A Benchmark Shock
Today a benchmark shock in self-discovery
a colleague explained she read everything
on a subject she does not understand when
she has to translate a new text on it - feeling
terribly guilty I realised I cannot force myself
to do that, trying to overcome violent distaste
in anything that holds no appeal simply ends
in me being ill
I should have become a nun with my interest
in spiritual matters, by this time I would have
been feeling totally sinful, dead or locked up
in a hospital for the mentally ill, thus the world
would have been spared my presence and I
would have been enjoying my justly earned
suffering for multiple shortcomings - now I
am an anchor, a provider
Sending kids to college, gathering for pension
funds, I may not admit how much I detest trying
to do things in which I cannot excel - lacking the
emotional stability to do things for financial in-
crease - only able to survive in between texts
by reading fairytales and enacting them in my
life - if it were possible to volunteer for early
death due to guilt feelings
I would have been the first one on the list
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Related quotes
Ominous Silence
Is silence ominous
or just an indication
of boredom, feeling
fed up with life
Open-plan office, only
accompaniment a text
on corruption, Strauss
in my earphones
No warm camaraderie
to fill emotional spaces
‘tis where unlovability
comes in
I cannot feign interest
I admit, ate too much
bread this weekend
chemical depression
Can only be overcome
by adrenaline: surprise,
anger, amusement or
a challenge
Would work - but how
does one get hold of
such things…
Monday morning 13/02/2012
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Celebration Of Being
A thirteen-year old heroine complains
her mother suddenly seems just gross
and embarrassing; I realised everything
seemed embarrassing to me right from
the start of my life as if I was tainted with
the low EQ - emotional quotient - of an
adolescent and am still the same today
Embarrassment about my parents and
siblings never changed; should one try
to grow up emotionally - impossible, as
one youngster sings High school never
ends, we all still compete for the same
things and fight the same bullies; some
people are wise like my colleague Hanlie
But I remain caught up in the emotional
conundrums of the past and the only way
to move forward is to concentrate on my
partner and kids where fun and laughter
change life into a celebration of being
Lois Lowry - Anastasia, Ask your Analyst
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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If You Read
If you read me
In my lines you begin
To understand what
I write about &
Perhaps what I am
That would be
So ordinary
A matter only of clarification.
If you read me, however
Carefully
in between
My lines,
and go deeper
To hidden symbols
And find some meanings
You will find
something
Else, something not
Me but sounding like
Me and you will begin to have doubts
If it is really me
Or I am just
Bluffing
Misleading you
For something else
So that you
Do not grasp me
At all,
and if you begin
to
Doubt it,
well, it could be that it was
Done on purpose
i
Wanting to achieve
A little
dramatization
Of what I am,
For some little
Thrills
Some gigs
Or gimmicks
We all love these
Tragic plays
Most of the
The time.
But sometimes,
For you to know me
I write about you,
You are
in some lines
talking about me,
and it is quite
challenging,
me finding you
to elaborate me,
and this one
would be a little bit
complicated,
You become
so confused
And even be paranoid
About this twist of
Things
Some turning points
Which may
Even be mistaken
As an identity
Crisis or a mental
Disorder,
Why do I have
To be spoken of
By another
Personality
As you or any other
Organism,
Sometimes a bird,
Or a fish,
Or even things in nature,
Like a cloud,
Or the wind, or the
Sea, or the
Sun or even the coldness
Of the night,
Where I can always
Be there in such
A hazy form
Or in opaque shapes,
And yet so essentially me
And so very like us,
And such questions as
Why
May even be answered
In that kind
Of reading,
About me
And you
And this world where we are always
In a situation.
