Ch 03 On The Excellence Of Contentment Story 25
A man whose hands and feet had been amputated killed a millipede and a pious passer-by exclaimed: ‘Praised be Allah! In spite of the thousand feet he possessed he could not escape from a man without hands and feet when his fate had overtaken him.’
When the life-taking foe comes in the rear
Fate ties the legs of a running man.
At the moment when the enemy has slowly arrived
It is useless to draw the Kayanian bow.
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A right pair!
The tired shoes yawned,
They were unable to detach themselves from the feet
The tired feet yawned
Feeling trapped by the shoes and unable to escape
The first signs of agraphobia pressed in
Both were sick of the sight of each other
What a pair!
The hands tapped the table top idly
Refusing to release them,
Too busy composing a first and second draft
Of sonnet in its third sequence
The hands showed 'creative indifference'
The feet and the shoes
Now hot and bothered
Grew smelly and grumpy
Stamping the ground they united forces
Shifting both legs into action
Stamping the ground in fury
Shifting the hands from the writing pad
Until finally the hands released them from each other
'What a pair'! , the hands cried
The feet and the shoes
Sent loving looks to each other
After a particularly tiresome day
They hoped soon to be re united
What a pair!
poem by Yvette Smith
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Stomp Your Hands, Clap Your Feet
Whoa!
Woo-woo yeah
Turn it up until it bangs your head
Tear it down now mother don't play dead
People stand the noise
All the little toys
Put some more coke on the fire
Stomp your hands
Clap your feet
Stomp your hands
To the beat
Stomp your hands
Clap your feet
Stomp your hands
To the beat
Mixed up kids lookin' for that night
They're getting higher everything in sight, well alright
The music's pretty loud
Someone in the crowd
Think they're gonna cause us a riot
Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh
Stomp your hands
Clap your feet
Stomp your hands
To the beat, oh
Stomp your hands
Clap your feet
Stomp your hands
To the beat
Rock on, rock on, rock on
Yow!
How how how how how
Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh
(Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh)
Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh
(Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh)
(Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh)
Whoa-oh-oh-oh ho ho ho
Stomp your hands
Clap those feet, yeah
Stomp your hands
To the beat
C'mon boys
Stomp your hands
Clap your feet
Whoa-whoa, all night, yeah, yeah, yeah
Stomp your hands
(Oh whoa oh oh)
Clap your feet
Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh
Stomp your hands
Clap your feet
Stomp your hands
To the beat
All night long
Stomp your hands
(Everybody)
Clap your feet
(Everybody stomp your hands to the beat in the heat yeah yeah yeah yeah woo!)
Stomp your hands
(Oh!)
Clap your feet
(Oh whoa whoa whoa whoa, rock all night, yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Oh yeah
Stomp your hands
(Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Clap your feet
(My my my, my my my my my my, my, my, m
song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Birds and the Above
What is their grade, who sing to the above?
Their legs can not carry their bodies,
For they are inferior, they are inferior.
Legs are too much for those who walk,
Yet the hands are meaning too much.
You are superior, and you are amazing -
It is a man who walks and talks that inspires,
Yet feeble people do not seem wrong
To the caring ones, the ones who care.
Care must be given to you,
As the hospital will fetch you
If hands and feet are allowed.
As you are like a bird,
Birds are like you, for you fly.
With wings you are not,
But hands and feet.
You walk and yet fly,
Yet wings are not feet
For the birds.
What is their grade, who sing to the above?
