A Song On The Baths
What Angel stirrs this happy Well,
Some Muse from thence come shew't me,
One of those naked Graces tell
That Angels are for beauty:
The Lame themselves that enter here
Come Angels out againe,
And Bodies turne to Soules all cleere,
All made for joy, noe payne.
Heate never was so sweetely mett
With moist as in this shower:
Old men are borne anew by swett
Of its restoring pow'r:
When crippl'd joynts we suppl'd see,
And second lives new come,
Who can deny this Font to be
The Bodies Christendome?
One Bath so fiery is you'l thinke
The Water is all Spirit,
Whose quick'ning streames are like the drink
Whereby we Life inheritt:
The second Poole of middle straine
Can wive Virginity,
Tempting the blood to such a vayne
One sexe is He and She.
The third where horses plunge may bring
A Pegasus to reare us,
And call for pens from Bladud's wing
For legging those that beare us.
Why should Physitians thither fly
Where Waters med'cines be,
Physitians come to cure thereby,
And are more cur'd than we
poem by William Strode
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Aint No Cure For Love
I loved you for a long, long time
I know this love is real
It dont matter how it all went wrong
That dont change the way I feel
And I cant believe that times
Gonna heal this wound Im speaking of
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure for love.
Im aching for you baby
I cant pretend Im not
I need to see you naked
In your body and your thought
Ive got you like a habit
And Ill never get enough
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure for love
There aint no cure for love
There aint no cure for love
All the rocket ships are climbing through the sky
The holy books are open wide
The doctors working day and night
But theyll never ever find that cure for love
There aint no drink no drug
(ah tell them, angels)
Theres nothing pure enough to be a cure for love
I see you in the subwayand I see you on the bus
I see you lying down with me, I see you waking up
I see your hand, I see your hair
Your bracelets and your brush
And I call to you, I call to you
But I dont call soft enough
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure for love
I walked into this empty church I had no place else to go
When the sweetest voice I ever heard, whispered to my soul
I dont need to be forgiven for loving you so much
Its written in the scriptures
Its written there in blood
I even heard the angels declare it from above
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure for love
There aint no cure for love
There aint no cure for love
All the rocket ships are climbing through the sky
The holy books are open wide
The doctors working day and night
But theyll never ever find that cure,
That cure for love
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Akon Angel
Akon angel
Is the only black angel that lives in heaven
The rest of the angels are white
And the white angels finally got used to akon angel
Of course the white angels were upset when they heard that a black angel
Was going to live with them
At first they felt outraged
But God had a talk with all the white angels
And told them that their behavior was unacceptable
Because heaven is for everybody and not only for whites
Also God explain to them that he made the people different colors
Because he wanted a spice in life
Akon Angel doesn't have anything against the white angels
But the white angels will ignore Akon angel and not say anything to him
Because they don't want to upset him
So they try topretend that the Akon angel doesn't exist
And that helps them to deal with it
AkonAngel looks after the garden in heaven because he loves to work in The garden and doesn't mind to get dirty
But the white angels don't like the garden at all
And they work inthe kitchen preparing their meals for the day
God is in charge of the laundry and the cleaning of heaven
Also God loves to clean and do the laundry
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Consolatorium, Ad Parentes
Lett her parents then confesse
That they beleeve her happinesse,
Which now they question. Thinke as you
Lent her the world, Heaven lent her you:
And is it just then to complayne
When each hath but his owne againe?
Then thinke what both your glories are
In her preferment: for tis farre
Nobler to gett a Saint, and beare
A childe to Heaven than an Heyre
To a large Empire. Thinke beside
Shee dyde not yong, but livde a Bride.
Your best wishes for her good
Were but to see her well bestowde:
Was shee not so? Shee marryed to
The heyre of all things: who did owe
Her infant Soule, and bought it too.
Nor was shee barren: markt you not
Those pretty little Graces, that
Play'd round about her sicke bedde; three
Th' eldst Faith, Hope, & Charity.
