Exhaustion
The bigots are not tired to kill
and in minds the rules of their cults fill.
The codes of their holy books
are the misleading crooks.
These books cause the blood of the poor to spill.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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The Ruins Of Nalandha
Tears rolled down from our eyes
while standing on the relics
of Nalandha, where seers and monks
discoursed upon the ways for a world
without the futile war and want.
Those who sneaked in from the West,
and those who sneered at the host,
razed it and burnt the holy books.
The sky was also weeping
and we were wet, but mute,
seeing around the sites and mounds.
A secular centre met its grave
as the brutes roamed with a spirit
to kill, loot and destroy.
The remnants reveal their creed!
There the nations should meet
to cull up a common cult to all.
May love of mankind rise out of the ruins!
Excavate the minds to find
the loving – Nature God given..
The fire that consumed the books
may our unbridled greed burn!
Let our minds be monasteries
of thoughts to serve the poor.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Shake Narrow Preachings Off
All races have their origin in one cell.
All the blacks, whites and browns are one.
Were you grown in wombs for ten months
to die early for the cause of religions
and leave the mothers to weep till their end?
Religions catch them young
and teach them obsolete imports from the holy books
and transform a cross-section of them
into open or hidden extremists.
The stocks of narrow ideas are replenished often
with false interpretations of the holy books.
The politicians take the sharp arms of religions
either to seize the throne or not to lose it
If cunning is called intelligence,
the priests in all the cults are brilliant
in shaping the minds of the young
to be martyrs for their cult.
When some countries are in political turmoil,
grown out of religious terror,
the rich people get reprieve for migrating
to nations where peace prevails.
The poor die in cross-fire
in their own mother lands.
When all religions leading to one God,
the priests make them criss-cross,
and whatever the situation may be
heads the priests win and tails the poor lose.
When the earthquakes, volcanos and tsunamis hit,
let not religion and racial animosities
disturb the peace of this earth.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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No Spill Blood
(what is the law? )
(what is the law? )
Animals came from miles around
So tired of walking so close toe the ground
They needed a chance, thats what they said
Life is better walking on two legs
But they were in for a big surprise
cause they didnt know the law!
Chorus
(what is the law)
No spill blood
What is the law
(no spill blood)
(who makes the rules)
Someone else
Who makes the rules
(someone else)
The rules are written in the stone
Break the rules and you get no bones
All you get is ridicule, laughter
And a trip to the house of pain!
Chorus (in reverse order)
We walk on two legs not on four
To walk on four legs breaks the law
What happens when we break the law?
What happens when the rules arent fair?
We all know here we go from there
To the house of pain!
To the house of pain!
(what is the law)
What is the law
(who makes the rules)
Who makes the rules
We walk on two legs not on four
To the house of pain
To the house of pain
To the house of pain
To the house of pain
To the house of pain
(no spill blood)
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballade Of The Bookworm
Far in the Past I peer, and see
A Child upon the Nursery floor,
A Child with books upon his knee,
Who asks, like Oliver, for more!
The number of his years is IV,
And yet in Letters hath he skill,
How deep he dives in Fairy-lore!
The Books I loved, I love them still!
One gift the Fairies gave me: (Three
They commonly bestowed of yore)
The Love of Books, the Golden Key
That opens the Enchanted Door;
Behind it BLUEBEARD lurks, and o'er
And o'er doth JACK his Giants kill,
And there is all ALADDIN'S store, -
The Books I loved, I love them still!
Take all, but leave my Books to me!
These heavy creels of old we bore
We fill not now, nor wander free,
Nor wear the heart that once we wore;
Not now each River seems to pour
His waters from the Muses' hill;
Though something's gone from stream and shore,
The Books I loved, I love them still!
ENVOY.
Fate, that art Queen by shore and sea,
We bow submissive to thy will,
Ah grant, by some benign decree,
The Books I loved--to love them still.
poem by Andrew Lang
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Book Borrower
I am a mild man, you'll agree,
But red my rage is,
When folks who borrow books from me
Turn down their pages.
Or when a chap a book I lend,
And find he's loaned it
Without permission to a friend -
As if he owned it.
But worst of all I hate those crooks
(May hell-fires burn them!)
Who beg the loan of cherished books
And don't return them.
My books are tendrils of myself
No shears can sever . . .
May he who rapes one from its shelf
Be damned forever.
poem by Robert William Service
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Books
The universe (which others call the library). . .
