The thirst of gods for you
now i have seen your world
tumble
it is reversed now, the roof has
become the floor
and you suffer and here i am
comforting you
that somehow you are a strong woman
who can endure all these
you can build a new house again
sooner
you can put the windows in the number
that you want it
some doors of privacy
a garden of red roses
a trail of green grass and you can put more
stars than what you
had before
i am silent somehow about what you did
when you were one of those
heavenly bodied
before everything fell off
the sky where you lived once was
filled with the arrogance of your
meteors
the greed of your spaces
the deceit of your looks and
the inhumanity of your acts
have polluted
what once were clear rivers
where all used to drink
for life
so many died because of your
hatred
so many were maimed because of
your indifference
and now
the gods must have rewarded you
with what is due you
and you now complain about
an indescribable pain
this suffering that seems so
endless
you are weighed by the Furies now
and you have weighed
less than expected
i only have pity for you
but to bring you to my world
i must not perhaps tell you
but i must admit
i can't.
because you now deserve
to suffer
for another hundred years
the gods
are thirsty...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Expectedly
houses are strong
and well insulated
in your
hinterland
but mine is on top
of the hill
kissed by the sun
it is open to the
air
they come and go
and come again
this is the house without
doors and stairs
a house deprived of
windows
and peeping holes
and cracks and
slits
this is the house of the
sun
the earth loves it
its body attached
to the grass
it has no pillars
but trees
no roof but clouds
no walls but spaces
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Comforting To Know
(Carly Simon)
When the heart of the hundred acre wood is beating
And time is passing through
There's a shadow looking like a rainbows halo
And there I'm resembling you
More than fame
A name on a tree
More than power or might
Sweeter than the treats of a honey bee
I'll be here through the night
It's comforting to know
It's comforting to know
Silent as the moon at dawn
Soothing as a bed filled with hay
Strong as a hero in the land of old
I'll be here through the day
It's comforting to know
It's comforting to know
Greyer than gloom on a rainy afternoon
Sadder than being sorry for me
Finer than finding my tail again
I'll be here for all of thee
It's comforting to know
It's comforting to know
You only get a few good friends in this life
Who are devoted and true
And right here in this now and near
It's clear that it's all of you
I'll find you when you're hard to see
I'll look for you everywhere
You'll know just how I'm feeling when
I show you that I care
It's comforting to know
It's so comforting to know
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Comprehension...Or Torment
No one knows,
When we suffer.
Or how it is we suffer,
When suffering comes and is done...
By anyone
No one knows the extent of it.
How deep what is felt.
And when those sorrows visit to sit.
Although folks give advice and instructions.
With sections of pamphlets,
To read by professionals.
To emphasize their recommendations,
Underlined in 'red'.
Suggestions researched...
To read and ease our minds,
Before going to bed!
Hopefully not to stay awake...
To pace the floor instead.
No one knows,
When we suffer.
Or how it is we suffer,
When suffering comes and is done...
By anyone.
When suffering comes.
And alone it is done!
And listening to someone say to us to pray...
Is not a cure all or remedy,
That takes our suffering to numb quickly away.
But...
Pray we must,
And trust...
That those burdens carried,
Will be lifted up and away from us.
Knowing in our hearts...
God watches and will do His part!
No one knows,
When we suffer.
Or how it is we suffer,
When suffering comes and is done....
By anyone.
When suffering comes.
And alone it is done!
So it seems.
Only God knows how to heal and mend!
Only God knows when to send our sufferings away.
And many times with faith...
God intervenes.
Before the suffering has had a chance,
To arrive on the scene.
Depending on what it is we wish to choose.
Comprehension...
Or torment,
With unquestioned agony!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Do Not Pity Me
Do not pity me, my friend.
Do not pity me.
For I have always lived my life
the way I wanted it to be.
I played. I sang
and laughed a lot.
And all the tears
I cried, I forgot.
Do not pity me, my friend.
Do not pity me.
For I was granted gifts from God,
gifts you cannot see.
A feeling of freedom,
a feeling of peace,
an intuitive knowing
that troubles do cease.
