Meditation On Saviors
I
When I considered it too closely, when I wore it like an element
and smelt it like water,
Life is become less lovely, the net nearer than the skin, a
little troublesome, a little terrible.
I pledged myself awhile ago not to seek refuge, neither in death
nor in a walled garden,
In lies nor gated loyalties, nor in the gates of contempt, that
easily lock the world out of doors.
Here on the rock it is great and beautiful, here on the foam-wet
granite sea-fang it is easy to praise
Life and water and the shining stones: but whose cattle are the
herds of the people that one should love them?
If they were yours, then you might take a cattle-breeder's
delight in the herds of the future. Not yours.
Where the power ends let love, before it sours to jealousy.
Leave the joys of government to Caesar.
Who is born when the world wanes, when the brave soul of the
world falls on decay in the flesh increasing
Comes one with a great level mind, sufficient vision, sufficient
blindness, and clemency for love.
This is the breath of rottenness I smelt; from the world
waiting, stalled between storms, decaying a little,
Bitterly afraid to be hurt, but knowing it cannot draw the
savior Caesar but out of the blood-bath.
The apes of Christ lift up their hands to praise love: but
wisdom without love is the present savior,
Power without hatred, mind like a many-bladed machine subduing
the world with deep indifference.
The apes of Christ itch for a sickness they have never known;
words and the little envies will hardly
Measure against that blinding fire behind the tragic eyes they
have never dared to confront.
II
Point Lobos lies over the hollowed water like a humped whale
swimming to shoal; Point Lobos
Was wounded with that fire; the hills at Point Sur endured it;
the palace at Thebes; the hill Calvary.
Out of incestuous love power and then ruin. A man forcing the
imaginations of men,
Possessing with love and power the people: a man defiling his
own household with impious desire.
King Oedipus reeling blinded from the palace doorway, red tears
pouring from the torn pits
Under the forehead; and the young Jew writhing on the domed hill
in the earthquake, against the eclipse
Frightfully uplifted for having turned inward to love the
people: -that root was so sweet O dreadful agonist? -
I saw the same pierced feet, that walked in the same crime to
its expiation; I heard the same cry.
A bad mountain to build your world on. Am I another keeper of
the people, that on my own shore,
On the gray rock, by the grooved mass of the ocean, the
sicknesses I left behind me concern me?
Here where the surf has come incredible ways out of the splendid
west, over the deeps
Light nor life sounds forever; here where enormous sundowns
flower and burn through color to quietness;
Then the ecstasy of the stars is present? As for the people, I
have found my rock, let them find theirs.
Let them lie down at Caesar's feet and be saved; and he in his
time reap their daggers of gratitude.
III
Yet I am the one made pledges against the refuge contempt, that
easily locks the world out of doors.
This people as much as the sea-granite is part of the God from
whom I desire not to be fugitive.
I see them: they are always crying. The shored Pacific makes
perpetual music, and the stone mountains
Their music of silence, the stars blow long pipings of light:
the people are always crying in their hearts.
One need not pity; certainly one must not love. But who has seen
peace, if he should tell them where peace
Lives in the world...they would be powerless to understand; and
he is not willing to be reinvolved.
IV
How should one caught in the stone of his own person dare tell
the people anything but relative to that?
But if a man could hold in his mind all the conditions at once,
of man and woman, of civilized
And barbarous, of sick and well, of happy and under torture, of
living and dead, of human and not
Human, and dimly all the human future: -what should persuade him
to speak? And what could his words change?
The mountain ahead of the world is not forming but fixed. But
the man's words would be fixed also,
Part of that mountain, under equal compulsion; under the same
present compulsion in the iron consistency.
And nobody sees good or evil but out of a brain a hundred
centuries quieted, some desert
Prophet's, a man humped like a camel, gone mad between the mud-
walled village and the mountain sepulchres.
V
Broad wagons before sunrise bring food into the city from the
open farms, and the people are fed.
They import and they consume reality. Before sunrise a hawk in
the desert made them their thoughts.
