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Jorge Luis Borges

Don't talk unless you can improve the silence.

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You Can See The Sky

The sky is so high
And you don't have wings to fly
You are intelligent and passionate
Try to be honest, never tell a lie
In order to reach up to your goals
Education is the best way to perform your roles
Education is the sign of the dignity
As it provides you so many moral values
You received an opportunity to reach your goals
You have made it, to play your best roles
You have worked hard to reach there
Nobody can reach the destination without struggle
You did that with all your efforts
And you've proved it with your accomplishments
As you feel the pleasure
As you got to see many ways of leisure
Now you have gone to the peak of the sky
You have won full success and touched the sky
God has blessed you as well as us
With many achievements and no fuss
Now I can say that you have two wings
You are fully confident, you don't feel shy
Without any hesitations you can touch the sky

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You Can Have The TV

You can have the T.V.
I'll take the radio
Really, I don't want the T.V.
Just please the radio
I'd like that chair if you don't want it
Thank you
You keep the couch
You'll need a couch that's ok
You can keep the records
Cause it's your sterio
Really, I won't need the records
Without a sterio
I'd like the kitchen chairs and table
Thank you
You keep the bed
I'll buy a bed
That's ok
The books we can split in half
The pots and pan we'll do the same
The pictures on the wall
We can split in half
And you can have the scrabble game
The money in the bank
We can split in half
And you can have your single name
Our friends, we can split in half
And we can each have half the lane
Ok it's settled then
You can have the t.v.
I'll take the radio
Really I don't want the t.v.
Just please the radio
I'll like a lamp if you don't want it
Thank you
You keep the couch you'll need a couch
That's ok
You keep the bed, I'll buy a bed
That's ok
The dog, you keep the dog
I'll come around and see him now and then

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Don't speak unless you can improve on the silence.

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You Can Have the Future

You Can Have the Future
by Alex Lewis

The present is malicious.
difficulty=delicious
We will to Hell be sent
If this is only the present.

What is the future if this is present?
Peace must have come and went.
Why should mankind advance?
He started on his last chance.

The present is so bad
That the years just add and Add.
In the future, what will become?
We cannot reverse what is done.
You can have the future.

You can have the future.
Take it far away.
It'll last a day.
Never let me see it again.
wHAT, wHERE, wHEN.
You can have the future.

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You Can Take The Wings Off Me

(t. seals, e. setser)
Now Ive never been in with the fast crowd
Ive never been closer than just a little over the line
I know those nights Id find great temptations
I go home to bed alone
Pull the covers up over my mind
I let it go by and said Id save my feelings
But until I met you
I hardly used them at all
I should say no
Oh whoah I dont want to
Honey you will be the first one
To watch this angel fall
So you can take the wings off me
Lay them down so carefully
Hold me close tonight youll see
I am yours and you can take the wings off me
Oh you can take the wings off me
Oh lay them down so carefully
Oh I should say no
Oh whoah I dont want to
I am yours and you can take the wings off me

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You can change the names

You can change the names
of places and call them,
what you want.

My people who life there,
will still be living there
next year and for many years more.

You can change the personnel
that work for the city
and the inadequate delivery of services
and corruption,
will in time make you
pay a handsome bill.

You can change the names of streets,
and fashion them
to your heroes.

Never could you undo
the acts of those
whose names they originally bared
and everyone that uses them
will still know
what they were called before.

Without fixing the roads
people will remember
about the holes in Slovo street
and the dead robots in Mandela drive,
which will keep them alive

You can change the names of airports
for its better that way,
that the world knows
that they coming
to an new country
that’s has fallen years behind,
from where it was before.

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You Can Make The World To Live In

You Can make the World to live in a far better place
Not for yourself alone but for the whole human race
By treating everyone as your equal if you look you will find
That those different to you in their ways good and kind.

Racism born of ignorance that does seem fair to say
And racists seem out of place in the World of today
In a multicultural World they do not fit in
If you do not show respect then respect you cannot win.

Some people in their small ways are so very small
They believe on a fair go for their own kind but not on a fair go for all
In a multicultural society they have no part to play
They are self defeatist it does seem that way.

We are what we think we are and it does seem to me
That our reflective mirror in others we see
If the spirit of egalatarianism and the fair go for all we embrace
The World for us living in it is a much better place.

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You Can Transform The Planet

YOU CAN TRANSFORM THE PLANET

You can transform the planet with your feelings, thoughts and deeds,

You can transform the planet when your conscious takes the lead.

For you were born into this land to contribute your talents that are very grand.

