He who desires all, misses all.
Swahili proverbs
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Sehnsucht
Whence are ye, vague desires,
Which carry men along,
However proud and strong;
Which, having ruled to-day,
To-morrow pass away?
Whence are ye, vague desires?
Whence are ye?
Which women, yielding to,
Find still so good and true;
So true, so good to-day,
To-morrow gone away.
Whence are ye, vague desires?
Whence are ye?
From seats of bliss above,
Where angels sing of love;
From subtle airs around,
Or from the vulgar ground,
Whence are ye, vague desires?
Whence are ye?
A message from the blest,
Or bodily unrest;
A call to heavenly good,
A fever in the blood
What are ye, vague desires?
What are ye?
Which men who know you best
Are proof against the least,
And rushing on to-day,
To-morrow cast away.
What are ye, vague desires?
What are ye?
Which women, ever new,
Still warned, surrender to;
Adored with you to-day,
Then cast with you away,
What are ye, vague desires?
What are ye?
Which unto boyhood’s heart
The force of man impart,
And pass, and leave it cold,
And prematurely old,
What are ye, vague desires?
What are ye?
[...] Read more
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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She Misses Him On Sunday The Most
(steven dale jones/bobby tomberlin)
They were quite a pair
The way that love should be
They still held hands
For the world to see
Shes thankful that she had him all those years
But she still has days she cant hold back the tears
She misses their monday night bowling league
When theyd wear their matching shirts
She misses their wednesday night dinner out
As soon as he got home from work
And saturday morning sleeping late
Holding each other close
But she misses him on sunday the most
She sits alone on that same old pew again
His tenor voice still echoes now and then
It brings back all those memories of him there by her side
What shed give for one more sunday drive
She misses their monday night bowling league
When theyd wear their matching shirts
She misses their wednesday night dinner out
As soon as he got home from work
And saturday morning sleeping late
Holding each other close
But she misses him on sunday the most
But she misses him on sunday the most
song performed by Diamond Rio
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Desire
Northern star
Am I frightened
Where can I go to rest
I cant sleep
And Im still fighting
Wait, dont breathe
The time destroys a man
A child who understands
That anyone who desires
Is not my kind
Not my truth
Fade away, its all we do
Fade away from the truth
Desires
Fade away
Desires
Fade away
Desires
And northern star
Please enlighten
The lost prayers of my soul
Childhood dreams
Of death and titans
We were meant to be free
To give ourselves away
So please dont be afraid
Of anyone who desires
Theyre not my kind
Not my truth
Fade away, its all we do
Fade away from the truth
Desires
Fade away
Desires
Fade away
Desires
Fade away
Desires
cause anyone who desires
Is not my kind
I have no use for you
song performed by Zwan
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The House Of Dust: Complete
I.
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.
'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.
We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .
Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.
Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.
Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.
II.
[...] Read more
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Everything Your Heart Desires
Music by daryl hall / lyrics by daryl hall
You say you cant stand to be
Tied so close to a lover
Ooh you feel like a prisoner
And you wanna find someone who will let you out
Cant you see the heartbeat that you know so well
Is better than some strange one youre looking for
Say you never know that strange one just might be me
Cant you see -
You have everything your heart desires
So why dyou want more
If you had everything your heart desired
Would you still want more
You have everything your heart desires
Why dyou wont more
If you have everything your heart desires
Oh baby will you still want more
You tell me your best friends world seems beautiful
But dont be fooled
Its nice work if you can get it
What goes on behind closed doors you dont know
Maybe she cries herself to sleep every nite
Sorry that the heartbeat that she knows so well
Aint what shes looking for
Say you never know that strange heart just might be me
Cant you see -
You have everything your heart desires
So why dyou want more
If you had everything your heart desired
Would you still wand more
You have everything your heart desires
Why dyou want more
If you have everything your heart desires
Will you still want more
Maybe youll confess
Girl youll see
If you want.the world
Think of me
No words can help
Dont be sad
cause baby what you want is what you have
song performed by Hall & Oates
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Learn Ramdas, learn!
Nature is the grand school,
Even sometimes demoted to lowerclass,
Nature is that school,
Where knowledge and wisdom alone qualifies one to higher class,
Wherein a mistake is sufficient to get sent back,
See some animals, may it be a dog or a cat,
May it be a plant or tree,
All move from lower level to higher,
Every pain is a lesson,
Every helplessness leads to prayer,
Even the king of forest left alone by others at the end,
but not by the ants and flies and parasites,
Make him suffer a lot,
Get disgusted of own life,
with the very last breath,
He wish something and it gets fulfilled!