VI
Here is an anxious people, rank with suppressed
bloodthirstiness. Among the mild and unwarlike
Gautama needed but live greatly and be heard, Confucius needed
but live greatly and be heard:
This people has not outgrown blood-sacrifice, one must writhe on
the high cross to catch at their memories;
The price is known. I have quieted love; for love of the people
I would not do it. For power I would do it.
--But that stands against reason: what is power to a dead man,
dead under torture? --What is power to a man
Living, after the flesh is content? Reason is never a root,
neither of act nor desire.
For power living I would never do it; they'are not delightful to
touch, one wants to be separate. For power
After the nerves are put away underground, to lighten the
abstract unborn children toward peace...
A man might have paid anguish indeed. Except he had found the
standing sea-rock that even this last
Temptation breaks on; quieter than death but lovelier; peace
that quiets the desire even of praising it.
VII
Yet look: are they not pitiable? No: if they lived forever they
would be pitiable:
But a huge gift reserved quite overwhelms them at the end; they
are able then to be still and not cry.
And having touched a little of the beauty and seen a little of
the beauty of things, magically grow
Across the funeral fire or the hidden stench of burial
themselves into the beauty they admired,
Themselves into the God, themselves into the sacred steep
unconsciousness they used to mimic
Asleep between lamp's death and dawn, while the last drunkard
stumbled homeward down the dark street.
They are not to be pitied but very fortunate; they need no
savior, salvation comes and takes them by force,
It gathers them into the great kingdoms of dust and stone, the
blown storms, the stream's-end ocean.
With this advantage over their granite grave-marks, of having
realized the petulant human consciousness
Before, and then the greatness, the peace: drunk from both
pitchers: these to be pitied? These not fortunate
But while he lives let each man make his health in his mind, to
love the coast opposite humanity
And so be freed of love, laying it like bread on the waters; it
is worst turned inward, it is best shot farthest.
Love, the mad wine of good and evil, the saint's and murderer's,
the mote in the eye that makes its object
Shine the sun black; the trap in which it is better to catch the
inhuman God than the hunter's own image.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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My love is warmer than a smile
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If anyone should ask you who's my true love
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Like A King
I never wanted life like a king
I always wanted just to be as normal as I can be
Though the powers I have can make me a king
Yet I lay down my shield and just be normal
I have all the answers to the world people cant find
But the answer are too complicated for them to realize
Still I hid behind that bush pretending so innocent
Until they really knew what love is all about
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A power we are so much afraid of
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I failed before using that power
I may have used it too much, or I have used it less
But into learnings I finally found the real use of it
The reason why answers have been revealed
Magic it may sound… but it is just LOVE
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That’s the only power I can show to all
But I wouldn’t recognize it by then
Until you found the one who can unleash the hidden key
The one you’ll fall inlove with, the one that is forever
And I wouldn’t be this much confidence if you didn’t came
You are the key to the power I had my sweet
The key to prove things exist not only that is visible by eyes
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poem by Mark Anthony Mendoza
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The Power Of Love
I think that somewhere along the line
(and it's said, all things return to you in time)
I must have finally opened up to your love
Though i was building a wall at heaven's gate
(everything comes to those who wait)
You must have found a secret path into my soul
And now you're part of my life
I can't believe that this is mine
Every light has its time to shine
I want to understand this change in me
Is it the power of love
Is it the power of love
Is this the tao of love
I feel the power of love
Caught up in the famous paper chase
(in your eyes, i saw how i never fell from grace)
I must have finally opened up to your love
And i heard the battle's not always to the strong
(the race is not always to the fleet)
And the one who seeks to pluck the stars
Will miss the jewels at his feet
Blinded by momentary power
We almost had the final hour
I'll never know what caused the change in me
Was it the power of love
Is it the power of love
Is this the tao of love
I feel the power of love
Is it the power of love
Is it the power of love
Is this the tao of love
I feel the power of love
And i thought anything for the cause is worth the price
(losing you was the sharp edge of the knife)
Now no more fear, the way is clear
I know you are the power in my life
So better late than never
'cause this heart is yours forever
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Is it the power of love
Is this the tao of love
I feel the power of love
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Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Person Cannot Bring Peace
One person cannot bring peace to our World but when millions of good people unite
And march for peace in every village, town and city the war inclined may see some light
Beyond the darkness that surrounds them and through the windows of their soul
The light of change may even penetrate we can change others by thought control.
