Uncertainty is the worst of all evils until the moment when reality makes us regret uncertainty.
quote by Alphonse Karr
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Related quotes
[9] O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
[LOVE POEMS]
POET: MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR
POEMS
1 Passion And Compassion / 1
2 Affection
3 Willing To Live
4 Passion And Compassion / 2
5 Boon
6 Remembrance
7 Pretext
8 To A Distant Person
9 Perception
10 Conclusion
10 You (1)
11 Symbol
12 You (2)
13 In Vain
14 One Night
15 Suddenly
16 Meeting
17 Touch
18 Face To Face
19 Co-Traveller
20 Once And Once only
21 Touchstone
22 In Chorus
23 Good Omens
24 Even Then
25 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (1)
26 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (2)
27 Life Aspirant
28 To The Condemned Woman
29 A Submission
30 At Midday
31 I Accept
32 Who Are You?
33 Solicitation
34 Accept Me
35 Again After Ages …
36 Day-Dreaming
37 Who Are You?
38 You Embellished In Song
[...] Read more
poem by Mahendra Bhatnagar
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Moment To Moment
Written by gerry beckley and phil galdston, 1998
Found on human nature.
There was a time I knew
All that there was to know
No one could tell me then
I was wrong
I wasnt strong enough
To see where my weakness lay
The world that you hold so tight
Could slip away
And from moment to moment
Your life can change
Theres a storm over the horizon
A sea no one can see
Somewhere around the bend
Right when you least expect
Someone can walk away
With no regret
Leaving an empty space
Breaking a sacred trust
All of your shiny dreams
Begin to rust
Yes from moment to moment your life can change
Theres a storm over the horizon
The sea you cannot see
Yes from moment to moment
Promise me youll never change
Promise me youll stay the same
Promise me youll never change
Yes from moment to moment your life can change
Theres a storm over the horizon
A sea youll never see
Yes from moment to moment your life can change
Theres a light when the sun is rising
A day after today
Promise me youll never change (promise me youll never change)
Promise me youll stay the same (the same)
Promise me youll never change
Every moment is a shining light
Every moment is the darkest night
Every moment gotta get it right
Every single moment
Every moment is a shining light
Every moment is the darkest night
Every moment gotta get it right
Every moment is a shining light
Every moment is the darkest night
Every moment gotta get it right
Every single moment
Every moment is a shining light
[...] Read more
song performed by America
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XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Edge Of Reality
(words & music by giant - baum - kaye)
I walk along a thin line darling
Dark shadows follow me
Heres where lifes dream lies disillusioned
The edge of reality
Oh I can hear strange voices echo
Laughing with mockery
The border line of doom Im facing
The edge of reality
On the edge of reality she sits there tormenting me
The girl with the nameless face
On the edge of reality where she overpowers me
With fears that I cant explain
She drove me to the point of madness
The brink of misery
If shes not real then Im condemned to
The edge of reality
On the edge of reality she sits there tormenting me
The girl with the nameless face
On the edge of reality where she overpowers me
With fears that I cant explain
She drove me to the point of madness
The brink of misery
If shes not real then Im condemned to
The edge of reality
Reality, reality, reality, reality,
Reality, reality, reality, reality
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Moment To Moment
Too many nights of isolation
Too many echoes in my head
Too many fires left burning
In this bed
Too many thoughts of desperation
So much pain deep down below
So mych a slave to my senses
I cant let go
From moment to moment
I live and I die
This cant go on anymore
Another day, another lie
From moment to moment
I stand and I fall
This cant go on anymore
Unless we both give it all
I ask you how can a man keep his distance
How can he reason with his heart
How can you hold me so near
Yet keep me so far
From moment to moment
I live and I die
This cant go on anymore
Another day, another lie
From moment to moment
I stand and I fall
This cant go on anymore
Unless we both give it all
Sometimes Id like to break you down
To see if theres a trace of woman in you that could be found
But I just keep prayin youll come around
And live from moment to moment
I live from moment to moment
I live from moment to moment
So much a slave to my senses
I cant let go
From moment to moment
I live and I die
This cant go on anymore
Another day, another lie
From moment to moment
I stand and I fall
This cant go on anymore
Unless we both give it all
You know I want to give it all
I live from moment to moment
Everyday of my life
I live from moment to moment
song performed by Gino Vanelli
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V. Count Guido Franceschini
Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Stream Line Consciousness
Big brother voyeur blimps unidentified spies
uncle sam peeping toms patrolling skies
bird brain police intelligence
remote viewing homeland pest control
pentagon private eye monitoring the public's every move
mass produced micro chips intercepting prayers patrolling citizens from heaven
Bentham's Panopticon NSA
super computer surveillance cameras
world police spying Manhattan streets
'Athens plummets Euro death spiral
suicide rates soar deepening into despair'
haaretz..the post.. the times
blogs tribunes dailies all in a mad gab
headlong headline attention grabbing scramble
'Yugoslavia - Iraq - Egypt - Yemen - Iran - Syria - United States'
bilderberg building blocks New American Century post apocalyptic prophecy
'foreign mercenaries …national guard...DOD
homeland security to amass covert munitions stockpile
Americans on guard anxieties mounting surrounding
the stripping of amendments 1st if you swing to your left
2nd if you stand on the right
whispers of martial law circulate Anarchical reverberations
emanate from internet Alt culture epicenters
bottle necking global tensions'
'common feeling of deepening disappointment...
