
that battles are just a waste,
that never go into battle in haste.
The consequence is laid to rest,
in bones bleached bare.
poem by David Harris
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Keep Under Cover
Love, Im going to pick you up in the morning
Love, Im going to take you out on a journey
I dont know where Im going to
But I know what Ive been going through
Without you by my side
What good is butter if you havent got bread?
What good is art when it hurts your head?
Might as well be in bed
Keep under cover til the battle has ceased
Keep out of trouble til the prisoners are released
What goods a puzzle when you havent a clue?
What good is me when Im not with you?
Might as well stay in bed
Keep under cover til the clouds desappear
Keep out of trouble til the weather is bright and clear
Love, Im going to pick you up
Im going to take you out
I dont know what Im going to do
But I know what Ive been going through
Without you by my side
Without you by my side
What good is tennis when there isnt a ball?
What goods a curtain without a call?
Might as well be in bed
Keep under cover til the battle has ceased
Keep out of trouble til the prisoners are released
Love, Im going to pick you up
Im going to take you out
I dont know what Im going to do
But I know what Ive been going through
Without you by my side
Without you by my side
Keep under cover
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No More Clichés
Beautiful face
That like a daisy opens its petals to the sun
So do you
Open your face to me as I turn the page.
Enchanting smile
Any man would be under your spell,
Oh, beauty of a magazine.
How many poems have been written to you?
How many Dantes have written to you, Beatrice?
To your obsessive illusion
To you manufacture fantasy.
But today I won't make one more Cliché
And write this poem to you.
No, no more clichés.
This poem is dedicated to those women
Whose beauty is in their charm,
In their intelligence,
In their character,
Not on their fabricated looks.
This poem is to you women,
That like a Shahrazade wake up
Everyday with a new story to tell,
A story that sings for change
That hopes for battles:
Battles for the love of the united flesh
Battles for passions aroused by a new day
Battle for the neglected rights
Or just battles to survive one more night.
Yes, to you women in a world of pain
To you, bright star in this ever-spending universe
To you, fighter of a thousand-and-one fights
To you, friend of my heart.
From now on, my head won't look down to a magazine
Rather, it will contemplate the night
And its bright stars,
And so, no more clichés.
poem by Octavio Paz
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The Subconscious Shield
Inside of each of us,
Is our own protective defense.
Providing protection from hurt (and truth) ,
By means of isolation and separation,
From others, that we deep down,
Know will only cause us pain.
So should I fight my own shield?
Why do I need to be protected,
From one whom I truly love?
They say, sometimes the hardest battle,
Is within yourself.
So how do you fight when your against yourself?
What weapon do I use to combat myself?
Isolation and separation of course
But not people, instead form these thoughts and my mind
Distractions and illusions are my weapon of choice
In this war of mine
There is no way to study the battle
When you're what the battle is raging for
So who will win in a battle of clashing shields?
poem by Peter Vector
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Birth of the Warrior
Respect. Sought, yet it is not found, so it cannot be given.
Control. Sought, yet it is not found, so it cannot be obtained.
Power. Sought, yet it is not found, so it cannot be obtained.
Love. Sought, yet it is not found, so it cannot be given.
Joy. Sought, yet it is not found, so it cannot be obtained.
Peace. Sought, yet it is not found, so it cannot be obtained.
Sought from the source external.
Robbing another, and in turn robbing the seeker.
Another protects theirs, as the seeker protects his.
In the quest, it is given away to another, with nothing returned,
The seeker loses themselves.
To put another before self, is to find one self.
Yet, the seeker must protect what is theirs.
Though it must be shared, as it is found for this purpose.
It is that, which is shared, that can never be stolen.
It is the gift.
Not to be given, as one who gives, expects it back.
The gift that is given to one, cannot be shared by many.
The gift must be protected.
For those starving from within, will get a taste,
Not realizing that they have their own.
They just have yet to harness it.
The power lies within.
Yet, within lies, it lies.
It is when the seeker respects themselves, they can respect others, and can share respect.
When they can control themselves, others respect will respect them.
They then find their inner empowerment, and now need power from no other.
The battles you endured, you are courageous.
The demons you have battled, you are fearless.
After many defeats, you rose and became victorious.
The seeker is not a victim,
The seeker is a champion.