You can transform the planet with your heart filled with love,

Reaching out to help and touch everyone.

Yes, you can transform the planet

For your presence is needed here,

You can transform the planet for you are very dear.

Copyright 2010 Suzae Chevalier of Chevalier Originals, Inc.



IF PEOPLE WERE MORE LIKE BIRDS

Birds bring you love and light,

They are happy to fly around you day and night,

If people were more like birds,

There would be only loving words.

Yes, birds are as happy as can be,

Singing praise of Mother Earth joyfully

while flying from tree to tree.

How nice it would be if everyone was more

like a bird so happy and carefree and loving

Mother Earth Dearly.

The End.
7/27/2010
10: 26pm by Suzae Chevalier

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Do The Best You Can

When you come across
the guy who thinks he's boss
yet never knows the reason why
He won't let you pass
won't answer things you ask
He's got his orders do or die
Someone said to me
if you tip the doorman heavily
his doors will open wide for you
Goes to show what money can do
Win again lose again
Don't feel sad when things go bad
you just do the best you can
do the best you can
Please be kind to those
who fail to comprehend
And in time who knows
you'll maybe make a friend
If you leave your car
and you're not going far
remember what time to be back
If it slips your mind
I'm sure in time you'll find
a Rita waiting in a mac
chorus
Win again lose again
Don't feel sad when things go bad
you just do the best you can
do the best you can
do the best you can

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If You can Keep your Cheese - after Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your cheese while few about you
are holding onto theirs', all envy ease.
If none can get your goat nor cow could doubt you
your scent which, heaven sent, can tell true bries
from gorgonzola, parmesan without you
planning for house mouse contingencies,
or short supply where larder rats may scout to
grind, compromise the tasty rind most please.

If by a whisker cheshire follows trout to
provide fit end for sweet delicacies,
or cheddar meat meal follows leaves no gout to
blur enjoyment, taste buds' harmonies.
If desert heat no threat presents, no pout too
in winter's cold where lizard's blood would freeze,
If neither flood nor drought can mar, throughout you
may triumph over blue mould colonies.

If all kowtow, if none would ever flout you
remembering to bow before ‘big cheese'...
if hole in one you score in club you clout to
take golden trophy - competition flees.
If all above's accomplished taste devout, true,
while others fail to prove their expertise,
your's is the world, which elsewhere's up the spout, few
can make their time your rhyme's real_I_tease!

IF - A Writers' Guild Gild Guile Guide
If you can form and not make norms your master,
conformity, performance formal, flame.
If you inform, share, [fl]airing, flow far faster,
yet let not copyright bind tight to shame.
If you treat critic's inconstructive blaster
with humour, beat him at his game's lame claim,
take not to hea[r]t his tumour, bandage, plaster
half-heartedly, pretend [s]he never came.

If you can couple energy creative
well in advance of others in your field,
without confusing nominative, dative,
rei[g]n arguments through cogency revealed
in context, in a manner innovative,
code palimpsests from all but s[t]age concealed,
If trust in self is never compensative
reaction used when you refused to yield.

If you can link great ends with small beginnings,
and yet not brag, nor tag each copy sold,
If dialogue's more vital than piled winnings,
to trim the quill where will won't be short-sold,
If, ignorance ignored, your story's spinnings
creates a pot no Potter has outsold,
yet you can fi[e]nd the flaw, to fresh beginnings
return to steer towards horizons bold.

If you can write without cash motivation,
self-righteousness avoiding like the plague,
create consensus round an innovation
embraced by all without appearing vague,
If you can span from logic to emotion
set constant course from vested interests clear,
If you can ban all untoward commotion,
while conscience clings to all that it holds dear,

If you can set the good within you flowing
without the itch to pitch beyond kitsch brink,
If you can give the nod and wink while knowing
that mental states aren't always in the pink,
If you use inner kinks to keep on growing
without denying others' right to think,
If you continue for tomorrow sowing
refusing using methods now that stink.

If you can lead lead soldiers Caxton crafted
without kowtow before cold compromise,
If neither editor nor public shafted
the output that your inner soul supplies,
If you can improvise, provide redrafted
communication keyed to catalyze,
you'll find to your surprise that you have rafted
alone on conscious stream your just dream buys.

Writers' Real Mirror Reflection Reel
With inside out, and out, surprised, inside,
When penning verse whose end may, too, begin it,
When rhyming reel with real can coincide
Your's is the world and everything that's in it.
If you can write without cash motivation,
Self-righteousness avoiding like the plague,
Create consensus round an innovation
Embraced by all without appearing vague.
If you can scan, span logic to emotion
Set constant course from vested interests clear,
If you can ban all untoward commotion,
While conscience clings to all that it holds dear,
If rhymes may improvise, spurn prose redrafted,
Communication key to catalyze,
You'll find to your surprise that you have rafted
On stream it seems when wit reverse dream tries.

