Another Choice
Intimations of mortality
with the irrevocable
passage of time
and the lemming like march
to the finite line.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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Related quotes
March On Down The Line
Lover out my way
Ill stand up to anything
Move on out this heartbeat
The sun is over
A new day, a new way
Im coming out this time
A new name, lets play the game
And march on down the line
Ive got lots to share
About the way I feel inside
Round and round this place
Like a shotgun fire
A new day, a new way
Im coming out this time
A new name, lets play the game
And march on down the line
(a-ha lets play the game)
A new day, a new way
Im coming out this time
A new name, lets play the game
And march on down the line
Now the fight is won
Stand attendant and tall again
God is on our side
Dance on up to heaven
A new day, a new way
Im coming out this time
A new name, lets play the game
And march on down the line
(a-ha lets play the game)
A new day, a new way
Im coming out this time
A new name, lets play the game
And march on down the line
A new day, a new way
Im coming out this time
A new name, lets play the game
And march on down the line
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Intimations
INTIMATIONS
Intimations of God
In I see
In whatever we be;
When I look
With eyes of Love.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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We March
Uno para todos, y todos para uno {one 4 all and all 4 one}
March, we march
(whoa) {x6 in bg}
March, we march {x2}
If this is the same avenue my ancestors fought 2 liberate
How come I cant buy a piece of it even if my credits straight?
If all the waters dirty and I wanna lay the pipe, my dammy
The river that I drink from, will it be the same as your mammy?
Chorus:
Nows the time 2 find a rhyme (yeah)
Thats got a reason and frees the mind (yeah)
From angry thoughts, the racist kind (yeah)
If we all wanna a change then come on get in line
Next time we march (whoa)
Were kickin down the door
Next time we march (whoa)
All is what were marchin 4
If this is the same sister that u cannot stop calling a bitch (bitch)
It will be the same one that will leave your broke ass in a ditch (ditch)
If u cant find a better reason 2 call this woman otherwise
Then dont cry, u made the bed in which u lie
Chorus
(whoa) {x4 in bg}
March, we march (come on)
March, we march
Yes we do!
Dig..
Now we clarify 4ever, in other words as long as it takes
We aint got no use 4 ice cream without the cake (umm)
We aint got no time 4 excuses, the promised land belongs 2 all
We can march in peace but u best watch your back if another leader falls
March, we march
[feet stompin!]
March, we march
He said it, she said it and I say...
Nows the time (nows the time) 2 find a rhyme (yeah)
Thats got a reason (yeah) and frees the mind (free your mind)
From angry thoughts, the racist kind (yeah)
If we all wanna a change then come on get in line (get in line!)
Next time we march (whoa)
Were kickin down the door
Next time we march (hey yeah) (whoa)
All is what were marchin 4 (whooaa)
Next time we march (oh yeah) (whoa)
Kickin down the door
Next time we march (hey yeah) (whoa)
All is what were marchin 4
The fun dont stop the bacon
Thats when the money gonna stop the shakin
I know that next time we march, yeah
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There's A Dot
to begin the line
and there's the line to begin the movement
infinity is but imagined finite
and somewhere in this finite
it builds the sphere
geometry has nothing
nothing to do with either Gaia or meters
unless Gaia is Gaia hyper vision
and I believe it is
and meters are a handy sky rendered
to suit the senses
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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March
Were I young again
and the month of March
were upon me
I'd skip down the road,
do a march to March,
sing a tune to March
dance a dance to March,
risk a prance to March,
strut and grind and do
a break dance to March.
