Business Lovers
BUSINESS LOVERS
The women of rare, the Pandora box
of generous feelings that nothing of her is lost
true models of socialistic heart
the unsung great, on national integration cruise
the otherwise nice, is woefully on her wrong foot
tagged at a price, in exchange of her loot
short- lived drama, she plays the role as mute
hang up your boot and nose-dive into the soot
wrestling nights and joyless bouts
handsome gains for machine like work
ready- made smiles, cajole and the run-down flesh
taste-less men do waste their wealth
virtues and values are under the carpet
pricking conscience is ruthlessly slaughtered
when your dear ones are toiling in the quarters
you are bent to reward them from your………… AIDS Basket
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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The Good, The Bad And The Ugly
THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UGLY
Women tend to be shy of admitting their age
And try to forget as they slip beyond thirty five
Daunting feelings that their innings are over
LBW'ed men are peeping into somebody's splendor
Those Barbie dolls are now Rugby balls
The nature has redeemed the charms it pawned
Sweet, cute, juicy and wonder girls
Are stunned in defeat, at their abrupt fall
Blush-ful faces have dried up in patches
Glossy skin is dull in scratches
The smiles they sported have dimmed as past
Stress and strain have pulled them down faster
Whatever be the causes, there is a class of men
Who, in private, admire at those ripens
For their blow-out outfit and resilient specimen
Silly points, not to the taste of the virgins
Moral values are on the decay
Disappointments all around, have pushed its way
If the western free culture comes here to stay
Perhaps, most these idle beauties be drifting away
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Man Army
HE MAN ARMY
If I were to be given a free license to kill
whom should I aim and shoot at first
…..not those innocent birds or beasts
nor the menacing tuskers or man-eaters
I would prefer to terminate every corrupt mean rogue
but, God is there and has to punish such souls
I have no business to step into His shoes
Neither, He delegates powers in me to be on this role
nor myself a man of virtues to launch a crusade of my own
yet, I would be one among the God's ‘Demolition Squad'
fully masked with laser - guns, in wait for His NOD
to wipe out every evil within split seconds
restoring peace and order, turning EARTH to its original kind.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Lip Service
LIP SERVICE
The church is almost empty
Lit with candles
Under deserted alters
No hymns or music
Nor any distortions
Perfect silence
Is the hour - God lends his ears
For my prayers, smiles and feelings
Shown in perfect stillness
You need not sing,
Shout, weep, clap or cry
To take your prayers
to the soaring heights
Your deeds are being watched
Minute after minute,
- as who never sins
can even need not pray
God is one, and
He sits too high
He may not be knowing
YOU and ME
Conscience is His
Ambassador, stationed in me
Dispatching reports
To HIM, daily of me.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Zen Machine
You're always finding out
About the things that people never talk about
I didn't ask to know
But now i'm compensating as i go
I know the script i'm in
I'm only thoughts of heaven trapped in flesh and skin
And from the world of men
I try to tighten up the code again
And the code is a play
A play is a song
A song is a film
A film is a dance
Boot me up on the zen machine
Log me onto the zen machine
Load me down
Everybody get ready
Hook me into the zen machine
Sharing time on the zen machine
Load me up
Everybody get ready
Sometimes it's clear to me
Then for a moment i'm in timeless ecstasy
There are no reasons why
And everyone's a passer-by
But when they've gone to bed
A fire's burning on the screen and in my head
And on a windy day
You can smell it from a mile away
And the smell is a note
A note is a taste
A taste is a hue
A hue is a touch
song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Dog 'marcus
During the old SSLC days
I remember having read
a prose in English
' My Dog Marcus'
Marcus grew up in a rich environs
Timely food, daily bath & cushioned bed
Dog used to go for a walk by the lake-side
very willingly with his master, early morning
after some days, it became lazy
wanted to avoid the early walking rally
he hit upon an idea to deceive the master
started pretending as if deaf - dumb, on rare viral fever
till then, Marcus was having exceptional gift of hearing
even, pieces falling on carpet, were for his instant grabbing
Marcus meticulously unfolded the drama
remained as a statue, at the repeated calls of the master
master was perplexed at the sudden strike of the sickness
and devised a counter to combat the foolish Marcus
from the next day onwards, the master & his wife
conversed in-between, by silent whispers, with broad lip movements
and pretended to be shouting, and quarreled in mute format
Marcus was confused and feared, he lost his hearing for ever
Two weeks passed - Marcus ears rusted in silence
at the end of the shock drills, the master as usual,
called the Dog by name, in slow voice, for morning rounds -
Marcus, at once, jumped out in front, wagging its tail in shame.