On stream it seems when wit reverse dream tries
You'll find to your surprise that you have rafted
Communication key to catalyze.
If rhyme may improvise, spurn prose redrafted
While conscience clings to all that it holds dear,
If you can ban all untoward commotion,
Set constant course from vested interests clear.
If you can scan span logic to emotion
Embraced by all without appearing vague,
Create consensus round an innovation,
Self-righteousness avoiding like the plague,
If you can write without cash motivation,
Your's is the world and everything that's in it
When rhyming reel with real can coincide
When penning verse whose end may, too, begin it,
With inside out, and out, surprised, inside!

Cropped Apologies to Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your crops when all the nation
rails, vain assailing creepy crawly bugs,
If you can thrive when most lives' reputation
is knocked for skittles, stumped by snails and slugs,
If you can sow, show though you stay surrounded
by failing harvests sere upon the stem,
where hopes unfounded, speculations grounded,
face farmers who through jealousy condemn.

If greenhouse gases can't delay your planting,
with fallow Brussels' edicts all ignored,
If CO² you compensate by chanting
an incantation to the heavens poured.
If snail trails slip upon your sensor networks,
if nano tech protects your fields' high yield
which on the Futures markets harvests net perks
that from the tax collector stay concealed.

If you can fight Monsanto's sterile sowing,
deny blight warnings, nor fear climate change,
if cash in hand exceeds debts most's greed's owing,
if you're the early bird with worms in range,
If you free farm through seasons, thank your maker
from man's pollution, safe solution find,
yours is the race, you, ace, may need pacemaker
for luck can turn, earn bridges burned behind.

Advice to an Applicant
If you can back your boss and keep on smiling,
while toning down his brash absurdities,
if, having watched the man manhandle filing,
you rearrange the folders pretty please,
if coy and charming, beautiful, beguiling,
anticipating all contingencies,
you manage new accounts, contacts redialling,
correct crass spelling, cover vagaries...

If you can keep your head while he's resiling,
evolve successful counter-strategies,
if ‘mum's the word', discrete, ignoring tyling,
from busy-bodies safe when he agrees.
If you can spend your time in reconciling
his intellectual inanities,
never upset his fragile ego, heiling
whene'er he feels the need, or profits sneeze...

If Windows easy comes, while modem dialing
to DSL migration's not a tease,
if firewall free from viruses hostiling
you clean can keep, recalling password keys,
if the above you show him recompiling
the data lost when he lacks expertise, -
yet know your place as cypher, never riling,
remembering to bow before ‘big cheese'...

If you can stand him publicly reviling
your good ideas, then claim them his with ease,
can watch while rival's ruin he's compiling
so coldly that a lizard's blood would freeze.
If when betrayed by his ambitious wiling
you triumph through innate abilities,
ignoring basic scheming, baser guiling,
you seize the precious point he never sees! ...

If you won't blush when, rash, he'll rush, exiling
your intuitions as freak fantasies,
but confidently while free-time he's whiling,
circumvent his incapacities.
Surpassing him in brains, tact, versatiling,
you never strive to swap your salaries,
but both feet on the ground, still patient, smiling,
can counteract his incoherencies...

If you are sure his image needs restyling,
select the suits that suit down to the tees,
if you are ever ready camomiling,
or sprinkling sugar, creaming, coffee, teas,
if you can trick his wayward infantiling
and censure not his immaturities,
ignore his clumsy tries at fond defling,
yet fondled, tactful, rise from off his knees...

If you take three degrees while reconciling
your private life to further Ph.D.'s,
if you can children bear without work piling
and keep them free from trouble and disease,
if you can spring his quick promotion - vile thing -
and play the game of happy families...
Your's is the job, the rest's cosmetic styling,
Oh prized princess and pride of... secret'ries!

A l'assistante de l'Indirection
Si tu peux supporter de voir tes dossiers
démolis sans souffler mot et puis reclasser,
si tu sais appuyer partout ton PDG
sans sceptique rester quant à ses qualités...

Si tu souris, beauté, sans être emmerdante,
si vive mais jamais surprise, impatiente,
le soutenant quand des contresens fous l'enchantent,
ses lubies supporter sans paroles tranchantes...