Twere pretty bigge ones, and the same
That cryde so on theyr Fathers name.
The yongst is gone with Her: the two
Eldest stay to comfort you,
And little though they bee, they can
Master the biggest foes of man.
Lastly thinke that Hir abode
With you was some fewe years boarde;
After hir marriage: now shee's gone
Home, royally attended on:
And if you had Elisha's sight
To see the number of her bright
Attendants thither; or Paul's rapt sprite
To see her Welcome there; why then,
Wish if you could Her here agen.
Ime sure you could not: but all passion
Would loose itselfe in admiration,
And strong longings to be there
Where, cause shee is, you mourn for Her
poem by William Strode
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Rusty Angels
They say you came from heaven but I know thats not the truth,
Cause I dont think an angel could look anything like you,
Your eyes are made from sapphires and your heart is made from stone,
You gotta be the closest thing to hate Ive ever known,
And if I didnt know better Id say you had come alone to the party.
Oh yeah.
The light is always shining, but you swear that its gone black,
The tide is always turning, but youre never looking back,
If I didnt know better Id say times were pretty bad,
Because rusty angels they cant fly,
Rusty angels gonna die, yeah,
Rusty angels they cant fly,
Rusty angels gonna die, gonna die.
The gifts you bring are fire, and your dreams they turned to dust,
Your flying days are over, and your wings have turned to rust.
If I didnt know better, Id say all you had is lost,
Because rusty angels they cant fly,
Rusty angels gonna die, yeah,
Rusty angels they cant fly,
Rusty angels gonna die, gonna die.
If you swallow just a little pride, you might find a little love inside,
Open up and let somebody in, cause if you need somebody,
You know its not a sin.
Rusty angels they cant fly, rusty angels gonna die, yeah,
Rusty angels they cant fly, no, rusty angels gonna die,
Gonna die, yeah, you cant fly, oh no,
Gonna die, oh yeah, you cant fly, oh no.
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sleeping with the angels
sleeps keep the immortal soul at peace with
the eternity calls, the tranquility of our warm
heart recalls
as angels watch our deep snoring, every
breath wakes our imagination of what we want
in the most astonishing super hero of our dreams
the sole witness of our moving spirit to venture
beyond our human faculty, of being more than
we come to guide our steps for only
by following our strings of aspiration our mortal
body reaches beyond human satisfaction
lives not the fears of every immortal of tears, for
the night comes like lightning of the sky, swifting
thunders of the angels fury where echo of souls
cried for mercy, of the slaying angels of darkness
let every sleeps be a moment of unifying souls of
beauty, lying with angels memory, where each
stay is with in heaven's nest of rest, for every day
is a good sleep with an angel’s best
as you sleep, always make yourself happy, for in
every snoring, lying the angel’s touch of cooled
sleep, leaving you its angelic breath ready
to wake and see angels sleep
then you come to know that it’s the angels who sleep
with you...until Today
poem by Antonio Liao
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Holy Sonnet VIII: If Faithfull Soules
If faithfull soules be alike glorifi'd
As Angels, then my fathers soul doth see,
And adds this even to full felecitie,
That valiantly I hels wide mouth o'stride:
But if our mindes to these soules be descry'd
By circumstances, and by signes that be
Apparent in us, not immediately,
How shall my mindes white truth by them be try'd?
They see idolatrous lovers weepe and mourne,
And vile blasphemous Conjurers to call
On Jesus name, and Pharisaicall
Dissemblers feigne devotion. Then turne
O pensive soule, to God, for he knows best
Thy true griefe, for he put it in my breast.
