The Master Mind
The master mind, devil of evil.
Initiator of deception, creator of sorrow.
Most cunning, most assuring,
fallen emperor, proud prince.
Master mind, he masters the mind
At the entrance of the grave,
he envies the throne of grace.
author of death, father of hell
rewards flaming passions with flames of fire
and he masters the proud, master mind
He serves to master
and masters the world
beauty, wealth, power, and pride...
his own assets.
The master mind serves the world.
His empire is deception,
his agent is 'reason'
who reasons with the wise
and curses the proud into a trap
He masters the mind, who masters the world!
poem by Timothy muggaga
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Related quotes
However the Southern man may have been master of the negro, there were compensatory processes whereby certain negroes were masters of their masters' children.
quote by John Sergeant Wise
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Masters Eyes
How the light shone from the master
How the light shone from the master
How the light shone from the masters eyes
Or how the truth shone, from the master
How the truth shone, from the master
How the truth shone, from the masters eyes
Why didnt they leave us to wander through battered summers
Why didnt they leave us to wander when there was no other
And my questions all were answered
When the light shone from the master
When the light shone, from the masters eyes
From the masters eyes. oh how the light shone (etc.)
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Master Of Mind Can only be a Master Mind!
Seeing and hearing,
Is it eye that see?
Is it ear that hear?
Eyes are windows of Mind,
Like are ears, eyes have eyelids, ears remain open!
Seeing is not perceiving,
Light passes through the small camera,
Giving picture of world around,
Yet mind is the processor,
Process the data,
Process the colourful image,
Sometime filling with its own colour!
But it is not vision,
mind sees something itself,
Seeing through the mind without the help of eyes
Neither windows opened,
Nor light from open windows affect!
Mind is that faculty sees something within,
And day by day the vision become clear,
When mind learns it is not the seer,
It sees everything clear,
Clearly presented to the master,
And Self is the master of Mind,
When mind is pure and clear,
Without prejudice and suspense traits,
Self perceives self in its true nature,
Nothing goes bad,
processed food for thought remain good for ever!
one who sees eyes as seer,
He is ignorant,
One who sees mind as a seer,
Knows not,
One whose mind sees the seer is different,
Vision get purified, seer can see through the mind,
Scenes seen by mind with eyes closed,
when perceived by seer,
It becomes vision of life,
And that vision when becomes ambition of life,
Ambition becomes aspiration,
Aspiration transforms into mission,
Mission transmits wisdom and genius of self!
Self becomes master Of mind
Self becomes master Mind,
Master and mind becomes one,
Master Of Mind Can only be a Master Mind
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Lord of the Flies
Oh Master my Master
Oh where have you been
I wallowed in filth and
I drowned in sin
Oh Master my Master
It's my rotten luck
To swim in the decay
And swallow the muck
Oh Master my Master
I stand in the fires
Surrounded by murderers
Thieves, cheaters, and liars
Oh Master my Master
the earth has turned red
Fluid with blood
Of the recently dead
Oh Master my Master
What's wrong with the world
The blackness unfolds
Like a flag that's unfurled
Oh Master my Master
You ignore my cries
And now I'm quite sure
You're the Lord of the Flies
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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Get Yo Mind Right
ft. C-Murder
[Master P]
Hate to come at ya like this here man
I know I'm down bad for this lil daddy...but uh..
Won't you front me one them quiz-arters fore I have
To put that thiz-ang on ya...Ya heard me?!
[Chorus]
You betta get yo mind right
You betta get yo mind right (Its an uptown thang)
You betta get yo mind right (Its a downtown thang)
You betta get yo mind right (Its a westbank thang)
You....betta....(Its a eastbank thang)..get yo mind right...get yo mind right
[Master P]
I know a couple fire girls that like to dress shob
I got a bad habit
song performed by by Master P from Only God Can Judge Me
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Infinite Cooking
Let masters reign, infinite space
Describes us with a reasonable life.
The master of simpler nature
Forgives me for my own complication,
Kicking and peeling, is like cooking.
May the prayers of the ones above
Help give food to the masters.