……..perhaps, with a firm resolve that he will
never again attempt such stupid game
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Just One of Today's Thoughts
It's funny how we go through our life with all its hardships, tests, & disappointments. But we must realize that these things are just 'molding' tools. We're being molded by a Higher Power to become the people that He would have us to be.
WOMEN who are: positive, productive, & nurturing
independent, yet submissive
intelligent, yet willing to be educated
Women who are ROLE MODELS...
MOTHERS...
WIVES...
And God-Fearing Phenomenal WOMEN!
MEN who are: that protective provider
uplifting & positive
(and appreciative of women)
Men who are ROLE MODELS...
FATHERS...
HUSBANDS...
And God-Fearing Manly MEN!
And CHILDREN who are: individuals, yet adolescent
educated & respectful
(respected!)
Children who are ROLE MODELS...
PRODUCTIVE,
POSITIVE,
& PARTICULAR
God-Fearing Determined CHILDREN!
Thank You God! !
poem by April Mack
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Mother India
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
poem by Aziz Ahmad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pandora
Pandora, undone by her own curiosity according to the story, found Hope at the bottom of the fatal basket. Hope indeed had wings-and sequins, sang and was more or less green. She also spat tobacco juice when you squeezed her tummy. She had enormous eyes that peered in all directions.
'Hi', she said, sticking out her hand, 'I'm Hope'.
Pandora was taken aback, but shook her hand, not wanting to be rude.
'Pleased to meet you', said Pandora, politely. She came to put alot of stock in Hope.
'See you later', said Hope, suddenly taking wing.
'Where are you going? '
'Don't worry. I'll be back.'
But Hope was not the last item in the basket to emerge. The myth was wrong as myths often are and completely opposed to reality, which is never wrong, though...
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Mother India
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are the paradise on earth
Where things are not in any dearth.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
In Your Lap live men and women
Of every caste and religion.
You rain your love and affection
On them all without distinction.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You have got a peculiar trait
Due to which you are very great.
You adopt the foreigners too,
Who like to live and die for you.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
You are beautiful, all perfect;
You are rich in every aspect.
In the ancient times, we have heard,
Aliens called you ‘a golden bird’
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
The mountains guard your honour here;
The ocean washes your feet there.
The rivers contain sweet water
Which for us is just like nectar.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Our culture is ancient and high,
We are respected that is why.
Culture has bound us by and by,
With a chain of pure love and tie.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men
Who are not loyal, but still then,
Pose as lovers of this nation,
Whom we do not like to mention.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We are sorry here live some men;
Fire of hatred they ever fan.
Freedom, we fear, may not be lost,
Which we have got at a great cost.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
Let us be wise not to be tool
Of selfish powers which befool
Those who do not well understand
Their aim which is behind their stand.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
We will be lucky, if we die
For you, O Gracious Country High!
We’ll give them a fitting reply,
Who see you with a slanting eye.
O Mother Land! O Mother Land!
You are very dear and rare land.
poem by Aziz Ahmad 'Aziz Moradabadi'
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lazyman's Wise Prayer
LAZYMAN'S WISE PRAYER
If to that extent RICH indeed
I need not have to toil hard instead
If to that extent SHREWD indeed
I would have skipped some years instead
If to that extent BRAVE indeed
I could'nt have lost on more counts instead
If to that extent READY indeed
I should'nt have to repent now instead
If to that extent FOUGHT indeed
I ought to have won fast instead
If to that extent all B A D indeed
Better I should'nt have the right to live instead
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pandora II
though many people prefer myth. No, after Hope, Empathy came out of the basket. Pretty as was Hope, Empathy made her look like Hans Christian Anderson. Othwise, she was completely naked, had a charming voice and complained of nothing but the cold.
'Brrr, it's cold out here', she said, precisely.