Si tu sais sans délais t'adapter au progrès,
les autres anticiper, sans jamais hésiter,
bien le préparer avec de bons conseils,
des envieux protéger ton patron hébété...

Très expérimentée, mais sans prendre de l'age,
compréhensive aider avec ses rattrapages
sans pourtant mériter accéder aux voyages
‘d'études' et aux congrès, - ces minables volages!

Si tu sais lui montrer se servir du clavier,
aux réseaux si primés vite se connecter,
de l'Internet cliquer sur l'intranet branché,
son PC débugger sans jamais se broncher...

Si sa peur du souris, du clic-clic, du mulot
tu peux sans interdits dépasser au boulot,
à ses flagrants délits trouver tout ce qu'il faut,
si tu ses buts poursuis en soufflant le bon mot...

Si tu sais compenser l'orthographe qu'il perd,
scanner, penser, noter, téléphoner, tout faire,
son planning programmer, sans être trop mémère,
le soutenir, si gaie, quand son coeur désespère...

Si tu peux accoucher à l'heure du dîner,
tes enfants élever tous en bonne santé,
ton patron remplacer - ronronnant au soleil -
sans pour autant rêver qu'on t'accorde sa paye.

Si tu sors d'H.E.C. sans prétendre à la gloire,
Sciences Po, c'est fait, sans en faire une histoire,
ou Enarque tu es, faisant dans ton pouvoir
le tout pour manier les re(i) nes du Pouvoir.

Lors mieux qu'homme d'affaires, ou chef de cabinet
mieux que tous ces experts si souvent égarés,
tu seras à tout faire une bonne rêvée,
mieux que mère, sacrée ASSISTANTE tu es!

If
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on';

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!
Rudyard Kipling 1865_1936


Biff! The same father to the same son, now grown up.

If you can keep your job when all about you
Are losing theirs (by cutting down of screw) :
If you can keep yourself - for, make no doubt you
Won't get allowance, just for you to blue.
If you can make a heap by all your winnings
Risked on outsiders backed at Kempton Park,
Don't think that you will always get your innings
And kiss your boss's daughter in the dark.

If you should risk promotion, aught should tempt ye,
Eyeing the safe when all the staff have gone,
And, jemmying it open, find it empty,
And hear the watchman growl to you, ‘Hold on! '
If you should fill the unforgiving ‘minutes'
With names of all the people you have ‘done, '
Yours is the gaol, and everything that's in ti,
And, what is more, you'll get six months, my son.
Rachel Ferguson Nymphs and Satires 1932

A London Sparrow's IF
If you c'n keep alive when li'l bleeders
Come arter t' wi' catapults an' stones;
If you c'n grow up unpertickler feeders,
An' live on rugidge, crumbs, an' ‘addock bones;
If you c'n nest up in the bloomin' gutters,
An' dodge the blinkin' tabby on the tiles;
Nip under wheels an' never git the flutters,
Wear brahn an' no bright-coloured fevver-styles;
If you ain't blown b'nippers (Cor, I'd skin ‘me!) :
Stop y'r shells nah, warm-like, under me;
Yous is the eggs an' everyfink ‘at's in ‘em -
An' when they ‘atch, yor be cock-sparrers, see?
J A LINDON

If You can Keep Your Man
If You can Keep Your Man when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
Avert a break-up when he starts to doubt you,
Without behaving like a tart or shrew;

If you can bake a cake or change a nappy,
Although you've got a good Redbrick degree,
And yet can say you're reasonably happy
When other graduate wives dropp in for tea;

If you can lose yourself in ‘To the Lighthouse',
Yet, changing books, seek first the Thriller shelf,
If you can laugh at Mrs. Mary Whitehouse,
But sometimes wince at Wednesday Plays yourself;

If you stand up for Women's Liberation,
Think sex equality long overdue,
Yet purr when men evince consideration
And in a bus or train stand up for you;

If you can be a protest march frequenter,
But sometimes think the marchers a bit queer,
Yet, spite of everything, stay left of centre,
Oh, well, who knows? You may be right, my dear.
Stanley Sharpless

If You Can Crush
If you can crush, when all your chums are cribbing,
The urge that beckons you to do the same;
Can keep your tongue from telling tales or fibbing,
And can, when others err, take all the blame.

If you can nurse a crush on dear Miss Withers,
Yet bully off with just one silent tear;
Be resolute when even Matron dithers,
And weld the House together with a cheer.

If you can foil the fiendish Russian spy-ring,
Who've ‘got a hold' upon the Head (the swine!)
And by example selfless and inspiring,
Can make those ghastly Juniors toe the line.

