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Seneca

One hand washes the other.

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Which One Has Tolerated The Other The Most

If anyone has stated to another,
How close they've been to someone else...
For more than over fourty years?
And with an interest has expressed it,
I would be suspicious if...
That person had never step inside,
The home where that person lives.
Met the parents or visited the city or state...
Or investigated with imagination those experiences,
That has made that person someone claimed to appreciate.
I would be highly suspicious just how close that association is!
And which one has tolerated the other the most.

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The Only Export From One Age To The Other

the only export you can do
from one age to the other
from this world to the next
without getting any less an acquirer
is - a religion

the only all time export
the world has ever sold
with all its soul, blood and sweat
to another age is - a religon

the only export
from one age to the other
one would kill - with heart, mind and soul -
to prove what one has bought
is the real thing is - a religion

the only intangible commodity
yet powerful enough
to blow up the whole world
is - a religion

the only export
from one age to the other
wrapped in so much sweetness
tasted with as much bitterness
here and (beyond, if you have bought one)
is without doubt - religion

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The Other Day....long Ago

I saw you the other
day, long ago…,
wrapped in the
plushest of
white robes.

You looked out
on to the ocean.

Sitting,
your one hand
clutched the
other's wrist,
as they wrapped
around your
knees.
Both, of which
were tucked,
in fetal position,
up against
your firm
victorious breasts.
Thankfully,
they had eluded
a cancerous fate.

The steely blue,
grey-specked eyes
that had adorned
me long ago
with lust,
now seemed
to absorb the
darkening skies
for which they
mirrored.

All light was gone.
As were you,
my long ago
and
not-so- forgotten
tenderness.

Even with him,
you were without.

Empty. Hollow.
And sadly,
gray.

But content
and secure
none-the-less

I remembered
you the other
day,
long ago.

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One Way Or The Other

When someone over compensates,
With an opinion...
That is stated to instigate.
And stirs to irritation...
Both discomfort and continued debate!
And all that is wished...
Is someone who is willing to give and take.
In a relationship that begins not ends,
In a bottomless abyss...
Unforgiving and not able to bend,
With a mending!

There has to be an ego to give up,
When a temperature heats...
Unneeded.

There has to be an ego to give up,
When a temperature heats...
Unneeded.

There has to be an ego to give up,
When a temperature heats...
Unneeded.
Or...
A releasing of the beast inside that feeds the heat!

One way or the other,
No one has to really suffer.
One way or the other,
No one has to really suffer.
One way or the other,
No one has to really suffer.
No one has to really suffer,
One way or the other!

When someone over compensates,
With an opinion...
That is stated to instigate.
And stirs to irritation...
Both discomfort and continued debate!
And all that is wished...
Is someone who is willing to give and take.

There has to be an ego to give up,
When a temperature heats...
Unneeded.

There has to be an ego to give up,
When a temperature heats...
Unneeded.

One way or the other,
No one has to really suffer.
One way or the other,
No one has to really suffer.
One way or the other,
No one has to really suffer.
No one has to really suffer,
One way or the other!

One way or the other,
No one has to really suffer.
One way or the other,
No one has to really suffer.
One way or the other,
No one has to really suffer.
No one has to really suffer,
One way or the other!

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One hand washes the other, and both the face.

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One hand washes the other and both wash the face.

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One hand washes the other, both hands wash the face.

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One hand washes the other and both of them wash the face.

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Just Know About It

One hand washes the other,
But your potentials on this love are known to all;
So just think about it because i love you.

Low and slow,
Nice and easy,
Sweet and lovely;
Just know about it because i love you.

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Oil Replaces Gold Standard

(Essay)

“Oil is the new gold standard. As international community becomes more oil dependent the closer mankind moves to global fascism.”
ROTMS

Securing all known oil reserves is the goal/long term plan of the United States, Britain and other conspirators. This gives them control over extraction, distribution and pricing.

