A Lesson In Living
What words expel the conscious
leaving the mind to wander aimless
Where history haunts like a ghost
Forever watched by the days past
Then to the future that great unknown
The words and phrases of a mortal fear
Hold present in each taken breath
What awaits, what awaits
Anticipation burns beneath the skin
A fiery torment of a busy mind
The levels of observation and judgment
Overwhelm a tired soul
Love a word of just four letters
Becomes a saviour to behold
A creation of countless misunderstandings
Bore into the world into the conscious
A daily never ending cascade of thought
Each one becoming a lesson in living
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Man Is Foolish
The human mind works on three tiers
With upper, middle and lower levels
As the conscious mind, the subconscious
And the unconscious respectively.
While the conscious mind is voluntary,
The subconscious and the unconscious
Are autonomous and automatic.
The conscious mind is to one's awareness.
The subconscious colours the conscious mind
And the unconscious is independent.
Sexual overtone in the subconscious
Will impact the external behaviors.
The subconscious is the reservoir of
Lust, jealousy, fear, hatred and revenge.
Bitten by a dog, one is struck with fear,
Which lurks deep inside to fear any dog.
The subconscious and the unconscious
Are responsible for all the actions
Done impulsively or instinctively.
One is helpless to be not foolish.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Beauty is holistic
Be clean; you are conscious of skin.
Do yoga; you are conscious of body.
Do prnayama; you are conscious of energy.
Do meditation; you are conscious of mind.
Being conscious of it is strengthening of it.
Then which woman can resist you?
12.08.2001, Pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Words
we open the doors to worlds unknown
when we sit and read.
words help us to travel
this earth far and wide
even makes us soar high into the sky.
words can tell us of the past
the present, and even the future.
if we only look
inside a book.
words to make a contract
words to make a vow
all these words
we can use right now.
words tell your feelings, your thoughts, desires, passions
likes, dislikes, fears, joys
but most of all, love can express the love you have within.
for a mother, father, sister, brother
for a man or a woman.
your chest becomes overwhelmed
with the feeling that you have inside.
a love that you can not hide.
a love so strong that it consumes your soul
a beautiful wonder to behold.
for it rises higher than the highest mountain
and deeper than the deepest sea.
when you say those special words
'you belong to me'.
words sharpen the mind to all that is done
like the rising of the sun.
if we could not see or hear words,
it would be like living in darkness.
and never learning to appreciate
what we was given.
so these words i write today
expresses what i want to say.
without words we could not live
and that my friend
would be a down right sin.
poem by Louis Rams
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Spirit In Black
Welcome to my world
Involve yourself within my dream
Experience a life
Just like your mind thought not to be
Take a look through time
As past or present words to be
I rule this inferno
Enthroned for eternity
Coils of the serpent unwind
Buried beneath you will find
Deep in the halls of the damned
Spirit in black till the journey's end
Spirits damned to rot
Amidst the brimstone fireballs
Eyes of the dead
Watching from their living walls
Broken glass reflections
Show your flesh eaten away
Beyond the gates I'll take you
Where the blood forever rains
Coils of the serpent unwind
Buried beneath you will find
Deep in the halls of the damned
Spirit in black till the journey's end
Afterlife confessions
Tell me who you used to be
Looking on in wonder
As I show you it was me
Burning from within
You know one spark is all it takes
Hear the piercing cries of all
Who found that hell awaits
Living nightmare can't you see
You really have no choice
Faded memories haunt you
Listen clearly to my voice
Feed me all your hatred
Empty all your thoughts to me
I can fill your emptiness
With immortality
Welcome to my world
Involve yourself within my dream
Experience a life just like your mind thought not to be
Take a look through time
As past or present words to be
I rule this inferno
Enthroned for eternity
song performed by by Slayer from Seasons In The Abyss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The White Room
(SpringfieldVallance)
I can see her at her windows watching,
locked away inside her skin,
I can see her but I can't get to her, she won't come out,
and she won't let me into
The white room (she's living in)
Lying alone til she comes undone
In the white room, she burns for the real thing.
But it won't come.
In her head is the same obsession
and all the bottles and pills won't heal her heart.