Greatly moved, Pandora handed her a tissue to wrap herself in, which she did, but it's perfume gave her a sneezing jag.
'I'm awfully sorry', she said, wiping her nose with a corner of the tissue, 'have you got a pseudophed? '
Pandora didn't.
'My name is Empathy'.
'That's a pretty name', returned Pandora, beginning to get tired of all this hand-shaking. Nevertheless, ...
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Skipping Around Obstacles
It would be great if experience to one came,
Without the sacrificing of time...
To find fault or place blame.
Or the process of feeling some anguish and pain.
Wouldn't it be nice,
If it came with the throwing of dice?
And those wishing to have it,
Could barter for it in exchange.
Leaving complaints at a minimum.
With a bargain felt that had been obtained.
It would be delicious and lip licking good,
If the price of it could afford everyone's taste.
And no one would feel deprived of it,
No matter the neighborhood.
It would be great if experience to one came...
Overnight feeding everyone's appetite.
And those who make claims,
They have awakened with knowledge...
Would express more insight,
With eyes clear and bright!
But experience is what it is.
And it can not be taught to achieve.
'Excuse me professor,
Is it possible we can discuss that topic,
One more time?
Please? '
The one who acquires experience...
Isn't the one with a heart worn on a sleeve.
But has lived and learned from mistakes that were made.
And did not make excuses heard,
While gathering up the energy to again stand...
With no mention of having crawled on knees.
Experience does not come gift wrapped in a nice package.
Or skipping around obstacles,
To place that responsibility on someone else's back.
Experience doesn't come to be done like that!
'I am so glad I had that experience.
No one will ever know...
What it was like to see you,
Struggle as you carried my weight.
I so appreicate you giving me that experience.
WHEW!
Let me know when you are ready for more.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No Money Down
I know youre disappointed
In the way I handled things
Youre thinking I misread the times
And acted cowardly
And since what I do affects us both
And you feel that I let you down
Youre paying a price when there is no price to pay
Lovers trust, no money down
Youre paying a price when there is no price to pay
Lovers trust, no money down
(hey! lover)
(hey! lover)
(lover)
They say theres someone for everyone
And for everyone a someone
And some tattoo roses across their chests
With a heart that says rollo
And some work without a public relations man
And do their best work, baby, out of sight
Youre paying a price when there is no price to pay
Lovers trust, no money down
Youre paying a price when there is no price to pay
Lovers trust, no money down
(hey! lover)
(hey! lover)
(lover)
Now I have known a hero or two
And they all learn to swim through mud
And they all got boots caked with dirty soles
That they get from squashing bugs
So when push comes to shove get the harley revved up
The moon can eclipse even the sun
Youre paying a price when there is no price to pay
Lovers trust, no money down
Youre paying a price when there is no price to pay
Lovers trust, no money down
Lovers trust, no money down (hey! lover)
Yes, lovers trust, no money down (hey! lover)
Lovers trust, no money down (hey! hey! lover)
Lovers trust, no money down (hey! hey! lover)
(hey! hey! lover)
(hey! hey! lover)
...
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dethroned God
THE DETHRONED GOD
God has made
A costly mistake
Having made the man
Whom He believed would never overtake
As God is known for His perfections
He gave man the brain as his work-station
Dispelling all His expectations
Man, now questions His very presence
God is now weeping all day and night
Seriously working on an antidote
Or to do some corrections of such a magnitude
Precisely, to check man's aggressive turpitude
But, God has no council of Ministers,
Ordinances, nor able scientific advisors
To give Him a lead to begin the process
As whatever God proposes, man rightly disposes
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Betrothal
BETROTHAL
She is in wild shivers
as a bunch of new faces are due to arrive
to get her betrothed with
someone - of whom she knows nothing
The society around her is supreme
enacts and approves such gambling
binding the hearts on, bids and bargains
expensive contracts - and they call them ‘marriage'
In silk sarees with all your ornaments on
with suppressed feelings and limited smiling
as a ‘central object', advised to keep your mouth shut
exchange of ‘tambools' -
you are sold out to a new world unknown
she becomes ‘unattached' - an earmarked commodity;
and her movements are restrained, loss of freedom
as an ‘hypothecated stock' she remains under parents
with exclusive rights passed on to the other side barons
If she is earning, she has to keep the whole packet aside
and if she has tooth ache, she cannot get it pulled, as she liked
If by a freak accident, she has bruised her little finger
her ‘destined owner' should inspect and ratify all physical damage
Dear bride;
it is not the correct sign
that you are being loved so much
and please do not likewise be misled
that you are going to be cared by them till the far end
high dramas, leading you through a colour-full panorama
Into the stage of deceit and trauma
we have no method to test-pick a honest groom -
among the black sheep sporting the role of ‘mahatma'
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Busy Lovers' Guide - Mud - Horse Heroes
BUSY LOVERS' GUIDE - MUD-HORSE HEROES
I used to scribble always
since my college days.