Well I do not wish
To complicate matters more
Like this is some kind
Of a treasure hunt
With lots of signs
And symbols
And some missing links,
In a sense
I want clarity,
I need simplicity,
To drive my points clear
So that when you read
Me in short crisp lines
You grasp me directly
Like
A traffic sign
Red for stop
Green for go
And yellow for a while,
But in truth,
Things and matters and me and you
Are not that really simple
And as such
We cannot be so simplistic
And at the same time
Do justice to this and that
This you and me, this world,
But perhaps reading
Is not just that,
Not just knowing me
Or reducing me to a
Simple conclusion,
Reading me
Could simply be an enjoyment
Or a plain reading
For curiosity or
Even for just a perusal,
As I am not even
Worth reading at all,
A waste of your
Precious time,
You are busy,
But some lines may strike
You or shake you
Or develop a certain
Familiarity, of such things
Like this once happened to me
Or that I once said these lines
Or that I once thought
The same thoughts,
A sense of home
A sense of déjà vu
A sense of I am just like you
In the same situation,
That we are on the same boat
On a stormy sea, tossed
By this fate,
This commonality of failures,
And so you are
Interested for common reasons,
In a way that I search for myself,
You are also searching for
Yourself,
And once I talk of this
Loneliness, this sickness
Unto death, you ring a bell,
You are also
Feeling the same,
And we come together
Searching for the cure,
Or you at the end,
Would simply be
Wishing that we will have the same
Kind of fate,
A survival,
A victory,
A success,
A shout for joy, a shout for discovery.
But on the other hand,
that would be so
Selfish and we do not
Glorify selfishness,
as it
Is not a commendable
trait,
We humans are
humanitarian
We always care,
we always love
We always have
affection
For another, so
If you read me,
really, as a
Good natured
human being
With a soul,
You read me,
With sympathy,
You empathize
You cry in sad poem,
You laugh
In humorous ones,
You get
Glorified in glorious ones,
you
Become a part of me,
and I become a
part of you,
well,
being
One with each other,
but, I still
Doubt it,
you read,
because
You simply check whether
This poem is good,
or making some
Sense,
or this poet
makes a
Mark for good poetry,
which
To me, is nothing but
Hypocrisy,
utilitarian,
and
Too
academic.
In truth,
I write,
not wanting
To be read,
not so inviting to
Any reader,
You read me
With a risk
But if you read me,
I am telling you,
Frankly,
I do not invite you,
You came
You gate crashed
Me, and you are
Never my guest
You are simply
misinformed,
coming here,
I do not know
You and
you do not
know me, and
I will fault you
For this intrusion,
And that would be
Too arrogant
& cruel of me
telling you
to stop reading
and leave me
at once.
Well
Actually, this is it
If you read me
As you read this poem
Just read,
For no purpose,
No vested
Interest,
You read,
Because you have nothing to do
With me
And I have
Nothing to do with you
We have nothing
To do with
All these
This life
This poetry
It is
Not because
You are hunting for
Some animals,
Put them on a cage
Or kill them
For meat
Or consider the stuffed heads
The tigers and
lions and
Gazelles
as your trophies of your adventures
on a safari of life
Or marks of your
Civilized cruelty
You are here because
you just pass by
And want to read
this poem
for a while
You read
me
in passing,
I see you passing by…..
It is a matter of feeling not knowing me at all.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Post-Post-Modern Poetry
Post-post-modern poetry is about making observations
That aren't interrelated and pretending that they
Have some emotional significance or
Are ironic (or not—irony is slowly falling out of fashion) .
We strip our verses of the ornate,
Of the indulgence, the pretension,
The figurative language,
Reading a string of thoughts as they appear to us
In that given moment,
A moment which is taken from us
As we receive it.
Grandma eats chocolate and sews my mother a doll
That my sister will play with.
My dog is fourteen years old—
I guess he'll die soon.
My dad works at Big Lots.
He loves his job, but my mom says he works too much.
I was going to take another semester of community college,
But my financial aid didn't clear because I've had my
Associate's degree for a year or so now—
I just want to learn, you know?
I don't want to do anything with my life,
Except maybe eat a little, sleep a little,
Play video games and watch movies,
Read a book every week or so,
Listen to as much music as Spotify will let me—
Hey it curbs the urge for me to pirate
The sounds I'd like to hear,
Even if I can't plug them into my car stereo.
