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Barbra Streisand

There is nothing more important in life than love.

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In My Dreams

Dance for the world, Dance for the world
People it's time now, Something's got to change
People, We no longer can live in pain
We've got to find the truth, We've got to know where it is
Cause we stand here together, Fighting year after year
We're lost in our search, We've been longing to find
We can't hold back no longer, Cause we're running out of time
Dance for the world (x4)
People, my people, We've gone too far, It's time now
To find out just who we really are
I know you're weary, Your hearts full of fear
I see the hope inside you, Behind all the tears
Dance for the world (x4)
If we could all just love one another,
We would see there is nothing more important
Or greater than love for the people
I would dance for the world, I would sing for the world
I would pray for the world, People dance for the world

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Dance For The World

Dance for the world, Dance for the world
People it's time now, Something's got to change
People, We no longer can live in pain
We've got to find the truth, We've got to know where it is
Cause we stand here together, Fighting year after year
We're lost in our search, We've been longing to find
We can't hold back no longer, Cause we're running out of time
Dance for the world [x4]
People, my people, We've gone too far, It's time now
To find out just who we really are
I know you're weary, Your hearts full of fear
I see the hope inside you, Behind all the tears
Dance for the world [x4]
If we could all just love one another,
We would see there is nothing more important
Or greater than love for the people
I would dance for the world, I would sing for the world
I would pray for the world, People dance for the world

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There is More to Life than Love

Starved and famished,
I looked up to him
morsels of consolation
he offered me…
to the inconsolable me?
like breadcrumbs
to a beggar…

The pain goes away
comes back again,
like the everyday sun
shining and setting…
holding my tears
I try to smile
as much as I can…
to make ‘everyone’
happy…
words freezing out
can’t write as before
inexpressive to him,
inadequately so…

Sometimes, I do write
making him feel ‘good’
lest he feels he’s hurt me…
his silence did it all…
he never knew
I would be hurt that bad…
he couldn’t care less,
he didn’t love me; I did…

He was used to the girls
who never said a word
and accepted him,
for he ‘listened’ to them,
so he says…
yet never responded,
like he did to me…
asking me to accept him,
the way he was

It was difficult…
Plausible: I thought
and so I tried,
for the sake of love
trying to be
like his ‘other girls’…

Failed miserably
ended up hurt,
my heart so bruised,
it never stops bleeding…
a gaping abyss
wrenching me out…
seeking ‘closed doors’
I vent my anguish…
ceaseless tears that just wouldn’t stop
the gash so deep…
will it ever fill up?

There is more to life than love
Get over it and Get over him
I helplessly wonder:
But How…?
The questioning continues…
So does the suffering…
I seek respite,
yet the pain clings back…
The days, the months, the years
of incessant longing
and deathly silence
have taken their toll…
a past with no future?
Forgiving is easy…
Forgetting? Never, ever…

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There Is Nothing More Durable

It is refreshing to get that opportunity,
To be placed on a pedestal...
As if one sits on a throne.

It is refreshing to do this,
With an attention received...
To one that is shown.

But getting comfortable,
Is not recommended.
Especially if one's ego becomes cemented.

It is just the experience alone,
One should value.
And not a belief where one sits,
Represents a permanence.
Remembering...
There is nothing more durable,
Than those memories of one that seem to linger.

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There Is Nothing More Satisfying

There is nothing more satisfying,
Than to be depicted as a fool...
By those who have accepted,
Their unconditional training...
Promoting the act of mindlessness.
To leave one eventually feeling,
How pointless it is to express regret.

And observing this free promotion,
Without it being solicited...
Has to be a relief to those aware,
How cost effective this has been...
In the savings done to market without effort,
Such visable and achieved effects...
Affecting successfully the lives of those,
Ripping themselves apart.
In the expediating done of their own demise.

There are those who sit,
Enjoying every moment of this.

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When There Is Nothing More

When there is nothing more
to remember you by,
when you fade away
and disappear faceless,
when reality
wants to vaporise
then the night folds cold around me.

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There is nothing more agreeable in life than to make peace with the establishment and nothing more corrupting.

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There is nothing more agreeable in life than to make peace with the Establishment - and nothing more corrupting.

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Chocolate Eyes

Chocolate eyes, from a forest,
Lovingly
Asking you to play guitar
To vibe some jazz
In me,
And there's nothing more important to see
Than when you strum away
Leaving the world behind,
I find it hard to move, from those chocolate eyes
And you let out a laugh
That words can't define
I'm only happiest
When you're in my sight,
Yes you're
Sweeter than I thought was possible
And all your, wonder words are all I'm living for.