If you while staying virgo quite intacta,
Can scoff at those who label you a prude;
And, when you leave, can know you've never slacked or
(Except to Ma'moiselle) been flip or rude.

If you can scale such pinnacles of virtue
And earn your teachers' praises as ‘a brick',
The truth, dear girl, (I do so hate to hurt you) -
The simple truth, dear Daphne, is you're thick!
Martin Fagg

IF
If you can stand the Quest and all her antics
When all around you turn somersaults upon her deck;
And go aloft when no one has told you
And not fall down and break your blooming neck;

If you can work like Wild and also like Wuzzles
Spend a convivial night with some old bean,
And then come down and meet the Boss at breakfast
And never breathe a word of where you've been.

If you can fill the port and starboard bunkers
With fourteen tons of coal; and call it fun;
Yours is the ship and everything that's in it
And you're a marvel; not a man my son.
Ernest H Shackleton

(28 July 2007)

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You Can Never Buy The Sun

you can buy the Sun
If you build the tower
on the backs of others
to prove you have the power
Until a pyramid of one
Becomes the only answer
But when it inevitably falls
It proves it never mattered

For YoU CaN nEvEr BuY tHe Sun

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You Can Cause A Pause That Amazes With Awe

Don't hesitate too late,
For a scheduling of that date...
To address and enhance your fate.

Only you,
Can live your life even bigger.
Only you,
Can hold a grip that slips.
Only you,
Can transform what's going on...
With a knowledge you can handle it!

You can put the awe in a pause you cause.
You can cause a pause to amaze with awe.

And only you,
Can live your life even bigger.
Only you,
Can hold a grip that slips.
Only you,
Can transform what's going on...
With a knowledge you can handle it!

You can put the awe in a pause you cause.
You can cause a pause that amazes with awe.
You can put the awe in a pause you cause.
You can cause a pause that amazes with awe.

Don't hesitate too late,
For a scheduling of that date...
To address and enhance your fate.

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To Prove You Can Undo

Have you mistaken good for evil?
Premeditated just to tease.
Have you changed your medication,
And found an admiration...
To prove,
You can...
Undo the good in people.
To prove,
You can...
Be cruel and heartless too!

Have you mistaken good for evil?
To prove,
You can.
And be cruel and heartless too!
To prove,
You can.

You've been hurt too many times!
Get back.
Don't attack.
Too many times.
Get back.
Don't attack.
Too many people are just like that.

Have you mistaken good for evil?
Premeditated just to tease.
Have you changed your medication,
And found an admiration...
To prove,
You can...
Undo the good in people.
To prove,
You can...
Be cruel and heartless too!

You've mistaken good for evil.
To undo the good in people...
To prove,
You can...
Be cruel and heartless too!

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None Of Us Can Stop The Time

Five days of work and seven days of peace!
But, none of us can stop the time;
So, emancipate yourself from this mental slavery around you.

Wisdom is like a tree planted by the rivers of waters which,
Brings forth fruits of true love to satisfy all;
So, don't let them fool you when, they want to school you.

Free yourself from the mental slavery around you!
And, feed your mind always with the truth;
Then, you can sing the freedom song always! !
For, the Babylonian System is everywhere.

It is only the fool who always leans on his or her own misunderstanding!
but, my love is ll that i have to share with you;
because, none of us can stop the time.

Blood is thicker than water!
And, the fire will always burn you when, you are not ready to learn;
So, you better watch out your steps in this life;
For, none of us can stop the time.

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As Like The Woman As You Can

'As like the Woman as you can' -
(Thus the New Adam was beguiled) -
'So shall you touch the Perfect Man' -
(God in the Garden heard and smiled).
'Your father perished with his day:
'A clot of passions fierce and blind,
'He fought, he hacked, he crushed his way:
'Your muscles, Child, must be of mind.

'The Brute that lurks and irks within,
'How, till you have him gagged and bound,
'Escape the foullest form of Sin?'
(God in the Garden laughed and frowned).
'So vile, so rank, the bestial mood
'In which the race is bid to be,
'It wrecks the Rarer Womanhood:
'Live, therefore, you, for Purity!

'Take for your mate no gallant croup,
'No girl all grace and natural will:
'To work her mission were to stoop,
'Maybe to lapse, from Well to Ill.
'Choose one of whom your grosser make' -
(God in the Garden laughed outright) -
'The true refining touch may take,
'Till both attain to Life's last height.

