En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Spinning

Waiting for a prickly path
at crossroads,
where desolation sits in
between words and flesh.

Hanging shells on windows
where light immigrated
to prophecies of Buddha.The
violence will never end.

Can you find some space
between the bullets? Between
the contrasts lie the black
thoughts and sick arguments.

Through the comets who will shoot
bleeding flag?

poem by Satish Verma
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Buddha Walked Exploration Path Embraced Embodied

Buddha was not a self styled teacher of light
Buddha walked exploration path embraced embodied
became light those inspired who could followed

those inspired who could followed at their own pace
enlightenment is not a teacher taught subject
all individuals all souls will must their own path find

poem by Terence George Craddock
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I Am Sick......

i am sick of your justice...
sick of dead bodies strewn,
sick of your bursts of gunfire,
and your bombs without conscience.
sick of the napalm fingers of your equality,
trading flesh for nickels and dime.
sick of your powder and your pills,
sick of the rape of the young girl
beneath your flag!
i am sick of your nuclear bibles,
sick of your buying and trading.
i am sick of the pound of your oil rigs,
sick of the stink of your morality.
i am sick of your hanging trees,
your courtrooms stacked.
i am sick of the money you sleep with,
sick of your colorless freedom.
i am sick of your smokestacks gone silent.
sick of your riot squads gassing.
i am sick of the amendments you've twisted,
sick of your hate and your prejudice...
i am sick of your slavery,
your prisons, your human rights violations.
i am sick of your political lies....

revolution, by common bond,
the choice of integrity, or death!
the dignity of the human soul demands,
that we live or we die!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Crossroads

By robert johnson
I went down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees.
I went down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees.
Asked the lord above for mercy, save me if you please.
I went down to the crossroads, tried to flag a ride.
I went down to the crossroads, tried to flag a ride.
Nobody seemed to know me, everybody passed me by.
Im going down to rosedale, take my rider by my side.
Im going down to rosedale, take my rider by my side.
You can still barrelhouse, baby, on the riverside.
You can run, you can run, tell my friend-boy willie brown.
You can run, you can run, tell my friend-boy willie brown.
And Im standing at the crossroads, believe Im sinking down.

song performed by by Cream
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crossroads

By robert johnson
I went down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees.
I went down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees.
Asked the lord above for mercy, save me if you please.
I went down to the crossroads, tried to flag a ride.
I went down to the crossroads, tried to flag a ride.
Nobody seemed to know me, everybody passed me by.
Im going down to rosedale, take my rider by my side.
Im going down to rosedale, take my rider by my side.
You can still barrelhouse, baby, on the riverside.
You can run, you can run, tell my friend-boy willie brown.
You can run, you can run, tell my friend-boy willie brown.
And Im standing at the crossroads, believe Im sinking down.

song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crossroads

By robert johnson
I went down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees.
I went down to the crossroads, fell down on my knees.
Asked the lord above for mercy, save me if you please.
I went down to the crossroads, tried to flag a ride.
I went down to the crossroads, tried to flag a ride.
Nobody seemed to know me, everybody passed me by.
Im going down to rosedale, take my rider by my side.
Im going down to rosedale, take my rider by my side.
You can still barrelhouse, baby, on the riverside.
You can run, you can run, tell my friend-boy willie brown.
You can run, you can run, tell my friend-boy willie brown.
And Im standing at the crossroads, believe Im sinking down.

song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Buddha Born, Buddha Dying!

the buddha in me
looks like the buddha in you,
smells like, tastes like,
feels like, talks like....

i feel your need,
for you are part of mine.
you taught me about love,
when you were hurting.

the buddha in me,
reaches out to the buddha in you.
we inhale and exhale,
and night becomes day.

the buddha in you,
the question and the answer.
each a part of the other,
one must be for both to be.

the buddha in me, the buddha in you...
light born of darkness,
darkness comforts light.
the buddha born, the buddha dying,

no difference, no loss,
the journey goes on.

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Buddha Eyes

Buddha eyes,
seeing beyond the visible,
and beneath the crust.

Buddha ears,
hearing what is not said
wrapped in the spoken.

Buddha thoughts,
connecting with all thoughts,
creating and forming.

Buddha heart,
feeling every beat of every heart
inside each beat of my own.

Buddha freedom,
letting go of...
becoming a part of!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Carbon Choking

Uninhibited violence. The disappearing
she-factor in stem cells at sunset point,
which could not collect the evidence.How
the tomb-sweeping stopped and
candles blown out? This time
the thorns were bleeding, flesh was again
gone out of sight, and the dark silence
ejected from teeth, was mugged by words. Your
kiss arrives in vain, the night was without
a moon. Asleep, a seed sprouts howling
at the crossroads ready to invite the bottom
of abyss at the child’s rape. Come and
see the birthmark on forehead, the map
of his country reddening and oozing.
I am on the run now to graft the
skin on unhealing wounds, unanswerable.

poem by Satish Verma
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First Things to Hand

In the skull kept on the desk.
In the spider-pod in the dust.