heightened expectations...
people expecting an explosive situation over the
next few weeks'
...riot police respond 'to preserve public order'
public roads barricaded to 'protect security of citizens'
'blatant act of censorship
western mainstream media staying away
from Myanmar massacres of Mohammedan Angels
further showing strong anti Muslim bias'
'Media blackout Burmese army
seeking coverage under propaganda blankets'
from the middle east throughout the western world
planet consciousness blurring lines between conspiracy/reality
conflicting global network narratives multiply violent scenarios daily
Victims in a world wide scramble
Government Banking Military
[...] Read more
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Lara
LARA. [1]
CANTO THE FIRST.
I.
The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain, [2]
And slavery half forgets her feudal chain;
He, their unhoped, but unforgotten lord —
The long self-exiled chieftain is restored:
There be bright faces in the busy hall,
Bowls on the board, and banners on the wall;
Far chequering o'er the pictured window, plays
The unwonted fagots' hospitable blaze;
And gay retainers gather round the hearth,
With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth.
II.
The chief of Lara is return'd again:
And why had Lara cross'd the bounding main?
Left by his sire, too young such loss to know,
Lord of himself; — that heritage of woe,
That fearful empire which the human breast
But holds to rob the heart within of rest! —
With none to check, and few to point in time
The thousand paths that slope the way to crime;
Then, when he most required commandment, then
Had Lara's daring boyhood govern'd men.
It skills not, boots not, step by step to trace
His youth through all the mazes of its race;
Short was the course his restlessness had run,
But long enough to leave him half undone.
III.
And Lara left in youth his fatherland;
But from the hour he waved his parting hand
Each trace wax'd fainter of his course, till all
Had nearly ceased his memory to recall.
His sire was dust, his vassals could declare,
'Twas all they knew, that Lara was not there;
Nor sent, nor came he, till conjecture grew
Cold in the many, anxious in the few.
His hall scarce echoes with his wonted name,
His portrait darkens in its fading frame,
Another chief consoled his destined bride,
The young forgot him, and the old had died;
"Yet doth he live!" exclaims the impatient heir,
And sighs for sables which he must not wear.
[...] Read more
Lara. A Tale
The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain,
And slavery half forgets her feudal chain;
He, their unhoped, but unforgotten lord--
The long self-exiled chieftain is restored:
There be bright faces in the busy hall,
Bowls on the board, and banners on the wall;
Far chequering o'er the pictured window, plays
The unwonted fagots' hospitable blaze;
And gay retainers gather round the hearth,
With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth.
II.
The chief of Lara is return'd again:
And why had Lara cross'd the bounding main?
Left by his sire, too young such loss to know,
Lord of himself;--that heritage of woe,
That fearful empire which the human breast
But holds to rob the heart within of rest!--
With none to check, and few to point in time
The thousand paths that slope the way to crime;
Then, when he most required commandment, then
Had Lara's daring boyhood govern'd men.
It skills not, boots not, step by step to trace
His youth through all the mazes of its race;
Short was the course his restlessness had run,
But long enough to leave him half undone.
III.
And Lara left in youth his fatherland;
But from the hour he waved his parting hand
Each trace wax'd fainter of his course, till all
Had nearly ceased his memory to recall.
His sire was dust, his vassals could declare,
'Twas all they knew, that Lara was not there;
Nor sent, nor came he, till conjecture grew
Cold in the many, anxious in the few.
His hall scarce echoes with his wonted name,
His portrait darkens in its fading frame,
Another chief consoled his destined bride,
The young forgot him, and the old had died;
'Yet doth he live!' exclaims the impatient heir,
And sighs for sables which he must not wear.
A hundred scutcheons deck with gloomy grace
The Laras' last and longest dwelling-place;
But one is absent from the mouldering file,
That now were welcome to that Gothic pile.
