Highly Valued Objects
The highness of an object resides in its lustre,
Demanding traits are discarded, like silk.
Interiors of the organs of a body are of the corpse,
Relishing nothing for nobody, and nobody else.
Then the disease of the heart enters the calm,
Fostering new teachings for everybody, and unique too.
Let the praise of heaven be our neighbour,
Insert the eye of sheep in the dishes.
A dish is a dish, a body is a corpse
But a cadaver in secret, an excellency.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Related quotes
Behnd the Wall of Sleep/Wasp
Precious cups within the flower
deadly petals with strange power
faces shine a deadly smile
back up on you at your trial
Chill and numbs from head to toe
icy sun with frosty glow
Why'd you go reaching your sorrow?
why'd you go read no tomorrow
Feel your spirit rise with the priest
feel your body falling to its knees
Take your walk of remorse
take your body to a corpse
take your body to a corpse
take your body to a corpse
if you want all remorse
take your body to a corpse
Now from darkness
song performed by by Black Sabbath from Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Behind The Wall Of Sleep
Precious cups within the flower
Deadly petals with strange power
Faces shine a deadly smile
Back up on you at your trial
Chill and numbs from head to toe
Icy sun with frosty glow
Whyd you go reaching your sorrow?
Whyd you go read no tomorrow
Feel your spirit rise with the priest
Feel your body falling to its knees
Take your walk of remorse
Take your body to a corpse
Take your body to a corpse
Take your body to a corpse
If you want all remorse
Take your body to a corpse
Now from darkness, there springs light
Wall of sleep is cold and bright
Wall of sleep is lying broken
Sun shines in, you are awoken
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A walking corpse
I walk around like a zombie.
A reflection of a corpse.
Like Im in a body thats not mine.
A body depression has invaded.
Im a reflection of a corpse.
So numb and dead inside.
Not being able to feel.
Trapped in a body.
That once used to be mine.
Now its like its someone elses.
Im a walking corpse.
So very dead inside.
As numb as numb
Number than Ice.
Depression has over road.
And overtaken me.
Its made me like a walking corpse.
I may aswell be dead.
Thats how I feel inside.
A excellent resembalence
Of a walking corpse.
Mabey I can fight it
But that I very much doubt.
I have had to fight to many demons.
One more I cant fight this yet.
Im a walking corpse.
Dead inside.
A marvolos resembalence.
Of a walking corpse
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Man is not whole, sans woman
Body sans soul is a corpse.
Soul sans body is ether.
Man is the corpse.
Woman is the soul.
Both together make life.
The corpse deteriorates.
But the ether exists.
Sans woman, man decays;
Sans man, woman stays.
Woman qua volunteer to Gandhiji,
woman qua adopted daughter to A.B. Vajpoyee,
woman qua daughter to Pandit Nshru
lent to respective men the soul.
26.12.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Icthus (JS#5)
Epiphany 5
Many fishes
Jesus fishes
Peter no fish
Jesus “pish pish “
Peter empty dish
Jesus full dish
Peter bare dish
Jesus extra dish
Peter one dish
Jesus many dishes
Peter fish
Jesus fishes
B.C. fish
A.D. fishes
B.C. Moses
A.D. Jesus
poem by James Hart
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Flaming Dragon Curry
On the menu, I spotted Flaming Dragon Curry,
But, to try this dish, I am in no particular hurry;
It has onions, red peppers, and chicken (diced) ,
Steeped in seasoning, herbs, and Indian spice.
I'd probably be sitting there with streaming eyes:
For me to try this dish, I think, would not be wise.
As well as watery eyes, my mouth would be on fire;
Neither of which is a sensation I particularly desire.
Five red chillies indicated it was the hottest dish there;
Certainly way too hot for my taste-buds to ever bear.
I consider that this curry is only for the very brave;
It is certainly not a dish that I would ever crave.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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What the Chinese Would Say behind the Japs
they think they are greater
but look they use our characters
to write their own names, their own names! ! !
taking our lamps, our light to brighten up their own houses,
civilisation, their own souls,
originality, creativity thrown to the winds
and they talk about intelligence with us
these half schooled barbarians
who once ransacked our survival
waylaid our pride, like how Rome tore down
the Temple of Jerusalem, the Germans
exterminated the Jews............
the disciples who learnt morals only to sidetrack
their masters, our philosophers, to bury their corpses
in their gardens, flowers grown over them
but a corpse is a corpse! ! !
behind the beauty of everything Japanese
is but a corpse that each of them tries desperately to hide
the very thing that explains the obsession with cleanliness
but a corpse is a corpse
it is unpleasant and lives on
in the japanese mind to disturb them
if they let it hide in their soul
without proper atonement
and adherence to the master's teachings
rain, storm and earthquake would destroy the blooms
and expose the skeletons below them
the skeletons that refuse to be whitewashed
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Autopsy and the Corpse
Coroner: This is very complicating and in the whole body music runs and
It takes couple of years to diagnose.
Corpse: It doesn't make any difference dear officer just sign and give so and
so died as the others.
Coroner: It's really difficult as the corpse still speaking and the music goes on
never stops it seems?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Healthy Body Means A Healthy Mind
Everybody wants
A healthy body
A compassionate heart
A fine smooth mind
A skin that glows
Hairs that are soft
And freely flow
As smooth as silk
As soft as a cloud
The one who has them
Makes him feel proud
To have a body like this
One does not have to do
Anything special
Has to develop
The habit of excercise
Do not eat food
That is junk and greasy
Respect and preserve
The gift god has given to you
Take Care of your body
The body shall keep you
And your heart happy
Throughout your life
Disease
Shall not come
Near you
Love your body
It shall love you
Never forget
A healthy body means
A healthy mind
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Aggression
The compilation of aggression is a far-fetched book,
It has bonds of degree, the findings are there inside.