I mean, I want to have sex too, of course,
And there's a lot of pretty girls,
And I'm really confident,
But I'm also nervous,
And small talk is pretty boring.
Did Yeats talk like this?
Would Shakespeare understand the poems we write today,
Or would he be like the kids in my high school English Lit classes—
The ones I took for fun, not the AP ones?
I mean, I doubt he'd call himself a "cholo"—
Whatever that is—
Or reference the Latin Kings, but I'm sure he'd have some difficulty
Comprehending the language.
A bad tomato is a bad tomato.
You can no longer eat it.
That sucks.
I just don't know about this.
Do you know about this?
I know a lot about a lot of things,
But that doesn't mean I know anything.
This sounds like something I could write
When I was twelve.
Will it get me published?
Will it get me a job?
Will it get me money,
So I can eat food with feeling guilty
About using my debit card as a credit?
I don't feel guilty,
But I'm feeling as blue as agave,
Which isn't very blue now,
Is it?
And I just don't know what I'm saying,
But help, by the Gods, pumpernickel orange rinds
Crumple on the sagging polyphone around your dog's neck
And the cats are cradling violins in their violet yaps,
Mellowing the evening sky,
And trimming the headlines
That we never heard on the evening news.
I just don't understand.
I just don't.
Do you?
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Being thankful for what you have
being thankful in life,
don't mean material things,
it's for enjoying the little things in life,
things that money can't buy,
like good friends and family,
becuz in the end,
when it feels like you have nothing,
you still have by your side,
what matters the most,
and everything that can never be replaced,
it not about the fansy food that you can make,
not about what you worked so hard,
just to get at this point,
it for the little things everybody takes for granted,
loving the family you have,
just the way they are,
just enjoying life,
without it feeling like you hate it,
life has it moments,
but it's feels so great,
when you can truely sit back,
and enjoy what you already have in front of you,
because when one of your family no longer there,
you wish as if you could of enjoyed the small things,
instead of being picky,
for what wasn't made,
it's a time to be thankful,
not a time to be greedy.
poem by Mona Martinez
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Life-Changing Dreams
Suffering through the week
forced to look at things I detest
brought me a great Saturday, a
huge success with only my
favourite subjects
The rest of the family watching
sports on TV, providing the anchor
that moors my own life to a hub of
activity, I hate being alone - yet
cannot join in their interests
Just need their human presence
to do what pleases me best: the
enchantment of accomplished
dancers, the simple joy of little
stories; dissolving the anger
And frustration engendered by
boring bureaucracy and political
intrigue during the week - I love
looking at what I expect while
allowing others the chance
To enjoy their preference, with due
respect; I do shall not join in the world’s
self-created misery and entertainment
found in living Shakespearian plays
as victims of violence and lies
But I do not wish it away, happy that
people play different games - I simply
reject all coercion to force me to join
their childish ways – accepting all
as the necessary background
For the bright visions of spiritual
heights created through meditation
and life-changing dreams…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The Consultation
‘How are you feeling in general? ’ he asked.
‘Pretty good most of the time then I get these occasional black periods when nothing makes sense and I fear the worst’ I replied.
‘Hmm, any suicidal thoughts? ’ he asked thoughtfully as if embarrassed to ask the question.
I thought for a moment.
‘Well, not really. No, not really’ was all I could say.
He made some notes at this point.
‘And those times of feeling good’ he asked ‘what are they like? ’
‘Like the sun is shining and I feel on top of the world’.
‘But there’s no real reason for that? ’ he asked ‘you just feel good and that’s it? ’
‘Yeah’ I replied.
‘What about your libido? ’ he asked as if enquiring what brand of beer I liked.
‘Funnily that’s pretty good’ I said smiling.
He frowned.
‘Is there any guilt that you feel? ’ he probed.
‘Do you feel guilty when you feel good or see others around you far less well off than you are? ’
‘I guess I do. I feel bad that I can’t feel that good all the time and also sad for those worse than me’.
‘But not real guilt? ’
‘No. Not really’.