She heard his last confession
and every word just tears her apart
In the white room (locked away)
doing time till her time is done
In the white room there's so much to say
but the words won't come.
Come back to the land of the living,
when you gonna break the chain,
there's so much too much that you're leaving
and you're never gonna stop the rain
In the white room.
waiting for the call that never comes
in the white room, she awaits.
Look at something long enough you'll find,
that the splinters and the cracks begin to show,
I'll be the first in line when the walls start falling
and she lets go of
The white room (it's late)
living alone only makes you numb
In the white room she burns for the real thing
but it won't come
In the white room (she's living in) I think its time
that you're time is done,
In the white room she burns
In the white room (it's late)
lying alone till she comes undone
In the white room she awaits
In the white room
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Breaking The Chain
To find my spirit, is to free my mind.
My mind tells me what I want.
My spirit tells me what I already have.
What is pleasing to the eyes,
Is poison to the spirit.
Love things and use people.
Give the power to a thought,
Leaves me powerless.
My mind wants control of all.
My spirit says I must control myself.
For it is all I have the power to do.
If I fear I am sick,
I can will myself to feel sick.
Even though I am really well.
I live according to my fears.
My life is surrounded by my giant.
I cannot breathe.
I am suffocated, by what I imagine.
I think what once was, still is.
I fear for my future, based on my past.
I cannot move forward,
If I am constantly held back.
By the chains of my mind that bind me,
I can only be at one place at one time.
My past or my present.
If I hold on to both,
One hand on my past, one on my future,
They each pull me in opposite directions,
Leaving me torn.
Let go of the past.
Grab a hold of the future with both hands.
It's will to be a wild ride!
With my mind, all things are probable.
With my spirit, all things are possible.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Present Compressed By Past and Future!
Once I was so enchanted,
So attracted and absorbed,
Beauty of flower made me
talk to it
I asked what is secret,
of its enchanting smile!
'O, friend', the flower talked to me,
I live in present,
no compression,
by past and future,
No depression of past memories,
No anticipation unborn future,
Busy in my own present,
Living in this instant,
No fear of harm,
no ffeeling of warm,
you look me as whole,
But, I have universe in me as a whole,
The universe works on its own,
Only I am witness for fate of my own!
No compression no depression,
Not even any absessi,
Bees affect me with their nature,
Yet no affective complexes in me!
I am born for some purpose,
Only animal magnetism run through bees and me!
I not get flattered either by your words,
Nor I feel pride or fear,
when bees fly at me,
neither lured by the music of bee's wings,
nor getting frustrated
with irritating bees!
I am born for my purpose,
And may or may not I complete them
my ambition are nil, inhibitions may kill my spirit,
Desirefree and libidofree attitude may be secret of my smile '!
Stunned by flowers reply I felt ashamed,
Man is one who lives not in present,
Because memories of past,
Anticipation of future,
Mistakes of the past and aspirations,
Makes past and future seem infinite,
compress present into an instant,
May be negligible and infinitesimal!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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In the spirit of Rumi - 77 - Fullness
When I arose from prayer this morning
and the dew had made the whole world new,
I was full of fullness;
full of observation as
an angel, as a bee; and yet
no need to observe anything,
save that which called to me;
full of rest, which rests behind
all the day’s activities;
full of alertness, as an eagle
glides on the warming morning air
and watches for what wills;
the mind as clear as morning sky
waiting for what will pass across it;
full of a goodness which awaits
to know what might be asked of it;
full of truth, which waits for a question
to be asked, the heart to move,
eager ears to listen;
full of a beauty beyond all words,
yet to be praised in words;
full of poetry, which awaits
to be spoken when the moment
calls for words.