Or nowhere. In milkmaids, in loaves,
Or nowhere. And if Socrates leaves

His house in the morning,
When he returns in the evening

He will find Socrates waiting
On the doorstep. Buddha the stick

You use to clear the path,
And Buddha the dog-doo you flick

Away with it, nowhere or in each
Several thing you touch:

The dollar bill, the button
That works the television.

Even in the joke, the three
Words American men say

After making love. Where's
The remote? In the tears

In things, proximate, intimate.
In the wired stem with root

And leaf nowhere of this lamp:
Brass base, aura of illumination,

Enlightenment, shade of grief.
Odor of the lamp, brazen.

The mind waiting in the mind
As in the first thing to hand.

poem by Robert Pinsky
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Space Between

You cannot quit me so quickly
Is no hope in you for me
No corner you could squeeze me
But Ive got all the time for you love
The space between
The tears we cry is the laughter that keeps us coming back for more
The space between
The wicked lies we tell to keep us safe from the pain
Will I hold you again
These fickle fuddled words confuse me
Like will it rain today
We waste the hours with talking talking
These twisted games were playing
Were strange allies
With warring hearts
What a wild eyed beast you be
The space between
The wicked lies we tell that hope to keep us safe from the pain
Look at us spinning out in the madness of a rollercoaster
You know you went off like the devil in the church
In the middle of a crowded room
All we can do my love
Is hope we dont take this ship down
The space between
Where you smile and hide
Thats where youll find me if I get to go
The space between
The bullets in our fire fight
Is where Ill be hiding waiting for you
The rain that falls
Splashed in your heart
Ran like sadness down the window into your room
The space between
Our wicked lies is
The hope to keep safe from pain
Take my hand
Cause were walking out of here
Right out of here
Is all we need dear
The space between
Whats wrong and right
Is where youll find me hiding
Waiting for you
The space between
Your heart and mind
Is the space well fill with time
The space between
The tears we cry is the laughter keeps us coming back for more
The space between
Our wicked lies where we hope to keep safe from pain
The space between
The space between

song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Space Between

You cannot quit me so quickly
Is no hope in you for me
No corner ycould squeeze me
But Ive got all the time for you, love
The space between, the tears we cry
Is the laughter keeps us coming back for more
The space between, the wicked lies we tell
And hope to keep us safe from the pain
Will I hold you again?
These fickle, fuddled words confuse me
Like will it rain today?
We waste the hours with talking, talking
These twisted games were playing
Were strange allies
With warring hearts
What a wild-eyed beast you be
The space between, the wicked lies we tell
And hope to keep us safe from the pain
Will I hold you again?
Will I hold you...
Look at us spinning out in the madness of a rollercoaster
You know you went off like the devil in a church
In the middle of a crowded room
All we can do, my love
Is hope we dont take this ship down
The space between, where you smile and hide
Where youll find me if I get to go
The space between, the bullets in our fire fight
Is where Ill be hiding, waiting for you
The rain that falls splashed in your heart
Ran like sadness down the window into your room
The space between, our wicked lies
Is where we hope to keep safe from pain
Take my hand
cause were walking out of here
Oh, right out of here
Love is all we need dear
The space between, whats wrong and right
Is where youll find me hiding, waiting for you
The space between, your heart and mine
Is a space well fill with time
The space between...

song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Buddha Within....

Buddha's tears...
on the faces of every
hungry child in the world.
Buddha's emptiness,
in the hearts of every
person who has no home.
Buddha's sorrow,
in the eyes of every
victim of the bombings.
Buddha's silence,
at the roar of every
religious fanatic.
Buddha's compassion,
in the dirt of every
human being fallen.
Buddha's forgiveness,
in the anger of every
person driven by prejudice.
Buddha within,
seeks to evolve!
Buddha within,
just to be!
Buddha within,
already there.
Buddha within,
always has been!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Black and White (Stream XV)

I have black thoughts,
It is a black day,
A day when the black dog
Coal black, hovers at my shoulder.
I shoulder the burden.
Deep in the black hole.
Black as a black hearted night.
Negative.
Stark.
Black and white.
I do not call my good days white days.
Why?
Or have white thoughts
On a white day,
When the white dog
Pure white sits upon my shoulder.
Which is unburdened.
Out of the pit,
Luxuriating in the bright white light;
White as the purest snow.
Positive.
For we live in a too white world
Maybe we should have grey days,
And light days.
Why should Black be negative and White poitive?

For me then, today is a grey day.
Maybe tomorrow will be a light day.

Copyright P H Brookes 2012

poem by Paul Brookes
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Bleeding Day

Bilobed ginkgo resolves the conflict
of soul and body on the right side of truth,
laid out on a table visited by desolation;
here comes the crash of bodies.

You stand up against the end of beginning
to lock eyes with destiny, answer obliquely
to raw questions about the baking in plastic
cauldrons, when heat was rising in blue veins.