Hop, skip and jump to March,
just like a the girl I used to be,
once upon a time in March,
when my cheeks had high colour
and my hopes were high.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Cheery Year
January is too soon here
A damp and cold start to the year
February follows on
With snow and ice that’s seldom gone
March appears next in line
And down comes rain all the time
April showers now are due
Lasting the whole month through
May and showers still persist
Bringing frost and fog and mist
June gets hot, insanely so
Everyone’s red and aglow
July bring chills mixed with hot
You’re never sure just what you’ve got
August the sun is up and bold
But the wind still keeps it cold
September the drizzle and ice is back
Keeping up a relentless attack
October’s colder so I hide
With a hot drink and stay inside
November sees your breath in the air
And colds and sneezes everywhere
December’s cold but brings some cheer
Then bloody January’s here
poem by Flying Lemming
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The 'Poem A Day' Project ~ Day 221
January is too soon here
A damp and cold start to the year
February follows on
With snow and ice that’s seldom gone
March appears next in line
And down comes rain all the time
April showers now are due
Lasting the whole month through
May and showers still persist
Bringing frost and fog and mist
June gets hot, insanely so
Everyone’s red and aglow
July bring chills mixed with hot
You’re never sure just what you’ve got
August the sun is up and bold
But the wind still keeps it cold
September the drizzle and ice is back
Keeping up a relentless attack
October’s colder so I hide
With a hot drink and stay inside
November sees your breath in the air
And colds and sneezes everywhere
December’s cold but brings some cheer
Then bloody January’s here
poem by Flying Lemming
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Wealth, in terms of dollars and so forth, could be counted up, because dollars were finite. It doesn't make any difference how many dollars you have-at a certain point you only have dollars. You start with finite, you end with finite.
quote by Michael Nesmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After The Funeral
The Past departed with the last forced mourners, whose facial expressions, with their tremolo of tics, - tell-tale suppressions, - told of fear. Tension in tightened corners of mouth and eyes. terror, surprise, trembling, cries, each would disguise anguish masked, questions unanswered here, unwelcome intimations of mortality.
The Past departed, partly of its own accord, parts, shut out, ignored, roles played out as few could yet afford to flout morality. Time’s uncertainties by Time itself underscored. Departure leaving absence of feeling, - absence of feeling hermetically sealing from mind and face all trace of childhood innocence.
In place of innocence and grace, - Loss, emptiness! Emptiness here an imperfect vacuum open unto wilderness of self-delusion of strength, which, all the more fragile for its brave face, is self-defeating. A vacuum is strong, can do no wrong, being internally self sufficient.
The Past departed; at first sight seeming to ease out emotion. threat squeezing, freezing, unappeasingly diseasing. The surface calm afforded no balm, no outlet for the lotion that soothes the spirit, dowsing suffering and pain, incorporating the magic potion which to love and light restores the soul through tears. Tears, in childhood and advancing years, cleanse fears.
Superficial calm masks the rampant tiger of repression whose fire eyes prowl through the layers of sensation to plough the deep recesses of the mind, exploding the barriers which we, in our blindness, instinctively erect. Too soon we lose the key to unlock them, thus we restrain Love’s passage to the world.
Yet, although fears increase, prevent release, distort the soul, fragment the whole, there too are feeling forces, secret sources which well up and chart twin courses down the cheeks from which the heart’s resources spring, may bring relief, sing peace.
The Past departed with the last forced mourners, Their dark impressions cold and drear, conscience unclear. Unwelcome intimations of mortality pervasively intruded, could not disappear. Release was a luxury few could afford. Terror, surprise, tension in tightened corners of mouth and eyes. The dreaded shadow loomed as surface distress, masking primal self-pity, angrily welled up, and, for the living, shed a tear.
Part of its own accord, part shut out, ignored, the Past departed with the last forced mourners. Their drawn expressions, torn by tics, told of fear. Unwelcome intimations of mortality suddenly intruded, and would not disappear. Release was a luxury few could afford. Terror, surprise, tension in tightened corners of mouth and eyes. The dreaded shadow loomed near, as surface distress, masking primal self-pity, angrily welled up, and, for the living, shed a tear.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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After the Funeral II - 0208
The Past departed with the last forced mourners, whose facial expressions, with their tremolo of tics, tell-tale suppressions, told of fear. Tension in tightened corners of mouth and eyes. terror, surprise, trembling, cries, each would disguise anguish masked, questions unanswered here, unwelcome intimations of mortality.
The Past departed, partly of its own accord, parts, shut out, ignored, roles played out as few could yet afford to flout morality. Time's uncertainties by Time itself underscored. Departure leaving absence of feeling, absence of feeling hermetically sealing from mind and face all trace of childhood innocence.