‘So you feel bad at times but not guilty? ’
‘Guess not’
‘Do you ever feel bad about not feeling guilty? ’
He knew I was lost at this point and changed tack.
‘When did you last masturbate? ’ he threw in.
‘Can’t remember’ I said startled.
He made some notes.
‘So, you feel guilty about masturbation? ’ he continued.
‘No, not at all’.
‘But you don’t remember when you last did it? ’ he said with a manner of distaste and disbelief.
‘Not really’.
At this point I did not know where all this was going.
‘Do you go to church? ’ he asked.
‘No’
‘Why not? ’
‘Can’t see the point’
‘So why are you here? ’
At this point the confessional ended.
I had been diagnosed as not having enough guilt or grief or angst to be normal and no further help or counselling could be offered.
But, at long last, I felt truly guilty.
So, perhaps, I will find redemption one day.
poem by David Keig
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An Avalanche of Words (Revised)
June easily explained my document, me being
an alien in a legal world, reading formulations
and provisos that had me falling down ice-cold
in fright; my brain left me in detention, buried
alive in an avalanche of terminology that kept
falling on my head
To my colleague this stuff is easily explained,
no guessing game - yet I cannot surface for air,
unfortunately I do not have her savoir faire and
cool mastery of benchmark idioms, my mind
cannot unbend and learn stratagems of legal
phrasing and make lists for future reference
Pain at back of my head informs my body it is
time to play dead, a limited vocabulary does
not allow me to decipher arcane language used
in Courts of Law, if only I could teach my brain
but it has been stubborn from the very start -
refusing to do my will
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Daily There Are Happenings
Daily there are happenings
and all of life is passing by
in a world filled with new things
with new wonders for the eyes
while I am big but feeling small
and when things are really great
in Your presence which are forever tall
in the world the You do constantly create
and even when life is feeling dim,
unselfishly more sacrifices You do make,
when my eyes with tears do swim
another step closer to You I do take
then I know the power of Your great love,
that no evil force can remove.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I Could Have You
'My princess
Far out of reach
As you kiss
I lose my speech
I kneel down
Could fill your bed
Then you frown
I lost my head'
'You? Be mine?
Never a chance
Don’t have time
For this romance
Can’t stop now
Too much to do
Don’t ask how
Won’t be true'
Overcome by this funny feeling
Just cant stop my head from reeling
If I could have you
For just one day
I’d never be blue
Could make us stay
Overcome by this funny feeling
Can’t understand how we dealing
'Come closer
I know its there
I’ve chosen
I know you care
Why back down
Why run away
I’m your clown
Want you to stay'
'No questions
I can’t give you
Explanations
You I want too
This cant be
I feel for you
This aint me
I feel untrue'
Overcome by this funny feeling
Just cant stop my head from reeling
If I could have you
For just one day
I’d never be blue
Could make us stay
Overcome by this funny feeling
Can’t understand how I’m dealing
'My princess
So close to reach
As you kiss
I lose my speech
I kneel down
I fill your bed
Stop that frown
Your feelings are not dead'
'You are mine
There is a chance
Now’s the time
For this romance
Must stop now
No more to do
I know now
I cant live without you'
Overcome by this funny feeling
Just cant stop my head from reeling
If I could have you
For just one day
I’d never be blue
Could make us stay
Overcome by this funny feeling
Can’t understand how I’m dealing
poem by Serena Constance Grobler
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In Absentia
My existance 'tis oft' times questioned
Seemingly lacking in presence of mind
Yet abreast of all necessary import
I am oft' elusive and difficult to find;
Without my assuring words of adoration
Lacking my gentle nod of assent
Totally void of the wink of my eye
Leaves some totally incenced;
Privacy 'tis my needful armor
Leaving me oft' times simply away
At times i am overwhelmed by too much attention
Seems these walls have ears yet today;
In a world of back handed abuse
Where connections make this world ever small
I truly am getting quite fed up
With the Electrical Guru's gall;
So, if fear 'twas what they were looking for
Intimidation-by their so-called being everywhere
I will not be their long suffering victim
As i promise to strip their reality bare;
In the meantime, i will again withdraw unto shelter
I will again absent my place: ' on the air'
