Where Do I Belong (4th revision)
Cannot escape, cannot lift off to leave
life behind; though reading of amazing
affection, a sensitive heart filled with love
driving emptiness and misery away, I’m
still caged in darkness without reprieve
Stranded in depressive doldrums but
unable to place a cause – given my son’s
operation is routine and we’re able to
afford best treatment anyway, why feel
so bad, where is the missing ideal
Being the best assembly-line translator,
assisting colleagues & clients, mother of
two independent kids needing only money
& material aid not our physical presence
or leadership; other than living life with
Integrity, I’m empty – if Life’s purpose is
caring for small beings some might think
me a crocodile, yet in a reptilian way,
gently carrying small crocodiles in my
mouth with the very best
Now just a translator in need of a lodestar,
an ideal to provide inspiration, none remain
to sustain me, my loved ones independent,
forced to focus on new things, to ask
where do I belong…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Related quotes
Physical Presence
I leave as I enter
another boy caught in-between
now all I can muster
are whispers to your screams
don't you remember
how you eased my disgrace
don't you remember
the love you saw in my face
perfected in silence
a physical presence
perfected in silence
a physical presence
I sought affection
but now I realize
a cold rejection
the movement in your eyes
but I can remember
when you shook against me
I can remember
when I saw what love could be
perfected in silence
a physical presence
perfected in silence
a physical presence
ain't what she did
it's the way that she did it
when I couldn't give
only she could forgive it
ain't what she did
it's the way that she did it
as long as I live
it's for me to re-live it . . .
silence . . .
part of the answer
is that there's really no escape
part of the answer
is that life can have such perfect shape
don't you remember
all the nights you shared in my disgrace
don't you remember
that the love that filled this empty space was . . .
. . . perfected in silence
a physical presence
perfected in silence
a physical presence
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Physical Presence
I leave as I enter
Another boy caught in-between
Now all I can muster
Are whispers to your screams
Dont you remember
How you eased my disgrace
Dont you remember
The love you saw in my face
Perfected in silence
A physical presence
Perfected in silence
A physical presence
I sought affection
But now I realize
A cold rejection
The movement in your eyes
But I can remember
When you shook against me
I can remember
When I saw what love could be
Perfected in silence
A physical presence
Perfected in silence
A physical presence
Aint what she did
Its the way that she did it
When I couldnt give
Only she could forgive it
Aint what she did
Its the way that she did it
As long as I live
Its for me to re-live it . . .
Silence . . .
Part of the answer
Is that theres really no escape
Part of the answer
Is that life can have such perfect shape
Dont you remember
All the nights you shared in my disgrace
Dont you remember
That the love that filled this empty space was . . .
. . . perfected in silence
A physical presence
Perfected in silence
A physical presence
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Warm, Liquid Love
Archetypes stay the same, only details
vary according to the personalities of
those expressing these types within
guiding universal themes
My dream is to become an inspiration
to a person in need; maybe this ideal
will never be fulfilled and that’s why it
keeps a magical hold over me
Making the sun appear as a golden orb
of warm, liquid love in the sky caressing
all with soft velvet beams; it is an eternal
promise, a life-inspiring hope
One day someone in need of the unique
help I can give might profit from my words
or presence on planet earth; every chance
to help is an opportunity to practice and
Confers a wonderful feeling, keeping the ideal
alive – today Mary Poppins herself stormed out
of the office, singing a Spoon Full Of Sugar after
learning nobody in the lift knows
This magical tale of inspiration, I’m determined
to teach colleagues brimming with African joie
de vivre about the element of fun in every job
to be done!
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The White Rose Tree
The red rose lay on the ground
Knocked from the tree by the small kids
It lay there, what becomes of it
Does it blow away and dissappear
Maybe a passing man will pick it up
No two things in life are the same
But I suppose there ending will always be alike
The small kids that climbed that tree
What becomes of them
Do they dissappear as well
Just like most people in this world
Do they just fade into the darkness
behind the curtains of life
Just another passing drone
Maybe there’s a bigger picture here
That I'm always missing
Maybe the rose has a purpose
The passing man who could of picked up the rose
He may of given it to the women he loved
Who now keeps it in in her diary
Reminding her of the day he first said I love you
The red rose still lies there
I see it with my own two eyes
The women standing over it finally picks it up
She smells it and walks away
I wonder who she is
Why was there a tear in her eye
and why a red rose lay under the white rose tree
poem by Niall Boland
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Masters Of Illusion
Love is a wonderful form of self-delusion, a
game anyone can play with a willing team-
mate on the basis of an illusionary ideal of
affection that can be filled to perfection by
anyone interesting, relying on chemistry
and shared interests
We are all able to become masters of illusion-
but the only authentic question is do you love
yourself, do you enjoy your own company - if
your answer is NO, you are guaranteed that
no love relations will work for you, you need
the loved one to pick you up
Keep you amused and entertained all the time,
should the beloved become too weak to take
care of your needs, your love will flee as it is
based on a loving slave combination; only
those who are happy in themselves and
can share their general well-being
With another happy person, stand a chance of
long-lasting love relationships in which partners
remain relatively independent; if anyone wants
to leave, it is never the end for the one who
stays behind – given this paradigm; it is no
wonder that there is almost no chance
That love will last, in our culture love is seen as
a selfish concern – the beautiful, adored person
must conjure happiness out of a hat, only true
magicians are acceptable as life partners –
a normal human being is never enough!