IV.
He comes at last in sudden loneliness,
And whence they know not, why they need not guess;
[...] Read more
Canto the Second
I
Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations,
Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain,
I pray ye flog them upon all occasions,
It mends their morals, never mind the pain:
The best of mothers and of educations
In Juan's case were but employ'd in vain,
Since, in a way that's rather of the oddest, he
Became divested of his native modesty.
II
Had he but been placed at a public school,
In the third form, or even in the fourth,
His daily task had kept his fancy cool,
At least, had he been nurtured in the north;
Spain may prove an exception to the rule,
But then exceptions always prove its worth -—
A lad of sixteen causing a divorce
Puzzled his tutors very much, of course.
III
I can't say that it puzzles me at all,
If all things be consider'd: first, there was
His lady-mother, mathematical,
A—never mind; his tutor, an old ass;
A pretty woman (that's quite natural,
Or else the thing had hardly come to pass);
A husband rather old, not much in unity
With his young wife—a time, and opportunity.
IV
Well—well, the world must turn upon its axis,
And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails,
And live and die, make love and pay our taxes,
And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails;
The king commands us, and the doctor quacks us,
The priest instructs, and so our life exhales,
A little breath, love, wine, ambition, fame,
Fighting, devotion, dust,—perhaps a name.
V
I said that Juan had been sent to Cadiz -—
A pretty town, I recollect it well -—
'T is there the mart of the colonial trade is
(Or was, before Peru learn'd to rebel),
And such sweet girls—I mean, such graceful ladies,
Their very walk would make your bosom swell;
I can't describe it, though so much it strike,
Nor liken it—I never saw the like:
[...] Read more
poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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Moments
Of all the Graces praised
least in the West
but better understood in the East
is that of the ability
to Endure.
Not passivity,
but deep understanding given.
The Western view is that all is chard
and moments are all that matter.
But incidents and moment-pieces
are not lives or even a day given.
But enduring each moment
is better done
from understanding the whole
from which the moment comes.
Moments, the Easterners say
are not aggregated
to be taken together to make a day.
Rather a day is given as a whole
but in the West we pluck moments stray
and munch them according to our appetites.
But the East says each day the sun does not rise to greet a new moment;
the Sun inaugurates a New Day.
So if this moment is now overwhelming
it means you missed the Sun-Rise Last
and will miss the Sun-Rise Next
because you latched onto a stray moment
which is but a chard of the whole day.
So, the wisdom here,
at least I think,
says
Live not for the moment
for but the whole day
there is where salvation,
hope, love, and peace lay.
So if my life-goal is moment placed
there can be no peace
only schizophrenia.
[...] Read more
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Solomon on the Vanity of the World, A Poem. In Three Books. - Power. Book III.
The Argument
Solomon considers man through the several stages and conditions of life, and concludes, in general, that we are all miserable. He reflects more particularly upon the trouble and uncertainty of greatness and power; gives some instances thereof from Adam down to himself; and still concludes that All Is Vanity. He reasons again upon life, death, and a future being; finds human wisdom too imperfect to resolve his doubts; has recourse to religion; is informed by an angel what shall happen to himself, his family, and his kingdom, till the redemption of Israel; and, upon the whole, resolves to submit his inquiries and anxieties to the will of his Creator.
Come then, my soul: I call thee by that name,
Thou busy thing, from whence I know I am;
For, knowing that I am, I know thou art,
Since that must needs exist which can impart:
But how thou camest to be, or whence thy spring,
For various of thee priests and poets sing.
Hearest thou submissive, but a lowly birth,
Some secret particles of finer earth,
A plain effect which Nature must beget,
As motion orders, and as atoms meet,
Companion of the body's good or ill,
From force of instinct more than choice of will,
Conscious of fear or valour, joy or pain,
As the wild courses of the blood ordain;
Who, as degrees of heat and cold prevail,
In youth dost flourish, and with age shalt fail,
Till, mingled with thy partner's latest breath,
Thou fliest, dissolved in air and lost in death.
Or, if thy great existence would aspire
To causes more sublime, of heavenly fire
Wert thou a spark struck off, a separate ray,
Ordain'd to mingle with terrestrial clay,
With it condemn'd for certain years to dwell,
To grieve its frailties, and its pains to feel,
To teach it good and ill, disgrace or fame,
Pale it with rage, or redden it with shame,
To guide its actions with informing care,
In peace to judge, to conquer in the war;
Render it agile, witty, valiant, sage,
As fits the various course of human age,
Till, as the earthly part decays and falls,
The captive breaks her prison's mouldering walls,
Hovers awhile upon the sad remains,
Which now the pile or sepulchre contains,
And thence, with liberty unbounded, flies,
Impatient to regain her native skies?
