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If I had been born with an aggressive character, then maybe my palmares would have been longer.

quote by Miguel Indurain
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Out of the…is Born a …

Out of the mire is born a gorgeous flower;
Out of the noise is born a dead silence;
Out of the storm is born, calm!

Out of the strife is born a pleasant life;
Out of the filth is born flora, fauna;
Out of the chaos is born clarity.

Out of the exercise is born a healthy body;
Out of the training is born wisdom;
Out of the learning is born a scholar!

Out of the confession is born a soul afilled with grace;
Out of the Holy Book is born the word of God;
Out of the prayers is born answers from God!

Out of the rain is born the verdure shoots;
Out of the sun is born the growing plants;
Out of the dawn is born a lovely day;
Out of the dusk is born a quiet night!

Out of the hunger is born an appetite;
Out of the dainty food is born satiety;
Out of the wine is born inebriety.

Out of the fasting is born controlled senses;
Out of the inhibition is born a civilized person;
Out of the nature’s furies is born forbearance;
Out of the war is born a newer peace.

Out of the mistakes done is born a new resolve;
Out of the struggle is born a long-lasting freedom;
Out of the perseverance is born an accomplishment.

Out of the light is born a new day on earth;
Out of the night is born a starry sky;
Out of the dark clouds is born an aureole moon.

Out of the boredom is born a life of joy;
Out of the trials, travail is born a mind of steel;
Out of the woes is born a content heart!

Out of the parent’s love is born a loving child;
Out of the love of God is born forgiveness of sins;
Out of the mercy of God is born a soul for heaven!

poem by John Celes
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Born To Be Loved By You

Borne again.
Because have you at just being borne again.
At last I feel that Im alive and more.
This is the moment Ive waited for.
Born to be loved by you.born to be loved by you.
Born to walk with you.born to talk with you.
I was born for you.
Born to be with you, only you.
Born to be loved by you.
Born for you, born for you baby.
Born for you, born for you baby.
Born for you, born to be loved by you
(you and only you) born to be with only you.
I look at you and all at once I know that dreams come true.
For there you are the other part of me.
I have found my destiny.
Born to be loved by you.born to be loved by you.
Right or wrong for you.weak or strong for you.
Faithful or untrue
Born chained forever and far beyond.
Born to be loved by you and only you
No one else will do.
Heart and soul,born to be loved
Born to be loved.born to be loved by you.
(you and only you,born to be with only you)
Born for you.born for you baby.
Born for you.born for you baby.
Born for you, born for you baby..

song performed by Roy Orbison
Added by Lucian Velea
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In the next birth

IF I ACQUIRED the menacing form of an
alligator in the next birth,
I would want you to cling tightly to my persona as my serrated green
skin.

If I was born in the ominous form of the jungle tiger in the
next birth,
I would you to be incorporated in my body as my domineeringly
authoritative growl.

If I was born as a densely foliated tree in the next birth,
I would want you to be the perennial leaves that emanated from
my silhouette.

If I was born as an opalescent fish in the next birth,
I would want you to be saline water in which I could sustain life
and swim.

If I was born as the twin horned sacrosanct cow in the next birth,
I would inevitably desire you as the milk I would diffuse from
my flaccid teats.

If I was born as a slithering reptile in the next birth,
I would want you to be the lethal venom I possessed in my triangular
fangs.

If I was born as an obnoxious donkey in the next birth,
I would want you to be my hooves which swished indiscriminately
at innocuous trespassers.

If I was born as perpetually blind in the next birth,
I would indispensably want you to be my eyes to guide me
towards dazzling light.

If I was born as being disdainfully maim; bereft of feet in the next
birth,
I would incorrigibly want you to be my legs to ecstatically leap
in times of jubilation.

If I was born as a rustic spider with a battalion of arms in the
next birth,

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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How Much Longer

I'm stuck
Inside
Can't get this done wish I could hide
This scene is really such a pain
I just
Can't see
How this is any use to me
This work is drivin' me insane
All I really want is to get away (can anybody tell me)
How much longer
Till I'm done
How much longer
Wanna feel the sun
How much longer
I can't wait
How much longer until I can play that game
It's on
My mind
I think I'm runnin out of time
This weight is more than I can take
That clock
Is slow
It's never gonna let me go
This time I need more than just a break
All I really want is to get away (can anybody tell me)
How much longer
Till I'm done
How much longer
Wanna feel the sun
How much longer
I can't wait
How much longer until I can play that game
How much longer
Till I'm done
How much longer
Wanna feel the sun
How much longer
I can't wait
How much longer until I can play that game
And here I go again (and here I go again)
Wondering when (when)
I can have my time to play
(Can anybody tell me)
(Can anybody, can anybody tell me)
How much longer
Till I'm done
How much longer
Wanna feel the sun
How much longer
I can't wait

[...] Read more

song performed by Yu-Gi-Oh
Added by Lucian Velea
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Loverman

