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I have been benefited by praying for others; for by making an errand to God for them I have gotten something for myself.

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What That Little Boy Was Praying For

Evening
Sun is almost set
Its weak beams still
Making road side sand grains glitter
I was on a walk to a temple nearby
A scratching brake of a bicycle
Made me look up
A boy of not even ten years the bicycle rider
Stopped his bicycle
In front of the temple entrance
Not getting down form it
Closed his eyes, clasped his palms
Started a prayer
He was in that posture
For much longer than
What a passerby normally does
Turning curious I continued to watch him
Forgetting for a while my purpose of this walk
Since the boy was in the middle
Of that narrow lane
A car stopped behind him
A bike passed by him
Sounding a shrill horn
A street dog barked at the bike
Car also gave a horn
Nothing left in the boy any sign of disturbance
It would have been a full minute
Before the boy woke up to realities
And started his ride
Without even glancing those
Who were watching him
I left the scene and entered the temple
What that little boy was praying for

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Others Have Gotten There

OTHERS HAVE GOTTEN THERE

Others have gotten there
I have not
It seems I never will.
All the years
All the effort
It is not easy to be a failure
And it is not easy to see
That one has lived one’s life for an illusion-

I thought that in time
The recognition would come
It has not –
Time is running out –
I will have to lie forever
In the same silence in which I lived.

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Praying For Help

she felt the baby move,
unconsciously dropped
her hand to her belly....

staring out the window
at the empty parking lot,
listening to the rain

a chair, a mattress,
an old table pushed back
against the paint peeling wall...

nothing to eat, no money,
he'd been gone for two weeks,
no phone calls, no one to call!

seventeen years old, and the
whole world crashing in....
two church ladies came by,

left her a New Testament,
and a couple of tracts...
and the law keeps circling

the parking lot each night;
roaches gather in the corner
praying for help!

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Praying For Scarcity

The only person praying for human plight
So he gets his chance right
Prices soar and fill his coffer
He is right in his opinion and never differs

Not a conscience, opinion or curse worry
Other insects bother him but no sorry
He may double or treble his money
Even though he may receive wrath from many

Let people die or go to hell
He should remain happy and well
He has nothing to worry or tell
As prices will soar and dwell

Black marketing or hoarding is nice business
No competition is on or any danger to face
Compile complete commodities from the market
Create shortage and price arbitrarily set

You may find such nuisance everywhere
World economy has to learn lesson from here
How things can be manipulated at larger level?
There may be, otherwise, different story to tell

It will be nice if things are stored in anticipation
Prices may go up in lean period in relation
The situation can be staved off and handled well
There won’t be any plight or situation like hell

Allow few free markets to mushroom
Give them enough freedom and room
Yet keep control and watch the scene
The plight and agony may be hardly seen

Still it is considered as sin
As such tendency is never seen
Human nature is such to take full advantage
Otherwise many articles on this might have not appeared on page

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Still Praying For Rain

Late summer
still praying for rain
peaches green.

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Praying for more privacy

The cricket in the house
might bring -bad- luck,
last year i had a mouse,
whom by poison struck.

My neighbour couldn't be
explained its' harmlessness
and so on without success
it had to die on me.

Announcing babies in the summer
-mighty my oh what a bummer-
slummering all through the day
in a soothing sluggish way.

I'm praying for more privacy
but everywhere are eyes that see
in blind corners i shall hide,
plan my silent suicide.


09-09-2012 Madrason

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All for Myself

Today I am doing everything for myself.
I am feeding the stray birds and animals
Giving alms to the stretched hands on my door
Watering the sun-perched plants and saplings
Helping the blind man to cross to the other side
Picking up things from ground for her
Plucking flowers for her dark scented hair
Offering the seat in the bus to the old man
Acting friendly with all at office and home
Teaching a child to learn alphabets
Pointing at the constellations in the night sky
Telling her stories at dinner and wishing sweet dreams…
So much I have done for others,
And so much more for myself!

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Praying For Emptiness!

walking barefoot down the streets
of the holy city...
listening to the sounds,
the whimper, the cry, and the roar...
praying for emptiness....

the clock beats in rhythm
with the sidewalks and the walls.
the smell of burnt flesh
hangs in the air....
'Jesus Saves' painted on a fence....

oil rigs and chemical sprays,
fields filled with unmarked graves.
windows broken, doors sway, rusted hinges,
cars abandoned, vacant buildings,
dead bodies, eyes lost stare!

the spirits of the children
sing haunting and low...
words pierce like nails,
the birds hear and weep....
a hand gun, a needle, half pack of smokes....

nobody saves the night from the dawn!
praying for emptiness...

