Agnostic Apology
I am a stout materialist;
With abstract terms I can't agree,
And so I've made a little list
Of words that don't make sense to me.
To fool my reason I refuse,
For honest thinking is my goal;
And that is why I rarely use
Vague words like Soul.
In terms of matter I am sure
This world of our can be defined;
And so with theories obscure
I will not mystify my mind;
And though I use it more or less,
Describing alcoholic scenes,
I do not know, I must confess,
What Spirit means.
When I survey this cosmic scene,
The term "Creator" seems absurd;
The Universe has always been,
Creation never has occurred.
But in my Lexicon of Doubt
It strikes me definitely odd,
One word I never dare to flout,
One syllable the mountains shout,
Three letters that the stars spell out:
GOD.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Ape And God
Son put a poser up to me
That made me scratch my head:
"God made the whole wide world," quoth he;
"That's right, my boy," I said.
Said son: "He mad the mountains soar,
And all the plains lie flat;
But Dad, what did he do before
He did all that?
Said I: "Creation was his biz;
He set the stars to shine;
The sun and moon and all that is
Were His unique design.
The Cosmos is his concrete thought,
The Universe his chore..."
Said Son: "I understand, but what
Did He before?"
I gave it up; I could not cope
With his enquiring prod,
And must admit I've little hope
Of understanding God.
Indeed I find more to my mind
The monkey in the tree
In whose crude form Nature defined
Our human destiny.
Thought I: "Why search for Deity
In visionary shape?
'Twould better be if we could see
The angel in the ape.
Let mystic seek a God above:
Far wiser he who delves,
To find in kindliness and love
God in ourselves."
poem by Robert William Service
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Design
Said Seeker of the skies to me:
"Behold yon starry host ashine!
When Heaven's harmony you see
How can you doubt control divine,
Law, order and design?"
"Nay, Sire," said I, "I do not doubt
The spheres in cosmic pattern spin;
But what I try to puzzle out
Is that--if Law and Order win
Where does mere man come in?
"If to the millionth of a hair
Cause and Effect are welded true,
Then there's no leeway anywhere,
And all we do we have to do,
And sun and atom too."
O Stars, sing in your harmony!
O Constellations raptly shine!
Flout me because I am not free,
Mock me because no choice is mine!
O Beauty, it so hurts to see!
--O damnable Design!
poem by Robert William Service
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How Deep Is Your Love?
Superficial, or sacrificial?
Secular, or the supernatural?
How deep is your love?
Would you give up quality of life?
Or give up life itself?
To what do we let go?
To what do we hold on?
People or objects?
How far do we go,
Before we move on?
To our breaking point,
Or until we have proven it.
Hold on to resentment,
Let go of another.
Prove our point, or to prove love.
Beauty is only skin deep.
But beautiful is at the core.
The spirit lives forever.
It endures all.
Our essence, our core, is love itself.
Given by God, as He lives inside of us.
He is buried deep,
Surrounded by lies.
Lies we have bought in a cold cruel world.
A world of shallow love.
Love of self, at the cost of another.
She walked away,
He waited.
She asked, "Why when you had me you did not want me, "
"But now I am gone, and you will fight? "
"You have changed, but it is too late."
"For I have found another."
The man replied, "The answer is simple."
"Why is it, you have me now and do not want me? "
"I have proven the truth of my love."
"I have endured a thousand deaths."
"I have risen each time."
"To become love itself."
"Not for me, but for you."
"Affection is shown, but love is assumed."
"To the superficial, love is all show."
"To the sacrificial, love is the show."
"I can tell you I love you,
"But the words have no substance."
"They disappear in thin air."
"Love is patient."
"Love as a feeling, will come and go."
"Feelings are impatient."
"It is truth that never changes."
"And love, that is true, will endure all."
"As it has since the beginning of time."
"Not as defined by society."
"But as defined by the creator and sustainer."
"It is only once the feelings have broken the heart, the holder of the feelings."
"That the beholder is freed."
"To show the love that will never be broken."
"Love that is true."
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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The ABC
'Twas midnight in the schoolroom
And every desk was shut
When suddenly from the alphabet
Was heard a loud "Tut-Tut!"
Said A to B, "I don't like C;
His manners are a lack.
For all I ever see of C
Is a semi-circular back!"
"I disagree," said D to B,
"I've never found C so.