poem by John Donne
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Overnight Angels
(ian hunter)
In the heat of the indian summer
Out along the appalachian way
You can hear the sound of the overnight angels
As they pray
Charged by the light of some mariners lantern
Spitting out a cold but triangular spray
Cant you hear the screams of the overnight angels
As they play
Talking to the spirits through a silver curtain
Reaching out beyond the length of the light
You can catch a glimpse of an overnight angel
As he shines
Dancing through the toys of the dead and the living
Laughing at the poets changing their rhymes
Cant you feel the pulse of the overnight angels
Beating time
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels angels angels
Children of the junkies led the revolution
Push yourselves over get yourselves there
Someone throw their arms round the overnight angels
Cause they care
Angels dont need no phony religion
Throw them out along with the ethnic nowheres
They will never speak to the overnight angels
They can only stare
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels angels angels angels
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels angels angels angels
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels angels angels angels
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels
Can you hear us can you hear us
Were talking bout the overnight angels angels angels angels
Angels angels angels angels
Angels angels angels angels
Angels angels angels angels
Overnight angels
Overnight angels
Talking about
The overnight angels
(fade)
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Angels
Like God’s body
The angel is cluster of tiniest particles
Clinging together because of gravity
They are like a dot to God’s body in size.
The angels who have two pairs of wings
Are under Sidratul Muntaha Tree in paradise
And are circling around God’s Throne
The angels who have four pairs of wings
Are the Sufra angels and angels of God’s court
All other angels have three pairs of wings
Angels are something like the super-strings
They can take almost any form and size
Angels can eat and drink but they do not do that
Angels have life partner as well but they do not enjoy sex
Angels are so tiny they can use the density of sky to fly
Usually the chief four angels carry God’s Throne
But on doomsday eight angels will carry it.
N.B.: Sidratul Muntaha Tree is a thorny tree of Ferdous Paradise (near God’s Center Point) under which many angels are just bowing and prostrating in awe. Sufra angels are translating text of Laohay Mahfuz (God’s Manuscript)
poem by Asif Andalib
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Fallen Angels
They fell from heaven above,
And came with no love.
They fell into earth,
And brought with them so much hate.
They came with so much powers,
And corrupt earth with bad manners.
They wander all around our world,
Destroying our world with their evil sword.
They came with so much evil,
And disturb our peace like an upheaval.
They take away our joy,
Playing with our lives like a toy.
They cause us so much pain,
Making us suffer so much in vein.
They inject us with sin,
Bonding us with it like a twin.
They infect our heart with hate,
Dragging us far away from heaven's gate.
They live among us like our friend,
But are there to put our lives to an end.
They hate us so much,
That they wish to kill us with a single touch.
They enter our heart,
And tear it apart.
They deprive us of happiness,
Filling our days with so much sadness.
They make us have a taste of hell,
For they never wish us well.
They seprate us from the light of heaven,
And also deny us of the peace of heaven.
They are angels of the dark,
Marking our faces with the beast's mark.
They are angels with no wings,
And are dark angels but no kings.
They are not spiritually pure,
And wish for no cure.
They are not of God,
For they are of the world.
They will never be called God's angels,
Forever they will remain fallen angels.
poem by Stanley Oguh
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An Emotion Blue within which to Swim
So convinced of her skills within the art of sweet seduction
She knows she must do naught but smile a shine of beauty
Incarnate your way. She animates the bodies of those lost
Within mental hibernation, as she crosses their paths.
Laughing sweetened melody laughs. Grasping she is if not
Absorbing the possibility that there is no eternity nor infinity
To be found within the arms of the Goddess.
Through the raging of her storms, souls sway in acceptance of her form
As the beauty that broke perfections mould.
We celebrate her beauty radiant
As we dance in elation at the coming of the spring.
Bring me love upon a wing
An emotion blue within which to swim
Bring me love and a song to sing
So I may make happy a wedding bell ring
Songs of Love I could forever sing
An ode to angels with broken wings
poem by David Lacey
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Her Epitaph
Happy Grave, thou dost enshrine
That which makes thee a rich mine:
Remember yet, 'tis but a loane;
And wee must have it back, Her owne,
The very same; Marke mee, the same:
Thou canst not cheat us with a lame
Deformed Carcase; Shee was fayre,
Fresh as Morning, sweete as Ayre:
Purer than other flesh as farre
As other Soules than Bodies are:
And that thou mayst the better see
To finde her out: two stars there bee
Eclipsed now; uncloude but those
And they will poynt thee to the Rose
That dyde each cheeke, now pale and wan,
But will bee when shee wakes againe
Fresher than ever: And howere
Her long sleepe may alter Her
Her Soule will know her Body streight,
Twas made so fitt for't. Noe deceite
Can suite another to it: none
Cloath it so neatly as its owne.
poem by William Strode
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Earth Angels
We all have a picture in our mind
of what an Angel should be.