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I’ve Been Ensnared by Love for You

I’ve been ensnared by love for you,
Your sleeplessness, your moodiness,
Your poetry of a hundred broken hearts,
Your youthfulness worshipping music
And tipping your glass of merriment
To imaginary gods of spontaneity
As you step with friends from a bar into the moonlight.

Love arises gradually
Like the smoke of the sweet incense
That your younger sister bought for you
At the astral store of mystical charms
Until it entirely infiltrates the heart
Like incense eventually perfumes
Every room of the house.

Age and distance create obstacles
To romantic embraces;
But what obstacles could be more severe
Than the lingering loneliness
Of slowly moving tenacious tears
Already clouding our lives?

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Ive Been In The Storm For You

Ive been in the storm for you
When my horn for you
Was reborn for you
I handled a thorn for you
I was torn for you
I was born for you
And here you go leaving me
Decieving me
And its greiving me
Ive been in the storm for you
Ive performed you you
I was spawned for you
So why cant you love
So why cant you love
Ive changed what I wear for you
And my hair for you
Ive said prayers for you
I gave up my share for you
I went bare for you
And I cared for you
And here you go blaming me
Shaming me
Defaming me
Ive been in the storm for you
I was shorn for you
And reborn for you
So why cant you love
So why cant you love
So why cant you love
And why dont you know
Aww, dont you know
What will happen
What will happen if you do

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Praying For Rain

the farmer poet
walking barefoot
in the dust,
looking upwards
towards heaven,
praying for rain.

the blue collar poet
walks between the rows
of machines gone silent
in the deserted building,
looking upwards,
praying for work.

the nurse poet
stares at the line
of people wanting help,
no insurance, no money
looking upwards,
praying for hope.

the politician poet
surrounded by the din
of deals being made
without conscience
or integrity,
looking upwards,
praying for dignity.

the mother poet,
pushed into a corner,
no food, no money,
cant pay the rent or
buy clothes.
looking down
into her children's eyes,
praying for God!

the human poet,
looking inwards,
praying for all
that lives

praying for rain!

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I Have You Something For Christmas

I have you something for christmas
That you can't find inside of a box
It won't need no ribbons or bows
Yet it'll keep you warmer than wool socks

I have you something for christmas
But it will have to be a big surprise
I wish I could get a picture of you
With that look in your eyes

I have you something for christmas
It is something that you may never guess
But, when you get it, come Christmas morning
You just may think it was the best

I have you something for christmas
It is something you just can't buy in a store
No matter where you may look
From ocean shore clean to ocean shore

I have you something for christmas
I'm debating on just how to send
But to give you a little clue
Just let me say 'I LOVE YOU MY FRIEND! '


wrote 12/16/2008 by Norman Hale Jr.

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My father has been dyeing on me for years even though he is healthy and alive.

My father has been dyeing on me for years even though he is healthy and alive. The more I see him, realizes him, the less he is. The past of what was, what was once the sun, is now smaller than a seed, not a muster seed, but poison ivory. I whish it was not but for my sake, I must face this truth. If we came from a place where there was more rage coming to you than love, more frustration than love, more ridicule than love, more lack of boundaries than love, more manipulation then love, more intimidation than love, more hitting than hugs, then you are better off by facing this terrible, this tearful reality go on in to love, to really love, not use fake public displays of love to cover your abuse. Face it, wrestle with it, change it, so as not to past this destructives hell to our children.

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I Must Have Said Something Wrong?

What you're saying to me makes no sense at all.
My utility company hired your telehone center,
To call my home to convince me,
I can save money by using a discounted service...
That will provide me a lower rate on my electric bill?

There is only one thing that troubles me about this.
Why would they hire your company,
Which is located on the West Coast.
And I live on the East Coast?
When all they could have done,
Is not hire you at all to save them on phone calls...
With an additional lowering of my bill!

Plus...
Those I know that have been laid off,
Because of the lack of jobs...
Would love to get paid for just a walk to my home,
Announcing the good news...
That the local utility offers because of their concern.

And...
IF they have that kind of money to throw away?
They can pay my entire bill monthy...
AND buy me a new car.

Hello?
Hello?
I must have said something wrong?