Some animals learn quick,
Yet they wish for what they don't have,
Nature fulfils its wish,
Until self learns, all wishes that are narrow and selfish lead to pain,
This learning of 'desires are cause of pain'
Continues until one becomes free of desires!
I have seen somany people saying,
'Dogs life in wealthy man's house is far better the life of helpless poor man'
Such men may destined to come as dog in some wealthy man's house,
Only to learn,
dog is only dog,
not more than that,
If one has patience,
The study of life itself shows,
Animal to man, man to animal is possible,
Till one gets free of desires,
Selfless and think beyond desires and pain.
This is not a doctrine,
It is my observations of animals and plants around me!
I never ask anyone to believe this,
When entire living world is one family,
Everything is possible,
learn Ramdas,
Learn,
Incarnation of unfulfilled desires is reincarnation of soul!
Just take as a food for thought,
Better not waste time on discussion,
Find the way out to become free of desires
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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My Heart Desires To Speak
…MY HEART DESIRES TO SPEAK
Greetings from the abyss of my heart
Hail queen of my empire
In my excursion down the memory lane
My heart desires to revert to that superb day
I fell head over heels in love with you queen bee
That day your heart-stoppingly beauty invaded my thoughts
Your scent a surprise a faint exotic blend
Of tropical flowers was and is
Your smile veiled suggestions of more to come
For you tones of love I will surely vomit
My heart desires to verbalize
Of the preparations I had to hunt for your love signature
I rehearsed to perfection how to vomit facts before you
I was truly humbled by your manners
My train of thought
Stopped on your striking angelic beauty
Dug from the womb of gracefulness
Soon interpersonal chemistry between us became right
I was lost in your Ice Kingdom
Yes my heart desires to speak
Of your knee- weakening, strength-sapping kisses
Your eyes smoky with desire
Your melting, sexy voice
Sharp like French horn that pitches low in my subconscious
You extinguish the burning desires of my body
Smile my heart
With the self satisfied air
Of someone in possession of a wonderful secret
In time of strong currents
Your bright face like a rising sun
Oozes rivers of solace in my heart
You embrace and curdle me when my times turn gray
Come and coil around my waist my Christmas morning
For my heart desires to speak.
poem by Innocent Masina Nkhonyo
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Even A Fool Can See
One big happy family
Together the rest of our lives
As far as our friends were concerned
Everything seemed right
But thats when she told me
She said me it was time to move on
Just something that she kept inside
That told me the thrill was gone
And now I cant believe
I cant believe its over
Suddenly its plain to see
Shes leaving me and
Even a fool can see
Theres nothing left between us
I knew all along something was wrong
But I did my best to deny it
And now I cant go home
She wants to be alone so
Tell anyone who misses me that Im alright
Even a fool can see
There were times we had nothing
And somehow we laughed through it all
There are moments Ill never forget
And some I wouldnt care to recall
And still I cant believe
I cant believe its over
Suddenly its plain to see
Shes doesnt need me
Even a fool can see
Theres nothing left between us
I knew all along something was wrong
But I did my best to deny it
And now I cant go home
She wants to be alone so
Tell anyone who misses me that Im alright
Even a fool can see
Nothing more to talk about
Its over when its over
In the end you both stop trying
In the end its oh so sad
And you are crying
And now I cant go home
She wants to be alone so
Tell anyone who misses me that Im alright
Even a fool can see
Wont ya tell me that Im alright
Even a fool like me
Woo ooo Im alright
Even a fool can see
Whoa ooo ooo ooo
song performed by Peter Cetera
Added by Lucian Velea
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He Gets That From Me
His early mornin' attitude
You have to drag him out of bed
Only Frosted Flakes will do
He gets that from me
Yeah, he gets that from me
His curly hair and his knobby knees
The way the sun brings those freckles out
Talk and talk, never miss a beat
Yeah, he gets that from me
He gets that from me
He looks at me with those big brown eyes
He's got me in the palm of his hands
And I swear sometimes
It's just like you're here again
He smiles that little crooked smile
There's no denying he's your child
Without him, I don't know what I'd do
He gets that from you
Oh, he gets that from you
How he loves your old guitar
Yeah, he's taught himself to play