Overwhelmed by such a deluge of unwelcomed intrusions
Am at my Wits End-i retire from life, in solemn prayer;
poem by Theodora Onken
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Strong Enough To Break
Well I haven't been myself today
Just a figure in a big Monopoly Game
The struggle is the price you pay
You get just enough just to give it away
There's something 'bout it floating away
Just throw me a line so I can anchor my pain
The fabric is about to fray
The fabric is about to fray
Well maybe you could take a look at yourself lately
Maybe you could take a look at yourself lately
Maybe you could take a look at yourself lately
Things keep coming and I keep wondering
I start feeling the walls close in
Things keep coming and I keep stumbling
I start feeling I'm strong enough to break
Oh I start feeling I'm strong enough to break Oh
You've been running through my mind today
Scenarios to add to your hypocrisy
No one ever takes the blame
But everyone is searching for a cure to the pain
Nothing ever seems to change
Oh nothing ever seems to change
We just play like broken records in a deaf man's charade
Well maybe you could take a look at yourself lately
Maybe you could take a look at yourself lately
Maybe you could take a look at yourself lately
Things keep coming and I keep wondering
I start feeling the walls close in
Things keep coming and I keep stumbling
I start feeling I'm strong enough to break
Oh Ho
Oh carry on just a pawn in this same old song
I'm still holding on
The fabric is about to fray
Well maybe you could take a look at yourself lately
Maybe you could take a look at yourself lately
Things keep coming and I keep wondering
I start feeling the walls close in
Things keep coming and I keep stumbling
I start feeling I'm strong enough to break
Things keep coming and I keep wondering
I start feeling the walls close in
Things keep coming and I keep stopping them
I start feeling I'm strong enough to break
Oh I start feeling I'm strong enough to break
Oh I start feeling I'm strong enough to break
song performed by by Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Best Of What's Around
Hey my friend, it seems your eyes are troubled.
Care to share your time with me?
Would you say you're feeling low and so
A good idea would be to get it off your mind?
See you and me have a better time than most can dream
Have it better than the best
So can pull on through
Whatever tears at us, whatever holds us down
And if nothing can be done
We'll make the best of what's around.
Turns out not where but who you're with that really matters, that really matters
And hurts not much when you're around, when you're around
And if you hold on tight to what you think is your thing
You may find you're missing all the rest.
She ran up into the light, surprised,
Her arms are open. Her minds eye is
Seeing things from a better side than most can dream
On a clearer road I feel, oh you could say she's safe.
Whatever tears at her, whatever holds her down
And if nothing can be done,
She'll make the best of what's around.
Turns out not where but what you think that really matters, that really matters, that really matters, that really matters. Yeah....
See you and me, have a better time than most can dream,
Have it better than the best, so can pull on through.
Whatever tears at us, whatever holds us down,
And if nothing can be done,
We'll make the best of what's around.
Turns out not where but who you're with that really matters, that really matters.
And hurts not much when you're around, when you're around. Hey, la la...
Hold on... We'll make the best of what's around
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Volunteer To Be Happy
Sad things happen. Of this there's no doubt.
But that's not what this thought's all about.
When something goes wrong, most volunteer
To fall down and stop or stand up and cheer.
It's easy to fall when goblins are grand,
But there's something I don't understand.
And that's why some volunteer to be sad
For what could have been, since all is so bad.
Suns keep rising and there're always more springs,
So volunteer to be happy for these wondrous things.
Take off those shades and try a new style.
It's hard to feel bad when sporting a smile.
Why volunteer sadness when costs are so high?
It's like choosing death before having to die.
I guess only the lonely really know why.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Too Patient
When I began to weed through,
My priority list...
I saw some things on it,
That no longer exist.
I had placed people,
Who I considered friends on this list.
And for years they had been on it...
Doing and saying things to me as they wished.
Some don't speak to me.
But my name is on their lips.