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I Promised Not To Wake Up Early And Write Again

but of course, here i am.
it is 4: 25 in the morning.
i wake up earlier than
i expected. there is no sense wriggling
on the bed that no longer feels my yearning for sleep.
i rise.
i open the computer. i hear its buzzing sound. No problem i am
willing to write about nothing
nothing at all. call it emptiness. call it weariness. on a very early
morning. but it does not matter at all. this is this. this is it.
this is what i am. just going. just coming. just writing.
whatever.

outside the rooster keeps its announcement
of a promising morning. the hens are laying their eggs.
some steps of strangers pass by. sagging footsteps
for an early work to do. opening doors of their stores.
dusting, cleaning, baking the bread. displaying wares.
the salesgirl still yawning on an unwashed face.
the dog wakes up and wags its tail on my side.
as i write.

my life begins to unfold. it is another poem. another story.
written and kept. there is nothing more important to do anyway.

you look for a rhyme. You do not find it here. Go somewhere.
That poet over there, the one with the color of dusk
keeps some. Talk to him. Meanwhile, I am through.
No promises again this time.

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Behind the Poem: Enoch

Now that people are becoming more aware of my poetic efforts, interests are being expressed regarding the background of my poetry - in addition, to my spiritual muse. In this installment, I speak to a poem that ends in a direction, not initially considered...

I've attended Church services for more than 3.5 decades; as a youth, I was raised in a Baptist Church (in southern Maine) . For those unfamiliar with this division of Christianity, there's nothing more important than studying 'The Word of God'. And hear me - there is nothing inherently wrong with studying the Bible; it's one of those necessities as a Christian. And for me personally, it just wasn't enough. As much as I love The Word, having a real and personal relationship with Jehovah became more obvious and critical for my spiritual growth. Eventually, I found my way into the Pentecostal Church, got filled with the Holy Spirit and learned to speak in tongues. Accepting this gift (of tongues) raised my ability to build my relationship with Christ. In effect, it significantly improved the way I'm able to give praises to God and to talk with Him. I share this background information to give a flavor of my thought process (that influences my spiritual writings) - and not as a criticism for those who have not accepted this gift from God. (People who have read my poetry should readily agree that it's fairly evident that my writing is based on the Scriptures and does not contradict the basic tenets of the Christian faith.)

In order to remain within my profession of I.T. (Information Technology) , I've had to relocate to different U.S. states on the east coast. So I found myself living in southern Connecticut for about a decade. For more than three years, I attended this popular Church in Milford. Despite my own 'baggage', I was a productive Christian, giving my time, talent, tithe and offerings to the Church freely and whole-heartedly. As a result, I started to dream of how I could give more of myself to Him - to be able to give my entire life for God's purposes (as He intends for everyone) . My poetry manuscript was completed and blindly rejected by the Church - the clergy was not interested or curious about the 'Christian poetry' I had written. Undeterred, I had already started working on additional poetry manuscripts. Wanting more of Christ in my life, fascination with Enoch began to grow at this time; very little about him is shared in the Bible and I never thought to research him on the Internet. The pages of my Bible are written upon with notes, concepts and ideas as I studied The Word and listened to sermons throughout the years. And yet, I noticed how little commentary about Enoch was known to me in my notes. What did Enoch know that the rest of us fail to understand? At the beginning of the Wednesday evening service, parishoners are allowed to submit questions - to be addressed directly by the bishop, prior to the evening service. I had begun assembling my poem fragments and phrases, but had not started the construction of the poem itself. So one night I submitted a simple question: 'Why don't we know more about Enoch's life? '

I've come to learn that preachers are fickle creatures; they claim to be 'dead men' - people who are unoffendable when interacting with less knowledgeable individuals in spiritual matters. And yet, with my analytical brain and decades of Church experience, I naturally rub minsters against their grain. After all, 'iron sharpens iron' and my words catch on their spiritual burrs - which is something that ministers typically don't fully appreciate when dealing with me. My innocent submission uncovered an overly sensitive nerve, quickly made apparent by the bishop's unrighteous reaction to my inquiry. Instead of answering my question in a positive and forthright manner, he exploded into a contrite diatribe 'of how I suffered from an escapist's mentality'. Naturally I was unimpressed with his carnal response and came to the immediate conclusion that he didn't have a viable response. I'm fairly sure that this event wasn't lost on the congregation either; for when someone avoids answering a direct question, people can easily draw their own conclusions. When the time came for me to compose this poem, the minister's words were still grinding on my spirit - thus setting the tone of this work. Although different from my other poems, I can't say that I'm disappointed with the ending of my poem, given the actions of Christ's dealings with the Pharisees and Saducees. If anything, I've followed His earthly example. This poem is my reaction to the bishop's inability to provide me with a solution that I had sought.

 
 

P.S. Although there are other people who never experienced death, such as Elijah, who was taken to heavenly in a fiery chariot, Enoch was essentially snatched away by the 'Hand of God', so that 'he was no more'. No other documentation exists, that details those who prevented their physical death in this particular way.

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Robert De Niro

There's nothing more ironic or contradictory than life itself.

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There is nothing more important than a good, safe, secure home.

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There's nothing more important in making movies than the screenplay.

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There is nothing more important to our Nation's future, to our homeland security, and to our economy than ensuring we have a top-notch educational system that is the envy of the world.

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In life there is nothing more unexpected and surprising than the arrivals and departures of pleasure. If we find it in one place today, it is vain to seek it there tomorrow. You can not lay a trap for it.