When I arose from prayer this morning
the Lord’s mercy had made the whole world new.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Humanity In Harmony
so tiring numb
casting mind back
into decades past
to conform
to previous
liquid life lived
thoughts ideas
words emotions
past thought
to live
form thought
confined
in spectral images
ghost life
echo of who
we were lived with
seize power energy
potent in today
life opportunities
are waiting
for creation
dreams be born
shape better word
now tomorrow
future children
future reality
create a new world
a better world
humanity in harmony
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The tired mind
The tired mind
~
The tired mind bemoans a weary traveller
Far too old in the day as night time falls
Dust laden boots kicked to the dirt
An aching body laid down to sleep
While memories continue to stir
Unavoidable to a weathered thought
The onset of a life’s adventures
The romances won and lost
The unknown of what is still to come
A day hence shall be revealed
For now fear and anticipation linger
A tired mind plays on trivial questions
Labouring to forget and to sleep
Heavy set eyes look out into nothing
Into the night the ending of the day
Old and late the hour has come
For a weary traveller to say goodnight
And for a tired mind to be done
poem by Matthew Holloway
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0091 The Scholar - A Dutch portrait
The scholar, in his book-lined study, sits,
walled in by printed thought in black and white;
silent; by a pool of lamplight lit;
now still in reading, or now drawn to write;
inaudible, the music of his mind,
invisible, that dazzling light, his thought;
unknown, the destiny of human kind;
unwrit, the future glories to be sought;
he like a human hour-glass: single grains
passing into future mind from past;
and in his presence, all Creation reigns,
the history of the world from first to last.
this secret glory, scholars are allowed;
so fragile; mortal; subtle; noble; proud.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Home
Sometimes I want to go home,
the place where Jesus awaits.
I'm tired of being alone
and acceptance is too far away.
Living in a world that feels so painful
leaving me weak and my faith dying quickly.
The fight is hard but the win is
eternal life; so the battle will last till the end.
I want to go home for my own defence,
somedays I just can't win.
I'm not the prettiest girl, maybe not at all
but I hold no shame for my heart is more beautiful than all..
The world is torment,
the hate is murder,
and life is confusing.
I want to go home!
But I can't do much except for wait
until the day God calls my name...
poem by Garnett Angel Loving Soul
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Memories Re-lived
For far too long now
I have been facing backwards
Fists clenched
Back turned defiantly
On my future and the unknown
Instead I choose to plant my thoughts
In warm late August afternoons
And days gone by
Under the watchful eye of the moon
I pore over memories
Like precious treasures brought up from the sea bed
Each time I expose them to my conscious mind
They become a little fainter
A little less real
Over and over I replay them
Wishing I could go back
My soul crys for the lost oppurtunities
And beautiful summer afternoons
But now, reluctantly,
I must leave those days to rest
Where they belong, in my past
And in my mind
I stand and leave
My love, my best friend and me
To laugh forever
In the August sun
poem by Kathryn Gardiner
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Past, Present, Future
i lived in the past for so long
that the present was always unknown.
now i always look ahead at all the possibilities
and there is so much, that i now see.
a shimmer of light at the end of the tunnel
and my thoughts being poured through a funnel.
the past is the past, and that's where it will stay
and in the present, we have to find a better way.
for the present will soon be our past
and if we don't do something, it will not last.
we must always look to the future
for it is only twenty four hours away
then it will be our past
and we have so much to do and say.
when i look at life, i truely have to laugh
today is our future and tomorrow it'll be our past.
now that i have you confused as to what i am
trying to say.
i guess i will try' to put it a better way'.
we all tend to procrastinate
always leaving it for tomorrow.
but! what if you don't see tomorrow.
and today you did'nt accomplish that task
how will you be remembered
if the present you left for last.
when we leave this material world
and our souls soar up in the sky
we will still have our memories
and that we can rely.
for when we get up there(if we do)
your soul will have carried all that you did
in this life
and the memories of friends, family
husband, or wife.
now when you look down on all that you had did
and asking yourself the question.
did i use my time, the way it was
meant to be?
or did i procrastinate, that others now speak of me?
we all have to work in order to survive.
but we must stop on occasion to smell the flowers.
and to enjoy all that we was given
otherwise how can you call this living.
(my thoughts: the words and stories were given to me.
so that i could write them down, for al the world to see.)
this is my philosophy.
poem by Louis Rams
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Wintermoon
Under stars,
under sky,
I will walk,
my path and fate.
Wathing the moon,
the ghostly light,
enchanted by its beauty.
I will walk forever on,
knowing that past is past,
and future is future.
Life is only lived in the present.