Artists put oils on canvas
to show us what their like,
writers use their words
to describe the beauty there.
The impression of an Angel
is one of a serine face,
golden hair and heavenly wings.
But what about the earth Angels,
those who look like you and I.
The stranger who comes into our lives
and turns it around.
Shows us the beauty we miss
when we are down,
who take us by the hand,
leading us to greater things.
These are the earth Angels
whom we’ll never see their wings.
Those precious strangers
who at times come into our lives.
7 July 2008
poem by David Harris
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Angels Are Alive
Angels stun us when alive,
The wings of death and life collide.
This day bespoke wonders for the speakers,
They were men so solid and hearty.
This day is a night to remember, so black,
Yet what do places bring except the speech.
Angelic help is not present, like the corners of bodies,
They are men who watch and listen
Like the sun has gleamed in the day.
My apostles shall gain an evil life
If they shun from the angels,
But our books stay, just like God.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Angels Are Not Saints
angels are not saints, we do believe that they exist
they can even transform themselves into human for
form, but still remain to what they are in their natural
phenomenon
they are called by many names, they too have rank to
obey, for angels lives like us, who work and have task
given by their master, in some moments we see them,
as they appears everyone notice them for angels, are
favorite images in every literature
angels are not God, that can judge nor an icon to be adored
in the altar that we throne, for only they serve to the master
where they return, in God's wisdom they are form
all angels are holy, but not a saints, as it could be, for only
man's nature reserved to be, by holiness one's sinfulness
make us saint in all eternity
angels is in highest stage, where over and above human sphere,
never that they are superior nor inferior to human lure, for one
mistake subject to be thrown to the fire that burn
angels are angels never be a saints for eternity, for our destiny
they are made, forever they well always lead us, we equal the
same beginning in the image and likeness of God, we took
and shared one love, a breath that last for a lifetime
angels as we, differ from they, who by the one who sent them,
reminds us all, to be, in a nation of saints not of an angel
where we are call
poem by Antonio Liao
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Angels are for real
There is something inside that I feel
An inner strengthening of my will
What’s the big deal?
Let me reveal
Angels are for real
There's nothing to conceal
This secret you can steal
I say as I kneel
Angels are for real
I quietly appeal
With such zeal
Angels are for real
Luck they bring
With each wing
Love they air as they sing
Always there when you squeal
Whilst eating your last meal
Right by the steering wheel
Angels are a thrill
Angels are for real
They have the power to heal
Surreal as a dream!
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Water and Spirit
A son does what he sees and,
A daughter does what see see too;
For this world do go around us to learn always.
At the seventh hour,
At the moving of the water,
Of the scraps that remained after the work;
Begotten of water and spirit for the wind to blow where it will,
And others born of the flesh like a keeper who gets the ball.
Born of the spirit,
A player scores a goal!
Rivers of living waters like clay with the spittle;
He is of age and she is of age too,
But a man's mind is full of darkness.
Of ears to hear,
Of eyes to see and,
Of a nose to smell with too;
But the measure you give is the measure you get.
When the water moves,
The spirit gives life;
Like heavenly bodies and earthly things,
But deep inside the well is the darkeness of death.
The bridegroom gets the bride and,
The light of life is for us all to share;
Like water and spirit on the muse of one's birth.
I came into to share my mind,
You came into life to play your part,
For this world is like the water and the spirit around us;
But the wind blows to where it will.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Ring Presented to Julia
Julia, I bring
To thee this Ring.