Gandhi brought great change through non violence no greater power than people power
Divided good people are defeated and their flower of peace is a wilting flower
But united we can bring about change as peace never comes through the gun
The dead never hear the birds singing at the going down of the sun
Refugee camps all over the World are crowded with war refugees
Billions are spent on war weaponry and little on poverty and disease
In the news each day we hear of violence and too much of war and terror we hear
The war men with their war on terror have found new ways of spreading fear.
Amongst the fearful population who believe everything that they say
We lose our own sense of direction when respect to such people we pay
You show some people a flowering garden they only see weeds and decay
And any hope of peace will keep on fading as long as the negative have things their own way.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Am I Crazy
Words that keep on coming
into my crazy mind, but why?
they enter they run around,
confuse, they drive me mad.
Nuisance this world of ours,
silly too the words that come,
they go away to come again,
in and out, they roundabout.
Turning they fly into my mind,
where or how who made these
crazy words come in, silly too
To I find my mind so troubled.
Am I mad, am I sane, am I crazy,
am I nuts, am I around the bend,
am I creating, do I have a problem,
do I have a gift for crazy thoughts?
Is it wrong to question, wrong to ask,
is the world mad or am I pretty dumb,
or should I become like a good sheep,
become a flock, a clique, a tag along?
I need to have an answer or a reply;
life is everywhere, so beautiful to see,
people love, they have their families,
they help each other, they marry too.
In all the crazy words, questions found;
if our world is full of beauty, full of growth,
if we love someone who is a human being,
a member of the human race that cares.
Most try to make a better world to live,
yet some who believe in this or that,
try to sweep the love the care away,
they kill, they hurt, they make the war.
Why use weapons to destroy beauty
of our world, make the bombs, the guns
that kill, spoil our world, hurt, injure
wound people, damage work that’s built?
If you can say my crazy words are wrong,
and give good reasons why you’d rather war,
kill people, destroy their homes their lives,
destroy trust, truth, spread hate not love.
Than live a life of love, harmony, of peace.
Convince me of your love for all mankind,
Only then and with much persuasion will I
be a good sheep, who follows, tags along.
Indifferent, unconcerned by worlds at war.
Bob Blackwell
23-05-2010
poem by Bob Blackwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Are We Doing All God Needs?
Are you an influence for The Lord, as you live your daily life?
Or is your witness just ignored, caught up in your daily strife?
We’re to impact the lives men, which we bump into every day,
Now that we are Born Again, to show others God’s Only Way.
Do you live with Christ in mind, called to be for God His light?
When someone may be unkind, treating you in ways not right?
Jesus showed us how to live, and a love that we should show,
And Grace to us He would give, to help others come to know.
Do men see the Light of God, if you walk into a darker place?
In this darkened world you trod, led by the light of His Grace?
For God’s Light we are to be, lifted high by Christ, upon a hill,
Placed where all men can see, and done according to His will.
As you live life in this world, do you point men to God’s Truth?
Is your life for Him a Herald, with your own life as living proof?
It’s God’s Truth we’re to proclaim, to all people of every nation,
In the power of Christ’s name, pointing men to God’s Salvation.
Are we being, as Christ’s bride, the people whom God bought?
Living our lives truly crucified, to walk what we’ve been taught?
Are we doing all that God needs, willing today to pay the price?
Living this life sowing seeds, so others come to faith in Christ?
(Copyright ©02/2008)
Vocal Change
Very loud and boisterous many are; people we see, both near and far,
Speaking whatever’s on their mind, with words sometimes not so kind,
With an emptiness in their speech; emptiness that only God can reach.
This as God moves upon their life, through The Spirit of Jesus Christ.