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When There Is Nothing More To Be Done...

got a call and she is dying,
whatever that means
dying to see me
or dying to die
it does not matter to me anymore
now that i have burned all the bridges
and made holes of those wooden boats
and broke all the paddles
what then is going to be done
as a matter of
last resort to save what she thinks
is still valuable
inside our hearts

we are like those burned houses
early dawn with nothing saved
we see all the ashes and some smoke
still clinging on the charred pieces
of furniture and beams
of the past

'there is nothing anymore'
and i have not opted for those memorized prayers
those usual offerings of
chicken blood and pork
or the newly hatched egg with a squeaking chick
hoping that perhaps someday
the root cause shall be known
how the tree falls off and how the worms
begin their feasts
on our own stupidities.

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What Happened When The Lights Went Out

early that evening
there was a total blackout in the city
for an unknown
cause again, and

this happens not just for that
lonely time
only but for the nth time
when the hours are lonelier
than usual, and

to make use of those dark hours
since we see nothing
more important to do than read,
we spend the hours, and hours
talking,

it is you who is doing most
of the talking, choosing the words,
and arranging them
to perhaps please me, but i was
not there anymore,
i was then, and am mostly,
a wanderer amidst the forest of your
sentences,

and i feel like your are sentencing
me into a listener imprisoned
in those bars of
senseless words, and i

as i once told you, always escape
as a swift bird,
and you as usual do not notice it
when i am already
far away into my own
kind of personal homeland
where you cannot find me
or catch me

naked and innocent like a native,
and i do not hear about you anymore
and when i come back
and take the shape of a man

you are already fast asleep and then
i step silently inside the room
via an open window
slip on the bed wet with your tears
and then i gently sleep beside you

and i cannot sleep that night
as i judge myself guilty of an injustice
which i have inflicted against
love and trust

a la Cupid to
Psyche,

and then i, before my own
sleepy eyes,
blow that stupid candle
away

and then it is so dark
deep into the night i journey
burdened
like one of the Furies
into the
cliffs of Sisyphus.

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Nothing Stronger Than Love

Written by c. jackson & m. yancy
There aint nothin stronger than love
There aint no word greater than love
And once you feel that
Your whole life will change, yeah
Youll never wanna hurt again, no one
Never wanna hurt again
There aint no tears, no tears wetter than love
(ooh)
There aint no smile, no smile, no smile
No smile wider than love
(ooh, ooh)
And when all forsake you
They seem to see wrong in what you say, yeah
(nobody holds the key) nobody holds the key to the answer
I know that love will show the way, yeah
Love will show the way (there aint nothin stronger than love)
(there aint nothin stronger than love)
(no love!) now you can live on my friend but youll never, never find
(no love!) the word Im talkin bout can give you peace of mind
(love is!) the answer to the burden that you have in your heart
I know it can give a lonely person a brand new start
Love is a blessing, ooh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
I like to think about love as a bridge over troubled water
Oh, I like to think about love as the little children playing together
(there aint nothin, nothin stronger than love)
You know I like to think about it, oh (ooh, no)
I like to think (there aint nothin, nothin stronger than love)
About it, l-o-v-e (hoo, no)
(there aint nothin, nothin stronger than love)
I really like to think about everybody, everybody comin (hoo, no) together
(there aint nothin, nothin stronger than love)
I really like to think about it
I can see the day, yeah (hoo, no)
Its gonna happen one of these ol days - oh! (no love!)
Doo doop, doo doop, doo doop, doop!
Doo doop, doo doop, doo doop, doop!
Doo doop, doo doop
There aint nothin stronger, stronger, stronger than love----

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When Something Begins to Stink

There is nothing more difficult to change,
Than a baby's diaper!
Those who have gone down and dirty
To knock out smells...
Not the kind to be found at Macy's.
They know...
Those who have taken low blows.
Knowing they know...
Nothing takes more love!

If those missions taken,
Are done so...
Without passing out from a shot of oxygen...
Clarol subscription overdoses,
And an intentional game
Of Hide n' Go Seek...
That began shortly after birth,
With an occasional lapse of amnesia!

If those missions taken,
Are taken at the risk of sanity...
There is nothing on this Earth,
That can not be turned around and changed!

You may get pissed on...
During these journeys, .
Or you may just get pissed!
But one thing is obvious and certain...
You can not resist what it is that is wished!
If a BABY can make you do this,
There is not any excuse for not making a fuss...
When something begins to stink...
Or puss...or be exposed from riddled guts!
Like a quality of life that is dieing!

If a baby can make you do this...
And over the years you have become immuned?
No wonder there are so many whiners,
Caring on the way they do...to disco tunes,
And bad fashion!

Either someone wasn't there,
Quick enough to notice the change...
Or the change itself never came!

But something left alone has grown upon us!

Those responsible for raising these 'kids', '
Believed taking shit was love!

And pretended too long they didn't notice it!
And this became a habit, '
That got them hooked...
Right there in their homes!

Defending their own routines,
Of wiping up and pampering...
And becoming addicted by their habits,
Of cleaning up nasty asses on their own,
And moaning about it!

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