(originally recorded by nick cave and the bad seeds)
Theres a devil waiting outside your door (how much longer? )
Theres a devil waiting outside your door (how much longer? )
And hes bucking and braying and pawing at the floor (how much longer? )
And hes howling with pain, crawling up the walls (how much longer? )
Theres a devil waiting outside your door (how much longer? )
And hes weak with evil and broken by the world (how much longer? )
And hes shouting your name and asking for more (how much longer? )
Theres a devil waiting outside your door (how much longer? )
Loverman! since the world began
Forever, amen, till the end of time, yeah
Take off that dress, oh
Im coming down, yeah
Im your loverman, yeah
cause I am what I am what I am what I am what I am
L is for love, baby
O is for only you that I do
V is for loving virtually everything that you are
E is for loving almost everything that you do
R is for rape me
M is for murder me
A is for answering all of my prayers
N is for knowing your lovermans going to be the answer to all of yours
Loverman! till the bitter end
While the empires burn down
Forever and ever and ever, ever, amen
Im your loverman
So help me, baby
So help me, baby
cause I am what I am what I am what I am what I am
Im your loverman
Theres a devil crawling along your floor (how much longer? )
Theres a devil crawling along your floor (how much longer? )
With a trembling heart, hes coming through your door (how much longer? )
With his straining sex in his jumping paw (how much longer? )
Ooh, theres a devil crawling along your floor (how much longer? )
And hes old and hes stupid and hes hungry and hes sore
And hes blind and hes lame and hes dirty and hes poor
Gimme more, gimme more, gimme more, gimme more, gimme more, gimme more (how much longer? )
Theres a devil crawling along your floor
Loverman! haha! and here I stand
Forever, amen
cause I am what I am what I am what I am, hey
Forgive me, baby
My hands are tied
And I got no choice, no, no, no, no
I got no choice, no choice at all
Ill say it again
L is for love, baby
O is for oh yes I do

[...] Read more

song performed by Metallica
Added by Lucian Velea
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Fine

A lovers quarrel
Death by a shotgun barrel
With a cleaning solution the instruments are made sterile.
A hairy situation.
Like a plastic surgeon.
Rewriting the expression.
In both the date and time.

Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in its desperate pleas.

Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in its desperate pleas.

Changing my identity
Becoming that man I never use to be
With all niceties, and pleasantries wrapped in a little bow tie.
I don't even know how I survived.
Some thought I would have committed suicide.
But my drive just wouldn't let me.

Well, Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in its desperate pleas.

Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in its desperate pleas.

A murders escape.
A mind debates.
With shouts of hate.
How can you? Just how can you?
Emotional distress.
In all this I digest the worthiness
Worthless I've been called.

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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With Rose In Hand

Prayer is worth more than a rose
in my hand where love grows
for God and all he knows
The rose has a thorn
which Jesus felt on the crown he had worn.
the rose is red as the blood from his head
when he was crucifed before we were born.

[...] Read more

poem by Meg Harrison
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Nature

Weather constantly changes.
No character, only dynamic.
Dull and dreary,
Or bitter and cold,
Or bright and shiny.
This is mother nature.
She is of this world.
She dictates the mood.
She affects mine.

Emotions, constantly changing.
Personality has dynamic,
But lacks character.
It is constantly changing.
Bitter and resentful,
Frustrated and annoyed
Happy & joyous.
This is human nature.
It is of this world.
It dictates our mood.
It affects another.

Mother nature cannot be controlled.
For she is not ours.
Yet mother nature controls me,
Though I am not hers.
Together, we must exist.
We must accept each as we both are.
Though one affects the other.
Based on emotion, not character.

During the storm,
The sky is still the sky,
The ground, is still the ground
The sun is still the sun.
This is the character of mother nature.
The snow may cover the ground,
But the ground remains.
The clouds may cover the sun,
But the sun remains.
Character is always constant.

Nature affects character.
Character is patience, kindness,
Compassion, empathy, forgiving.
Plain and simple,
Our character is love.
Human nature covers human character,
Although it might not be seen,
It still remains.

[...] Read more

poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Born To Rule

Lay down your arms this night
Surrender to the power
Embracing your metal heart
On your final walk through the snow
A hammer made of steel
From the river of blood
With magic, forged in flames
Delusions, a curse of the damned
What do you see?
Imaginary visions or reality
When you're free
Then you'll see that you are bound to rule
Rule - Born - Rule
We were Born to Rule
Rule - Born - Rule
We were Born to Rule
Born to Rule - Born to Rule
We're Born to Rule forever more
Born to Rule - Born to Rule
We're Born to Rule forever
The revolution forced us all to heed the final call
And if tomorrow never comes
Then we will strike the hammer down
Rule - Born - Rule
We were Born to Rule
Rule - Born - Rule
We were Born to Rule
Born to Rule - Born to Rule
We're Born to Rule forever more
Born to Rule - Born to Rule
We're Born to Rule forever
Forever, forever Rule!

song performed by Hammerfall
Added by Lucian Velea
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Let It All Burn

Riding the waves of premonitions.
Maybe your right, maybe your wrong.
I no longer care.
You gave up on me long ago.
And now I'm giving up on you.