poem by Naveed Akram
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Hat And Feet
Hat And Feet
Fountains Of Wayne
I'm just a hat and feet
That's all that's left of me
A spot on the sidewalk
A mark on the street
I'm just a hat and feet
I'm just a hat and feet
You dropped a bomb on me
I didn't even see
Like a falling piano
From out of the window
Now I'm just a hat and feet
I'm just a hat and feet
I'm just a sitting duck
That ran out of luck
I'm the unhappy guy
That didn't look up high
I started running when I saw it coming
It got faster and louder til I took a powder
Now
I'm just a hat and feet
That's what 's become of me
Flat on the sidewalk
Stuck in the street
I'm just a hat and feet
I'm just a hat and feet
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Burning Down
]from the back of my neck, oh oh oh
Wired a glass jaw, oh oh
Plantation burning your boat is coming in
Strum your jews-harp, youre reeking gin
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
Johnny mike is reading in the yard
His storys timely, oh oh oh
What river is it anyway, radio
Not in a boat, in your ear
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
You pick your island in the sun
Take your island off hes got a gun
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
Hes cooking in the woods, a brush fire in your neck
Feeling mighty mighty, oh oh oh
You can pick your island in the sun
Take your island off hes got a gun
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hat & Feet
Im just a hat and feet
Thats all thats left of me
A spot on the sidewalk
A mark on the street
Im just a hat and feet
Im just a hat and feet
You dropped a bomb on me
I didnt even see
Like a falling piano
From out of a window
Now Im just a hat and feet
Im just a hat and feet
Im just a sitting duck
That ran out of luck
Im the unhappy guy
That didnt look up high
I started running when I saw it coming
It got faster and louder til I took a powder
Now
Im just a hat and feet
Thats what become of me
Flat on the sidewalk
Stuck to the street
Im just a hat and feet
Im just a hat and feet
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Rusty Nail
I ran a nail into my hand,
The wound was hard to heal;
So bitter was the pain to stand
I thought how it would feel,
To have spikes thrust through hands and feet,
Impaled by hammer beat.
Then hoisted on a cross of oak
Against the sullen sky,
With all about the jeering follk
Who joyed to see me die;
Die hardly in insensate heat,
With bleeding hands and feet.
Yet was it not that day of Fate,
Of cruelty insane,
Climaxing centuries of hate
That woke our souls to pain!
And are we not the living seed
Of those who did the deed!
Of course, with thankful heart I know
We are not fiends as then;
And in a thousand years or so
We may be gentle men.
But it has cost a poisoned hand,
And pain beyond a cry,
To make me strangely understand
A Cross against the sky.
poem by Robert William Service
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Sometimes I wish I were not a part of you
My feet are pinched
With needles.
Your hands are not there.
I try to relieve myself from pain.
It is not happening.
There is no miracle.
There is no cure.
The world is a big space.
I can leave anytime and
Take the shape
Of air.
I can be gone.
How come that I become
A part of you
And her?
I do not remember myself coming
Here and sitting on this chair.
Fate.
Cruel fate.
I want to leave but I cannot go
I do not want to stay but I am staying.
How I wish I were not a part
Of this mess:
This cruelty inflicted
From your hand
To my hand.
How I wish I were
Someone else
Here I am.
I am your hair to your head.
Your fingers to your hand.
Your toes to your feet.
I guess. We must learn to live
With each other.
Dislikes disregarded
We begin
Our silent wars.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Escape.... The.... Fate....
She ran ran as running was to escape
escape escape went through her mind
escape escape she beg she ran she screams through out her lungs
ESCAPE! ! ! ! she screamed she ran ran
She tries tries she begs begs to escape escape
she screams through out her lungs
She ran ran she beg beg she screamed ESCAPE! ! ! !
escape escape ran through her mind
mind all over her future future of
the fate fate she ran ran to escape escape
she beg beg she screams through out her lungs
ESCAPE THE FATE! ! ! !
she ran ran till theirs no tomorrow
until the end of her fate
she beg beg she tries tries to escape escape
she screams through out her lungs
ESCAPE THE FATE! ! ! !
The end The end approaches to her
as fate fate is left behind
she escapes escapes
the fate fate she screams
she screams through out her lungs
ESCAPE THE FATE! ! ! !
poem by Linda Anguiano
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447
Sometimes I wish I were not a part of you
========================================== ================
My feet are pinched
With needles.
Your hands are not there.
I try to relieve myself from pain.
It is not happening.
There is no miracle.
There is no cure.
The world is a big space.
I can leave anytime and
Take the shape
Of air.
I can be gone.
How come that I become
A part of you
And her?
I do not remember myself coming
Here and sitting on this chair.
Fate.
Cruel fate.
I want to leave but I cannot go
I do not want to stay but I am staying.
How I wish I were not a part
Of this mess:
This cruelty inflicted
From your hand
To my hand.
How I wish I were
Someone else
Here I am.
I am your hair to your head.
Your fingers to your hand.
Your toes to your feet.
I guess. We must learn to live
With each other.
Dislikes disregarded
We begin
Our silent wars.