A space is needed for polite effort
Turning into physical effects, blind.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Not Easy To Overcome
There are huge potentials of the markets waiting for you over there,
So why can't you take advantage of it to express yourself?
For there are no finger prints in this world which are the same,
But the masters are not easy to overcome.
Show up to the course and be very objective and realistic to your muse,
And bring out a constructive commitment towards your goals!
For writing is like a skill which has an artistic roll to play always,
But the masters are not easy to overcome.
Aim at the potential markets around you and try to get there!
For i will meet you when you get there;
But breaking through these markets will let you feel heaven right here on earth!
All the same, the masters are not easy to overcome.
These huge potentials of these markets are what you need,
But criticise me if i am wrong;
For the true potentials of your talents are what makes up the markets,
And you need a break through to satisfy your muse with your mind!
But the masters are not easy to overcome.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Only the Slaves
How to regard a manner as decent
Is only a requirement of manliness.
It despises the master to see the slave perish,
And the men have reawakened.
Manners of a slave are laudable when man
Is sufficient as a master, and love is a learning all common.
To live a wreck and survive a storm is a slavery
Of every man. Regard a manner in this city as sacred.
The key to the city lies in the minds of men who are leaders.
The painting of a king is adequate for the retelling.
It is a city in the air, and I call it Red and Yellow.
Kings and queens are averse to these intricacies.
We are masters, and they are slaves of the House.
A Palace is built in heaven if you are good.
Only the slaves are the masters in Heaven.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Spoilt Child...
I’m a spoiled child, my dad is Bill
Our kingdom great, we masters of thrill…
My conception on a desktop, in a hard wheezing disk;
My delivery, through a window, dodging swine-virus risk;
My restroom, air-conditioned, in mother’s pregnant board;
Our receptionist, in charge, welcoming icons aboard;
Our mansion has spare rooms, with backup storage slots;
Our kitchen is African, with smiling cooking pots;
Indeed I’m a proud son, a proud son of Bill…
Bigger than my name, I’m a proud son of Bill…
Our Kingdom great, we masters of thrill…..
Friends, all rich, chauffeured by daddy’s drivers;
Home fence, all pest-proof, free from fornicating lizards;
Visitors, some welcomed by father’s genius wizards;
Messenger, never argues, an obedient cute little mouse!
Compound, so green, all members can browse
Indeed I’m a proud son, a proud son of Bill…
Bigger than my name, I’m a proud son of Bill…
Our Kingdom great, we masters of thrill
Our farms, awesome, all initiates explore;
Fun-rooms, romantic, young tourists adore;
Music, so soothing like death-bed tranquilizers;
Sound Pitch, harmonious with smiling equalizers;
Language, so sacred, our dictionary in binary;
Secrets, well hidden as resentments of an emissary;
Theatre, so specious with father’s grand platform;
Food, straws of fire, few souls can fathom;
Indeed I’m a proud son, a proud son of Bill….
Bigger than my name, I’m a proud son of Bill
Our Kingdom great, we masters of thrill…
We conquerors of souls, rulers of the universe;
Older folks elude us like an old Greek verse;
Young folks hobnob us, our company, their game;
The blue-tied befriend us, our wealth, their fame;
“Facebookers” kiss us, our infatuation, their network;
Evil souls, seduce us, our grief, their pork.
Indeed I’m a proud son, a proud son of Bill…
Just who can foot our Bill…
The Bill of our Gate…
The Gate of our Father?
Indeed I’m a proud son, a proud son of Bill
Long live our Bill Gate! !
Long live my dad!
(INSPIRED BY THE COMPUTER WORLD)
poem by Meshack Sewe
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Send Your Mind
Van Morrison
Bang Masters
Transcriber: [email protected]
(guitar intro)
(Send your mind)
(Send your mind)
(Send your mind)
(Send your mind)
Well you're out there, on the highway
While you're drivin', a-roll on by
Goin' south between the bridges
While the river's runnin' dry
And if ya can't come home
Please send your mind
(Send your mind)
(Send your mind)
(Send your mind)
(Send your mind)
Now you're talkin', where ya goin'
On the train that sees the road
'Cross the nation, passing stations
While the night is as black as coal
And if you can't come home
Please send your mind
(Send your mind)
(Send your mind)
Ooo!