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Man, I Do Not Really Know If I Have Written Something

i like the sound of the poo
not winnie's

i waited for minutes
and scribbled something
on that white tissue paper

and then i made the last moan
and then i sighed
and wiped my bottom

and then i throw away the
tissue and then there
was this sound of
relief, this flushing sound

and then everything
is gone after a short
whirl & whirl and whirl
and swosh

man, i did not know
that i have written
(something so well?)

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I feel sorry for myself

I feel sorry for myself
in child,
lonely, i had played with tears
living in the dream everyday
feeling empty, 'no ones to play'
afraid with dark and death
and i thought many things to see
and i must have to wait
and i feel sorry for myself
because time was not running fast
but time was past
and i can't stop my tears
no ones to believe in
feeling empty, 'no ones to be within'
and i tried to face the dark
with lots of pain and fear
i can't close my eyes for last sleep
something in me say,
God will help me to sleep
and i have to wait
and i feel so sorry for myself
because the time is not running fast

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Lookin’ For Myself

You may be lookin' for me but I ain't lookin' for you
I'm still lookin' for myself and I ain't got time to look for nobody else
When I found who I am and where I am
And if you come round again maybe then baby maybe then

You wanna follow me but honey can't you see
I don't know where the hell I'm goin'
How can I know your mind when I don't even know my own
Now when the road gets tough or when I get enough
Or maybe when I reach the end maybe then baby maybe then

So stick around or go away whichever one you choose
You ain't got a single thing that I think I can use
And you and I ain't shared a thing that I'm afraid to lose

You say that you love me but I don't love you
I love someone I never seen as she lives in a place that I never been
When I realize it's all in my eyes
Just one great big patent maybe then maybe then
Maybe then maybe then maybe then but I won't say when
Maybe then baby maybe then

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Writing It Down

I was born on the cold side of the mountain
I wanna wake up on the warm side of the bed
How I start here
And how I end there
That is the part I aint worked out yet
Every day I climb a little bit higher
Every night I learn something new
Im writing it down
In case I forget
One day itll be my story for you
CHORUS
On every page you will know how much I love you
In every line you will see how much I care
With every word well grow a little closer
Even though we both know I cant be there
Thats why Im writing it down down down down down
Ohhhhhhhh Im writing it down
For you and for me
And for the whole wide world to read
Ohhhhhhhh Im writing it down
All my life Ive been hoping and praying
For my time to finally arrive
To put down this pen
To say its the end
And wake up back home with you by my side
REPEAT CHORUS
I was born on the cold side of the mountain
I wanna wake up on the warm side of the bed
How I start here
And how I end there
That is the part I aint worked out yet

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The Battle Of Agincourt

Fair stood the wind for France
When we our sails advance,
Nor now to prove our chance
Longer will tarry;
But putting to the main,
At Caux, the mouth of Seine,
With all his martial train,
Landed King Harry.

And taking many a fort,
Furnished in warlike sort,
Marcheth towards Agincourt
In happy hour;
Skirmishing day by day
With those that stopped his way,
Where the French gen'ral lay
With all his power;

Which, in his height of pride,
King Henry to deride,
His ransom to provide
Unto him sending;
Which he neglects the while,
As from a nation vile,
Yet with an angry smile
Their fall portending.

And turning to his men,
Quoth our brave Henry then,
"Though they to one be ten,
Be not amazed.
Yet have we well begun,
Battles so bravely won
Have ever to the sun
By fame been raised.

"And for myself (quoth he),
This my full rest shall be;
England ne'er mourn for me,
Nor more esteem me.
Victor I will remain,
Or on this earth lie slain;
Never shall she sustain
Loss to redeem me.

"Poitiers and Cressy tell,
When most their pride did swell,
Under our swords they fell;
No less our skill is
Than when our grandsire great,
Claiming the regal seat,
By many a warlike feat
Lopped the French lilies."

The Duke of York so dread
The eager vaward led;
With the main Henry sped
Amongst his henchmen.
Exeter had the rear,
A braver man not there;—
O Lord, how hot they were
On the false Frenchmen!

They now to fight are gone,
Armour on armour shone,
Drum now to drum did groan,
To hear was wonder;
That with the cries they make
The very earth did shake;
Trumpet to trumpet spake,
Thunder to thunder.

Well it thine age became,
O noble Erpingham,
Which didst the signal aim
To our hid forces!
When from a meadow by,
Like a storm suddenly,
The English archery
Stuck the French horses.