They have conquered the battle from within.
Many battles lie ahead, they can reflect on the battles past.
Now, the warrior inside is born.
Fight on!
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Humdrum & Humble
Mistress of the mind
Take me where the air is clean
Ignorance is kind
Emerald and evergreen
30 days september, year of miracle and grief
Through the haze, remember
Youre an animal, not a mineral
And we won the war, lost the battle
Lost the war, won the battle
Won the war, lost the battle
Lost the war
All for the love of the humdrum and humble
Colour for the colourblind
All for the love of the humdrum and humble
Through the human eye
Nature a soul extreme
Nothing seems to die
Pictures in a magazine
Through the maze, precisely
Through the myriad of schemes
With your gaze, entice me
Like an animal, not a mineral
And we won the war, lost the battle
Lost the war, won the battle
Won the war, lost the battle
Lost the war
All for the love of the humdrum and humble
Colour for the colourblind
All for the love of the humdrum and humble
Through the maze, precisely
Through the myriad of schemes
With your gaze, entice me
Like an animal, not a mineral
And we won the war, lost the battle
Lost the war, won the battle
Won the war, lost the battle
Lost the war
All for the love of the humdrum and humble
Colour for the colourblind
All for the love of the humdrum and humble
Rubishing the phillistines
All for the love of the humdrum and humble
song performed by by Tears For Fears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Battles His Dogs Of Despair
The years have left him looking gray
And he has known a far better day
Around his balding head he has lost more hair
As he battles his dogs of despair.
Though from it's side effects weight he does gain
Medication it does keep him sane
And though all of his good days are gone
His fight is to keep keeping on.
And to live for as long as he can
For what use is a dead woman or man
So he will live till the reaper's call
The one who claims the life of all.
One who has contemplated suicide
When his will to live all but had died
But he is one who has hung in there
For to battle his dogs of despair.
In life 'tis not easy to win
But he never threw the towel in
He bravely faced life's road ahead
Fortune do favour the brave 'tis said.
Mental illness it has ruined his life
Robbed him of the chance of a wife
But to his great gift of life he says yes
As he battles with illness and stress.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Nicky Nicky Nicky Nicky Nicky Nick Pick
You can't win the war and the battle cause,
That struggle is in your head.
And kept there seven days a week.
With no sleep there you're reaping.
You can't win the war and the battle cause,
That struggle is in your head.
And kept there seven days a week.
With no sleep there you're reaping.
All you like to do is nitpick my wrongs.
With that constant picking that you see fit.
But only you brood sucking your thumb.
Without that finger licking that you want done!
Nicky nicky nicky nicky nicky nick pick,
Pick bones...
That's all you really want to do,
Pick bones...
Pick over bones that's gone!
Nicky nicky nicky nicky nicky nick pick,
Pick bones...
That's all you really want to do,
Pick bones...
Pick over bones that's gone,
With a finger licking done like you've won!
You can't win the war and the battle cause,
That struggle is in your head.
And kept there seven days a week.
With no sleep there you're reaping.
Nicky nicky nicky nicky nicky nick pick,
Pick bones...
That's all you really want to do,
Pick bones...
Pick over bones that's gone,
With a finger licking done like you've won!
Nicky nicky nicky nicky nicky nick pick,
Pick bones...
That's all you really want to do,
Pick bones...
Pick over bones that's gone,
With a finger licking done like you've won!
You can't win the war and the battle cause,
That struggle is in your head.
And kept there seven days a week.
With no sleep there you're reaping.
With no sleep there you're reaping.
Nicky nicky nicky nicky nicky nick pick,
Pick bones...
With no sleep there you're reaping.
With no sleep there you're reaping.
Nicky nicky nicky nicky nicky nick pick,
Pick bones...
With no sleep there you're reaping.
With no sleep there you're reaping.
Nicky nicky nicky nicky nicky nick pick.
With no sleep there you're reaping.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Matriarchs
The greatest battles since days of old,
We hear the stories now and then,
As down the centuries their echoes are told.
They're fought by the mothers of men.
The strongest armour their truth will pierce,
A mother's love raised to such height,
That there's nothing exists on earth so fierce.
For him to the death she will fight.
With no hesitation, she will strike his foe,
With him standing next to her tall.