Within their words they cannot hide, the condition of their heart inside,
From their mouths what they depart, reflects the nature of their hearts.
A darkened heart is natural for all, earthly people tainted by man’s fall,
We can’t expect words of grace, from hearts where God has no place.
But when God’s Love finds a heart, that person has a brand new start,
As the Love of God finds its way, God changes what you do and say.
Changing lives, that’s God’s proof, of the power of God’s Living Truth,
Taking hearts from the dark of night, to fill them with His salt and light.
Godly change in the heart of men, is the proof that they’re Born-Again,
Born of His Spirit from up above, Who lead them to the Savior’s Love.
Then leading you in much the same, to New Life in The Savior’s Name,
As God makes you a new creation, through the power of His Salvation.
Old habits begin to fade away, as God guides you on the narrow way,
The way prepared for you and me, by The Lord and Savior of Eternity.
As Christ changes you from within, He strips away all the outward sin,
Then fills all of our remaining days, from our hearts with verbal praise.
How Can They Do It?
How can people say they know, The Word of God and never grow?
Grow in this present life spiritually, in a way that other men can see.
Just like people would see a light, in the midst of a darkened night.
That is why The Lord has us grow, so our light to others, will show,
The sure way in this darkened life, to the pure Light of Jesus Christ.
Why do people not understand, there’s New Life in the Son of Man?
New Life through The Spirit of God, upon this temporal earthly sod.
Lead by The Spirit of Jesus Christ, to be a witness while in this life,
A witness of His Power and Love, as we point all to Heaven above,
Where The Lamb of God who died, now lives forever by God’s side.
How can many who trust in Him; He who cleansed them of their sin,
Continue as if they never knew, The One who died for me and you?
Christ who became God’s Sacrifice, to gain for sinners Eternal Life.
They continue in sin and shame, while never testifying to His Name,
Burdened with the sin and dross, that Christ conquered on the cross.
Can people who need The Truth, come to Christ without living proof?
From men who by Christ were saved, and by His Power truly raised,
Raised to a New and Higher Life, while living totally for Jesus Christ.
Believers need The Spirit’s spark, to shine Christ’s Light in the dark,
Sharing with all The Living Word, until everyone on earth has heard.
(Copyright ©11/2006)
Shadows of Hate
Hate
Fear
Anger
Love
Hiding in the shadows is now where I can feel it home so why not just
stay there
Shadow peaceful still quiet at last
So why must we all destroy them with bombs and guns and all the
flashes in the weapons still be there
Why must we always make so much noise in this world that takes away
the peacefulness of the shadows
Why must we always kill each other use so much violence in the world
to make so many into graves just because of thing like
Hate
Fear
Anger
Love
Power
All those people need to be sent into the shadows just to know what
they can truly hide from the world
To truly know all the people that love to be in shadows that grew up
living in them and know how much they can come in to hand when all
that people fear is in them
And those people all the only ones that can come even remotely close
to being truly afraid of the light
So why do people destroy the darkness
Hate
So why do people stay away from the darkness
Fear
So why must people kill the people of the shadows
Anger
What can make all people stay together even in darkness
Love
Why must people always try to control the shadows
Power
All people are evil but nobody will ever notice it
Through all their own evil will shine through
poem by Joshua Burckhard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Apology For Bad Dreams
I
In the purple light, heavy with redwood, the slopes drop seaward,
Headlong convexities of forest, drawn in together to the steep
ravine. Below, on the sea-cliff,
A lonely clearing; a little field of corn by the streamside; a roof
under spared trees. Then the ocean
Like a great stone someone has cut to a sharp edge and polished
to shining. Beyond it, the fountain
And furnace of incredible light flowing up from the sunk sun.
In the little clearing a woman
Is punishing a horse; she had tied the halter to a sapling at the
edge of the wood, but when the great whip
Clung to the flanks the creature kicked so hard she feared he
would snap the halter; she called from the house
The young man her son; who fetched a chain tie-rope, they
working together
Noosed the small rusty links round the horse's tongue
And tied him by the swollen tongue to the tree.