“Peak oil” is a myth created to instill fear and create panic. There’s enough oil in Alaska alone to furnish the needs of the United States for more than enough time to develop alternate energy. The exploration, mapping, drilling and capping of oil wells on Gull Island located in the waters of Prudhoe Bay, Alaska is well known. The by-product of the Alaskan oil wells is an abundance of natural gas, indeed enough to supply heating needs in the U.S. for a very long time. The current administration dare not open this vast oil/natural gas reserve, lest their long term plans be spoiled.

In order to accomplish a global monopoly the conspirators must eliminate rogue producer/competitors like Iran, Venezuela and Russia. To this end, Bush-Cheney are currently pressing hard to start a war with Iran, by any means including lies and false accusations. They’re acutely aware that Iranian oil production readies to sell their oil for currencies other than the U.S. dollar. This could dramatically lower the price of gas at the pump and devastate the U.S. economy.

You may ask why/how could lower prices be harmful to the U.S. economy.
The simple truth resides in the deals cut with Saudi Arabia and other world oil producers by the USA. Indeed, the written and unwritten agreements that guarantee producers fabulous wealth, as long as they sell oil for dollars. The principal reason why Bush invaded Iraq was to curtail Hussein’s threat to sell oil for Euros. He’d still be in power today had he played ball with U.S. handlers.

As the largest oil producer in the world Saudi Arabia represents a classic example of how “One hand washes the other”. Big oil companies develop the oil fields and supervise extraction, Wall Street banking middlemen set oil barrel prices for dollars and collect huge profits, then as agreed Saudis plow their profits into the U.S. to help pay off debt. Should this delicate balance be disturbed, U.S. economic collapse would ensue. Now plug this scenario into other world producers and the conspiracy is exposed.

As it stands today, high prices at the gas pump are servicing national debt by we the consumers. To make things worse, offshore hedge funds are manipulating oil futures by speculating on the rise and fall of price of a barrel of oil, thus adding to volatility.

Planning and common sense have been thrown out the window for global control and profit…what follows is global fascism and “New World Order”.

As a global citizens and consumers we must seek the truth of what is taking place and then unite through national protest and organization. Knowledge is our true power and way out of a messy situation created by a greedy few.

The righteous many, shall reclaim power and freedom from an evil few”
ROTMS

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Sonnet: One Shan’t Judge the Other

But suff’rings come whether married/ single!
And suff’rings come to young and old alike;
When nerves are weak, one feels the skin tingle.
The family need not talk over a mike.

No one is spared from woes in life on earth,
But face we must, as bravely as we can;
Tho’ virtues and righteousness is a death,
We must all nurture them in every man.

No man can say the other suffers less;
No man can judges neighbor with fairness;
God only knows the nature of soul stress
On judgment-day, God means strict business.

Who knows which soul will be denied Heaven?
God wants just souls sin-free and pure from men!

6-20-2001

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Life and The Giver

the giver has given to us the life
the art of life
is the science
within the mind
to live
acting as rationally thought
with realness,
pureness,
humility,
tolerance,
dignity,
self-thought/awareness,
self concept
and being in life

(to which at some variance and instance, all shall and must cease to effect at once) : not to just exist, for we all live to die!

'one one cocoa fill basket' - one thing at a time.
'one hand wash the other' - each of us needs the other to live as peeple in oneness.

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The Other Me

I guess we can still be friends
I guess we can talk at least
But if we were seventeen
Imagine the things wed do
I know that those days are over
Im glad that those games are won
And the winners ride off into the sunset
But its not the same for you
And I dont want to play
Those nasty games that adults play
But I cant let you go
And I cant see another way
And I know that shes the only one for me
But you know that if I could split in two
The other me - would stay all night
The other me - would hold you tight
The other me - would be the only one for you
When I see you there alone
It almost breaks my heart
But it doesnt break enough
For me to break my whole life apart
I guess we could still be friends
And we can talk all night
But I have to bite my tongue
And sometimes words dont come out right
Were old enough to know
What we can think or say out loud
To know that hearts are not just
Cards to play when twos a crowd
And I know that shes the only one for me
But you know that if I could split in two
The other me - would stay all night
The other me - would hold you tight
The other me - would be the only one for you
The other me . . .
Would take you so far away from here
And hed be . . .
A man with a mission . . .
The other me . . .
Might even be better than this one
And I know that shes the only one for me
But you know that if I could split in two
The other me - would stay all night
The other me - would hold you tight
The other me - would be the only one for you