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Preoccupied
Oh, that we may be preoccupied, with the One who came and died,
To change our very present ways, for Christ’s Glory and His Praise.
Not only did He save us from sin, but, He equips us to live for Him,
In ways that we could not before, we knew Jesus Christ as our Lord,
Being Lord, is that key dear friend, as we make Christ our very end,
In everything, between now and then, as we live our life before men.
Loving Christ, with all our heart, as we finish in joy the race we start,
Living each day with thoughts of Him, by The Spirit who lives within.
We now live our life above the past, as old ways behind us are cast,
With Christ on our heart and mind, we can live beyond the old grind.
Guided by Grace from above, He fills our heart with peace and love,
We can live our new life abundantly, while we move towards Eternity.
Before, never thought of at all, Christ, in my life was less than small,
Preoccupied by things of earth, which had no lasting value or worth,
With an emptiness plaguing my heart, where Christ had not one part,
Along with darkness deep within, which was driven by a world of sin.
The empty darkness came to an end, when I meet The Savior, friend,
He filled my darkened emptiness, with the light of His righteousness.
Despite my dark and sinful past, His Light within me will forever last,
As I will remain forever occupied, eternally right by The Savior’s side.
(Copyright ©10/2007)
Don't Only Focus On The Money
When you go for the money,
You'll be selling your soul.
And when one goes for just the money,
The heart turns cold.
So don't focus on the money,
Don't.
Don't only focus on the money,
Don't.
Bling is nice but there's more to life.
Don't focus on the money,
Don't.
Open your mind with bright wide eyes,
To take a ride that will excite you.
With a view to greater heights.
So...
Don't focus on the money,
Don't.
No don't you focus on the money,
Don't.
When you go for the money,
You'll be selling your soul.
Don't focus on the money,
Don't.
Don't let your heart grow old and cold.
Don't focus on the money,
Don't.
So...
Don't you focus on the money,
Don't.
No don't you focus on the money,
Don't.
So...
Don't you focus on the money,
Don't.
No don't you focus on the money,
Don't.
Don't only focus on the money,
Don't.
No don't you focus on the money,
Don't.
So you just don't focus on the money,
Don't.
So you just don't focus on the money,
Don't.
No don't you focus on the money,
Don't.
Don't only focus on the money,
Don't.
'I feel funny when I don't have any money.'
Don't focus on the money,
Don't.
Don't only focus on the money,
Don't.
Don't you only focus on the money,
Don't.
Don't keep your focus on the fact that you always stay broke.
Don't focus on the money,
Don't.
Don't only focus on the money,
Don't.
Don't stay focused on the money,
Don't!
Don't keep your focus on the fact that you always stay broke.
Don't focus on the money,
Don't.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Few More Words On Money...
Money isn’t the answer to most of life’s questions –
But it’s a pretty good guess
’Cause when the choice is between
Crying bitter tears, out in the cold
Into your filthy garments;
And crying bitter tears in your palace
Into your velvet pillow;
Then comfortable misery
Beats impecunious misery
Every time.
Money can’t buy a friendship
But it can buy a yacht
And some people prefer
Partnerships to companionship
But like cruise ships most of all –
The warmth of loving, and being loved;
Replaced with fur coats and central heating
And the spark of affection
With the glint of carats.
Money can’t buy contentment –
Money can’t buy you peace
Money can’t buy you Love
Or fill the emptiness
And give your life meaning…
Some things are priceless
Some things money can’t buy…
But what of the man
Who has not a cent to his name
And has not even those? ? ? ! ! !