He melts my heart
Tells me he love me every day
And cracks a joke at the perfect time
Makes me laugh when I want to cry
That boy is everything to me
He gets that from you
He gets that from you
Last night I heard him pray
Lord, help me and Mama make it through
And tell Daddy, we'll be okay
He said, he sure misses you
He sure misses you
He really misses you
He gets that from me
song performed by Reba Mcentire
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He Gets That Room
His early mornin' attitude
You have to drag him out of bed
Only Frosted Flakes will do
He gets that from me
Yeah, he gets that from me
His curly hair and his knobby knees
The way the sun brings those freckles out
Talk and talk never miss a beat
Yeah, he gets that from me
He gets that from me
He looks at me with those big brown eyes
He's got me in the palm of his hands
And I swear sometimes
It's just like you're here again
He smiles that little crooked smile
There's no denying he's your child
Without him I don't know what I'd do
He gets that from you
Oh, he gets that from you
How he loves your old guitar
Yeah, he's taught himself to play
He melts my heart
Tells me he loves me everyday
And cracks a joke at the perfect time
Makes me laugh when I want to cry
That boy means everything to me
He gets that from you
He gets that from you
Last night I heard him pray
"Lord help me and Mama make it through,
And tell Daddy we'll be o.k."
He said he sure misses you
He sure misses you
He really misses you
He gets that from me
song performed by Reba Mcentire
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lately
Lately, I have had the strangest feeling
With no vivid reason here to find
Yet the thought of losing yous been hanging
round my mind
Far more frequently youre wearing perfume
With you say no special place to go
But when I ask will you be coming back soon
You dont know, never know
Well, Im a man of many wishes
Hope my premonition misses
But what I really feel my eyes wont let me hide
cause they always start to cry
cause this time could mean goodbye
Lately Ive been staring in the mirror
Very slowly picking me apart
Trying to tell myself I have no reason
With your heart
Just the other night while you were sleeping
I vaguely heard you whisper someones name
But when I ask you of the thoughts your keeping
You just say nothings changed
Well, Im a man of many wishes
I hope my premonition misses
But what I really feel my eyes wont let me hide
cause they always start to cry
cause this time could mean goodbye, goodbye
Oh, Im a man of many wishes
I hope my premonition misses
But what I really feel my eyes wont let me hide
cause they always start to cry
cause this time could mean goodbye
song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Masochistic Wishes
There is a need for some,
To get their pleasure felt and delivered...
Whipped and beatened.
And treated sadistically.
By those wanting nothing more,
Than to give those requesting...
For them what is adored.
Punishment?
No.
Not when it is condoned like this.
It's that masochistic thing!
When one has a list of preferred afflictions.
Effective grief received and delivered...
Is a comfort to many fitting this category.
With a desire to feel pain,
One misses and begs to get.
Masochistic wishes as if a Christmas gift.
Wanting every bit of this sadisticness.
One can not resist.
Masochistic wishes promised and a bliss this is.
There is a need for some,
To get their pleasure felt and delivered...
Whipped and beatened.
And treated sadistically.
Masochistic wishes,
One misses and begs to get.
Punishment?
No.
Not when it is condoned like this.
Whipped and beatened into bliss like this.
Masochistic wishes,
One misses and begs to get.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To The Misses
I try my best,
To not strike out!
It is hard to hit home runs...
When up at bat,
I'd rather sit and chat!
But the urge to accomplish,
Comes undetected.
Nothing to warn.
Or surprise as expected.
To the misses,
I apologize.
My mind sometimes...
Is not there to be profound.
It isn't there to release a confidence.
Or place with purpose,
With thoughts I can find...
That have depth of meaning.
To have others believe,
I am leaving something 'sound'!
I try my best,
To not strike out!
It is hard to hit home runs...
When up at bat,
And expectations...
I will 'deliver'.
When I'm not feeling that!
To the misses,
I apologize.
My mind sometimes...
Is not there to be profound.
Sometimes I am just 'here'...
Going through the motions!
Hoping that just appearing at bat...
Is enough to declare,
My devotion felt.
Is just 'that'!
But not at times to show,
How I feel in my heart...
When I am caring very deeply.
But I know not where to even start...
To deliver such depthness,
Without 'that' in expression...