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The Damned Truth

i am absolutely enraged at the current political state of this country.
shutdown, no shutdown, last minute hysterics, cant pay our soldiers,
but the politicians damn sure gonna get paid!
this isnt a game, it's not a joke, it's not one hand trumps the other!
what we are dealing with here are the lives and well-being of the
American people... and they're playing chess, and using us as pawns!
we're involved in wars we have no business being involved in, that we
financed because we cant pay for them! we have allowed corporate
America to sell out our jobs for a higher profit margin.
we have raped our environment. we've sold our children into sexual
slavery. we've traded freedom for manipulation. we've allowed our
educational system to deterioriate.
we've sold out to sex and drugs and the 'big deal'. the American dream is now a nightmare for most of us.
we've become a dishonest, greedy, bigoted, self-righteous, apathetic mess!
everybody wants to point fingers, nobody wants to take responsibility.
it begins at home, with the man or woman in the mirror. and then it comes down to what we will allow to be done to us!
it is time to quit playing republicans and democrats. it's time to be the
American people again! time to be human! and anybody of whatever party that tries to get in the way needs to be kicked out! ! !
i told someone this morning that i know Jefferson's rolling over in his grave.

we dont need more politicians, preachers, or wall street tycoons... we need the people to rise up and be 'people' again... and now's the time!

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The Treaty of Penn

INDIAN CHIEF.

Art thou chief of the white men that crowd on the strand?
No broad gleaming sword flashes bright in thy hand
No plume, proudly waving, sits light on thy brow—
Nor with hate and contempt does thine eye darkly glow.
I have seen the white chieftains, but proudly they stood;
Though they call'd us their brethren, they thirst for our blood:
With the peace-belt of wampum they stretch'd forth one hand,
With the other they wielded the death-doing brand.
On their lip was the calumet—war on their brow;
But thine scowls not with hatred—a chieftain art thou?—

PENN.

My brethren are those whom thou see'st on the strand,
My friends, whom I govern with fatherly hand;
We worship the spirit who rules from above,
Our watchword is peace, and our motto is love.
We fight not, we war not, for life or for land,
And the weapons of death never darken our hand.
The land that in purchase ye cheerfully give,
Will we, for our friends and our brethren, receive;
But we will not deprive you, by force or by fraud,
Of the land that yourselves and your fathers have trod.

CHIEF.

Then deep be the tomahawk buried from sight;
The peace-tree shall bloom where it slumbers in night.
We will bury from sight and from mem'ry the dead;
We will plant o'er the spot where their blood has been shed;
O'er their grave shall the green maize its tassels expand:—
But whether the white men by force wrest our land,
Or whether they win it in war or in peace,
Our hunting grounds narrow, our tribes still decrease.

PENN.

O'er the land that I purchase ye freely may rove;
We will dwell in the spirit of brotherly love—
By mutual kindness we both shall be blest,
Your wrongs, as the white man's, be promptly redrest.
We will teach you with justice, our knowledge impart,
And teach you each useful and civilized art.
We extend you, in truth and in friendship, our hand,
We will turn to the plough-share the death-dealing brand.
One hand hath created the white man and red;
One spirit we worship, though different our creed;
And that God who looks down on our acts from above,
Still conceals in dark frowns the fair face of his love
From the land that is darken'd with bloodshed and rage,
Where brethren with brethren in battle engage.

CHIEF.

We have listen'd, my father, your peaceable talk;
In the path you have chosen we cheerfully walk.
The white men have wrong'd us, have crimson'd our plains,
Where our forefathers sleep, with the blood of our veins.
Of those plains they have reft us, the fairest and best,
And have forced us to seek other homes in the west;
Through the wilds of the forest to follow the chase,
Till brambles have choked up the pathway of peace.
Yet as still we receded our heroes were slain,
Our wives and our children lie dead on the plain.
Then we dug from the earth the fell hatchet of war,
While our whoop of destruction was heard from afar.
We rush'd on our foemen, we fought and we bled,
But our arms with the blood of the white men were red;
Yet, father, the red man delights not in war,
And thy words shall the spring-time of friendship restore.
Now again we will bury the hatchet, again
We will burnish the links of our amity's chain.
We will root out the weeds from the path of our peace,
And all hatred and battle betwixt us shall cease.