From where I stand he seems to be
An uncompleted O."
C was vexed, "I'm much perplexed,
You criticise my shape.
I'm made like that, to help spell Cat
And Cow and Cool and Cape."
"He's right" said E; said F, "Whoopee!"
Said G, "'Ip, 'Ip, 'ooray!"
"You're dropping me," roared H to G.
"Don't do it please I pray."
"Out of my way," LL said to K.
"I'll make poor I look ILL."
To stop this stunt J stood in front,
And presto! ILL was JILL.
"U know," said V, "that W
Is twice the age of me.
For as a Roman V is five
I'm half as young as he."
X and Y yawned sleepily,
"Look at the time!" they said.
"Let's all get off to beddy byes."
They did, then "Z-z-z."
poem by Spike Milligan
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The Veins of other Flowers
811
The Veins of other Flowers
The Scarlet Flowers are
Till Nature leisure has for Terms
As "Branch," and "Jugular."
We pass, and she abides.
We conjugate Her Skill
While She creates and federates
Without a syllable.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Whatever You Want
what would it take
to turn your heart my way
to move you with each word that i say
'cause i just want to learn
and i just want to know
i just want to hold you baby forever
chances like these are seldom and few
and this is one chance i'm not going to lose
so forgive my emotions for speaking out loud
but every time you're around i won't say
whatever you want
just say the words
i'd buy you the stars
for whatever they're worth
to spell out this love across the universe
i'll do whatever you want
you can swear upon this love
for whatever you want
just one kiss
would seal our fate
just one chance is all it takes
so open your soul
and let me in
it's up to you baby
to let this love begin
whatever you want
just say the words
i'd buy you the stars
for whatever they're worth
to spell out this love across the universe
i'll do whatever you want
you can swear upon this love
for whatever you want
you're the dream
i've been waiting for
in a world where dreams are fleeting
your love is a miracle
that my soul been needing
whatever you want
just say the words
i'd buy you the stars
for whatever they're worth
to spell out this love across the universe
i'll do whatever you want
you can swear upon this love
for whatever you want
whatever you want
just say the words
i'd buy you the stars
for whatever they're worth
to spell out this love across the universe
i'll do whatever you want
you can swear upon this love
for whatever you want
whatever you
song performed by by All-4-One from On And On
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Teddy Bear
A bear, however hard he tries,
Grows tubby without exercise.
Our Teddy Bear is short and fat,
Which is not to be wondered at;
He gets what exercise he can
By falling off the ottoman,
But generally seems to lack
The energy to clamber back.
Now tubbiness is just the thing
Which gets a fellow wondering;
And Teddy worried lots about
The fact that he was rather stout.
He thought: "If only I were thin!
But how does anyone begin?"
He thought: "It really isn't fair
To grudge one exercise and air."
For many weeks he pressed in vain
His nose against the window-pane,
And envied those who walked about
Reducing their unwanted stout.
None of the people he could see
"Is quite" (he said) "as fat as me!"
Then, with a still more moving sigh,
"I mean" (he said) "as fat as I!
One night it happened that he took
A peep at an old picture-book,
Wherein he came across by chance
The picture of a King of France
(A stoutish man) and, down below,
These words: "King Louis So and So,
Nicknamed 'The Handsome!'" There he sat,
And (think of it!) the man was fat!
Our bear rejoiced like anything
To read about this famous King,
Nicknamed "The Handsome." There he sat,
And certainly the man was fat.
Nicknamed "The Handsome." Not a doubt
The man was definitely stout.
Why then, a bear (for all his tub)
Might yet be named "The Handsome Cub!"
"Might yet be named." Or did he mean
That years ago he "might have been"?
For now he felt a slight misgiving:
"Is Louis So and So still living?
Fashions in beauty have a way
Of altering from day to day.
Is 'Handsome Louis' with us yet?
Unfortunately I forget."
Next morning (nose to window-pane)
The doubt occurred to him again.
One question hammered in his head:
"Is he alive or is he dead?"
Thus, nose to pane, he pondered; but
The lattice window, loosely shut,
Swung open. With one startled "Oh!"
Our Teddy disappeared below.
There happened to be passing by
A plump man with a twinkling eye,
Who, seeing Teddy in the street,
Raised him politely to his feet,
And murmured kindly in his ear
Soft words of comfort and of cheer:
"Well, well!" "Allow me!" "Not at all."