==================================== ======================
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Psalm 18
I will call upon the Lord
Who is mighty to be praised
Though the pangs of death surround me
To Him my hands are raised
And when the Lord had heard my call
Into the darkness He did ride
On the wings of the wind He came to me
Thunder and lightenings were by His side
Hailstone and coals of fire rained down
And the enemy fell one by one
You heard me oh Lord in my calamitous state
And out of the fire stepped your Son
You have made my feet like the feet of the deer
You have set me upon a high place
You have enlarged my path and given me life
As I looked into your glorious face
poem by Frank McEleny
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Outside Your Window
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I feel the seconds slowly pass,
Whilst you I anxiously await.
And behind the glowing glass;
I glimpsed a fading candlelight.
And I with hope was filled and so:
Wished I for love and life this night.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I see through the looking glass,
To find my missing soulmate.
And when the light finally flew;
When darkness swamped the room:
A wide smile on my face drew;
And waited I for you to bloom.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I feel my feelings all amass,
As I your beauty contemplate.
Seconds felt forever;
Nor beauty I did see.
All alone my eyes did glitter;
Whilst wondering where you would be!
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I walked on in your impasse;
Wishing it's not yet too late.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I lonesome stood for long alas!
And didn't notice your window grate.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I tried to drag out of that morass,
Myself; and my lost senses locate.
Outside Her Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I watched my heart swiftly by a lass,
Gets stolen; and did my soul sedate.
Outside Her Window;
I still pass by everyday.
Outside Her Window;
I can't just turn and walk away.
Outside Her Window;
I still have hope that she might show.
Outside Her Window;
I watch my life pass by so slow.
Outside Your Window;
And in the hands of fate:
I once awaited you alone all night.
But now I know: it's just too late!
poem by Danny The Dreamer Boyd
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Hands!
Hands! Gentle Hands!
When the Field at covert stands,
When your four-rear-old is sweating,
Foamed and fidgety and fretting
As a stray hound jumps the netting -
You can steady him and soothe him with your Hands!
Hands! Clever Hands!
When your tiring hunter lands
Over wall or ditch or double
With his noseband in the stubble,
That's the moment you're in trouble
If you have not got the saving gift of Hands!
Hands! Steady Hands!
When your reins seem useless bands,
With a mad brute going faster
And a toss-up which is master,
You may still avoid disaster
If Providence has given to you Hands!
Hands! Talking Hands!
At the fence below the Stands,
When you call on him to lead them,
That's the moment when you need them,
That's the time a horse will heed them
As you bring him up and help him with your Hands!
Hands! Horseman's Hands!
When the stooping fairy stands
At the cradle of a baby,
She has richer gifts, it may be,
But she never brought a better one than Hands!
poem by William Henry Ogilvie
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Feet Dont Fail Me Now
Cant you see, she dont want you around no more
Cant you see, that her hands pointing at the door
Feet dont fail me now
How could anyone stay
Anyone could see its time to go away
Time to take a powder
Open up your eyes
But it feels like my legs have been paralyzed
Feet dont fail me now
Begging please dont make a fool of me
Feet dont fail me now
Please dont keep me where I should not be
Feet dont fail me now
Stop pretending that youve gone to sleep
Feet dont fail me now
Begging please dont make a fool of me
See your things piled in the hall
Turn around, theres a new picture on the wall
Feet dont fail me now
Were the last ones to know
Anyone could see its time for us to go
Time to hit the highway
Nothing left to do
But it feels like my shoes have been crazy glued
song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A summers day of bliss.
In the summer I sit on my swing listening,
just listening to everything I could
possibly hear.
The closest thing I could hear is the swift stream
running with such beauty that I envy it.
I'm sitting on my swing which is hung over the stunning stream
of the wondrous Auvergne.
Little swirls start circling my feet as I dip my pink toes
into the cool water.I listen as merry birds overhead swoop and glide
over me without taking a glance at me.
Once the sun starts too set I start wandering to my Favourite place in my resort...The bridge
As I slowly reach the bridge taking all the time I need I start to feel the sand under my feet and the glow from the setting sun.
I was at the core of my resort, The sun was making the beautiful stream sparkle like a diamond as it flowed around my feet and then escaped around me and drifted down the small waterfall.I sat there for a moment on a bank next to the waterfall watching as the sun slowly escaped my sight.
poem by Nelly Wilder
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: VI
IN PRAISE OF HIS FATE
When I hear others speak of this and that
In our fools' lives which might have better gone,
Complaining idly of too niggard fate
And wishing still their senseless past undone,
I feel a childish tremor through me run,
Stronger than reason, lest by some far chance
Fate's ear to our sad plaints should yet be won
And these our lives be thrown back on our hands.