'There, equal, purged of soul and sense.
'Beneficent, high-thinking, just,
'Beyond the appeal of Violence,
'Incapable of common Lust,
'In mental Marriage still prevail' -
(God in the Garden hid His face) -
'Till you achieve that Female-Male
'In Which shall culminate the race.'

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Be Kind When You Can

Be kind when you can, though the kindness be little,
'Tis small letters make up philosophers' scrolls;
The crystal of Happiness, vivid and brittle,
Can seldom be cut into very large bowls.

'Tis atoms that dwell in the measureless mountain,
'Tis moments that sum up the century's flight;
'Tis but drops that unite in Niagara's fountain,
'Tis rays, single rays, from the harvest-sun light.

Stone by stone builds the temple that rises in glory,
Inch by inch grows the child till maturity's prime;
The jewels so famous in bright, Eastern story
Have been nursed, tint by tint, in the blossom of Time.

'Tis grains make the desert-sheet, trackless and spreading;
'Tis but petals that deck every blossom-twinned spray;
There are leaves - only leaves - where the forest is shedding
Its gloom till the density shuts out the day.

A word or a glance which we give 'without thinking',
May shadow or lighten some sensitive breast;
And the draught from the well-spring is wine in the drinking,
If quaffed from the brim that Affection has blest.

Then be kind when you can in the smallest of duties,
Don't wait for the larger expressions of Love;
For the heart depends less for its joys and its beauties
On the flight of the Eagle than coo of the Dove.

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You Can Have Him

(1951) irving berlin
I don't want him you can have him
He's not worth fighting for
Besides there's plenty more where he came from
I don't want him you can have him
I'm giving him the sack
And he can go right back where he came from
I'm afraid i never loved him
Sweetie he'd be better off with you
I could never make him happy
All i ever wanted to do was
Run my fingers through his curly locks
Mend his underwear and darn his socks
Fetch his slippers and remove his shoes
Wipe his glasses when he's read the news
Rub his forehead with a gentle touch
Mornings after when he's had a little too much
Kiss him gently when he cuddles near
And give him babies one for every year
So you see that i don't want him you can have him
You can have him cos i don't want him
Because he's not the man for me
Then i'd close the window while he soundly slept
Then i'd raid the icebox where the food is kept
I'd fix the breakfast that would please him most
Eggs and coffee some apricot juice and some buttered toast
Oh oh then i'd go out and buy the papers
And when they've been read spend the balance of the day in bed
So you see that i don't want him you can have him
You can have him cos i don't want him because he's not my man
I don't want him you can have him
You can have him i don't want him
You can have him i don't want him
Cos he's not the man for me

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Only You Can Make That Decision

Are you disillusioned and fed up with your life,
Do you feel it's no longer worth living?
We're all partly responsible for our own strife,
There are times it can be so unforgiving.

Accept you can't get everything you want,
What goes around comes around is true,
Do nothing in life that can come back to haunt,
Or believe me it will come back on you.

Never make promises you know you can't keep,
Don't try to change things that cannot be changed,
A broken pledge will make more than you weep,
It will leave you feeling deranged.

Conflict and debt only bring on a tear,
Never buy what you cannot afford,
By saving for luxuries you'll have nothing to fear,
Future problems will no longer be stored.

Do it today stop saying tomorrow,
Start Living within your means,
Doing the opposite will only bring sorrow,
That's when chaos convenes.

Stay true to yourself and success will follow,
Never try to be someone you're not,
By being yourself you need never feel hollow,
Be thankful for what you have got.

Only you can choose the life you will lead,
Listen and learn that way you'll stay wise,
When warned of the dangers, always take heed,
Seek the truth and dispel any lies.

Learn about life and know right from wrong,
Determine the fakes from the frauds,
That way you'll find out where you belong,
We're all capable of defying the odds.

Treasure your family and all those around,
Keep your enemies at arms length,
Ensure you keep your feet on the ground,
Wisdom will be your ultimate strength.

Get rid of the deadwood they just bring on hate,
You can become a real go-getter,
It's you, who's in charge of your own fate,
You know you can do much better.

There is nothing in life you cannot achieve,
As long as you've the mind and the guile,
You can do anything is what you must believe,
Those aspirations will bring on a smile.

If you fall to the ground get back on your feet,
Nobody's perfect we all make mistakes,
Convince yourself that you will not be beat,
It's through knowledge that our spirit awakes.

Work hard at learning and toil with a will,
Pass on to others the wisdom you've gained,
Having more friends than enemies is truly a skill,
You'll be proud of what you've attained.

Life comes but once it's yours to enjoy,
The experience can be full of mystique,
Common sense is what you must deploy,
It makes you precious and truly unique.