Seen from this height they are shrunk to insect size.
Out of all human relation. You cannot distinguish
The blood dripping from where the chain is fastened,
The beast shuddering; but the thrust neck and the legs
Far apart. You can see the whip fall on the flanks . . .
The gesture of the arm. You cannot see the face of the woman.
The enormous light beats up out of the west across the cloud-bars
of the trade-wind. The ocean
Darkens, the high clouds brighten, the hills darken together.
Unbridled and unbelievable beauty
Covers the evening world . . . not covers, grows apparent out
of it, as Venus down there grows out
From the lit sky. What said the prophet? 'I create good: and
I create evil: I am the Lord.'
II
This coast crying out for tragedy like all beautiful places,
(The quiet ones ask for quieter suffering: but here the granite cliff
the gaunt cypresses crown
Demands what victim? The dykes of red lava and black what
Titan? The hills like pointed flames
Beyond Soberanes, the terrible peaks of the bare hills under the
sun, what immolation? )
This coast crying out for tragedy like all beautiful places: and
like the passionate spirit of humanity
Pain for its bread: God's, many victims', the painful deaths, the
horrible transfigurements: I said in my heart,
'Better invent than suffer: imagine victims
Lest your own flesh be chosen the agonist, or you
Martyr some creature to the beauty of the place.' And I said,
'Burn sacrifices once a year to magic
Horror away from the house, this little house here
You have built over the ocean with your own hands
Beside the standing boulders: for what are we,
The beast that walks upright, with speaking lips
And little hair, to think we should always be fed,
Sheltered, intact, and self-controlled? We sooner more liable
Than the other animals. Pain and terror, the insanities of desire;
not accidents but essential,
And crowd up from the core:' I imagined victims for those
wolves, I made them phantoms to follow,
They have hunted the phantoms and missed the house. It is not
good to forget over what gulfs the spirit
Of the beauty of humanity, the petal of a lost flower blown
seaward by the night-wind, floats to its quietness.
III
Boulders blunted like an old bear's teeth break up from the
headland; below them
All the soil is thick with shells, the tide-rock feasts of a dead
people.
Here the granite flanks are scarred with ancient fire, the ghosts
of the tribe
Crouch in the nights beside the ghost of a fire, they try to remember
the sunlight,
Light has died out of their skies. These have paid something for
the future
Luck of the country, while we living keep old griefs in memory:
though God's
Envy is not a likely fountain of ruin, to forget evils calls down
Sudden reminders from the cloud: remembered deaths be our
redeemers;
Imagined victims our salvation: white as the half moon at midnight
Someone flamelike passed me, saying, 'I am Tamar Cauldwell,
I have my desire,'
Then the voice of the sea returned, when she had gone by, the
stars to their towers.
. . . Beautiful country burn again, Point Pinos down to the
Sur Rivers
Burn as before with bitter wonders, land and ocean and the
Carmel water.
IV
He brays humanity in a mortar to bring the savor
From the bruised root: a man having bad dreams, who invents
victims, is only the ape of that God.
He washes it out with tears and many waters, calcines it with
fire in the red crucible,
Deforms it, makes it horrible to itself: the spirit flies out and
stands naked, he sees the spirit,
He takes it in the naked ecstasy; it breaks in his hand, the atom
is broken, the power that massed it
Cries to the power that moves the stars, 'I have come home to
myself, behold me.
I bruised myself in the flint mortar and burnt me
In the red shell, I tortured myself, I flew forth,
Stood naked of myself and broke me in fragments,
And here am I moving the stars that are me.'
I have seen these ways of God: I know of no reason
For fire and change and torture and the old returnings.
He being sufficient might be still. I think they admit no reason;
they are the ways of my love.
Unmeasured power, incredible passion, enormous craft: no
thought apparent but burns darkly
Smothered with its own smoke in the human brain-vault: no
thought outside: a certain measure in phenomena:
The fountains of the boiling stars, the flowers on the foreland,
the ever-returning roses of dawn.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The World Needs Peace And Love
The world needs peace, the world needs love.