I will walk,
in winter, spring, summer and autumm,
watching the moon,
enchanted by its beauty.
I walk down the path of spring,
knowing my fate awaits,
I'm walking the path of life.
I walk the path of summer,
looking at the sun,
warmed by the sun,
I'm alive and growing,
nature is part of me.
I walk the path of autumm,
seeing the prey of death,
beautiful coulours of the fiery soul,
striving to live once again.
Once future, now the base of knowledge,
THE future.
I walk down the path of winter,
looking at the wintersky,
bewitched by the wintermoon,
so clean,
so beautiful,
and yet so cold.
I will live in the present,
walking towards the future,
while this life of mine is build upon the past.
The past is me,
I'm the past, the present and the future.
Who Dreams Multiple Mysteries?
would you believe phenomenon if I told truth
I dream multiple poems those I wake to write
message meaning manifestation set unique
perfection I dream yet awake forget cannot
write as if bliss cosmic mysteries cannot exist
within woken world where other values egos
rule within materialism which places no value
on spiritual enlightenment evolution struggles
on hidden universal mysteries never fear seek
out research into missing dark matter enter an
unknown unseen dimension hidden existence
know I wait until you join search cosmic unity
behold bliss wonderment which awaits there
would you believe miracle if I told seen truth?
unknown unseen dimension hidden quantum existence
behold bliss wonderment awaits exploration observation
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Woe is Me
Woe is Me
By: Adam M. Snow
The dawning of an ageless night,
Starts with fear of love's delight,
Calling upon a vespertine heart,
Who doesn't say, would soon fall apart.
Broken tears now laid to rest,
My sorrow tears knows what's best.
My ghost shows pity for the lost,
With final dreams the only cost.
Lest I forget the endless sorrow,
Coming close, the forsaken morrow,
Melancholy of my one desire,
Burning sensationally like a fire,
Waking from a lonely slumber,
No dream should I encumber.
My destiny awaits my fate,
Feeling no love, only hate.
My ghost awaits the world to see,
One thing on my mind, 'Woe is me.'
poem by Adam M. Snow
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A Time Machine Mind!
Human mind, dreams, vision and imagination
Can transport one forward and backward in time.
Mind is the time machine to go to past and future
But time never goes backward but only forward;
Also, time never goes in circle but only straight!
Recollection of past is possible in the present;
Visualization of future is possible in the present;
But one cannot go to the past or future ever now!
Hour glass can show the time like clock of today
But it cannot bring back the past to reality now
Or bring to our vision the future of world now!
Mind is the time machine that can read history;
Mind is the same machine to see the future too;
But time never goes to the past but only to future!
poem by Ramesh T A
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It Is Not
Conscious of structure.
Conscious of order, law and discipline.
Conscious of those to whom is given respect.
Conscious of tradition and ideals...
And the effect this has on one's mindset.
Conscious of a faith that goes much deeper,
Than the faking of an acceptance of rituals.
Conscious of life,
And the limits of it lived.
Conscious are those,
Who are aware that this life...
Is much more than it is perceived,
It is!
Since it is not what we have been led to believe.
And a consciousness of those conscious of this,
Is what has been received.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Abnormalities of the Self Conscious Mind
Desolate bible fiend
Lies motionless on alters of cobblestone,
Whip at hand,
He masturbates the maggot of his mind,
In the presence of the host,
A mistaken creation, which you cannot yet perceive
The cloaked, perverse intent of your carcass compels you,
Move forward, Let it happen,
The filthy, traumatic aftermath is the grand expectation,
Which not even the creator can surpass,
And so the undisputed violence and harlotry only stews, bitterly,
A rejected product of the blackest hate
An Abomination,
An anathema,
Is now and forever coursing through the conscious brain,
So the civil illusions tremble at the thought of deliverance,
Toxic, infectious race of a tainted humanity,
Oh, relentless oppression of radiating silence!
Cast me into the unspoken,
That the fires may appease my tired, unsatisfied soul
Forever dying,
Liberating my veins from the iron cramps which pinch at the nerves,
As yet another comprehension of pain builds the abnormality which dominates the self conscious mind....
poem by Jack Cropes
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