Do not pity me, my friend.
Do not pity me.
For I have learned my lessons well
and know I hold the key
that opens up my diary.
Its pages are filled with anecdotal times
that ring out like bells
and sweet wind chimes.
A marriage of joys
with two baby boys,
a childhood filled
with more than just toys,
Aches and pain
that helped me retain
compassion for those
that suffer life's blows.
So do not pity me, my friend.
Do not pity me.
For I can smile and I can say
I lived my life how I wanted it to be.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Tumble Down The Years
She took my hand and said lets go together
You and me against the world
And so we stuck it out through still and stormy weather
And so we tumbled down the years
I took her hand and said lets go together
Just you and me against the world
Lets go together
Stay together
Well tumble down the years
And well come to find the key behind it all
We never stopped to see if we were still in step
We never checked each others eyes
To see who lived in there behind them
And down the years we disappeared
Lets go together
Say no together
Well tumble down the years
Lets try together
Lets lie together
Well tumble down the years
And though we never found the key behind it all
I think we came to know the meaning of the fall
Lets go together
We said forever
You and me against the world
Hold on together
And damn the river
Well tumble down the years
Well tumble down the years
Well tumble down the years
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lamentation
Are we so worthless to the eye of god?
Have we done so much wrong?
For deserve life (as it is) .
Promises vanishing before my eyes
Apple eye.
Foolish snake, garden promises
Does he know? Suffer of creations?
Questions!
Should I believe, should I wait, should I close my ears on the killing of a child.
While you love, someone else dies.
Death is part of a man life; suffering is part of man time.
Like a designate tale, our time end.
It is hard to understand - imperfect mans.
Our eye, our heart, our minds are blind.
You may be rewarded one day.
Love is faith.
Sad reality, who know?
Fantasy of man.
A meaning for this life, a sense.
A lamentation of a sad man, for how the world is going to end
poem by Luca Menin
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Not Even My Pride Shall Suffer Much
Not even my pride shall suffer much;
Not even my pride at all, maybe,
If this ill-timed, intemperate clutch
Be loosed by you and not by me,
Will suffer; I have been so true
A vestal to that only pride
Wet wood cannot extinguish, nor
Sand, nor its embers scattered, for,
See all these years, it has not died.
And if indeed, as I dare think,
You cannot push this patient flame,
By any breath your lungs could store,
Even for a moment to the floor
To crawl there, even for a moment crawl,
What can you mix for me to drink
That shall deflect me? What you do
Is either malice, crude defense
Of ego, or indifference:
I know these things as well as you;
You do not dazzle me at all—
Some love, and some simplicity,
Might well have been the death of me—
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Family?
Do, I have a Family?
If you ask me
I have no family merely associates
For families are genarally suppose to be filled with love
Mine is filled with hatred and with pain.
I am the perfect example of a 21st century family
Due to the mishaps of this world, my mother is a single parent
Much like now most of the world.
And as the years go by it only gets worse.
Families used to be loving, or at least that's what I 've heard.
Why can't we bring back family to what it was?
A mother, a father and children, living under one roof with love
For me, for years I lived afraid for my life, a confused little girl
Without a helpful hand in sight.
Everytime I trusted a man I got burned in the proccess
Only six yet I was afraid because of this.
Because of my 'so-called' family.
Why do they do this to me? !
I can never even look upon my 'brother' the same
For to me he is no longer a brother.
And I do not know how to express my pain, with sorrow or laughter?
Someone please save me from this disaster!
Who do you run to for help
When your family is causing the pain
And the matters are to far- fetched for the police?
Who do you trust and who do you call?
Definetly not your family.
So, now again I ask you
DO I HAVE A FAMILY?
poem by Ashley Stone
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A craving
grandma died a few years back
yet this feeling of not letting go
- that epoch in my life that will not return
forever remembered
the warmth of grandma's smile, companion
warm hands and love
time, does it run in a linear fashion?
vividly i see us again in a house
somewhere in India, the first floor of a building
oh this craving of things that spawn endless karma!
well there we shall meet
she as another woman
and me another man
will she be glad again to
take me into her hands
through this rough and tumble world?
or will she just be a lady that curses
- having to come back merely to satiate a craving,
that rings endless karma bells
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Two thousand years ago, we lived in a world of Gods and Goddesses. Today, we live in a world solely of Gods. Women in most cultures have been stripped of their spiritual power.