MIDNIGHT.

How solemn is the silence of this hour!
The world is hush'd! all nature lies in sleep—
Save where rude jollity upholds her power,
Or wearied wretches waken but to weep.
Strange contrast! that there revelry should keep
Her wassail wild amid the gloom of night,
And here, her thorny couch pale sorrow steep
With bitter tears, and strain her aching sight,
To catch the first pale streak that ushers in the light.

E'en now perchance some widow'd mother hangs,
In hopeless anguish, o'er her dying child,
And marks with bursting heart its parting pangs,
Or covers its pale lips with kisses wild;
While memory tells how oft it has beguiled
Of half its loneliness her dreary heart—
And when in its bright joyousness it smiled,
Albeit within her eye the tear might start,
She knew not, could not know, that they so soon must part.

Its closing eye is faintly turn'd on her,
Its breath comes thickly, and the dews of death
Are on its forehead—one convulsive stir—
One half-form'd smile to speed the parting breath—
Then all is past—and gazing on that scathe
Of all her hopes—in tearless agony,
The mother stands, until awakening faith
Points out another world—a hope on high—
And fast her feelings gush in torrents to her eye!

But this is fancy—for no sound is near,
Of joy or sadness—all around is still!
Not e'en the night-bird's voice salutes mine ear,
Nor the faint murmur of the distant rill—
The very winds are hush'd—and on the hill
The trees are motionless—the whisp'ring sigh,
That lingers where the blast was piping shrill,
Moves not the branches as it passes by,
Nor lifts the bending leaves that on the waters lie.

The deep blue heaven with clust'ring stars is bright,
And in the midst the moon, sublimely fair,
Sheds o'er the fleecy clouds her silvery light,
That in bright wreaths are floating lightly there,
Like snow-flakes scattered o'er the silent air.
And coldly still that moon's pale lustre lies,
Alike on haunts of misery and despair;
And where the sounds of wassail joy arise,
Disturbing with rude mirth the quiet of the skies.

The earth is slumbering! but I will not sleep,
For I do love to gaze on yon bright sky,
And all those countless orbs, that seem to keep
Their nightly ward so silently on high—
My heart may swell, but 't is not with the sigh
Of painful feeling—nor does aught of woe
Awake the tear-drop in my moisten'd eye;
But unexpress'd emotion, and the glow
Of all the crowding thoughts, that round my bosom flow.

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He comes with incense in one hand, in the other a spear.

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If one hand were the other they would both want to be clean.

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John Shea

Rainy night in jersey

I arrived hot and sweaty
My friend said take a dip in the pool

It looked like a fountain with droplets of silver
So I ran to my car for the umbrella

Wading around with a beer in one hand
In the other my bright green umbrella

My friend said whats up
Your wet down but not up

I replied with a grin
blame it on the damn lite beer

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Outro

Uh, I feel that this has given me the msot incredible and woonderful thing
that I have ever been given, and also, the worst. It's a mixed bag. Uh, I
have been taken to the, absolutely, to the depths of extreme terror by this.
I've had my whole soul undermined by it, on the one hand. On the other hand,
Uh, in one sense, my experience has been about finding
joy...joy...joy....joy....joy...joy....joy....joy...joy...

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philosophy Of Give And Take!

PHILOSOPHY OF GIVE AND
TAKE!

It is very often said, that Delhi culture is one
of ‘give and take’!
If you give with one hand, with the other
you must take!
But why alone blame Delhi, for this kind
of philosophy? !
Has not this culture now slowly spread? !
I read your poems only, after mine are
also read? !
Friends, in these lines I have merely recalled, -
What a lady poet of Delhi told me once, -
over the phone!
So now I leave it to the readers of poem-
hunter.com, -
To prove her right, or to prove her wrong!

-Raj Nandy
05 Apr 09
New Delhi

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