(Guitar solo and Instrumental)
(Send your mind)
(Send your mind)
Well, if your handle ain't, on your heartbeat
And your headed between the sheet
And the sign isn't from the lamp post
On the corner of the street
And if ya can't come home
Please send your mind
(Send your mind)
(Send your mind)
Ooo-ooo-we
(Send your mind)
(Send your mind)
Ooo-ooo-wee-ooo
(Send your mind)
A we-we-eee
(Send your mind)
A we-eee
(Send your mind)
Aah, little darlin'
(Send your mind)
Come on home
(Send your mind)
Come on home
(Send your mind)
Aah, send it, send it, send it
Send your mind
(Send your mind)
Ah, try to send it, baby
(Send your mind)
All ya gotta do
(Send your mind)
Shoo-be-do, shoo-be-do, shoo-be-do
(Send your mind)
Aah, send your mind
(Send your mind)
(Send your mind)
Go on send it darlin'
(Send your mind)
Come on home
(Send your mind)
~
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lord of this World
You're searching for your mind don't know where to start
can't find the key to fit the lock on your heart
you think you know but you are never quite sure
your soul is ill but you will not find a cure.
Your world was made for you by someone above
but you chose evil ways instead of love.
You made me master of the world where you exist
the soul I took from you was not even missed.
Lord of this world
Evil possessor
Lord of this world
He's your confessor now!
song performed by by Black Sabbath from Master of Reality
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0024 Horses in a field
They seem to be thinking, soft-eyed, snuffling, cropping,
ears awake to many signals,
then move gently closer,
as if they were unaware,
rub muzzles, necks,
love each other silently, almost imperceptibly,
move away again as gently;
solitude in company may hide
what we do not hear; what we do not think
the battle horse long retired
so skilled in life and death,
proud of many battles
he and his master as one
swords flashing, leaning sharply
this way that way
rearing for height flail smashed down
backward now spear and charge
a marriage sealed in blood
his master’s life saved many times
the packhorse ridden in haste
through dangerous lands
with despatches that may
signal the start to war, or
sue for peace
its rider impatient to thoughtlessness
the horses of the range
sharing the wild vigour
of cowboys, pioneers,
breathing the air
of a new country
themselves once wild
knowing the hills, the herbs, more than their masters
the racehorse proud we think
to test itself, share the victory,
then at stud, to share its line
knowing perhaps in blood,
aristocracy; or not, who knows,
they do indeed look quietly proud
the family stable horses, knowing
the love of boys, of girls,
besotted with their ponies,
talked to endlessly; too many sugar cubes
the tradesmen’s horses,
the ploughmen’s horses,
who have learned more patience,
more obedience, than many
of their masters yet
tended well, most times
by those who need them
more than they say; but
how the children of those
they visit, run from the house,
loving to see them again
like old friends
all remember, maybe communicate;
we hope they know - or would it make them sad -
that they too had their golden age.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Ernest Hyde
My mind was a mirror:
It saw what it saw, it knew what it knew.
In youth my mind was just a mirror
In a rapidly flying car,
Which catches and loses bits of the landscape.
Then in time
Great scratches were made on the mirror,
Letting the outside world come in,
And letting my inner self look out.
For this is the birth of the soul in sorrow,
A birth with gains and losses.
The mind sees the world as a thing apart,
And the soul makes the world at one with itself.
A mirror scratched reflects no image—
And this is the silence of wisdom.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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You and I
I am a leaf that has fallen from the twig of my master tree,
And drifted by the waves to unknown shore, where will I be,
Though I wish to flee like the pheasant from the purest sky,
But I can’t restrain the oozing tides of my master sea.
If you were a siren who wishes to be the lily of the valley,
Will I be your only leaf for us to be happy?
To grasp your petals and never will I let you sway,
Or vow our masters but to rein our love through each day.
Now that You and I have reasons to exist,
What is life when they’ll come to resist?