Unprepared.
Yet to surface and fall apart!
To the misses,
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bessie's Boil
Says I to my Missis: "Ba goom, lass! you've something I see, on your mind."
Says she: "You are right, Sam, I've something. It 'appens it's on me be'ind.
A Boil as 'ud make Job jealous. It 'urts me no end when I sit."
Says I: "Go to 'ospittel, Missis. They might 'ave to coot it a bit."
Says she: "I just 'ate to be showin' the part of me person it's at."
Says I: "Don't be fussy; them doctors see sights more 'orrid than that."
So Misses goes off togged up tasty, and there at the 'ospittel door
They tells 'er to see the 'ouse Doctor, 'oose office is Room Thirty-four.
So she 'unts up and down till she finds it, and knocks and a voice says: "Come in,"
And there is a 'andsome young feller, in white from 'is 'eels to 'is chin.
"I've got a big boil," says my Missis. "It 'urts me for fair when I sit,
And Sam (that's me 'usband) 'as asked me to ask you to coot it a bit."
Then blushin' she plucks up her courage, and bravely she shows 'im the place,
And 'e gives it a proper inspection, wi' a 'eap o' surprise on 'is face.
Then 'e says wi' an accent o' Scotland: "Whit ye hae is a bile, Ah can feel,
But ye'd better consult the heid Dockter; they caw him Professor O'Niel.
He's special for biles and carbuncles. Ye'll find him in Room Sixty-three.
No charge, Ma'am. It's been a rare pleasure. Jist tell him ye're comin' from me."
So Misses she thanks 'im politely, and 'unts up and down as before,
Till she comes to a big 'andsome room with "Professor O'Neil" on the door.
Then once more she plucks up her courage, and knocks, and a voice says: "All right."
So she enters, and sees a fat feller wi' whiskers, all togged up in white.
"I've got a big boil," says my Missis, "and if ye will kindly permit,
I'd like for to 'ave you inspect it; it 'urts me like all when I sit."
So blushin' as red as a beet-root she 'astens to show 'im the spot,
And 'e says wi' a look o' amazement: "Sure, Ma'am, it must hurt ye a lot."
Then 'e puts on 'is specs to regard it, and finally says wi' a frown:
"I'll bet it's as sore as the divvle, especially whin ye sit down.
I think it's a case for the Surgeon; ye'd better consult Doctor Hoyle.
I've no hisitation in sayin' yer boil is a hill of a boil."
So Misses she thanks 'im for sayin' her boil is a hill of a boil,
And 'unts all around till she comes on a door that is marked: "Doctor Hoyle."
But by now she 'as fair got the wind up, and trembles in every limb;
But she thinks: "After all, 'e's a Doctor. Ah moosn't be bashful wi' 'im."
She's made o' good stuff is the Missis, so she knocks and a voice says: "Oos there?"
"It's me," says ma Bessie, an' enters a room which is spacious and bare.
And a wise-lookin' old feller greets 'er, and 'e too is togged up in white.
"It's the room where they coot ye," thinks Bessie; and shakes like a jelly wi' fright.
"Ah got a big boil," begins Missis, "and if ye are sure you don't mind,
I'd like ye to see it a moment. It 'urts me, because it's be'ind."
So thinkin' she'd best get it over, she 'astens to show 'im the place,
And 'e stares at 'er kindo surprised like, an' gets very red in the face.
But 'e looks at it most conscientious, from every angle of view,
Then 'e says wi' a shrug o' 'is shoulders: "Pore Lydy, I'm sorry for you.
It wants to be cut, but you should 'ave a medical bloke to do that.
Sye, why don't yer go to the 'orsespittel, where all the Doctors is at?
Ye see, Ma'am, this part o' the buildin' is closed on account o' repairs;
[...] Read more
poem by Robert William Service
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Maiden's Love
In her spring of sixteen, was when she fell for him.
Times spring displays the beauty of nature in grandest elegance.
Now in nineteenth, under the solitary moonlight, she sits and grieves of the sorrows of her errant love,
Like the sailors meticulously vigils the erratic winds of the sea,
She talks of her love like the river that followed a wandering course.