Coming To Terms With Reality
maybe i was wrong,
for everything i thought,
nobody perfect,
i just wanted to excape life,
couldn't handle what god gave me,
giving up became my only choice,
until people showed they cared,
in more ways than i can say,
make me realize,
i still have more to fight,
giving up was no longer a choice,
there was other ways to go,
i just to blind to see at the time,
all i seen, was life that became unfair,
it didn't seem worth living anymore,
if you can only feel my pain,
you would understand why i thought,
the way i did,
stuck living life without a mother to guild you,
living with pain that became part of your life,
taking on so much responsitbility,
before i have a chance to experience life,
can't be like other kids my age,
force to take on more than i want,
having to be the bigger person,
can get tiring, but more and more,
i'm learning that things happen for a reason,
what the #ell is that reason?
i have no ideal,
life is one big puzzle,
there missing pieces that need to be found,
in order to understand the full picture.
Copyright © 2009
5-29-09
poem by Mona Martinez
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Life Becomes An Experience Of Wild Delight
I’m convinced that the karma I have to carry,
laid upon me by the Western heritage while
being born in Africa, where maize is the staple
and I’m allergic up to suffocating; is the result
of negative levels of consciousness inherited
from many previous lifetimes living in abject
misery – now is my chance to raise the vibrations –
this crocodile-mind driving me to seek knowledge
and information at the speed of a Grand Prix,
might help to raise my state of consciousness
From its normal level of three, where life seems
meaningless, through level four where life seems
futile at times, to level five with its bubbly feeling
of happiness; and level six – the magical state where
life becomes an experience of wild delight - I have
to acquiesce to the Nile-Crocodile and its anti-social
demands; when Alice wants to go out and socialize;
when Cinderella dreams of beautiful gowns, pumpkin
coaches and footmen; the Nile-Crocodile simply
says no; when the little Alien comes down
From the rafters and demands to have some fun -
the Nile-Crocodile threatens to eat him; the crocodile
mind insists upon seeing the physical world as a
wooden illusion of Maya; saying that masked people
playing charades are wearying beyond expression;
that a good book is the only thing between the
crocodile mind and reptilian suicide...
poem by Margaret Alice
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The present is a present, so be present
Always, behind the known,
the greater unknown…
behind the tedious Latin translation,
the struggle to find French elegance in French -
the private joys of the translator…
that rare intimacy, as a soul to soul
across the divides of language…
‘Laetus in praesens’ says Marsilio Ficino
in his Renaissance colloquial Latin
written up around the wall
of his Academy, such as it was…
The translator – half mechanical,
half philosopher, scribbles down
‘Rejoice in the present’..
and presently, pauses, contemplates…
Is it, was it, as easy as all that?
Sounds good, but is it practical?
In another age, Eckhart Tolle will expound
The Power Of Now – how joy
will follow presence, as the night the day…
The translator, cautious in his guidelines,
contemplates ‘Be present, rejoicing..’
as a poetic alternative… thus satisfying
philosophy as the study of causes…
checks various manuscripts; ah,
it’s written in one as ‘impraesens’…
almost adjectival; as a necessary state:
‘rejoice, being present’ then, perhaps?
Behind the shoulder of the translator,
stands as always, just as does
the unknown at the shoulder of the known,
(not quite nudging, sometimes, the writing arm)
the author…so close, this present moment,
is his presence…
the translator, gifted with a present by the wise,
the presence of the wise,
is wholly present; and that almost
imperceptible joy – recognised only
by the absence of all other things –
which the wise call bliss,
steals like a blessing
from the eternal, timeless, unblemished,
perfect now.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Help The Nile-Crocodile Survive
Eating in a new restaurant where the chips were
sprinkled with spices; I should have sent it back,
but I didn’t; now another sleepless night with my
back and neck in a terrible knot, stomach burning
and my head stuffed with cotton; with cold spells
and fevers; it is the very last time I eat what I’m
offered with strange condiments; in future I’ll refuse,
not caring about offending; given the corporeal
punishment inflicted by food - I feel like dying
I am so tired; the Nile-Crocodile is reduced to
primitive reptilian survival; the Ice-Princess is
crying all life is vain; Cinderella is writhing in pain,
Alice has been changed into a prototype Quasimodo;
maybe the stuff that I eat shuts off part of my brain –
I can’t even do any addition; at school I was branded
a fool; at varsity I was the local dunce; every test
taken under allergic conditions and I never knew
I thought life was supposed to be this painful
Seth says all physical pain has psychosomatic origins
in the indictment of my childish self by Calvinism’s
original sin; the war at home that spoiled all ideas of
love; the total neglect of all emotional needs when we
were small – therefore my life is blighted; although I
know that ideas and experiences of doom and gloom
are the cause by creating a chemically unbalanced body;
no amount of reading and positive thinking has changed
the situation as yet –
Seth promised that accepting responsibility for all of
life’s problems would lessen the effect of any
psychosomatic condition; yet my attempts to accept
it has not changed anything – maybe this condition
is meant as a gift: It brought the Nile-Crocodile into
existence, a deep need to read and study to escape
the confines of discomfort – the claustrophobia forces
me to seek escape through my imagination; thank
heaven I discovered New Age literature to
Help the Nile-Crocodile survive the onslaught
on mind, brain and body!