I wish I turn to thorns to protect you from harm,
Or into a vine to cuddle you in my arms;
From the ditch of the bay to land of the valley,
It’s such a perfect world for you and me,
But they’ll come to you to commit you away,
And be a captive in their hands full of misery.
Then you’re gone; to them, I don’t understand,
Yet, I’ll still be the leaf ‘til I turned into sand;
So don’t covet my life for it’s all for tomorrow,
No matter what my fate is, I stand to years by grow.
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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A slave has but one master; an ambitious man has as many masters as there are people who may be useful in bettering his position.
quote by Jean de la Bruyere
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Master Spoke.
Why is the world here today?
The Master Spoke.
Why are we sinners, like sheep gone astray?
The Master Spoke.
Why all this toil, no comfort of Eden,
Since man didn't obey?
The Master Spoke.
Why work the dust of the ground, from whence we came,
And eat 'By the sweat of our brow? '
The Master Spoke.
Why do we, naturally,
Posess the desire to before,
God, want to worship and adore?
The Master Spoke.
Why is Jesus glorified,
And why, for sinners, did he die?
The Master Spoke.
Why shall God return again,
To take away Isreal, His bride?
Why me, a sinner, justified?
The Master Spoke.
Why will there be Revelations, wars,
And roomers of wars,
Nearing the End Times?
The Master Spoke.
Why is God an eternal Being,
But the world shall be no more?
The Master Spoke.
Why is it, that when a man speaks,
His words blow away
As kernals of grain,
And yet, when God speaks, his Word is as rock,
Forever to remain?
The Master Spoke -
'Heaven and Earth shall pass away,
But my words shall never pass away.'
Why do these things occur,
And as it were,
The penalty of sin man did not have to pay?
The Master Spoke -
'For God so loved the world,
That he gave his only Son,
That whoever believes in him
Shall not perish,
But have the gift of eternal life.
Why?
The Master Spoke.
'Go now! Help the needy,
And the weak!
Save hearts that are broken! '
Hurry, now!
The Master has Spoken.
poem by Macy Dvirnak
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Merit, however inconsiderable, should be sought for and rewarded. Methods are the master of masters.
quote by Charles Maurice de Talleyrand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He had served eighty masters. They'd have said
He had served eighty masters. They'd have said
He 'worked for these employers' to earn bread.
And they, if they had heard him, would have sneered
To brand him inefficient whom they feared.
For to know eighty masters is to know
What sort of thing men who are masters grow.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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The Marionettes Of Distant Masters
A pianist dreams that he's hired by a wrecking company to
ruin a piano with his fingers . . .
On the day of the piano wrecking concert, as he's
dressing, he notices a butterfly annoying a flower in his window
box. He wonders if the police should be called. Then he thinks
maybe the butterfly is just a marionette being manipulated by
its master from the window above.
Suddenly everything is beautiful. He begins to cry.
Then another butterfly begins to annoy the first butterfly.
He again wonders if he shouldn't call the police.
But, perhaps they are marionette-butterflies? He thinks
they are, belonging to rival masters seeing whose butterfly can
annoy the other's the most.
And this is happening in his window box. The Cosmic
Plan: Distant Masters manipulating minor Masters who, in turn,
are manipulating tiny butterfly-Masters who, in turn, are
manipulating him . . . A universe webbed with strings!
Suddenly it is all so beautiful; the light is strange . . .
Something about the light! He begins to cry . . .
poem by Russell Edson
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Lil Jimmy Skit
You keep it going man, you keep those books rolling,
You pick up those books your going to read
And not remember and you roll man.
You get that a sociate degree, okay,
Then you get your bachelors, then you get your masters
Then you get your master's masters,
Then you get your doctron,
You go man, then when everybody says quit
You show them those degree man, when
Everybody says hey, your not working,
Your not making in money,
You say look at my degrees and you look at my life,
Hey i'm 52, so what, hate all you want,
But i'm smart, i'm so smart, and i'm in school,
And these guys are out here making all this
Money all these ways, and i'm spended mine to be smart.
You know why?
Because when i die, buddy, you know
What going to keep me warm, that right, those degrees
song performed by by Kanye West
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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