Whate'er thou art, where'er ordain'd to go,
(Points which we rather may dispute than know)
Come on, thou little inmate of this breast,
Which for thy sake from passions'l divest
For these, thou say'st, raise all the stormy strife,
[...] Read more
poem by Matthew Prior
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Worst Comes to Worst
(Babu mixing)
"Worst come to worst my peoples come first"
"Worst...come.....to worst"
"Worst come to worst my peoples come first"
"Worst come...to...worst"
"Worst come to worst my peoples come first"
(Evidence talking)
Yeah
It's goin down y'all
That's Babu
Yo
song performed by Dilated Peoples from Expansion Team
Added by Lucian Velea
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Original - Time, My Worst Enemy
Time, My Worst Enemy
Keeping me away from you
Time, My Worst Enemy
Moving slowly when we’re apart
Time, My Worst Enemy
Fleeting when you are near
Time, My Worst Enemy
Battling with it daily
Time, My Worst Enemy
Stealing moments from the clock
Time, My Worst Enemy
Until you are in my arms again
Time, My Worst Enemy
Rapidly chasing us down
Time, My Worst Enemy
He will not take you this time
Time, My Worst Enemy
You are in my arms to stay
Time, My Worst Enemy
Has Lost!
poem by Don Haney
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Because I Don't Confront You
Because I don't confront you
doesn't mean this tree
doesn't know how to stand up to the wind.
If I bend like a river reed in a current
I'll still be here
long after the current has passed.
To the unenlightened it's inconceivable
there's nothing to win
because both opposites are empty.
Take empty from empty it's still empty.
No reason to put a gun to your head to check it out.
Just because you've got a trigger
like the first crescent of the moon
doesn't mean you have to pull it.
Three for three.
Blood and cartridges.
Strange lipstick.
But you're still banking on the one that's empty.
Those that have the power to hurt
but will do none.
Shakespeare.
Sonnet 94.
Lonely advice to those who never take it.
And it's not hard to imagine
better things to do in the world
than trade barbs and stingers
with third world killer bees.
And there's nothing unholier than a holy war.
Or a faith that festers
because it doesn't know
how to clean a wound properly.
Even maggots make better nurses than that.
And besides
as unlikely as it seems at times
I'd rather be loved than right.
I don't want to lie down with a woman at night
like a body count.
You say I'm not in touch with reality
as if reality were some kind of guillotine
you expected me to stick my neck out for
swanning on the block.
No.
I don't stay in touch much
with French executioners.
But I can see the world as you see it.
A snakepit with the occasional apple-tree.
You think of reality as a hard medicine
you have to wince like a lemon to take
but if you ask me
the way you put it
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick White
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Reality's Dream
I staggered back from the blow;
Reality struck me again
this time harder
mocking me as I fell.
'You have always been so clear about
your plans and goals haven't you;
clear about what you wanted to achieve or know
how you would overcome all obstacles
but Pilgrim you had no plan B;
I always grant people like you
first place in my line
because you all are Prisoners Of Your Own Dreams and Schemes
hurtling through life 'Dreamers of the Impossible Dream'
Perfection's Confection blinds you by its own light-
wouldn't you agree? '
I gradually regained my feet and
stared into those unforgiving, taunting eyes
thinking strangely
that Reality is much like a bully.
'And hear you are now, ' Reality was saying
'alone
without family or friends
clutching to those dreams
which will never come true
being instead
here now
my prisoner
for all eternity
forced now to worship
at my altar.
He cackled a horrible cackle.
I looked at him in a haze
realizing he had a point
but too
that moment
exposed Reality's
own weaknesses:
he was counting upon my apathy-
my sense of defeat-
to make me surrender to him
believe in him and his power.
I rose
stared at him
[...] Read more
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Reality (1st of Seven Secondary Virtues)
Poem Title: (Reality) 1st of Seven Secondary Virtues of a Happy Marriage
Poem 174 b …. Title : (Reality) 1st of Seven Secondary Virtues of a Happy Marriage.
Subject Reality...As a Human being.A creature that cuts down trees, then to pulp in a machine.
As an attempt to manufacture a cost effective way of transmitting News to all the World.
Most of which is of Climate Change and full of subjective slogans on how we must save the trees!
Real Reality..... How about this Poet? Who lives within a Fantasy of Trust whereby he allows
His Loving Partner to hold the sacred knowledge of the password to his private website.
And always knowing this, knew that anything that he did write could then be read in true Reality.
Hypo statical Reality ….As a Happy Marriage holds three levels of Hypo stasis in a given day.