She will teach him to exact justice, as through life they go.
For to balance situations, one and all.
Then she stands back in pride with a smile,
As he forward in battle steps out.
She's taught him to always go just one more mile,
For his foe to seek and rout out.
She'll always be there, on each level exist
For no warrior is e'er so strong.
She will guide his way forward through life's every twist,
Whatever it takes, or how long.
So please never doubt the stories you've heard.
The truth is the same now as then.
The greatest battles there are in this world,
Are fought by the mothers of men!
poem by Rosi Caswell
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I don't expect to win every battle but I think Fred Pierce has enough respect for me that I can go fight my battles and win my share.
quote by Roone Arledge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Entered Into Battle With A Blunt Edged Sword
He entered into battle with a blunt edged sword,
But he did not know quite why.
His sword selection was done without motive,
To battle and kill his fellow man.
So subconsciously he picked out this sword.
This sword not of this world, not out to cut to bleed.
But this innocent man didn't wish to realize,
What prize he would pay.
In midst of this battle, recieving the swiftest,
Blows from his enemy,
This soldier just kept getting hurt.
Five, six and seven more blows made him hit back,
This soldier proudly used his blunt sword,
Till his nemesis bearing a razor sharp one,
Came along and challenged the already fallen one,
Who gave a swift plunge into his enemy's heart.
But the enemy did not stagger or fall.
Neither did the soldier with the blunt sword.
This soldier's enemy left the battleground,
When he saw that the one with the blunt sword,
Knew all along the possibility of his death.
Still he fought, so he himself could die,
Which the other soldier was saddened by that man's stance.
He told that man, 'if we all fought battles with a blunt
sword,
Then we would all truly win,
For the battleground would know no mortality.
He further told him, 'because of you, your side
Truly wins. But so does our.
We love you,
Blunt edged sword soldier man.'
poem by Vera Sidhwa
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You Can Choose Your Friends
We have brothers and sisters our parents as well,
Our families are precious; well that's what they tell,
There'll be times we love them, on occasions we'll hate,
But they'll always be family, now that does frustrate.
On the issue of relations, it's made crystal clear,
They're our kith and kin which we should hold dear,
They epitomise all of our hopes and fears,
While bringing us joy there's also the tears.
We must love them all, forever, it's said,
Though there are some you would love to behead,
Whoever said that must be totally insane,
Or one who refuses to engage with their brain?
The problem with relations,
Is where it all ends?
You can't pick your family but,
'' You Can Choose Your Friends '
If you have a companion whom you no longer like,
You can just say to them, well go take a hike,
But if you fight with your family you're told to forgive,
Which will adversely affect you as long as you live.
Grudges are held when bad words are spoken,
Insincere apologies used as a token,
Until the next time is the golden rule,
That is a fact not the words of a fool.
Because there's a kinship we must show restraint,
Relatives are united is the picture they paint,
At family gatherings do we show some respite,
Do we hell, we get into a fight.
Kinship is different,
Life's rules it amends,
You can't pick your family but,
'You Can Choose Your Friends'
Weddings and christenings have the same effect,
Every one of the family think they are correct,
While sane and sober mistakes they'll excuse,
When they get drunk the battle ensues.
The very next day they'll think, what have I done?
My very own family second to none,
Their love and devotion does make me cry,
As do the stitches and bloody black eye.
Never again, are their fine words of choice,
They just love the sound of their own bloody voice,
Some of their mouths could do with a rinse,
The way some behave can and does make you wince.
They're supposed to be precious,
But when none of them bends,
You can't pick your family but,
'You Can Choose Your Friends'
The problem with life is we all have a choice,
But we're scared to admit it; if we could we'd rejoice,
No families to fight for, no in house disputes,
No relations to battle with, no more blood roots.
Coming and going whenever we so please,
A life without arguing, where everyone agrees.
Yes it's dream but dreams can come true,
But so can nightmares, on that you must chew.
The family portraits conceal many facts,
Including deceitful heinous acts,
Because they are kin their misdeeds we must hide,
All Retribution must be put to the side.
So become an acquaintance,
Follow new trends,
You can't pick your family but,
'You Can Choose Your Friends'
He lives not long who battles with the immortals, nor do his children prattle about his knees when he has come back from battle and the dread fray.