When I began to weed through,
My priority list...
I saw some things on it,
That should not on my list exist!
Very few on my priority list,
Have me on their agenda.
And if they do,
I'm sure it's for fun, sport and gossip.
When I began to weed through,
My priority list...
I saw some things on it,
I couldn't not explain...
Why some names had hearts near them.
Did I do that?
Did I draw them in?
I use to dropp every and anything,
To be at someone's aide.
Some people I would call everyday...
Just to see if they were okay.
I've even allowed my own work to be submitted...
So folks could get their college degrees.
Joking about this,
I am not!
I have been the subject of innuendos and lies,
As if my life meant nothing at all.
To leave me to walk around with 'my' pain disguised.
Then I awakened and realized.
I am considered a fool!
Today...
When I began to weed through,
My priority list...
I saw some things on it,
That no longer exist.
And wondered to myself 'WHY'...
Is this stuff still 'there'.
Get rid of it!
This makes no sense.
Why do you have these people's lives,
Prioritized?
'That is being too patient!
Fix this and get this done quick! '
I have moments when I am completely rational.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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World Of Your Own
You make me feel funny
When you come around
Yeah that's what I found out honey
What am I doing without you
You make me feel happy
When I leave you behind
It plays on my mind now honey
What am I doing without you
Took for granted everything we had
As if I'd find someone
Who's just like you
We got a little world of our own
I'll tell you things that no one else knows
I let you in where no-one else goes
What am I doing without you
And all of the things I've been looking for
Have always been here outside of my door
And all of the time I'm looking for something new
What am I doing without you
Well I guess I'm ready
For settling down
And fooling around is over
And I swear that it's true
No buts or maybes
When I'm falling down
There's always someone who saves me
And girl it's you
Funny how life can be so surprising
I'm just realising what you do
We got a little world of our own
I'll tell you things that no one else knows
I let you in where no-one else goes
What am I doing without you
And all of the things I've been looking for
Have always been here outside of my door
And all of the time I'm looking for something new
What am I doing without you
Well it's feeling right now
So let's do it right now
Praying that some how
You will understand the way
It's feeling right now baby somehow
I won't let this slip away
We got a little world of our own
I'll tell you things that no one else knows
I let you in where no-one else goes
What am I doing without you
And all of the things I've been looking for
Have always been here outside of my door
And all of the time I'm looking for something new
What am I doing without you
song performed by by Westlife
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Impromptu No.4 In A-Flat Major
Freedom to choose, oh yes, I can choose
to focus on translations - or write a poem
and delight in singing lines, feeling guilty
about my escape from tortuous life
I may not escape my job of grinding words
and lines, crunching melody, rhythm and
sound - leaving meaning only - which
pays the bills and buys pretty things
Reading discordant and dissonant texts
that hurt ears and eyes - but all choice
entails responsibility for consequence:
Who can be free in choosing between
the devil and the deep blue sea, why al-
ways negative outcomes irrespective of
choice? If you do you suffer, if you don't
you simply suffer another way
Freedom means choosing between all
kinds of suffering - whatever we do, the
result is guilt and misery, meaning we
can only choose how to deal with life
Smiling while praying for quick release or
cynically surrendering to life's vicissitudes
bowing in bitter resignation - freedom be-
comes a choice between attitudes
Acceptance or rejection of every condition,
it's tiring to be angry all the time, easier to
laugh, La Comédie Humaine is fun, we all
fall down and get up a million times
Crying would spoil the mask we wear, lay
our secret feelings bare - we can gravitate
towards laughter wherever it rings, as long
as we can resonate with its happiness
In spite of sinking in quicksand, we can sing,
until we are beheaded at the guillotine or
hung upon a cross, we can be as pious
or as raucous as we choose
I choose piety because it is more beautiful,
if our lives have to end in tragedy, I want
mine to please with harmonious lines -
listening to spiritual renditions of
Schubert - Impromptu No.4 in A-flat major,
Boccherini's Minuet, Debussy - Clair de
Lune - while taking leave of life to
continue existence somewhere
beyond Planet Earth
beyond this universe where visual forms
suppress the sound of metre and melody,
only one meaning allowed, symbols
reduced to define a reality
Stripped of all emotion, where association
and connotation are outlawed - we are
changed into a workforce bearing the
yoke of life while being robbed from
Imagination and feeling...