Story Time
The world is a book
And I its co writer
I write the lines of reaction
To the events forced upon me
Not as much the craftsman
Shaping the world as I see fit
But more the commentator
Speaking clean from my heart
The musings of anger
The fiery words I keep hid
Burn with the passion
Of a love all to often denied
I scorn the world through pain
Blame my poor misfortunes
On a twisted mortality
Then in a clarity of thought
I know and I have seen
That the world is at loss
Praising false idols false loves
For greed and sensation
All that they crave and accept
Oh the disaster of what they sought
The call out for the nice man
Cometh, cometh the nice man
But standing still I do not come
Let them suffer as I have done
Let the suffer, till suffering is done
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Gods
Gods of the white man,
Gods of the black man,
Gods of the almond shade
all of these Gods
have done one thing,
made the people afraid.
Gods of the red man,
Gods of the brown man
Gods of the yellow hue,
all of these Gods
have done the same
divided them into
Separate people
who've been led to believe
their God is the holy one
to save their souls
and pardon them
and deliver them
from earthly sin.
How can there be
so many Gods?
Isn't there only one?
One for every single soul
born unto this earth.
He's every color that there is
since the world's begun.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Why is there pain in this world?
Why is there pain in this world?
When brothers fight brothers for no reason
Faced with the light of a gun ready to shot down there own
Yet the pain and the suffering never stops people
When the guns go off and children die
Why is there pain in this world?
When family fight when kids are looking on
Yet they never see the pain and suffering that they have caused
Yet when they see it too late time has gone
If only they notice there pain as well
Why is there pain in this world?
When the school bell has gone kids should be happy
Yet in the dark corner lays the bully ready to pound his prey
Yet the victim suffer in pain and silent’s too scared
To tell other what is going on
Why is there pain in this world?
When people are hungry when you or I have enough
Why can’t we help them try and ease the pain we can stop them being hungry
We can ease there pain and stop them from starving
Why can’t you see that when I can?
Why is there pain in this world?
When all we need to do is open are eyes and look
Yet were a nation a world that too blind to notice the pain that does not need to be
So here these words open your eyes and see if you can help.
Pain can be eased if only you believe that you can see.
poem by Kelly Berry
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Nothing feebler than a man does the earth raise up, of all the things which breathe and move on the earth, for he believes that he will never suffer evil in the future, as long as the gods give him success and he flourishes in his strength; but when the blessed gods bring sorrows too to pass, even these he bears, against his will, with steadfast spirit, for the thoughts of earthly men are like the day which the father of gods and men brings upon them.
Do Gods Really Exist
It's said God's compassionate he's merciful as well,
Which begs the question why would he create Hell,
It's a terrible torture for Our Lord to create,
To make people suffer is a form of hate.
That's against his teachings or so we are taught,
Could a God really hurt now there is a thought,
Some suffer from illness from birth to old age,
Yet he doesn't help them why won't he engage.
Illnesses have been with us since time began,
Which ruins the debate they're the fault of man,
He lets people starve still they die of thirst,
This form of cruelty is truly the worst.
Genocide and wars leave us all crying,
Yet God looks from above as millions are dying,
Murderers and rapists, paedophiles too,
He allows them to live without any ado.
If his teachings are true why not intervene,
They would never be born to grow to be mean,
If he lets evil thrive then we must ask,
Why does he allow it we must take him to task.
If we're made to suffer it's really quite odd,
When we recover we give thanks to God,
If our illness kills us we'll claim it's Gods will,
He walks away blameless that's a bitter pill.
Why do we do this it's always the same,
God gets the credit but never the blame,
He created all life so it must be his fault,
Yet he still wants our praise he wants us to exalt.