-Jorge Luis Borges
Books which are stitched up the center with coarse white thread
Books on the beach with sunglass-colored pages
Books about food with pictures of weeping grapefruits
Books about baking bread with browned corners
Books about long-haired Frenchmen with uncut pages
Books of erotic engravings with pages that stick
Books about inns whose stars have sputtered out
Books of illuminations surrounded by darkness
Books with blank pages & printed margins
Books with fanatical footnotes in no-point type
Books with book lice
Books with rice-paper pastings
Books with book fungus blooming over their pages
Books with pages of skin with flesh-colored bindings
Books by men in love with the letter O
Books which smell of earth whose pages turn
poem by Erica Jong
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Of all the ways of acquiring books, writing them oneself is regarded as the most praiseworthy method. Writers are really people who write books not because they are poor, but because they are dissatisfied with the books which they could buy but do not like.
quote by Walter Benjamin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Picture-Books in Winter
Summer fading, winter comes--
Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,
Window robins, winter rooks,
And the picture story-books.
Water now is turned to stone
Nurse and I can walk upon;
Still we find the flowing brooks
In the picture story-books.
All the pretty things put by,
Wait upon the children's eye,
Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,
In the picture story-books.
We may see how all things are
Seas and cities, near and far,
And the flying fairies' looks,
In the picture story-books.
How am I to sing your praise,
Happy chimney-corner days,
Sitting safe in nursery nooks,
Reading picture story-books?
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Dad and Me
Inside our house you'll find crannies and nooks.
Crevices and cracks and fissures and books!
Books under the bed and on the floor,
Books around the table and beside the door,
Books on the bookshelf and surrounding it,
Books all over the house, every single bit!
Not a one of these books are non-fiction,
Different worlds are their depiction.
Fictional, sci-fi, dark and fantasy,
Horror and happy, more books for me!
Books belonging to my father,
Or belonging to me as I rather.
My father and I in bookworm heaven,
Until mum cleans up around half past seven.
She throws the books in a huff,
Says it's a mess and to clean it up!
Well dad and I try to clean,
But on the work we quickly wean
And in one of the larger nooks
You'll find dad and me reading our books.
poem by Lenore Lee
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Books up on books
Color in Black, color in white
And also in different colors
Colors were brushed in minds
Respectively be hard
Printed embossed letters
In books of epigraphy
Color in black
On Space of white
Told that is black
Black white and colors
Books up on books
Being closed near by
Dialogues having intercourse
Get soaked colors of minds
Smudged
Scabrous words
Boorish colors
In a content of
In a book
Wearing a strange cover
Not get closed
And be separated
Having filed up afar
At the library of old
On a table
Books up on books
Turn pages
Marking and conflicting
And also comparing
An empty paper
A pen
A hand with five fingers
An artist
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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Two Wise Men
there is a legacy, an old legacy of two books
the old books of ancient
the ancient wisdom
of two men
two wise men
with good hearts
and good minds
one by name of Luqman
and the other man
is the great porphet-king Solomon
I didn't find these two books
but I found
THe wise words
of these two men
The songs
of wisdom's book
pouring from the heaven
to the heart
the MAN with NO FAITH in ALLAH
is NO MAN
BE faithful then your illness is all gone
THere is holy obligation upon man
care for parents as they care
then be fair free from bias
upon your self
upon your men
or your enemy
you will win; then and ofter
in this life
and thereafter
poem by Sallam Yassin
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My intellectual shortcomings
He loves books
Books that he cannot buy
He gets the intellect
He gets the mind
He gets rich in time
Trusting his instincts
He buys books
That he cannot read anymore
He gets so many minds
He loses his intellect
With all regret to what
Happened, he loses his face
And wants to recover at least his eyes
By writing some of these poems.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cults
I will not suffer cults or doctrine,
thats designed to let evil spirits in
to this world, our families,
to manipulate us as they please,
because they're evil,
and so unkind,
they want to get into your mind,
as they're paranoid of being caught,
for doing things they shouldn't ought,
to do to people, young and old,
to leave us empty, feeling cold,
so they can steal your life your gold,
pirate assholes, they will see,
that they will not get the better of me,
and I'll destroy all those that try,
because they've opened my little eye,
to all their evils, their devious ways,
so I will spend the rest of my days,
getting rid of such evil creatures,
pirates, clergy, and false teachers.
and the clans that cause such evil ways,
from NASA and many other planes,
will be removed, sent on their way,
and stop them having their evil ways,
with me and you, and all you love,
and protect your children from such cults,
with evil books and evil bibles,
the like of which promote heathenism,
and ever feuding tribalism
to gain them blood and babies too,
to carry out rites that are not due,
to good and kind people,
to the righteous minds,
so lets get rid of them,
dispell them, and their kind.
poem by Paul G Fisher
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He Was Lucky
The old man
leaves his house, carries books.