poem by Margaret Alice
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A Proper Focus
When we focus on what we see, our mind’s not focused on Eternity,
On those eternal things above, that we receive, through God’s Love.
Things we focus on here below, earthly things, we’ve come to know,
Can fill our heart with undue fear, when we limit our focus down here.
For our focus turns into concern, and a heart inside begins to yearn,
But not prompted by pleasantries, but, the heart filled with anxieties,
About the things we can’t control, while worry begins to take its toll,
With concerns far above our realm, a heart will just be overwhelmed.
Our concerns cannot be all ignored, but, must be given to The Lord,
Who sits above Heavenly realms, and our concerns He overwhelms.
With His Eternal Authority over all, earthly concerns to Him are small,
And in His time, I need to learn, He handles each and every concern.
Concerns, when they overwhelm us, lead us away from simple trust,
The simple faith we place in Him, when Christ saved us from our sin.
Through our trial, God gets Glory, as it was in Israel’s Exodus story,
Even with Pharaoh’s hardened heart, came a Glory that didn’t depart.
Today, our eyes should always be, focused on The Lord of Eternity,
The same one who delivered Israel, will work in our life His good will,
Today take on His yoke that’s light, for what He does, He does right,
To work out His purpose in the life, of all who belong to Jesus Christ.
(Copyright ©01/2008)
A juvenile home
Why do they remain uncared for?
From where do they come from?
Why are they left at doors of juvenile home?
Who are to be considered accountable and be blamed?
The juvenile home is flooded with such children
They are left there to lead the strange life and barren
No doubt they are given proper care and treatment
It is blot on society and deserves condemnable comment
The love is blind but we are not aware of its consequences
There are many cruel attempts and has come out as instances
The homes are sometimes abused and children are put to shame
It is not only creating law and order from but has earned ill fame
Every day there is instances of child’s cry at door step
Helpless mother choose the early morning time for help
She has all the blessings for child but unable to retain
She has all the love but forced not to contain
Many countries have facilitated single mothers by law
They can lead honorable life and society too allow
Still their life is miserable and looked upon as shame
Men are roaming free and only ladies share the blame
They have still guts to stand alone and face the world
The society and people may not take them lightly and develop cold
They may face many odds much to their discomforts
They remain shamed all the times despite their best efforts
Somewhere we commit grave error and suffer
The male partner deserts and continues to differ
Under such circumstances the hell is let loose
You have no option left and unable to choose
It is with heavy heart that you leave new born
You are heavily over burdened and consciously torn
You may not want to leave the child at somebody’s mercy
You can do nothing at this stage except to feel pity
Juveniles homes are equipped tot tackle such issues
They make appeals and make periodical reviews
They too are blessed with public support to share the grief
Children get enough care and support and get good brief
The society has to share the burden and show the courage
They are future of the country and must be nicely managed
They may come out as good citizens or hard core criminals
Do we want to make them human beings or cruel animals?
Let us resolve to make it an ideal place to worship
The youngsters may commit the mistake for friendship
We are here to support such houses morally with all niceties
It has purpose behind and public utilities too
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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To my charmer...
I maybe ordinary but unlike my words,
my words aren't ordinary at all, you see.
My eyes are hazel shades of other worlds,
my eyes are attraction force, back to me.
I'm short but i'm smart, so smart,
my mind can be devilish, but not to you.
I won't begin to talk about my heart,
my heart's created for the love of you.
I may seem boring but i'm interesting,
my thoughts are amazing and my love within.
I may look poor but i'm actually investing,
my love, in your heart and i'm hoping to win.
And my hands are cold and yes, they're small,
to the touch of your hand, warm, they will become.
If my hands are small, my heart is not at all,
and to your love, i've loved my self and every one.
Tell me, how is she like? you're wife,
beautiful? loving? caring? smart? kind? ?
I'm all that, so, share my life,
believe me, i try but i can't leave you behind.
I think i'm under your spell,
i can't but to gaze upon your face.
