In any given society the Remnant are always so largely an unknown quantity. You do not know, and will never know, more than two things about them. You can be sure of those — dead sure, as our phrase is — but you will never be able to make even a respectable guess at anything else. You do not know, and will never know, who the Remnant are, nor what they are doing or will do. Two things you do know, and no more: First, that they exist; second, that they will find you. Except for these two certainties, working for the Remnant means working in impenetrable darkness; and this, I should say, is just the condition calculated most effectively to pique the interest of any prophet who is properly gifted with the imagination, insight and intellectual curiosity necessary to a successful pursuit of his trade.
quote by Albert Jay Nock
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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God’s Final Remnant
Judgment will start in God’s Church, among all men who weekly perch,
Upon the pews looking their best, for some, only how they’re dressed.
In God’s Judgment, sound and sure, all false believers will not endure,
Those who have knowingly denied, to make heart change deep inside.
God will sift the Soldiers of Christ, from all who have no changed life,
Judging those, who do not belong, to His True Blood Bought Throng.
Just like the sheep and the goats, judging him, who spiritually gloats,
Through exalting them self, in pride, above those, who in Christ abide.
Some with a pure and contrite heart, serving God and doing their part,
Are at times hurt by others within, Christ’s Body when they tolerate sin,
And some, may not even belong, ignoring what we deem to be wrong,
Causing much hurt and undue strife, to members who truly love Christ.
How long will God’s Spirit contend, with all those who merely pretend,
That they belong to Christ’s Church, even without a true spiritual birth?
Bringing a Body that bears His name, time and again, hurt and shame,
Unconverted souls women and men, in the Church but not Born Again.
A remnant, God had used before, and a remnant, He’ll use once more,
This, at the end of this present age, before Christ turns that final page,
God will end with a remnant of those, who truly follow Christ who rose,
A final remnant, who truly believed, in the One, who they truly received.
(Copyright ©09/2009)
Unhappy is the man
Unhappy is the man
Having no mental ease
Who suffers from self-conflict
And kleptomaniac disease
No self-contentment
Even seven continents are given
How can this man be happy
Being a soaring raven?
Who believes not himself
Nor faithful to fellow feather
Who is Mr. Jackal and Hide
With false grieving weather
Millionaire in material
Mendicant in heart
No soap is invented yet
To wash away his dirt
Remnant of a burned palace
Nothing but ashes
Remnant of a decaying soul
Repents and remorses
poem by Md.abdul Mannan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Living Off Of Memories
I am living off of memories--
Just wasting my time....
The hours pass into days...
And there is no reason nor rhyme;
Blue skies have gone missing-
Replaced by dark grey--
The Sun has taken its leave---
And the night has replaced day;
Springtime no longer exists-
All the blossoms are withered and dry--
Summer times brillance...
For me has just died;
I am living of of memories--
Just wasting my time...
The hours pass into days
There is no reason nor rhyme;
All that is left is a remnant...
Of days spent with you...
The fabrric of yesterdays love...
Now distant from view;
It is far off and laying atop-
Our love making bed...
Just a remnant-a remnant...
Of loving words once said;
I am living off of memories--
Just wasting my time...
The hours pass into days--
There is no reason nor rhyme;
I'm caught in the between...
Of yesterdays time...
Back in that sweet day---
When you were once mine;
Song Lyrics
May23,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Workout Plan
Some girls are all about
wishing things would've worked out
or wondering why
things didn't work out
don't work out
won't work out
or if only this
or that
then things would've worked out.
It's as if instead of working things out
and things working out
all they really wanted was a good workout
I guess just let them
work themselves out
cause I just want things to work out
if that's cool
poem by Brandon Adamson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Superficial Society
So I'm not good enough to hang out with your friends
You say it's a bluff, it's no lie
You want to be cool and hang with both sides
But what would they say, I'm the fool
It's a superficial society
It's a bunch of bullshit can't you see
Why wouldn't you wake up to reality
I guess backstabbing ain't the way of life for me
Open your mind and close your eyes
To the things that really persist
It's not your hair or the things you wear
That makes someone socially exist
It's hard to find yourself sometimes
Around the people with a cool policy
Why don't you let yourself unwind
And leave that lame society
Superficial society
Superficial society
Superficial society
It's all superfical to me
Superficial society
Superficial society
song performed by by Unwritten Law
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hazey Jane
Do you curse where you come from,
Do you swear in the night
Will it mean much to you
If I treat you right.