Inside the body and its soap of heaven remains are clear
Over the waters of our own bodies, the corpse is clearly us.
To charm us please accuse and refuse once they appear,
Organs offered by us, we are donors, clearly repair the man;
Once the compilation is a commotion of sorts,
The pedigree of a man is hidden, concealed by him.
To refuse and interfere may bring bad luck,
As this furiously changes as if history has enlarged.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The body has all merits
Imagine there is no temple where it is.
Imagine there is no tomb where it is.
The space underneath the both is same.
Imagine the soul casts its holy body.
Imagine the soul casts its lowly body.
Which do you hate: the soul or the body?
If body, the body sans soul is a corpse.
We still love and hate one’s body alone.
05.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Digger's Song
Scrape the bottom of the hole: gather up the stuff,
Fossick in the crannies, lest you leave a grain
behind,
Just another shovelful and that'll be enough,-
Now we'll take it to the bank and see what we can
find,
Give the dish a twirl around,
Let the water swirl around,
Gently let it circulate, there's music in the swish,
And the tinkle of the gravel,
As the pebbles quickly travel
Around in merry circles on the bottom of the dish.
Ah, if man could only wash his life, if he only could,
Panning off the evil deeds, keeping but the
good,
What a mighty lot of digger's dishes would be sold,
Though I fear the heap of tailings would be greater
than the gold,
Give the dish a twirl around,
Let the water swirl around,
Man's the sport of circumstance however he may
wish,
Fortune! are you there now?
Answer to my prayer now,
And drop a half ounce nugget in the bottom of
the dish.
Gently let the water lap, keep the corners dry,
That's about the place the gold will generally stay,
What was that bright particle that just then
caught my eye?
I fear me by the look of things 'twas only yellow
clay,
Just another twirl around,
Let the water swirl around,
That's the way we rob the river of its golden fish,
What's that? can't we snare a one?
Don't say that there's ne'er a one,
Bah, there's not a colour in the bottom of the dish.
poem by Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
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Over The Dead Body
Don’t fight over the dead body
Grudge and ego of people left behind
Could raise the worst world war
Don’t scared over the dead body
Silence and stillness of living human
Is more frightening than the ghost
Don’t keep mourning over the dead body
Sadness and lost of the one we love
Will be replaced by forever peace
Don’t worship over the dead body
Dreams could only be real and achieved
If we open our eyes to the world
Don’t disrespect over the dead body
It once belonged to precious life
Though the evidence corpse severely decayed
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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On Organ Donation
If you’re brain-dead by accidents:
Your eyes can continue to see
By being placed in one who needs,
And live for another life-time!
Your heart can continue to beat
In one who needs a living pump
To circulate the blood around!
Your kidneys both can excrete wastes
In persons two with uraemia,
And help them live for some more years!
Your liver transplanted in one
With alcoholic cirrhosis
Can help him live for some more weeks!
Your pancreas, lungs, intestines,
Bone, bone-marrow and entire skin
Can be help to keep fifty alive!
Donate your other organs too
To ones in dire need of them,
And make your corpse to help men live!
So, gift your body parts to ones
Who seem to be in verge of death
And help continue to breathe!
Donate your organs; help men live!
You can serve God and man though dead!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 9-5-2009
poem by John Celes
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A Weaponry
The real nature of a weapon, the real sort of prize,
Is its joy of presentation to the other half.
One man is incredible for joking about death,
The real bomb awaits the people to matter.
One sword is not two storms of death,
But ten innocent dead men, who simply have deceased.
Seize and rock him about with hands and feet,
The body shall become a corpse, a harvest of a kind
Is gathered, the corpse then uncovered,
For all to really matter.
poem by Naveed Akram
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I am nothing but a corpse now, a body at the bottom of a well.
Orhan Pamuk in My Name is Red
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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In youth the human body drew me and was the object of my secret and natural dreams. But body after body has taken away from me that sensual phosphorescence which my youth delighted in. Within me is no disturbing interplay now, but only the steady currents of adaptation and of sympathy.
quote by Haniel Long
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Beloved of a Poet
If you offer your body to a rich man, he will give you a shelter,
delicious food three times, clothes and pleasures in all your organs.
He may give you a heart which is as dead as a withered river.
If he loves very much, he may make you owner of a vast land.
Can a vast land be the price of your body?
Those who are slaves of body will not be able to recognize
the secret mine of mystery lying into the folds of your body.
Only the goldsmith knows the value of gold.
Who knows, o girl, what a jewel your beauty is but a poet?
Be the beloved of the poet, you will gain the life of nymph.
If you look at me for a moment, I will give you snatching the heart of flower and compose on your lips the new verses of kiss.
But if you give me your heart, don't get frightened, o sweetie,
an immortal epic of love will be composed for you all on a sudden.
poem by Sayeed Abubakar
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I've always done 20 things at once. It's my way of staying alive, not to keep one dish cooking, but several dishes going. And I'm pretty organized.
quote by Patrice Leconte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A corpse is meat gone bad. Well and what's cheese? Corpse of milk.
quote by James Joyce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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