In place of innocence and grace, Loss, emptiness! Emptiness here an imperfect vacuum open unto wilderness of self-delusion of strength, which, all the more fragile for its brave face, is self-defeating. A vacuum is strong, can do no wrong, being internally self sufficient.
The Past departed; at first sight seeming to ease out emotion. threat squeezing, freezing, unappeasingly diseasing. The surface calm afforded no balm, no outlet for the lotion that soothes the spirit, dowsing suffering and pain, incorporating the magic potion which to love and light restores the soul through tears. Tears, in childhood and advancing years, cleanse fears.
Superficial calm masks the rampant tiger of repression whose fire eyes prowl through the layers of sensation to plough the deep recesses of the mind, exploding the barriers which we, in our blindness, instinctively erect. Too soon we lose the key to unlock them, thus we restrain Love's passage to the world.
Yet, although fears increase, prevent release, distort the soul, fragment the whole, there too are feeling forces, secret sources which well up and chart twin courses down the cheeks from which the heart's resources spring, may bring relief, sing peace.
The Past departed with the last forced mourners, Their dark impressions cold and drear, conscience unclear. Unwelcome intimations of mortality pervasively intruded, could not disappear. Release was a luxury few could afford. Terror, surprise, tension in tightened corners of mouth and eyes. The dreaded shadow loomed as surface distress, masking primal self-pity, angrily welled up, and, for the living, shed a tear.
(10 January 2010)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Number Debate
Once pi and i had a debate
About which is better
A square root of minus one
Or being a Greek letter.
'Be rational, ' said i to pi,
'You make things complicated-
No matter how they measure you,
You always come truncated.'
Said pi to i: 'So what, my friend,
It's really no big deal-
I'm transcendental unlike you,
And you aren't even real.'
'But if you want to be exact,
Then you come nowhere near
To finding areas of disks
Or a volume of a sphere'.
Said i to pi: 'It may be so,
But you forgot to mention
That you're a point on a line,
And I have two dimensions.'
'For if you want nth roots of one,
Therein is my appeal-
I'll find all roots of one for you-
Imaginary and real.'
'And I can add and multiply
All points in a plane,
For I'm more than decimals
By real line constrained.'
While they continued to debate,
Infinity appeared,
Saying to both pi and i:
'You both are nowhere near.'
'You both are finite, real or not,
But I'd take a bet
That none of you can match the size
Of countable sets.'
So it was settled-pi and i
Were finally set free,
For both found that they're too small
To match infinity.
March 26,2008
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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Onward
Don't we all wonder, remotely
- in ways we cannot even fully understand -
'What's this all about? '
Age has invaded our mind
and hearts.
Onward we march.
Life has invaded our spirits
and souls.
As onward we march.
The future flows right on past
behind us.
And yet onward we march.
Living is a passing glance
a long goodbye.
Onward we march.
Where we are bound
no eye has seen
no tongue can tell
no mind does fathom.
Still onward we march.
On the trail of time lost
we take the exit to eternity.
Ever onward we march.
Do we wonder
what a wonder it is
that we're marching into?
We should.
We shall.
We are.
Through it all, onward we march.
Onward...
poem by Smoky Hoss
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You March On
You, unknown traveller of untreaded path
march on, march on, march on
will reach your destination
one day
though far off
march on, march on, march on.
Look back, never, even by mistake
forget, never, the hardships you bore
guide, will be your past deeds of life,
full of pangs on the bed of stake
What holds destiny?
Not to worry?
............Just march on, march on, march on.
Adversities make you a fast learner
Desires are snakes, so be a shirker
search the deep sea to find a pearl
get to the shore, while facing the whirl
Think never to be feeble & meek
deliver everyone from the misdeeds
while truth you seek
clear all hurdles regaining your strength
you will reach the destination
march on...march on....march on.
Carve out your name on the horizon
as your stars are on the ascendant
work towards the goal night and day
be illuminated in such a way
sluggish should appear the milky way
You, unknown traveller of untreaded path
march on, march on, march on
will reach your destination
one day
though far off
march on, march on, march on.