Do you like what you're doing,
Would you do it some more
Or will you stop once and wonder
What you're doing it for.
Hey slow Jane, make sense
Slow, slow, Jane, cross the fence.
Do you feel like a remnant
Of something that's past
Do you find things are moving
Just a little too fast.
Do you hope to find new ways
Of quenching your thirst,
Do you hope to find new ways
Of doing better than your worst.
Hey slow Jane, let me prove
Slow, slow Jane, we're on the move.
Do it for you,
Sure that you would do the same for me one day.
So try to be true,
Even if it's only in your hazey way.
Can you tell if you're moving
With no mirror to see,
If you're just riding a new man
Looks a little like me.
Is it all so confusing,
Is it hard to believe
When the winter is coming
Can you sign up and leave.
Hey slow Jane, live your lie
Slow, slow jane, fly on by.
song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dream Of The Unknown
I dream of mostly nothing,
A deep black emptiness in space of infinate time.
But there is no time, there is nothing.
I see nothing, I touch nothing.
Am I even here? Do I exist? Where am I?
I'm not anywhere, just darkness all around.
I don't hear anything at all. I don't smell anything.
What kind of dream is this? This dream of the unknown.
It is not a dream. I'm not here, I am nothing.
Dreams are filled with things beyond imagination,
Filled with good things and bad things, but not this.
I am not happy nor am I sad...But I am scared.
Why am I scared? There is nothing here.
I am trembling but I don't feel a thing.
I'm not here, I am nothing just like this darkness.
But I am in fear in this dream of the unknown.
If it's a dream at all. Am I dead? Is that my fear?
If I'm dead, where is the afterlife? Were they right?
I see nothing, I feel nothing, I am nothing.
Fear is the only thing I know in this dream.
But why? If nothing is wrong, why is everything dark?
Why can't I dream? Why am I nothing with nothing around?
No time, no feeling, no sense. Just nothing.
Lost in this forsaken world, this dream of the unknown.
Suddenly, I'm crying. I feel tears stream down my face.
I feel my heart racing. I hear myself choke back cries.
But everything is still dark, everything is still nothing.
I don't understand. What is happening to me?
My eyes open, I'm in my bed. Face buried in my pillow.
I am still crying, I am still scared...I don't know why.
poem by Adam McKim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At night always carry in your heart something from Holy Scriptures to bed with you, meditate upon it like a ruminant animal, and go softly to sleep; but this must not be too much, rather a little that may be well pondered and understood, that you may find a remnant of it in your mind when you rise in the morning.
quote by Martin Luther
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Affinity
I am the farthest far
Chased by chased cars
I am the subtle scar
Of the old dead star
A remnant of the war
An option always ajar
Just, always, ajar.
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cultivate your curiosity. Keep it sharp and always working. Consider curiosity your life preserver, your willingness to try something new. Second, enlarge your enthusiasm to include the pursuit to excellence, following every task through to completion. Third, make the law of averages work for you. By budgeting your time more carefully than most people you can make more time available. Does the combination of curiosity, enthusiasm, and the law of averages guarantee success Indeed it does not ... Success in the final analysis always involves luck or the element of chance. Louis Pasteur grasped this well when he said that chance favors the prepared mind.
quote by John W. Hanley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hazey Jane I
Do you curse where you come from,
Do you swear in the night
Will it mean much to you
If I treat you right.
Do you like what youre doing,
Would you do it some more
Or will you stop once and wonder
What youre doing it for.
Hey slow jane, make sense
Slow, slow, jane, cross the fence.
Do you feel like a remnant
Of something thats past
Do you find things are moving
Just a little too fast.
Do you hope to find new ways
Of quenching your thirst,
Do you hope to find new ways
Of doing better than your worst.
Hey slow jane, let me prove
Slow, slow jane, were on the move.
Do it for you,
Sure that you would do the same for me one day.
So try to be true,
Even if its only in your hazey way.
Can you tell if youre moving
With no mirror to see,
If youre just riding a new man
Looks a little like me.
Is it all so confusing,
Is it hard to believe
When the winter is coming
Can you sign up and leave.