Made for thy finger fit;
To shew by this,
That our love is
(Or sho'd be) like to it.
Close though it be,
The joynt is free:
So when Love's yoke is on,
It must not gall,
Or fret at all
With hard oppression.
But it must play
Still either way;
And be, too, such a yoke,
As not too wide,
To over-slide;
Or be so strait to choak.
So we, who beare,
The beame, must reare
Our selves to such a height:
As that the stay
Of either may
Create the burden light.
And as this round
Is no where found
To flaw, or else to sever:
So let our love
As endless prove;
And pure as Gold for ever.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Spirit Slips Away
When the spirit slips away
Theres nothing you can do, theres nothing you can say
May the angels be watching over you
When your spirit slips away
When the darkness starts to fall
Youre on your own and your backs against the wall
May the angels bring their flame to you
When your spirit slips away
And when the music that makes you blue
Unfolds its secrets, the mysteries are told to you
May the angels sing rejoice to you
That fateful day when your spirit slips away
song performed by by Thin Lizzy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spirit Slips Away
When the spirit slips away
Theres nothing you can do, theres nothing you can say
May the angels be watching over you
When your spirit slips away
When the darkness starts to fall
Youre on your own and your backs against the wall
May the angels bring their flame to you
When your spirit slips away
And when the music that makes you blue
Unfolds its secrets, the mysteries are told to you
May the angels sing rejoice to you
That fateful day when your spirit slips away
song performed by by Thin Lizzy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Six Cambridge Lasses Bathing Themselves
1 When bashfull daylight now was gone
2 And night, that hides a blush, came on.
3 Sixe Pretty Nymphes to wash away
4 The sweatinge of a Summers daye
5 In Chams fair streames did gently swim
6 And naked bathd each curious limbe.
7 O Who had this blist sight but seene
8 Would thinke they all had Cl{oe}lia=s beene.
9 A Scholer that a walke did take
10 Perchance for Meditation sake.
11 This blessed Obiect chan'cd to find
12 Straight all thinges else went out of mind
13 No Studye=s better in this life
14 For Practicke or Contemplatiue:
15 Who thought Poore soule these hee had seene,
16 Fair Dian and her Nymphes had beene.
17 And therefore thought in piteous feare
18 Act{ae}ons fortune was too neere.
19 Or that the Water=Nymphes they were
20 Together met to sport 'um there
21 And that to him such loue they bore
22 As to Iolas once before.
23 What could hee thinke but that his eye
24 Sixe Venusses at once did spie
25 Rise from the waues, or that perchaunce
26 Fresh=Water Syrens came to dance
27 Vpon our streames, with songes and lookes
28 To tempt Poore Scholers from their bookes.
29 Hee cannot thinke they Graces are
30 Vnlesse their number doubled were.
31 Nor can hee thinke they muses bee
32 Bicause alasse they wanted three.
33 I should haue rather guess'd that here
34 Another brood of Helens were
35 Begot by Ioue upon |y+e+| playnes
36 Watchd by some L{ae}da of the Swans.
37 The maydes betrayd were in a fright
38 And blush'd (but twas not seene ith night.)
39 At last all by |y+e+| banke did stand
40 And hee, good harte lent them his hand.
41 Where twas his blisse to feele all ore
42 Soft Paps, smooth thighes and somethinge more.
43 But Enuious Night masqued from his eyes
44 The place where loue and pleasure lyes.
45 Guesse Louers guesse, o you |y+t+| dare
46 What then might bee this Scholers praier
47 That hee were but a Cat to spye
48 Or had but now Tyberius eyes.
49 Yet since this hope was all in Vaine
50 Hee helpes 'um don there cloths agayne.
51 Makes Promise thye shall none bee shent
52 So with them to the Tauerne went.
53 Where how hee then might sport or play
54 Pardon mee Muse I must not say
55 Guesse you that haue a mind to knowe
56 Whither hee were a Foole of no.
poem by Thomas Randolph
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