With Spanish yew so strong,
Arrows a cloth-yard long,
That like to serpents stung,
Piercing the weather;
None from his fellow starts,
But, playing manly parts,
And like true English hearts,
Stuck close together.

When down their bows they threw,
And forth their bilbos drew,
And on the French they flew,
Not one was tardy;
Arms were from shoulders sent,
Scalps to the teeth were rent,
Down the French peasants went—
Our men were hardy!

This while our noble king,
His broadsword brandishing,
Down the French host did ding,
As to o'erwhelm it;
And many a deep wound lent,
His arms with blood besprent,
And many a cruel dent
Bruised his helmet.

Gloucester, that duke so good,
Next of the royal blood,
For famous England stood
With his brave brother;
Clarence, in steel so bright,
Though but a maiden knight,
Yet in that furious fight
Scarce such another.

Warwick in blood did wade,
Oxford the foe invade,
And cruel slaughter made
Still as they ran up;
Suffolk his axe did ply,
Beaumont and Willoughby
Bare them right doughtily,
Ferrers and Fanhope.

Upon Saint Crispin's Day
Fought was this noble fray,
Which fame did not delay
To England to carry.
O, when shall English men
With such acts fill a pen;
Or England breed again
Such a King Harry?

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Ode to the Cambro-Britons and their Harp, His Ballad of Agi

Fair stood the wind for France,
When we our sails advance;
Nor now to prove our chance
Longer will tarry;
But putting to the main,
At Caux, the mouth of Seine,
With all his martial train
Landed King Harry.

And taking many a fort,
Furnish'd in warlike sort,
Marcheth towards Agincourt
In happy hour;
Skirmishing day by day
With those that stopp'd his way,
Where the French gen'ral lay
With all his power.

Which, in his height of pride,
King Henry to deride,
His ransom to provide
To the King sending;
Which he neglects the while,
As from a nation vile
Yet with an angry smile
Their fall portending.

And turning to his men
Quoth our brave Henry then:
"Though they to one be ten
Be not amazed.
Yet have we well begun:
Battles so bravely won
Have ever to the sun
By Fame been raised!

"And for myself," quoth he,
"This my full rest shall be:
England ne'er mourn for me,
Nor more esteem me;
Victor I will remain,
Or on this earth lie slain;
Never shall she sustain
Loss to redeem me!

"Poitiers and Cressy tell
When most their pride did swell
Under our swords they fell;
No less our skill is
Than when our grandsire great,
Claiming the regal seat,
By many a warlike feat
Lopp'd the French lilies."

The Duke of York so dread
The eager vaward led;
With the main Henry sped
Amongst his henchmen:
Excester had the rear,
A braver man not there
O Lord, how hot they were
On the false Frenchmen!

They now to fight are gone;
Armour on armour shone;
Drum now to drum did groan:
To hear, was wonder;
That, with cries they make,
The very earth did shake;
Trumpet to trumpet spake,
Thunder to thunder.

Well it thine age became,
O noble Erpingham,
Which didst the signal aim
To our hid forces;
When, from a meadow by,
Like a storm suddenly,
The English archery
Stuck the French horses

With Spanish yew so strong,
Arrows a cloth-yard long,
That like to serpents stung,
Piercing the weather.
None from his fellow starts,
But playing manly parts,
And like true English hearts
Stuck close together.

When down their bows they threw,
And forth their bilboes drew,
And on the French they flew,
Not one was tardy;
Arms were from shoulders sent,
Scalps to the teeth were rent,
Down the French peasants went:
Our men were hardy.

This while our noble King,
His broad sword brandishing,
Down the French host did ding,
As to o'erwhelm it.
And many a deep wound lent,
His arms with blood besprent,
And many a cruel dent
Bruised his helmet.

Gloster, that duke so good,
Next of the royal blood,
For famous England stood
With his brave brother.
Clarence, in steel so bright,
Though but a maiden knight,
Yet in that furious fight
Scarce such another!

Warwick in blood did wade,
Oxford the foe invade,
And cruel slaughter made,
Still as they ran up.
Suffolk his axe did ply;
Beaumont and Willoughby
Bare them right doughtily;
Ferrers and Fanhope.

Upon Saint Crispin's Day
Fought was this noble fray,
Which fame did not delay
To England to carry.
O when shall English men
With such acts fill a pen,
Or England breed again
Such a King Harry?

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