When you think of yourself to achieve your dreams,
You can chart your future with precision,
Fight for your rights they are yours to defend,
How,

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Patrick White

Kisses Instead Of Scars If You Can Manage It

Kisses instead of scars if you can manage it.
Love, not a science. Still an art. Though a dying one.
The discipline of staying a constant beginner.
As if the morning glory had never felt the light before.
You want to love or be loved? Make up your heart.
But you want to sword dance with queen cobras in heat
like a lapwing in a snake pit, two egg-layers
at opposite ends of the same extreme, you better not
step on anyone's toes, and if you do, hope
the wing you favoured with a false wound
like a collapsed bridge you lay down like a joker
to trump your Tarot pack, is as long as the other
royal flush you neglected to play like a winning hand.
Human, you might be the measure of all things,
but believe me when I tell you, love's got a bigger wingspan
than Cygnus and Aquila in the Summer Triangle have light-years
to get a fix on the wing tips of their feathers by parallax.

Love with class if you want to make something elegant
of your absurdity, diamonds of your dirt, if you want to
water flowers with your tears without salting the seed bed.
If you want to steal a little fire from the mystery
to enlighten your nightmare, if you want to be the star
that everyone points to in your lover's eye,
don't enter it like a dirty needle of light washed up on a beach,
you keep overdosing on like a starmap with a bad addiction.
Love is a retroactive prediction from the past come true at last.
Even after dismemberment, love is Orphic, a prophetic skull
bobbing like an apple all the way to Mytilene from Thrace,
that can still sing the dead back up out of hell
until they realize the light of love's too strong
for the eyes of gibbering shades and turn around
as if they'd come too far down the wrong road.

As a working stiff, love is kind, generous, trustworthy, loyal,
like the smell of heartwood after a carpenter has built
his own sturdy cross. Not acrid oak, but terebinth.
As a thaumaturge, love works miracles with silver herbs
cool as moonlight laying its feathers on the sacred pools
you return to like a battered salmon or a sword in tribute
to give back in gratitude what was given to you.
O, yes, you can be a nice guy or an agreeable woman
for a moment, and bask in the whole wheat sunshine
of a promising harvest, but love is the blue,
the second full moon in October and it looks down
on what's been threshed to see what you've left for the birds
and if you ever get so drunk in your delirium
you went dancing with the scarecrows as if you
were all martyred by the same cause like a prelude
of watchdogs to the white nights of the living dead.
Love's a celebrant high on the bliss of poppy wine
but it doesn't turn the dancing floors of the starfields
into a bride catalogue for impoverished wallflowers.
Love's got the eyes of a snake, the voice of a bird
and the wings of a vampiric bat in an unpredictable eclipse.
And when love mystically sublimates its appetites
like black ice into more beatific ionospheres of solar flaring,
the poetry goes aurorally absurd, but nobody cares
because everybody's more awed by the picture-music
of the rippling veils than they are by the face behind them.

You make love safe. You take the danger out of it,
you defang the lightning storm, you brainwash
the theta waves of the turbulent night sea
where the soul journeys alone, into saying aum
every time there's a breathless squall of stars in the southwest,
though you might think in your lustreless way
you're throwing sacred holy oil on troubled waters
you're just another oil slick running a nunnery of pearls.
You want your honey without a stinger. You want
your rose without a thorn. A one-eyed oxymoron.

I've made it a counter-intuitive point of survival
most of my occult romantic afterlife
to never fall in love with a woman until I'm absolutely certain
it's well within her power to kill me outright
without a word of warning. But she abstains
and in that moment of hesitation you can live
three full lifespans on the cutting edge of a black hole
without a fear of lights or vertiginous heights.
You can ride the helical stairwells of your mutual d.n.a.
like the parallel bannisters of two hawks wheeling
synchronously on the twisted ladder
of their thermophilic passions for the highs and lows of love.
When did Icarus ever fly too close to the sun
with a parachute or a safety net? What fool
shot out of a cannon like a fly into a spider web
doesn't expect to get entangled in the details
of hedging his bets instead of taking the fall on his chin.
If you fall in love, and you're not a clown,
or someone who bumbled over the cliff by accident,
be prepared to fall deeper than any place
your death has ever descended into before, and darker,
and more intense than the petty sentiments
of people dropping stones in wishing wells
to fathom the abyss by staring into the eyes of a telescope.