Muslims and Christians are all alike.
The world needs peace, the world needs love.
We don't need another airstrike.
The world needs peace, the world needs love.
People of all colors must be one.
The world needs peace, the world needs love.
All sorts of violence must be gone.
The world needs peace, the world needs love.
Stop killing our brothers and sisters!
The world needs peace, the world needs love.
Stop all these bullshit wars!
The world needs peace, the world needs love.
Stop terrorism, please.
The world needs peace, the world needs love.
Let our children live to the fullest.
The world needs peace, the world needs love.
We must stand together for better world.
The world needs peace, the world needs love.
We are the children of God.
The world needs peace and love...
poem by Alon Calinao Dy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What is Peace? ?
What is peace? ?
Peace is when you care for others,
Peace is when there is no violence in the world,
Peace is much more powerful then evil,
Peace is easily found when you give others what you desire,
Peace is the answer to all the wars in the world,
Peace is when there is unity among all the people,
Peace is when your soul can rest,
Peace is when there is hope of good above,
Peace is when there is love for others,
Peace is when there is acceptance in the world,
Peace is bringing joy to the world,
Peace is in helping others
This is what Peace is,
This and much more!
poem by Uzma Nadeem
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What's In It For Me?
THE WORLD WHERE PEOPLE HAVE TIME FOR TWITTER AND FACEBOOK, BUT NONE FOR THEMSELVES OR OTHERS,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE PEOPLE HAVE A HUNDRED 'FRIENDS' ON FACEBOOK,
BUT NOT EVEN TEN IN REAL LIFE
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE PEOPLE EMOTE WITH EMOTICONS BUT NOT WITH THEIR FACES,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE PEOPLE PREFER TO WRITE 'LOL' RATHER THAN ACTUALLY LAUGHING OUT LOUD,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE PEOPLE LOVE THEIR COMPUTER MORE THAN THEIR FRIENDS,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE PEOPLE LIVE THEIR LIVES MORE ONLINE THAN OFF IT,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE PEOPLE CAN SPOT THE ERROR IN SOMEONE'S TYPING BUT CANNOT SPOT A TEAR IN A FRIEND'S EYE,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE PEOPLE CAN GROW ANY CROP ONLINE BUT CANNOT EVEN PICK UP A SPADE IN REAL LIFE,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE PEOPLE RELISH THE FOOD AT MCDONALDS AND DOMINOS, BUT CRIB OVER HOME COOKED FOOD,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE PEOPLE ARE READY TO KILL FOR A FEW SHREDS OF PAPER,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE PEOPLE KILL IN THE NAME OF RELIGION,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE A MAN IS READY TO KILL HIS BROTHER OVER PROPERTY AND MONEY,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE THE VALUE OF MONEY IS MORE THAN THE VALUE OF LIFE,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE LIVING A LIFE IS TOUGHER THAN KILLING A LIFE,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE IT'S EASIER TO EARN MONEY BY CHEATING THAN BY WORKING HONESTLY,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE THE VALUE OF A GIFT IS THROUGH ITS PRICE AND NOT ITS EMOTIONS,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE THE MEASURE OF A MAN IS THROUGH HIS CAR AND HOUSE RATHER THAN HIS CHARACTER,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE PEOPLE LOVE THEIR POSSESSIONS MORE THAN THEIR FRIENDS AND PARENTS,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE THINGS ARE LOVED AND PEOPLE ARE USED,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD WHERE PEOPLE DO ANYTHING FOR A BETTER PAY BUT NOTHING FOR A BETTER CONSCIENCE,
EVEN IF I WIN THIS WORLD WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
THE WORLD IS BAD AND I KNOW THAT BUT SILL IF I WIN THIS WORLD,
WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME?
poem by Deepak Hariharan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fractions and Frictions of Eternity
Life desires love
Love hires life
Love inspires life
Life expires love
Life recreates love
Love creates life
Love impresses life
Life expresses love
Life tires love
Love fires life
So what?
Why so many lives lost for love?
Was there any love lost for life?