I'm going straight to hell, but look at you,
and put your self in my place! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
The greatness of human actions is measured by the inspiration that it brings. Blessed is he who carries within himself a God, an ideal of beauty and obeys it: an ideal of art, ideal of science, ideal of country, ideal virtues of the Gospel! These are the wellsprings of great thoughts and great actions. All reflections illuminate infinity.
quote by Louis Pasteur
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Defenceless At Present
Reading about doing enjoyable things and
living life ‘within' to escape experience &
make living conditions unimportant; is
not working, food still makes me ill
I cannot escape food intolerance effects,
vainly seeking spiritual growth- I am in
pain after meals - trying to overcome
depression by cherishing dreams
of love unconditional, offering love and
respect to all while trying to accept the
inevitable caught up in a tornado,
discomfort making me dumb
I've lost the fighting spirit, it's useless
to appreciate life simply because pain
has abated when I know the pain will
return - I am defenceless at present
The only escape from pain: stay hungry
but I detest living on an empty stomach
though this half-life of slumbering pain
does not render me immobile
It destroys my well-being and joie de
vivre, leaving me stranded in
paralysed despair…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The Death Of John Smith
Ive got respect from the community
Ive got my bridge game to look forward to
Ive got this chance, a golden opportunity
As long as I keep doing what Im supposed to
You see my wife and kids, they depend on me
To provide them with nothing but the best
I feel its my duty, my obligation
To live up to the standards society suggusts
So Ill keep on working for their benefit
And Ill keep on drinking
Ill keep on believing in my life
Another year of slaving and smiling, buying and trading
Living the life of a wealthy man
But somehow I dont feel so rich inside
But that doesnt make sense
I just had a two week vacation
As soon as I get this operation
Taken care of, Ill start enjoying
The good things in life
So Ill keep on working for the benefits
And Ill keep on drinking
Ill keep believing in my life
When the pity spins your mind,
Darkness fills your heart,
And I wont be around
When youre feeling all alone
Then youll know its time,
To go into the ground
When the pity spins your mind,
Darkness fills your heart,
And I wont be around
Ive got my family, friends, and associates
To stand by me as the threshold comes near
Within their faces I see grave concern
As I ask myself if their thoughts are sincere
After all these years of being complacent
What do I get? tenderness, affection, a true sense of love?
No! just a pain through a body chalk full of regret
Ill keep on believing my life still has value
And Ill keep on laughing
Why cant I stop laughing? I cant stop the laughing.
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The World Is Full Of Angry Young Men
Gone are the days,
When hate filled my heart,
I feel now I am a happy man,
I laugh now at values that I had.
All through my youth,
I was shouting and no one would hear.
Blind to the ways,
Of the people who now I hold dear.
Its loud and clear.
The world is full of angry young men,
Chip on the shoulder,
An ideal in their head.
The world is full of angry young men,
Who think life owes them something,
But you only get out what goes in.
There was a time,
When I fought the worldm
I see now,
It was just an actors stage.
I see clear,
The colours through the haze.
As time goes on,
Your opinion will change like the weather.
Things that you said,
Now seem small,
They just dont seem to matter,
I learned for the better.
The world is full of angry young men,
Chip on the shoulder,
And an ideal in their head.
The world is full of angry young men,
Who think life owes them something,
But you only get out what goes in.
There was a time I was lost in the dark,
I ran a race I didnt know where to start.
Now Ive changed my ways,
Seeing better days,
Im turning my world upside down.
The world is full of angry young men,
Chip on the shoulder,
And an ideal in their head.
The world is full of angry young men,
Who think life owes them something,
But you only get out what goes in.
Angry young men,
What you put in is what you get out.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sun And Steel
You killed your first man at 13
Killer instinct, Animal supreme
By 16 you had learned to fight
The way of the warrior, you took it as your right
Sunlight, falling on your steel
Death in life is your ideal
Life is like a wheel
Sunlight, falling on your steel
Death in life is your ideal
Life is like a wheel
Through earth and water, fire and wind
You came at last - nothing was the end
Make a cut by fire and stone
Take you and your blade and break you both in two
Break you both in two
Sunlight, falling on your steel
Death in life is your ideal
Life is like a wheel
Sunlight, falling on your steel
Death in life is your ideal
Life is like a wheel - rolling on and on
Sunlight, falling on your steel
Death in life is your ideal
Life is like a wheel
Sunlight, falling on your steel
Death in life is your ideal
Life is like a wheel
Sunlight, falling on your steel
Death in life is your ideal
Life is like a wheel
Sunlight, falling on your steel
Death in life is your ideal
Life is like a wheel - and it's rolling still
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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