poem by Margaret Alice Second
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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World of Our Own - Westlife
You make me feel funny
When you come around
Yeah that's what I found out honey
What am I doing without you
You make me feel happy
When I leave you behind
It plays on my mind now honey
What am I doing without you
Took for granted everything we had
As if I'd find someone
Who's just like you
We got a little world of our own
I'll tell you things that no one else knows
I let you in where no-one else goes
What am I doing without you
And all of the things I've been looking for
Have always been here outside of my door
And all of the time I'm looking for something new
What am I doing without you
Well I guess I'm ready
For settling down
And fooling around is over
And I swear that it's true
No buts or maybes
When I'm falling down
There's always someone who saves me
And girl it's you
Funny how life can be so surprising
I'm just realising what you do
We got a little world of our own
I'll tell you things that no one else knows
I let you in where no-one else goes
What am I doing without you
And all of the things I've been looking for
Have always been here outside of my door
And all of the time I'm looking for something new
What am I doing without you
Well it's feeling right now
So let's do it right now
Praying that some how
You will understand the way
It's feeling right now baby somehow
I won't let this slip away
We got a little world of our own
I'll tell you things that no one else knows
I let you in where no-one else goes
What am I doing without you
And all of the things I've been looking for
Have always been here outside of my door
And all of the time I'm looking for something new
What am I doing without you
poem by Rebecca Ryan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strong Emough To Break
Ohh
Well i'm not feeling myself today
Just a figure in a big monopoly game
Struggle is the price you pay
You get just enough just to give it away
I'm sinking more than floating away
Just throw me a line so i can anchor my pain
The fabric is about to fray
The fabric is about to fray
Maybe you could take a look at yourself lately
Maybe you could take a look at yourself lately
Maybe you could take a look at yourself lately
Things keep coming and i keep wondering
And i start feeling the walls close in
Things keep coming and i keep stumbling
I start feeling strong enough to break
I start feeling strong enough to break
I've been running through my mind today
Somebody has to catch your hypocrisy
No one ever takes the blame
But everyone is searching for a cure to the pain
Nothing ever seems to change
Oh, nothing ever seems to change
We just play broken records in a deaf man's charade
Maybe you could take a look at yourself lately
Maybe you could take a look at yourself lately
Maybe you could take a look at yourself lately
Things keep coming and i keep wondering
And i start feeling the walls close in
Things keep coming and i keep stumbling
I start feeling strong enough to break
I start feeling strong enough to break
I start feeling strong enough...
Oh yeah
Strong enough to break
Strong enough to break
song performed by by Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Concept of the Death
What is death? Why is it? Who causes it?
Living things are animated objects.
The dead are so when unanimated.
Cessation of animation is death.
Who terminates the animation:
The soul or the body? Neither of them.
The soul leaves not that the body decays.
The body decays not that the soul leaves.
Neither the body nor the soul promotes
The death nor do they desert each other.
They together succumb to the pressure
Exerted by the force present outside
Death happens when the matters break down
By accidents of the external force,
Or when they weaken from the external stress
Or when they are eaten by the predators.
The flame is to burn till the matter lasts,
The life is to run till the body lasts.
The flame is to die with no more matter.
The life is to cease with no more addition.
Degraded and disintegrated
By saprophytes at different stages,
The dead matters turn basic elements
And settle as inorganic matters.
The elements add to the growth of plants,
Plants to the growth of the herbivorous
And the herbivorous to the carnivorous
With the participation of the life force.
The drive of the life force is to survive
Against the pressure of the external force
The life force builds up the matter in growth
And when it could not, it dies with the matter
The plants and animals form a network
Trough which runs the life force, which is the soul,
Whose drive is to feed, grow and procreate.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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