A German soldier snatches his books
flings them in the mud.
The old man picks them up,
the soldier hits him in the face.
The old man falls,
the soldier kicks him and walks away.
The old man
lies in mud and blood.
Under him he feels
the books.
poem by Anna Swirszczynska
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I Know I Have A Copy Somewhere
Wherever you may choose to look
You're guaranteed to find a book.
Perhaps a murder mystery.
Anthologies of poetry
Reference books and picture books.
Books on witchcraft and black magic
Tomes on almost any topic.
Some by authors long since dead.
Books which try to look ahead.
Books of every shape and size.
As I have come to realise.
Enough to start a library
Though jumbled up haphazardly.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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It is chiefly through books that we enjoy intercourse with superior minds. In the best books, great men talk to us, give us their most precious thoughts, and pour their souls into ours.
quote by William Ellery Channing
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Second Hand Books
Books! Books! Books! There are so many different designs.
There are some which, by the author, are personally signed.
Some books have pages with gilt edges, which look all posh.
Some have nice pictures on their covers, which are embossed.
Some books have hard covers, while some have soft.
Some are all dusty, where they’ve been kept in the loft.
Some books have fancy covers; some just have plain.
Some have suffered mishaps, and are now all stained.
Some books are all dog-eared at the corners of their pages.
Some have gone yellow, where they’ve been around ages.
Inside some books, there can be seen a pencilled name;
Someone, who once, on this particular book, had a claim.
Some are obviously well read; their spines are all creased.
From out of a book, amazing adventures can be unleashed.
Some books have pages which are spoiled or a bit torn.
Some have covers which are grubby and look well worn.
Some just have text, while others also include illustrations.
Some are former prize winners; once the toast of the nation.
There are books by famous authors, as well as the lesser known.
Some are former library books which, to the public, were loaned.
There are romances, poetry, classics, sci-fi, humour, and histories;
Gardening, cookery, travel, thrillers, manga, and murder mysteries.
In wooden bookcases, the books are categorised, and are neatly lined.
In a second hand bookshop, you just never know what you may find.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Central Passion
What is the central passion
of a life?
To please mummy & daddy?
To find a home for their furniture?
To found a family of one's own,
possibly a dynasty?
To fill the world with more books
that have no readers
or books that have too many
& kill
too many trees?
What is the passion
that drives us
as the wind drives
a winged seed?
To reproduce ourselves,
then die?
To meet God once
if only in a dream?
To reach enlightenment
through pain
or pleasure?
Or perhaps just
to question
as I am doing now,
& to teach by questioning. . .
Yes- this is both passion
& power
enough.
poem by Erica Jong
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On Books
Books are my first love, I’m so proud to read;
They give me knowledge and help life to lead;
Hours, days just pass by, by reading life-time;
Life would not be worth, if not for my rhyme.
Great are those people who write books all life;
Burning just candles, with Goose-quills in strife;
Tired of writing though day-long or night,
They keep on writing in such a bad light.
Books serve a great cause; their value can’t cease;
It takes years to write but reading is ease;
Book-makers struggle to print a few books;
And keep spending time to, improve their looks.
Some find their way to libraries in town;
Some remain untouched and nev’r taken down;
Silver-fish, Moths eat the books that are old;
Some are gone obsolete, some sold like gold.
Some are in tatters and must be rebound;
Books are Man’s best friends where solace is found;
Reading for long hours, does help you to learn;
Books give much knowledge and wisdom to men.
Read books with great care whose weight is in gold;
Serve generations though they may be old;
Source of much Info, deserving respect;
Books are life-partners whom you ne’er reject!
poem by John Celes
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It is chiefly through books that we enjoy intercourse with superior minds, and these invaluable means of communication are in the reach of all. In the best books, great men talk to us, give us their most precious thoughts, and pour their souls into ours.
quote by William E. Channing
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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