"Tut-tut! A very nasty fall."
Our Teddy answered not a word;
It's doubtful if he even heard.
Our bear could only look and look:
The stout man in the picture-book!
That 'handsome' King - could this be he,
This man of adiposity?
"Impossible," he thought. "But still,
No harm in asking. Yes I will!"
"Are you," he said,"by any chance
His Majesty the King of France?"
The other answered, "I am that,"
Bowed stiffly, and removed his hat;
Then said, "Excuse me," with an air,
"But is it Mr Edward Bear?"
And Teddy, bending very low,
Replied politely, "Even so!"
They stood beneath the window there,
The King and Mr Edward Bear,
And, handsome, if a trifle fat,
Talked carelessly of this and that....
Then said His Majesty, "Well, well,
I must get on," and rang the bell.
"Your bear, I think," he smiled. "Good-day!"
And turned, and went upon his way.
A bear, however hard he tries,
Grows tubby without exercise.
Our Teddy Bear is short and fat,
Which is not to be wondered at.
But do you think it worries him
To know that he is far from slim?
No, just the other way about -
He's proud of being short and stout.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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The impact of a hammer on your thumb
despite the sign
"No peddlers here"
a woman rang at my door
"I only want to ask you just one simple question"
normally I would say
'No"
'I don't socialize with interviewers'
I am never the reason
they will have a rise
of completed inquiries
usually I tell them polite
the right thing to do
from my kind of view
'Go''
however
somehow
today
this woman
looked right inside of me
telling
with her sparkling eyes
"No
YOU should go for this"
I have a survey called
"the impact of a hammer however not on a brad …"
and she waited briefly
while I was thinking
"is this happening"
"this is really weird"
asking a question that dumb
then
she finished her line
" but on your thumb"
after listening
and realizing
what she said
intuitively I thought
"No way"
I wanted to decline
my cooperation to this survey
however
somehow
today
this woman
looked right inside of me
telling
with her sparkling eyes
"Let me continue,
'You know I am not mad'
"Let me please surprise YOU"
I asked her
"What is this all about? "
"Later"
she said completing her sentence
"for the sake of this survey
I have to ask you first"
"Would you please describe to me
the feeling
just after your thumb
has been beaten
by a hammer? "
Now I knew
for sure
no more questions I would answer
not even a few
this woman
with her sparkling eyes
is really crazy.
how do I get rid of this her.
she was persistent
she explained
what the survey was really about
and I found out she wasn't
telling a "trained" story
"a hammer can hit you
or someone else
and it might look the same
it is not the hitting
causing the difference
it is that feeling of yours
which is
of course the reason
for feeling and dealing
your way with your pain"
somehow
today
this woman
looked right inside of me
telling
with her sparkling eyes
" Now you know
all the how's and why's
you are obliged to yourself
to finds ways
to recover from your pain
your life will never be the same
again'
she was a wise woman
telling me
what a fool I was
for a short
but allowed
amount of time
Or not?
I was wise enough
to answer the door
and find out more….
©Ellie Daphne van Stralen 2012.
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
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Forever
"Forever": 'tis a single word!
Our rude forefathers deemed it two:
Can you imagine so absurd
A view?
"Forever"! What abysms of woe
The word reveals, what frenzy, what
Despair! "For ever" (printed so)
Did not.
It looks, ah me! how trite and tame!
It fails to sadden or appal
Or solace--it is not the same
At all.
O thou to whom it first occurred
To solder the disjoined, and dower
The native language with a word
Of power:
We bless thee! Whether far or near
Thy dwelling, whether dark or fair
Thy kingly brow, is neither here
Nor there.
But in men's hearts shall be thy throne,
While the great pulse of England beats.
Thou coiner of a word unknown
To Keats!
And nevermore must printer do
As men did long ago; but run
"For" into "ever," bidding two
Be one.
"Forever"! passion-fraught, it throws
O'er the dim page a gloom, a glamour:
It's sweet, it's strange; and I suppose
It's grammar.
"Forever"! 'Tis a single word!
And yet our fathers deemed it two:
Nor am I confident they erred;
Are you?
poem by Charles Stuart Calverley
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Colloquialism
This colloquial word has been tremendous,
The full word is a concise term, a love.