a few of my close friends
used to ghearo me often
urging me to write
in sweet terms, love letters
running to pages, all trash
to decoy their innocent lovers
posing themselves as literal master
Likewise, I had sinned several times
and with borrowed bricks, cement and mortars
all were thriving high and fast
but riding always on the mud, dumb horse
giving no chance to the other-side
of the chain of foul plays involved
But, I must be the most worst idiot
with so much own skills at my command,
and tested abilities of roping in a ‘heart'
of services rendered and
the dividends they reaped -
I did not shore up
a Dolphin for me.
Those guys who went
ahead with marriage
secretly, confessed to me later
that their wives were
much more wicked
not even to detect till -
that their youthful, winning husbands
were real big zeros.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strength in weakness
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
A typical Pauline sophism?
A typical Pauline syllogism?
A typical Pauline casuistry?
A typical Pauline homily.
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
Paul was disabled, you see
Was he blind? You ask
Was he lame? You ask
Was it a speech impediment?
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
Oh! He was strong in spirit
But weak in appearance
He can’t be our leader, they said
He’s an embarrassment
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
Paul said: “Yes, I am weak
But God’s strength is made perfect
In my weakness not in my strength
So up the weak and down the strong! (my words!)
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
We are all weak in some way
Weak in our words
Weak in our walk
Weak in our talk
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
But for God, weak means strong
Kingdom values, Kingdom virtues
Jesus’ values, Jesus’ virtues
My values? my virtues?
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
So the lamb not the lion
The humble not the haughty
The lowly not the lofty
The penitent not the proud.
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
Let’s value then the weak
And remember they are strong.
If I am proud, then I am wrong
If I am conceited, then I am wrong
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
Let’s fill the Church then with the weak
Push in the wheelchairs
Roll in the scooters
Help the handicapped walk in.
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
When I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness
“At even, ere the sun was set
The sick oh Lord, around thee lay
Oh, in what divers pains they met
Oh with what joy they went away
And none oh Lord, have perfect rest
For none are wholly free from sin;
For they who fain would serve thee best
Are conscious most of sin within.
Thy touch has still its ancient power
No word from thee can fruitless fall
Hear in this solemn hour we pray
And in thy mercy heal us all.”
Paul’s thorn in the flesh
For when I am weak,
Then I am strong
Strength in weakness.
poem by James Hart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love is the expression of one's values, the greatest reward you can earn for the moral qualities you have achieved in your character and person, the emotional price paid by one man for the joy he receives from the virtues of another.
Love L O S T
LOVE LOST
I missed the Fantasy
of LOVE
when I was of prime age
aptly, my friend hinted once
that I have lost
50% of charms of life….
……….his statement was perhaps true !
for, I was poor, simple
and of very ordinary looks
quite unfit for sweet little talks
in cheap cotton pants
on to it un-ironed shirts
in faded dhoti and Hawaii chappal
and with rationed pocket money, on hand
even the poorest girl
could not have liked me in -
as I was a total mismatch
for her asking basic dreams
still, I have had no regrets
for being so unfortunate,
because I knew pretty well
that no one would have
truly loved me then
even, if I wished and cried for one
having lived for six long decades,
I now, recollect those ‘love lost' years
surrendering unto the Heaven's best designs
I have been raised from rags to riches;
…….with an enduring gift of a unblemished, passionate,
dutiful, exceptional wife, whom I LOVED thru' rest of my life.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young people in the business have grown up and made the wrong decisions, or bad decisions, and haven't been good role models. To be someone that people look up to is important to me.
quote by Justin Bieber
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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