A little longer and i see the sorrows and agony in her changing face,
And laments of her gracious love bewildered,
Embracing the breeze she speak of merry moments which once was hers,
And dubiously speaks of if he still misses her,
And ponders of the great love she once shared in his arms,
And murmurs softly of how she misses those days,
And how she muses at the sight of lovers walking holding hands,
Three years with him, the times shared which only God and they knows of,
With sadness she mutters of how she misses walking hand in hand wit him,
Times he'd carry her when she tires out,
Times they ate together,
The songs sung and listened,
Rainfalls soaked together,
The arguments, small and big,
Moments cried together,
The warmness of his embraces,
How he would embosom, comfort her in deepest troubles,
Times he would stoop and tie her laces,
And whiningly speaks of his absence,
And murmurs a little more sadly of how she came across different people like the seasons,
Good and bad, lovable and hateful, mean and kind,
How none would fill the void in her heart and fit his place.
As the birds of spring escapes the cold winter,
She escapes the love of every man,
And contradicts of how time heals broken hearts,
And sits under the solitary moonlight cold in love.
And ends this chronicle with faith that somewhere in a yon she will find love again,
If not as true as she once loved the patron soul in him..
poem by Sukkum Chang
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Solomon on the Vanity of the World, A Poem. In Three Books. - Pleasure. Book II.
The Argument
Solomon, again seeking happiness, inquires if wealth and greatness can produce it: begins with the magnificence of gardens and buildings; the luxury of music and feasting; and proceeds to the hopes and desires of love. In two episodes are shown the follies and troubles of that passion. Solomon, still disappointed, falls under the temptations of libertinism and idolatry; recovers his thought; reasons aright; and concludes that, as to the pursuit of pleasure and sensual delight, All Is Vanity and Vexation of Spirit.
Try then, O man, the moments to deceive
That from the womb attend thee to the grave:
For wearied Nature find some apter scheme;
Health be thy hope, and pleasure be thy theme;
From the perplexing and unequal ways
Where Study brings thee from the endless maze
Which Doubt persuades o run, forewarn'd, recede
To the gay field, and flowery path, that lead
To jocund mirth, soft joy, and careless ease:
Forsake what my instruct for what may please:
Essay amusing art and proud expense,
And make thy reason subject to thy sense.
I communed thus: the power of wealth I tried,
And all the various luxe of costly pride;
Artists and plans relieved my solemn hours:
I founded palaces and planted bowers,
Birds, fishes, beasts, of exotic kind
I to the limits of my court confined,
To trees transferr'd I gave a second birth,
And bade a foreign shade grace Judah's earth.
Fish-ponds were made where former forests grew
And hills were levell'd to extend the view.
Rivers, diverted from their native course,
And bound with chains of artificial force,
From large cascades in pleasing tumult roll'd,
Or rose through figured stone or breathing gold.
From furthest Africa's tormented womb
The marble brought, erects the spacious dome,
Or forms the pillars' long-extended rows,
On which the planted grove and pensile garden grows.
The workmen here obey the master's call,
To gild the turret and to paint the wall;
To mark the pavement there with various stone,
And on the jasper steps to rear the throne:
The spreading cedar, that an age had stood,
Supreme of trees, and mistress of the wood,
Cut down and carved, my shining roof adorns,
And Lebanon his ruin'd honour mourns.
A thousand artists show their cunning powers
To raise the wonders of the ivory towers:
A thousand maidens ply the purple loom
[...] Read more
poem by Matthew Prior
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Metamorphoses: Book The Ninth
Theseus requests the God to tell his woes,
Whence his maim'd brow, and whence his groans arose
Whence thus the Calydonian stream reply'd,
With twining reeds his careless tresses ty'd:
Ungrateful is the tale; for who can bear,
When conquer'd, to rehearse the shameful war?
Yet I'll the melancholy story trace;
So great a conqu'ror softens the disgrace:
Nor was it still so mean the prize to yield,
As great, and glorious to dispute the field.
The Story of Perhaps you've heard of Deianira's name,
Achelous and For all the country spoke her beauty's fame.
Hercules Long was the nymph by num'rous suitors woo'd,
Each with address his envy'd hopes pursu'd:
I joyn'd the loving band; to gain the fair,
Reveal'd my passion to her father's ear.
Their vain pretensions all the rest resign,
Alcides only strove to equal mine;
He boasts his birth from Jove, recounts his spoils,
His step-dame's hate subdu'd, and finish'd toils.
Can mortals then (said I), with Gods compare?