For the sight of trouble needs these words,
And they collide and collapse for better terms.
Our colloquy needs establishing, a full light,
For terms too mighty and sad, like sound.
Grave words need to be spoken, often,
Gratitude amazes me, as I speak them.
The colloquial word is special as goodness,
A grace so mighty, so sad.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Love is god and god is love
Love is God and God is love
"Love is God and God is love" all may say
I found no name that actually professed these words to lay
I bow my head to preachers who really follow the spirit
And guide the masses to bow their head and touch the feet
It has become customary and now a show business
Visit temple, mosque or church in order to confess
It is good on the part of human being to obey
And learn the teachings by heart and pray
Many may be seriously praying for universal happiness
So many may be secretly donating for the serious cases
Yet the genuine concern occupies the religion centers
As they have to rush to the needy poor to cater
All said and not done in true essence
We swear by God but speak lies in his presence
We only object blasphemy but in real life act contrary
General awareness with staunch followers is necessary
I weep with tears when see the Christ on cross
What a feeling in mind with complete remorse
Why did we commit cruelty when He was our messiah?
I feel great when hear churches bell ring or hear the name of Allah
I may be illiterate in literally terms
It will be of no use to look at holy book to turn
The writing may cut little in my mind
Yet I know it is great message from him to find
What has he not done for mankind as whole?
Tolerated all cruelties and found body with holes
"Give them some sense not to repeat ills"
I shall not deviate from my path even if they kill
Such a saint or God is not among us
But his spirit prevails in form of trust
We believe each and every word
Cry with open mind and far of no sword
"He may guide us to nobility"
Make us capable and worthy
O supreme god and almighty
You are our savior, messiah or deity
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Sonnet V: Nothing But No
Nothing but "No," and "Aye," and "Aye," and "No"?
How falls it out so strangely you reply?
I tell ye, Fair, I'll not be answer'd so,
With this affirming "No," denying "Aye."
I say, "I love," you slightly answer "Aye";
I say, "You love," you pule me out a "No";
I say, "I die," you echo me an "Aye";
"Save me," I cry, you sigh me out a "No";
Must woe and I have nought but "No" and "Aye"?
No I am I, if I no more can have;
Answer no more, with silence make reply,
And let me take myself what I do crave.
Let "No" and "Aye" with I and you be so;
Then answer "No," and "Aye," and "Aye" and "No."
poem by Michael Drayton
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Oprah Believes In Jesus
Watching a video on Oprah and Eckhart Tolle
I see the truth I already know.
For it's been my philosophy
Jesus was here to make us see
We are "God Consciousness" all in its glory.
"Do not believe Oprah a false prophet" is what was said
this is a rumor that people where feed.
Oprah is not a false prophet, now let's all get along
for there is really no real proof of what's right or wrong.
Misinformation is like a parasite, please hear Oprah words right.
Don Miguel's Ruiz a Tolec, writes of gossip on mankind
to me it's is like a wire of misinformation in twisted vines.
in Ruiz's book gossip is like a virus on the internet
it's a spell that weaves it's web-
Don writes: "Misuse of the word puts us in a deeper hell"
I reply "Let's all break this vicious spell"
By awaking up and seeing things as they really are
We are all equal and are shining stars.
Like Joseph Campbell even says
"I don't have to have faith, I have experience."
Written by Suzae Chevalier on February 20,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
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thanks' - You Are 'welcome
"Thanks" the six letter word to play
It's just as sweet as you say
It means a lot to many of us
It carries love in an omnibus
But I will offer these seven letters to you
And "Thanks" will bear a lovely hue
Time to open the gates of my kingdom
In my world of poetry you are welcome
poem by Jyo Jottypoet Love
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Lines Written on the Sunny Side of Frankfort Street
Sporting with Amaryllis in the shade,
(I credit Milton in parenthesis),
Among the speculations that she made
Was this:
"When"--these her very words--"when you return,
A slave to duty's harsh commanding call,
Will you, I wonder, ever sigh and yearn
At all?"
Doubt, honest doubt, sat then upon my brow.
(Emotion is a thing I do not plan).
I could not fairly answer then, but now
I can.
Yes, Amaryllis, I can tell you this,
Can answer publicly and unafraid:
You haven't any notion how I miss
The shade.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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The Ghost Machine
Wittgenstein took a sip from his tea.