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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The Last Line
The last line
By: keith sykes
1977
Given my life for songs that I sing
Matter of fact, Ive given everything
Time has come to not make a sound
Time has come to lay my burdens down
Whoa oh oh (woe oh woe oh woe oh)
Whoa oh (woe oh woe oh woe oh)
Its come from behind
Now is the time
For the last line (last line)
Managed to keep some friends on my side
To live through the times of the rumors and lies
Now its time to rest my heart
Let some other innocent fool take my part
Whoa oh oh (woe oh woe oh woe oh)
Whoa oh (woe oh woe oh woe oh)
Its come from behind
Now is the time
For the last line (last line)
( saxophone solo)
Whoa oh oh oh (woe oh woe oh woe oh)
Whoa oh (woe oh woe oh woe oh)
Its come from behind
Now its the time
For the last line (last line)
So dont pay me no mind, Im walkin away
Youll see me again on some other day
Youll see me again, Ill be ready to go
And pour out my songs with my heart and my soul
Whoa oh oh (woe oh woe oh woe oh)
Whoa oh (woe oh woe oh woe oh)
Its come from behind
Now is the time
For the last line (last line)
Yes its come from behind
Now is the time
For the last line (last line)
Ah the last line (last line)
- notes:
Background vocals: deborah mccoll, penny nichols
Tenor sax solo: harvey thompson
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One minute warning
One minute warning
~
Time is finite
And my patience worn
By the travels of faith
And the world it walked
Answers still sought
Remain a burden
Words fall on deaf ears
Or become ignored
Such is the plight
Of the promises heard
Those deceiving tongues
Who lied to suit
Whatever game they played
Offers little comfort
A tired mind is erratic
Unsuited to waiting
Or understanding of others
For time has become precious
And costly to waste
Time is finite
And my patience worn
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Paradox
Spectacles on nose, pouch under eye,
age is sucked remorselessly to night
all too aware there is no hope in_sight
for resurrection story books supply.
What does our time [s]t[r]apped sojourn signify?
What sense is gleaned once cased in coffin tight
or scattered to the winds? What wrong or right
remains to trace each in[t]ner face? And why
would most defer the final strangled sigh,
would most prolong the agony despite
the finite frontiers of Man’s falcon f[l]ight?
Who can ‘self’ free, mortality defy?
Who could decode life’s mysteries might find
a paradox with ‘self-destruct’ designed...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Loves On The Line
Tell me baby
Have we lost everything that we had before
What do you do in the day
When I walk out the door
I can see you made up your mind
And I know our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
With each passing day
I gotta watch more and more what I say to you
I can feel your eyes looking through me
As I sit at the table at dinnertime
I can feel our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
I watch our kids
Growin up, going to school
Is there anything else for us now
Are we both just fools
Wasting our precious time
At night we lay in bed
But its like youre not even there
Theres something real bad
Going wrong somewhere
Last night I heard you cry
And I know our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A finite world can support only a finite population; therefore, population growth must eventually equal zero.
quote by Garrett Hardin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Passage Of Time
The passage of time
Speeds up, slows down
With emotions interwoven
And meanings profound
It lies beneath
The memories found
Tucked away in sacred places
Then sneaks away
Without warning or sound
Taking pieces of you
That your heart never replaces
The passage of time
Rob's you blind
So when you look back
All you can find
Is the glaring truth
And pain divine
Of loved one's lost
And those you've left behind
Oblivious to your regrets
It doesn't stop or pause
If you forget
To do or say what must be said
Before the future
Rears its head
So when the nostalgia
Washes over you
You curse yourself instead
The passage of time
Leaps out at you
Suddenly
When you least expect it to
You look around
Children are grown
People have passed away
You begin to feel
With every day
You're more alone
Than you've ever been before
Fear and dread uncoil inside
Right at the center
Where your soul is stored
The passage of time
Speeds up, slows down
Then is gone once more
poem by Erika Wingo
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Don't fear your mortality, because it is this very mortality that gives meaning and depth and poignancy to all the days that will be granted to you.
quote by Paul Tsongas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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