Blood pressure rising or falling in anticipation as to the level of eggs that he be treading upon.
Metaphysically thinking and speaking in riddles or codes too, for all time to confuse an enemy.
Beyond the wit of Reality........ Any Happy Marriage is beholding three levels of wit.
The wit of knowing when to sleep with the wisest of wise tongues keeping the wisest of heads.
The wit of the pretence of reality and being wide wide wide awake too a Lovers every need.
The Fantasy of the Reality.....Of any Happy Marriage is the joint ability to understand difference.
Difference in attitude, Man to Woman, Woman to Man.Lie to Exaggeration, Exaggerative Lie.
Fantasy of the moment, of the drudgery of daily grinds or the reality of a magic carpet ride.
The Reality of a Happy Marriage is striving to achieve to score the winning Goal in allotted time.
Loosing score, playing two halves plus extra time and neither gaining upper hand through penalties
Real Subjective Reality, Hypo static God Head to prevail by use of Wit and Prose and Pure Fantasy!
(Written 13th July 2010) A Triversen at first attempt. Success or Failure (Time will tell)
poem by Philip Winchester
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A City of The Old
A mature old man from the myth raised a question, 'Who is the oldest poet on earth? . '
when you are old, you will understand more about hope.The city of the Old without hope is the city with lots of hope in the myth.
kitchen, bathroom, market, forest, stock-market, shares prices, bank accounts, logistics plus and minus; the archeology of the old men's skills on carrying travelling bags.
what is the difference between old-aged homes and theatres?
the tide is rising up.
what is your last words?
A sandwithed present moment between the past and the future
congested aesthetics
Buddha said, 'Human beings exist only for a moment'
for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment vfor a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment for a moment
where is your hope escaping?
Is this bank account important for you?
Is the kitchen important for you?
Is the bathroom important important for you?
The bathroom said, 'I clean it again and again and who is making dirty again and again?
Let's listen to the birthrooms' voices.
A mature old man from the myth raised a big question, 'Who is the oldest poet on earth?
waling to the east and looking backwards,
this is the oldest myth on earth.
In ther city of the old, nothingness, autobiography, biography, courage, nurseries, paddy fields,
internet, goggle-earth and butterflies
old man in the myth, the myth in old man; old man in the city, the city in the old man
a matur, old man raised a infant question, 'who is the oldest poet on earth now? '
I saw the youngest poet on earth in Phenom Penh in 2004.
poem by Nyein Way
Added by Poetry Lover
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Rage & Then Regret
Was it rage or regret
Or the love I was feeling
In this age - whos perfect... are you?
Wasnt made to forget
This moment worth stealing
Was it rage or regret or the two
Every morning when I wake up
Wake up dreaming then... wake up dreaming
Build a temple from your fragrance
Build a chapel in your heart
Do you really understand
Do you feel the need to try
Do you even care for me
Do you ever wonder why
Rage and then regret
bout as real as real can get
Rage and then regret
Through the violence the angry silence
Does our love, grow strong or die
A parachute or a pilots license
Do we fall in love or fly
Do you really understand
Do you feel the need to cry
Do you even care bout me
Do you ever wonder why
Rage and then regret
bout as real as real can get
Rage and then regret
The harder we come
The harder we fall
The harder it is to stand tall
The more that we fight
The more that we brawl
The more were alike - thats all... thats all
Rage and then regret
bout as real as real can get
Rage and then regret
Rage and then regret
bout as real as real can get
There are things you dont forget
Anger cools to idle threats
song performed by Abc
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Rage And Then Regret
Was it rage or regret
Or the love I was feeling
In this age - who's perfect... are you?
Wasn't made to forget
This moment worth stealing
Was it rage or regret or the two
Every morning when I wake up
Wake up dreaming then... wake up dreaming
Build a temple from you fragrance
Build a chapel in your heart
Do you really understand
Do you feel the need to try
Do you even care for me
Do you ever wonder why
Rage and then regret
'Bout as real as real can get
Rage and then regret
Through the violence the angry silence
Does our love grow strong or die
A parachute or a pilot's licence
Do we fall in love or fly
Do you really understand
Do you feel the need to try
Do you even care for me
Do you ever wonder why
Rage and then regret
'Bout as real as real can get
Rage and then regret
The harder we come
The harder we fall
The harder it is to stand tall
The more that we fight
The more that we brawl
The more we're alike - that's all... that's all
Rage and then regret
'Bout as real as real can get
Rage and then regret
Rage and then regret
'Bout as real as real can get
There are things you don't forget
Anger cools to idle threats
song performed by Abc
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!