There was a Savior who lost His for love
Yeah, even a pure love for his people
But a phony one who wants to save all
For his love of power and glory came
And declared a great war in heaven
An eternal war of good and evil
The casualties were and are so great
And the loyalties firm to retaliate
Each time a man made his choice
Whether in plain or on sea's noise
These seemingly antonyms of old
With enmity from ancient foretold
One could receive a life eternal
While the other death infernal
One may use things to love people
The other use people to love things
But few can use both things and men
To feed their endless obsessions' den
Does this mean that man's choice a day
Will determine his eternal pathway?
Absolutely! Towards his own destiny
To cradle his life and love in continuity
With its fractions and frictions of eternity!
poem by Edgar Andrade Baguio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Each Day In The World
why some people wish for power over others i will never understand
For to wish one to jump to their every command
The would be dictators of the World it does seem
They see abuse of their power as good for their self esteem,
Each day in the World many a new millionaire
And each day in the World millions of more in despair
Of ever in their life knowing of happiness
They missed the signpost of the road to success,
Each day in the World people of hunger dying
And poor starving children for food they are crying
And each day in the World the power hungry grab power
And before them the meek they are obliged to cower
And whilst a few grow wealthier there is much poverty
In a World where there is so much inequality.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Changing Attitude
True believers, who know the Lord, by the Apostle are implored,
To make changes in their life, to become more like Jesus Christ,
Through His power, we are endued, to have a Christ like attitude,
Putting in place all we've heard; life changes found in The Word.
Recognition is what we need, this, as we follow The Spirit's lead,
God's Word sharp as a sword, brings to light changes implored,
Change spoken of by Apostle Paul, are to be pursued by us all,
To be more like Jesus Christ, as we seek to be a living sacrifice.
Renewal is then not only desired, but, by The Lord it is required,
This, to renew our heart and mind, to leave our old ways behind,
No longer shall we be conformed, to this world but transformed,
Conforming to the will of Christ, as we honor God with New Life.
Replacing in our life old ways, with a newness unto God's praise,
A new life substituting sinfulness, with our Lord's Righteousness,
As we died for Christ, that old man, is now dead, per God's Plan,
As the power of His Salvation, makes all believers a new creation.
Run hard then, this life's race, through the power of God's Grace,
Running in a way that pleases Him, the One Who died for our sin,
That we too can be a sacrifice, living for our Savior, Jesus Christ,
Living to please The Lord above, compelled by our Savior's love.
It Is A Tragic Time We Live In
It is a tragic time we live in with the violence in the World of today
For God and for National fervour the price in death is huge to pay
Two wrongs never ever make a right or words to that effect the wise say
It did take more than one side without a doubt to start the war of us against they,
Our political leaders are our reflection mirror for our predicament we have ourselves to blame
By giving power to the fear and war mongers some seek glory in acts of shame
Patriotism and Religion have led to more deaths through violence than any other two things one could name
And human blood it is shed by the barrel for the power hungry in their lust for fame,
In a World of redneck racism the rose of peace is in decay
They cannot be brought back to life the dead people in their graves forever they lay
Billions are spent on the manufacturing of war weaponry whilst people of hunger are dying
For the making of deadly weapons of mass destruction the gift of life to others they are denying
And because of Racism, God and Patriotism millions are condemned to suffer and die
And war by the so called good waged on evil is such a despicable lie.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hallelujah
Hallelujah
I am a preacher with a message for my people
Over the world, scratching on the ground
Looking for the peace that nobody has found
I am a spokesman for a better way of living
Love is the word and it can be heard
If you are young the message can be sung
Let me hear you sing, hallelujah
Oh tell it to the man whos power is the sermon on the wall
Tell it to the man who says you can misjudge them all
Tell it till it can be heard above the wailing of the crowd
Tell it on the field of war and hope youll soon be justified
There is a better way of life and its not so hard to find
If you live and let the people in your world speak its mind
I am the pupil who sells his life for freedom
All over the world and it can be heard
If you are young the message can be sung
Hallelujah
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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