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Patrick White

I Don't Care If You Remember Me Or Not

I don't care if you remember me or not.
I'm not going anywhere. I'll still be here.
But I'm going to disappear soon enough
and you can have the mirror all to yourself.
I can't imagine dying alone is any deeper
than this solitude I've been living on my own.
Take that chisel of a tongue and chip
my cartouche off that gravestone I'm not under yet
as if you just discovered a new talent
for pecking away at death as if you were married to it.

I'm out of here. This is my grand exit. Like Keats
I make it with an awkward bow, the way the deer do
when they come down to the river to drink.
I don't make it in anger. I'm not judging a mirage
because it doesn't slake my thirst for real water.
I'm not bitter, vicious, or proud. I see myself
in you, especially when you're crying without
a knife in your hand you wield like a paper cut
of the last crescent of the moon. It makes me sad
that we live more separately than we ever will in death.
I can remember when you first took my breath away,
and now, if you want to give it back, that's ok,
that's ok, too, as my brother would say, listening
like an amputee to the one-handed applause of the Buddha.

There are gaps, there are voids and abysses,
there are neuronic synapses, godheads, bardo states
and black holes we all have to bridge sooner or later.
Love's one of them. Death's another. And life's
a country road with so many potholes it's shell-shocked.
You can efface my name from your memorial wall
but I'm sure I'll turn you into poetry somewhere
along the way. I'm thawing into tears
like an Arctic ice cap faster than I should
but I'll hold you in my cold, cold heart forever
like a dolmen without snow nobody knows the name of.

More wonderful things get said in the doorways
of farewell through the veils of our motiveless tears
than you're ever going to hear on the thresholds of hello
when everyone mythically inflates their uncontested lies
in the name of love. It's not much of a triumph
to ride in a golden chariot of the sun through a slum.
It's a little vehicle, and come the first serious eclipse,
you're on black ice on a highway late at night on your own,
however many corpses you've sand-bagged in the rear
to give it some weight. Kitty litter and ashes
for traction are better than rose-petals and thorns
strewn along your path. You get a better grip on things
as you're turning your wheels into the direction of your spin
or somersaulting over your handle bars like a cow
that jumped over the moon. As for me. The moonrise
raises a spoonful of ashes to my lips and I try
to take my medicine like a solitary nightbird
sipping from the fountain of a dark muse
like a lunar fish in the watershed of a total eclipse.

I'll never wish you ill. And I'll try really hard
never to dispel your delusions of me as someone
you might have been able to love. Sorry about the discrepancy.
Mirages on a sundial. Lighthouses on the moon.
Sharks and shipwrecks. Shouldn't our dreams and delusions,
our secret nightmares, be accorded the same
ontological dignity as any other God particle
in the transmorphic context of reality? They move
the world as much as mass or gravity and they're
as counterintuitively absolute and constant
as the speed of light. Everyone's trying to write
their own unified field theory to explain everything
all at once to themselves, as if they were whispering
seas of rising awareness into their own ear.

I've lived too long under this cloak of the mystery
I bear as best I can like a mantle of starmud
in the name of a thousand poets who bore it
in their turn to suffer the solitude of their revelry
like the calyx of a black hole in the center of a galaxy
consuming two hundred billion stars in a single gulp
to stay drunk enough for light years to learn
to breathe in the light before they're willing to let it go.
To kiss the bud of the wildflower into the open
and step back into the light like a shadow at noon
and watch it grow without you. Noblesse oblige.
And I don't mean it cynically. The wolf howls.
The dog barks. The road leads like a trail of blood
to a dark grove of trees where everything heals by itself
and death is a retroactive edition of a posthumous future
that lies up ahead like road kill. Like it or not.

Sooner or later every persistent absurdity is interred
in an aura of grace, as if we gave the dead
the benefit of the doubt we begrudge the living.
That said. Still hard to kiss the stinging nettles
like hooded cobras on the head spitting in your eyes
like the Taliban just as you're learning to read
the writing on the wall. So the blind prophets
learn to love the dark. So the candle that's burning
to shed some light on the night and the stars
goes out in a gust of breath like a secret chandlier
on the dark side of death. And what are we left with
that might remotely stick it out with us
in search of a treasure chest that isn't
just another bone box of sacred relics? I used to think
scars from the stars that enlightened us
like Medusas of white phosphorus that bit
like high frequency wavelengths in a snake pit
the moon was agitating like ripples and scales
on the skin of a mirror we thought we'd shed
relationships ago. But now my youth has outgrown me
I go well out of my way to err on the side of compassion
more than I ever longed to know the truth
of what we're all doing here together
trying to stay true to the circuitous path we're on
by getting lost in each other's eyes and arms.

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