"You're wrong Descartes, I can tell you,
because body and mind are one".
"Wittgenstein is right", seconded Ryle.
He looked very angry
and shook his head as he continued:
"In claiming that your thoughts are separated
from your body you created a dogma
of the ghost in the machine."
"Gentlemen", Descartes said, "relax.
Where were you when I talked about these things?
You were not even born then".
"Wait a minute", said Bohm. "You're all wrong."
"What? " snapped out Ryle.
"You heard it correctly. You're all wrong", insisted Bohm.
"You have to explain", Wittgenstein said.
Descartes looked to be perplexed.
"Well", explained Bohm,
"since everything in the universe is information,
the existence of matter is nothing but a myth.
The universe is an enormous thought, a giant computer.
It is the machine, which is the ghost."
poem by Paul Hartal
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Causation
Said darling daughter unto me:
"oh Dad, how funny it would be
If you had gone to Mexico
A score or so of years ago.
Had not some whimsey changed your plan
I might have been a Mexican.
With lissome form and raven hair,
Instead of being fat and fair.
"Or if you'd sailed the Southern Seas
And mated with a Japanese
I might have been a squatty girl
With never golden locks to curl,
Who flirted with a painted fan,
And tinkled on a samisan,
And maybe slept upon a mat -
I'm very glad I don't do that.
"When I consider the romance
Of all your youth of change and chance
I might, I fancy, just as well
Have bloomed a bold Tahitian belle,
Or have been born . . . but there - ah no!
I draw the line - and Esquimeaux.
It scares me stiff to think of what
I might have been - thank God! I'm not."
Said I: "my dear, don't be absurd,
Since everything that has occurred,
Through seeming fickle in your eyes,
Could not a jot be otherwise.
For in this casual cosmic biz
The world can be but what it is;
And nobody can dare deny
Part of this world is you and I.
Or call it fate or destiny
No other issue could there be.
Though half the world I've wandered through
Cause and effect have linked us two.
Aye, all the aeons of the past
Conspired to bring us here at last,
And all I ever chanced to do
Inevitably led to you.
To you, to make you what you are,
A maiden in a Morris car,
IN Harris tweeds, an airedale too,
But Anglo-Saxon through and through.
And all the good and ill I've done
In every land beneath the sun
Magnificently led to this -
A country cottage and - your kiss."
poem by Robert William Service
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A man said to the universe:
A man said to the universe:
"Sir I exist!"
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."
poem by Stephen Crane
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This Creation
The whole goal of this world
Enters the mind of columns;
A universe has begun to resume,
So time is tempting us when we are old.
The telling of a statement by the creator
Of the universe is entering the soul
So that life begins to unfold,
Beauty is entering fully in our lives.
The sport of the stars in this creation
Sorts our southern and northern roofs;
The seas of the moon enter once again,
Rivers from the creator entice me.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Cassandra
I heard one who said: "Verily,
What word have I for children here?
Your Dollar is your only Word,
The wrath of it your only fear.
"You build it altars tall enough
To make you see but you are blind;
You cannot leave it long enough
To look before you or behind.
"When Reason beckons you to pause,
You laugh and say that you know best;
But what it is you know, you keep
As dark as ingots in a chest.
"You laugh and answer, 'We are young;
Oh, leave us now, and let us grow:'
Not asking how much more of this
Will Time endure or Fate bestow.
"Because a few complacent years
Have made your peril of your pride,
Think you that you are to go on
Forever pampered and untried?
"What lost eclipse of history,
What bivouac of the marching stars,
Has given the sign for you to see
Milleniums and last great wars?
"What unrecorded overthrow
Of all the world has ever known,
Or ever been, has made itself
So plain to you, and you alone?
"Your Dollar, Dove, and Eagle make
A Trinity that even you
Rate higher than you rate yourselves;
It pays, it flatters, and it's new.
"And though your very flesh and blood
Be what the Eagle eats and drinks,
You'll praise him for the best of birds,
Not knowing what the eagle thinks.
"The power is yours, but not the sight;
You see not upon what you tread;
You have the ages for your guide,
But not the wisdom to be led.
"Think you to tread forever down
The merciless old verities?
And are you never to have eyes
To see the world for what it is?
"Are you to pay for what you have
With all you are?"--No other word
We caught, but with a laughing crowd
Moved on. None heeded, and few heard.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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