Why the Hell should we our argument's strong,
The good still die young he must know that is wrong,
Death should be kept for the chosen few,
Strike them with illnesses for the evil they do.
God's universe is endless so why should we die,
For all righteous people death should not apply,
No compassionate person would allow us such pain,
Yet he allows it to happen again and again.
So many religions and cultures all have different Gods,
Yet we all suffer the same so what are the odds,
That God's are but a figment of our imagination,
A fictional characer a delusional creation.
If there is a God then please make us aware,
Give us a sign by showing us you care,
Which now begs the question therein lies the twist,
it's one we must ask,
‘' Do Gods Really Exist ''
Is This Call Pain
standing here across the see
the sea waves crash the rocks and end in the end
the clouds passing by and get over again
a day end with no coming back again
i wander to my self why my pain will never end
see new life coming and never come the same again
see old man dying and never line again
year in life passing by and never come again
i ask my self why my pain never leave me
why my pain never end
is it me the pain
is what i am made of the pain
suffer and endure all my life
what i am mistaking
nails tear my heart
evil wispier in my ears
healing is never use to me
Gods healing useless any more
every thing end except pain
every thing is false except pain
pain of my heart pain of my soul
i am living with pain i am the pain
poem by Aryabod Siharyvani
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Green Rose
Green represents fresh and paradise
As fresh as the first dew on the green leaf
As beautiful as green rose in the paradise
You are the green rose planted in the world
A touch of heaven that I shouldn’t keep
Human only life will suffering
To want something he doesn’t deserve
I should put you back where you belong
At the green holy garden in paradise
But the taste of your honey kissable lips
Drunk me to the hole of unconsciousness
While keeping the sin of paradise
The gods look for something lose
They find me in the peak of joyful dream
Take it rudely without mercy
Even if human has right to say something
They still decide everything on their own
My voice only drowns in the cold night
Defeated in the cruel hands of irrevocable fate
poem by Nenden Suherni
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Demo Crazy. We are fools..
What is hardship, when it has the degree,
What is that degree, which we have to agree,
I say that I work hard and suffer,
you may say that you feel better,
someone say that their life is a misery,
sufferers keep quiet and it is Irony.
Those who are homeless and penniless,
left on the road sides to be vagrants.
These vagrants have no idea,
that they have the right to plea,
thousands on the first world and
millions on the third world, but
churning stomachs prevent them
from executing their rights.
How docile they are,
to suffer in silence,
They are better than a silent lamb,
for they endure their entire life.
As long as we follow Adam Smith,
As long as we believe in demo crazy,
As long as we are ignorant of pain,
That our fellow human go through,
this world may belong to the rich and powerful,
Let us make sure every man on street,
has the right to live his life humanly.
Let us be the human to understand
this sickness of ignorance.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Schindler
Spielberg's little girl in red
Walking through the ghettos to hide under a bed
Must children suffer man's inhumanity
Every child's face around the world should lead to humanity
The signs of our time in now
Remembering the futile past and how
Every child's heart is a heavenly host
Not a spirit to be slaughtered at a post
A little girl in red slaughtered and hauled away in death's cart
Every child born into this world must live to play their spiritual part
Multicultural endeavors must take a place
Man's inhumanity towards man a true disgrace
Spirituality through cultural understanding every child's face
Hatred through violence will not win the struggle of that child's facial pace
I reach far into my heart when I cry of a child's need
A child must always remain the fruit of our sacred seed
Every child's heart is blessed with the color of red
Facial expressions so bold and sacred
In every child's heart there is God's testament written in gold
Multicultural hearts of God's most heavenly mold.
poem by Robert G. English
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Gods and Pinnacles
Over the houses of living beings
Places of Gods
Pinnacles of
Churches
Mosques
And temples
Colossal and magnificent
Glorious scare in the air
Those Gods never expected
Birds that fly in sky
Sometimes perch on that
And have a rest
Being a God of God
Without any care
Invaded investors
Build their glorious tombs
Exceeding the pinnacles
Gods and agents are silent
They want them
To scare the bellow and to follow
For the splendid survival
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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