Hey slow jane, live your lie
Slow, slow jane, fly on by.
song performed by by Nick Drake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last Remembrance
I often let it slip through
the roughened irony of my palms,
and then some nights,
I clutch it tight
playing make believe
that, some tinny remnant
of the flimsy atlas we built
on the morass of hope,
may find its way home
into the cemetery of my heart
where your grave
stands open: the luminous
beacon to my redemption.
poem by Frank Lisa IndiRa Francesca Roger Platt Cornish Ma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Working On You
(jim collins/craig wiseman)
You woke up this morning
Changes were taking place
You looked in the mirror
A smile was all over your face
cause out of nowhere
Someone was there
Who dared to climb
Those walls you made
Its exciting, a little frightening
But girl dont you be afraid
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
Cant even remember
All the sorrow that you left behind
Its a brand new day
Theres a bright new way
And your tears have turned into wine
You never forget
When your eyes met
Or just how clearly you could see
Where the turns are deep in your heart
That lead you to believe
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
All of the while you felt forsaken
And all of the while
Loves been waiting, waiting
Suddenly you see how it could be
If we all only felt this way
And for a while girl you can see this world
Looking through the eyes of fate
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
Thats just the love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only A Remnant
Unity, peace, joy and harmony;
History and prophecy are part of us;
But only a remnant will be saved on this earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Things Ain't Workin' Out Down At The Farm (version 1)
Things Ain't Working Out Down At The Farm (Lynott)
-----------------------------------------
There goes Moses carrying his bible book
Never has a problem, just has a cup
It's good clean alcohol and it fills you up
And here I go laughing like a fool, yeah
Things ain't working out down at the farm
Got no bag or baggage or love to keep me warm
And I ain't been in trouble since the day I was born
Things ain't working out down at the farm
I used to spend my sunny days supping aways
Along came Gogarty and he put me away
Down at the station was kept for strays
And I went laughing, geez he like busting me, he liked busting me
He caught me unawares and he made me strip naked
Oh I was scared, oh I was scared, I was shaking
And he said
It's you and me
And me and you
And me and me
And you and you
And me and me
And I just kept laughing like a fool, yeah
Things ain't working out down at the farm
song performed by by Thin Lizzy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Look At the Globalness of It
The war on drugs?
Of course it is working!
It's the most competitive united front,
That is working.
And successful too.
You're looking at its legality.
With a belief it will be cleaned off local
City streets.
Broaden your perception.
Look at the globalness of it!
In fact...
It's probably the only thing that is working.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After The Fresh Blossoms Have Gone
Fresh flower pass after west lake good
Messy remnant red
Fly cottony misty
Weeping willow railing all sun wind
Pipe song scatter end visitor go
Start feel spring empty
Down down curtain curtain
Pair swallow return come thin rain in
After the fresh blossoms have gone- West Lake is good.
Tattered scraps of remnant red,
Mist of cotton catkins flying,
Weeping willow by the railing in the wind and sun.
Pipes and song scatter and cease, visitors depart.
I start to feel that spring is empty,
Let the curtain fall back down,
A pair of swallows going home through the drizzly rain.
poem by Ouyang Xiu
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Burning Soul
nursed in the womb of stress.
Feed from the remnant of depress.
Swim in the fluid of intense suppression.
sleep in dept of severe oppression.
they become a burden for a hard working woman.
She forget that her womb hold any form of human.
they feel her soul burning inside.
she feel their soul pinching her side.
They had been burning since they were deceived.
they had been wallowing since they conceived.
their soul is burning. Their child is coming.
They did not have.
Their body is starve.
they are burning statue.
They have no left virtue.
she is that burning soul. She stand numbed like a braking pole
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pick up the day for what it has
The night’s tail been dragged away
Into the darkness
Like a wailing hound it smells
Of fire ash and the remnant way
Choiceless still petrified dumb
Freezing cold disease stricken
Wrapped in midnight torn patches
Tomorrow there will be another one
Boy or girl lighting their last matches
No they don’t, no they’ve never known
Never known it’s Christmas time
They had to
Pick up the day for what it has
And drag it away into the night
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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His Wish To God
I would to God, that mine old age might have
Before my last, but here a living grave;
Some one poor almshouse, there to lie, or stir,
Ghost-like, as in my meaner sepulchre;
A little piggin, and a pipkin by,
To hold things fitting my necessity,
Which, rightly us'd, both in their time and place,
Might me excite to fore, and after, grace.
Thy cross, my Christ, fix'd 'fore mine eyes should be,
Not to adore that, but to worship Thee.
So here the remnant of my days I'd spend,
Reading Thy bible, and my book; so end.
poem by Robert Herrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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