Behold a God; mine is the watry care:
Through your wide realms I take my mazy way,
Branch into streams, and o'er the region stray:
No foreign guest your daughter's charms adores,
But one who rises in your native shores.
Let not his punishment your pity move;
Is Juno's hate an argument for love?
Though you your life from fair Alcmena drew,
Jove's a feign'd father, or by fraud a true.
Chuse then; confess thy mother's honour lost,
Or thy descent from Jove no longer boast.
While thus I spoke, he look'd with stern disdain,
Nor could the sallies of his wrath restrain,
Which thus break forth. This arm decides our right;
Vanquish in words, be mine the prize in fight.
Bold he rush'd on. My honour to maintain,
I fling my verdant garments on the plain,
My arms stretch forth, my pliant limbs prepare,
And with bent hands expect the furious war.
O'er my sleek skin now gather'd dust he throws,
And yellow sand his mighty muscles strows.
Oft he my neck, and nimble legs assails,
He seems to grasp me, but as often fails.
Each part he now invades with eager hand;
Safe in my bulk, immoveable I stand.
So when loud storms break high, and foam and roar
Against some mole that stretches from the shore;
The firm foundation lasting tempests braves,
Defies the warring winds, and driving waves.
[...] Read more
Desires of Your Heart
Daily keeping an eye on your desire, remember where you did start.
You were plucked from the fire, and then Jesus Christ set you apart.
Through your life, it is God’s desire, that His message you do impart.
God, who reigns heavens higher, will grant the desires of your heart.
Friend, as we live our lives for God, He fills believers with His Grace.
Working upon this earth men trod, God may move us place to place.
He guides us with staff and rod, as He shines upon us with His face.
As we do our jobs to honor God, Christ draws others into His Grace.
The Lord will use you as He needs, to shine your light on your world.
Through your life Christ sows seeds, this as your witness is unfurled.
Through your work and your deeds, New Life by you God will herald.
As a shepherd The Savior leads, with our desires to reach the world.
Your desires, by God are not ignored, this as you live your daily life.
If you delight yourself in The Lord, desires will be granted by Christ.
Friend in your job Christ will afford, a place for you to be a sacrifice.
So men can meet who you’ve adored, and accept Him into their life.
God will give you your heart’s desire, as He sets your goals higher.
As Christ leads you to the place, so He can lead men to His Grace.
Christ will use your daily deeds, for men to see their eternal needs.
And with your desires Jesus Christ, will lead others to Eternal Life.
(Copyright ©02/2006)
poem by Bob Gotti
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B: XV: Mission de Chef + Love the Love I Love + Holey Seat
Mission de Chef
Out of strong desires
I want to make a sauce
The sum of whose desires
Is greater than desires.
I will then subtract desires,
Label what is left as 'CHARM',
And find out if it works on love,
If it leads to love's demise,
Too weak without,
yet outlasting strong desires.
Love the Love I Love
You say you love me
You say you can't love her
I love her
Her love is what makes me
You don't love her
You don't love me
Love the love I love
And you will love me
Holey Seat
A fundament they share,
Poetry and Brown:
After one that takes some effort,
You sometimes put a quick one down.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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We've All Been Greedy
Those peaceful nights for some have passed.
Those feeling safe...
In sheltered communities behind closed gates.
Are awakening.
But not to Robins singing.
To peer from behind French customed made doors.
Swinging out onto the patio.
Overlooking acres upon acres upon more acres,
Of freshly cut grass.
These awareness days have come upon us fast.
Who would believe such a quick erasing,
Of a way of life....
Would come to pass.
And leave those embittered with much grief,
With streaks of torment on twisted faces.
Disgraced and now nervously pacing.
In wait.
But for what?
When the 'why' of it has arrived too late!
We've been greedy.
See what gluttony does when it can't be overcomed.
We've been greedy,
And feeding on our selfishness.
While ripping the hearts out of those to sustain it.
Doing everything to gain more and maintain it.
We've been greedy!
And..
The stinging of the realness,
Persists.
And can not be contained.
Acts of civil madness...
Spreads fast!
Thousands go out of their minds.
Many more are trapped!
Something in their minds have snapped.
Only those exposed to fantasies,
Are observed doing that.
And a waste of explanation can not bring them back!
Their self delusions have attacked.
Leaving us all affected by that 'fat'!
Yes fat!
Undisciplined rascists...
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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