Engulfed in fumes of muscular words, resonant
with agitation of black banners at the door;
who will stop the sea of whispering veils
defying the shower of bullets coming from windows.

They were out in black night, impoverished,
burning inside, in grass green mud, covering
the ornate faces. Folks dissipating
on blunt shades, your sun outraged.

Six steps to reach the house, you take
six hours. It was naked and desperate aggression.

poem by Satish Verma
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Give Into Hate

Violence surrounds me
Violence in society
Violence in our eyes
Violence in their cries
Violence it's our fate?
Violence, it's too late?
Violence, no escape?
Violence, give into hate?
Is it human nature to act like animals?
We're all guilty, we're all criminals
Selfish species headed for a self destruction
Violent product of moral corruption
Violence for love
Violence because of hate
Violence, revolution
Violence of the state
Violence, you will find
Violence, it grips your mind
Violence, it's too late?
Violence, give into hate

song performed by by Unseen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Very Disturbing

Rains will not come to my land.
Bisexuality starts a slut walk.
Blackbucks were hungry.

The stray dogs were barking
at moon. Into the night goes
the snake without any truth.

Nearly over the scooped –
protection of virginity
against the dazzling hirsutism.

Lost fortune of the flaunted
Buddha. I have no legs
to bow down before the pale god.

This is the sex: there are
strawberries. Have a pick
of comets, bleeding.

poem by Satish Verma
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Crossroads

[Originally by Robert Johnson]
I went to the crossroads, fell down on my knees
I went to the crossroads, fell down on my knees
Asked the Lord above, have mercy now, save poor Bob if you please
Standin' at the crossroads, tried to flag a ride
Whee-hee, I tried to flag a ride
Didn't nobody seem to know me, everybody pass me by
Standin' at the crossroads, risin' sun goin' down
Standin' at the crossroads baby, the risin' sun goin' down
I believe to my soul now, po' Bob is sinkin' down
You can run, you can run, tell my friend Willie Brown
You can run, you can run, tell my friend Willie Brown
That I got the crossroad blues this mornin', Lord, baby I'm sinkin' down
I went to the crossroad, mama, I looked east and west
I went to the crossroad, babe, I looked east and west
Lord, I didn't have no sweet woman, ooh well, babe, in my distress

song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rocket Science

My little boy once asked me
"Mummy, what is space?
Is it all just empty? "
I looked into his face.

I hesitated somewhat
before I gave reply
for I am not a scholar
and that is rocket science.

My answer was as follows,
you may not agree,
but my little boy was satisfied
and comforted by me.

I told him "there are moons,
stars and comets too,
but we just cannot see them
from our sitting room.

If we could switch a light on,
in space, just like at home,
We might see wondrous things,
but, for now, we just don't know.

Imagine for a moment
in this room, right where we are
A light bulb is the sun
and we are all the stars.

If we turn out the light
there's nothing we can see,
but when we turn it on again,
we see many things.

I often think that space
is like our pitch black room,
and one day men will light it
and it may be quite soon! "

My little boy looked up
at the big night sky outside
and said, "I understand now mum"
and rubbed his sleepy eyes.

I really hope I satisfied
his curiosity and one day
when he's grown up
he'll explain it all to me.

poem by Ruth Walters
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Overt Enemy

I breach your life
Indoctrinate
Police your thoughts
Ask why I hate
I lose control
When I see your face
Abusing power
I infiltrate
Continue lies
Then masturbate
I walk the line
I'll do no time
I hate your church
I'll burn your state
A bleeding heart
A seal of fate
There is no crime
Within my mind
I'll sell your life and preach your death
A wicked plan born of contempt
Bleeding my ideology through pain

Audacious plans
I calculate
A new world view
I'll re-instate
Don't cross my path
Or I'll see you burn
You'll meet your end
Find death alone
No grave to mark
The seeds you've sown
You've pushed too far
My secrets I defend
I'll sell your life and preach your death
A wicked plan born of contempt
Bleeding my ideology through pain

Demonize what is feared profane architect
Skull and bones through the mind
Barbaric thoughts of old
Celebrate all unknown
At last the head await
The die is cast for the meek
inherit endless dead time
Smell the victim are near
consume the catalyst
Hunting masses for game
implanting septic thoughts
Reaping terror through words while
armed behind your back
Pseudo leaders betray
enslaving all of mankind
Cast out the Demi God
Dethrone the demagogue
Cast out the church God
I command your life
And I don't care
Let bullets rain
From everywhere
No suicide
Will save you from yourself

song performed by by Slayer from Diabolus In Musica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shackles

an old Esso sign,
broken down,
standing in the corner.

empty block building,
windows broke out,
wind whistles through the dust.

an old set of shackles,
hanging on a peg.
two broken chairs,

and an empty coke bottle.

lost on the road
that no one travels anymore.
an old rotary phone...

a tattered flag on the floor.
an old Chevy up on blocks,
black crows flying overhead...

i sit down and light a smoke,
staring at the shackles....
and letting go!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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