I tremble when I think of my past years,
My hopes, my aims, my wishes. All these days
I might have wandered far from Love and thee.
But kind fate held me, heedless of my prayers,
A prisoner to its wise mysterious ways,
And forced me to thy feet--ah fortunate me!
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Under the snow rain
Running in midnight
Snow shines in the dark
Falling beautiful slowly
Make me rushing my feet
My breath’s frozen, my hands turn cold
But I don’t care
I must meet you, I must see you now
I need to hold you and feel your warmth
Before you gone and leave me broken
Running like a fool
Tears river in my eyes
Still rushing my feet
Screaming nightmare inside
My heart’s stop beating, my mouth starts bitter
I know no mistake
I must come to you, I must find you now
I need to hold you and keep you warm
Before you gone and leave me alone
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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An Exhortation About A Dog
i
the dog that licks my
feet
every morning after
i wake up
does not appeal to my
senses anymore
ii
the dog that licks my feet every morning after i wake up does not appeal to my senses anymore
iii
the dog
that
licks my
feet
every
morning
after
i wake
up
does
not
appeal to
my
senses
anymore
iv
but i must
allow it
still
because it is the law
between
the dog and me
and this
dogged
society
v
and so the dog still
licks my feet
every morning
and at night
i do not ponder about it
anymore
i do not ask
i have no questions
for asking
vi
the dog sleeps with me
at night
in my bed
and spreads her legs like
a spoiled
prostitute
and she is confident
that i cannot kill her
because that is the
law between us
and dogs
vii
and society keeps guard
on this
and if i continue
having this dog's tongue lick
all over my body
and feed her well
and make her a part of my
life
till death do us part
then society
shall have a thousand hands
clapping
for my obedience
and fidelity
viii
my honest neighbor
(who does not want to be mentioned here says
that actually)
she's one kind of a typical
bitch
(and i will neither confirm nor deny
it, but please do not tell
anyone about it)
that is the law.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Little Cyclone
My little cyclone,
my little storm.
It Is autumn, again.
Its you, again,
and you have layed an unencumbered burden on me
by not forgetting.
I cant hide it,
how you've been playing around my senses lately, no,
not like allergies.
I look up to the amputated clock, see its gloomy eyes and sing to myself, rememeber that melody?
I thought I could forget.
Like clockwork you come running your dress floating above your strong legs, like flowers. returning to our fallowed out fields.
But,
You are still out there in the cold,
in the darkness which waits at my door.
The pure fire that I had made, that morning when
I left you there sleeping, has covered up for warmth.
I dig callus hands into the moist soil where we had roots,
my veins sucking up nutrients to feed my weakened bones.
Satiated, I run, with wanderlust, back home
to catch the breath you feathered towards me, with hints of oh, pumpkin spices.
You are out there!
knowing we have lived all seasons in our one,
a whole day under the sun,
a whole lifetime of everlasting moments,
closer than those dying to escape,
we have been bored with words,
on levels above consciousness, beyond common love.
bring me your delicate hands,
Because, because just knowing you are out there:
exploring, making impresions, learning,,
and inspiring.
To know I had tought you (as you say)
the important things in life.
To know that I measure my steps to the day I rest
at your gate once more,
without ruminations on the time, and you,
can bury your hands with mine.
my little cyclone
believe me that will be one of my golden moments.
I cannot, my little storm, I cannot,
rebuild without your love.
I need your hands, your arms, your eyes.
I need your your fingers,
delicately rubbing my neck through my hair,
craddling my jaw, and resting upon my chest.
Grabbing my lower lip,
your tongue tracing along the dry cracked brim, allow me.
nursing my tattered feet (my feet that are bleeding) .
I hear the beasts in the alleys, they walk not far behind me, crying.
You always seem to destroy me and I am eternally grateful.
My little cyclone. my own little autumn.
poem by Jerome Moore
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Hearts Made Of Feet!
and so we struggle,
turning in the womb,
choked by the cord.
conceived in darkness,
becoming light!
we are hearts made of feet,
feet that walk the path.
feet that slip and fall,
feet that take the wrong turn.
feet that keep on walking,
sore, tired, hurting.
feet of desire, and purpose,
feet of soulful intent!
all the great philosophies
come to this...
feet that only stop walking
to bandage other feet;
then walk together,
leaving one set of prints!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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