The broken hearted are departing.
Setting sail for a new found trust.
I don't blame you, I've just had enough.
Trying to cross the divide.
Trying to see eye to eye.
But the flames just carry to high.
Their might be clearing in the sky but I can't find it.

And I can no longer afford to waste time.
Riding the waves of premonitions.
Maybe your right, maybe your wrong.
I no longer care.
You gave up on me long ago.
And now I'm giving up on you.

Being sucked down in the turmoil at the gates of hell.
I can still hear all those cross words.
As if I can make this work.
I've been down this road before.
I know where it leads.
I know what the seeds grow,
I know you will reap what I sew.
Oh no, no no no no.

And I can no longer afford to waste time.
Riding the waves of premonitions.
Maybe your right, maybe your wrong.
I no longer care.
You gave up on me long ago.
And now I'm giving up on you.

I was once an open door.
But now that is closed.
Can you feel the coldness of the frigid ice.
That's my heart.
It no long bleeds.
Not for you.
Not ever again.
With all the discontent as you keep trying.
Still I'm not moved.

And I can no longer afford to waste time.
Riding the waves of premonitions.
Maybe your right, maybe your wrong.

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Berenice by edgar allan poe

MISERY is manifold. The wretchedness of earth is multiform. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow, its hues are as various as the hues of that arch, -as distinct too, yet as intimately blended. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow! How is it that from beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness? -from the covenant of peace a simile of sorrow? But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born. Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day, or the agonies which are have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been.

My baptismal name is Egaeus; that of my family I will not mention. Yet there are no towers in the land more time-honored than my gloomy, gray, hereditary halls. Our line has been called a race of visionaries; and in many striking particulars -in the character of the family mansion -in the frescos of the chief saloon -in the tapestries of the dormitories -in the chiselling of some buttresses in the armory -but more especially in the gallery of antique paintings -in the fashion of the library chamber -and, lastly, in the very peculiar nature of the library's contents, there is more than sufficient evidence to warrant the belief.

The recollections of my earliest years are connected with that chamber, and with its volumes -of which latter I will say no more. Here died my mother. Herein was I born. But it is mere idleness to say that I had not lived before -that the soul has no previous existence. You deny it? -let us not argue the matter. Convinced myself, I seek not to convince. There is, however, a remembrance of aerial forms -of spiritual and meaning eyes -of sounds, musical yet sad -a remembrance which will not be excluded; a memory like a shadow, vague, variable, indefinite, unsteady; and like a shadow, too, in the impossibility of my getting rid of it while the sunlight of my reason shall exist.

In that chamber was I born. Thus awaking from the long night of what seemed, but was not, nonentity, at once into the very regions of fairy-land -into a palace of imagination -into the wild dominions of monastic thought and erudition -it is not singular that I gazed around me with a startled and ardent eye -that I loitered away my boyhood in books, and dissipated my youth in reverie; but it is singular that as years rolled away, and the noon of manhood found me still in the mansion of my fathers -it is wonderful what stagnation there fell upon the springs of my life -wonderful how total an inversion took place in the character of my commonest thought. The realities of the world affected me as visions, and as visions only, while the wild ideas of the land of dreams became, in turn, -not the material of my every-day existence-but in very deed that existence utterly and solely in itself.

Berenice and I were cousins, and we grew up together in my paternal halls. Yet differently we grew -I ill of health, and buried in gloom -she agile, graceful, and overflowing with energy; hers the ramble on the hill-side -mine the studies of the cloister -I living within my own heart, and addicted body and soul to the most intense and painful meditation -she roaming carelessly through life with no thought of the shadows in her path, or the silent flight of the raven-winged hours. Berenice! -I call upon her name -Berenice! -and from the gray ruins of memory a thousand tumultuous recollections are startled at the sound! Ah! vividly is her image before me now, as in the early days of her light-heartedness and joy! Oh! gorgeous yet fantastic beauty! Oh! sylph amid the shrubberies of Arnheim! -Oh! Naiad among its fountains! -and then -then all is mystery and terror, and a tale which should not be told. Disease -a fatal disease -fell like the simoom upon her frame, and, even while I gazed upon her, the spirit of change swept, over her, pervading her mind, her habits, and her character, and, in a manner the most subtle and terrible, disturbing even the identity of her person! Alas! the destroyer came and went, and the victim -where was she, I knew her not -or knew her no longer as Berenice.

Among the numerous train of maladies superinduced by that fatal and primary one which effected a revolution of so horrible a kind in the moral and physical being of my cousin, may be mentioned as the most distressing and obstinate in its nature, a species of epilepsy not unfrequently terminating in trance itself -trance very nearly resembling positive dissolution, and from which her manner of recovery was in most instances, startlingly abrupt. In the mean time my own disease -for I have been told that I should call it by no other appelation -my own disease, then, grew rapidly upon me, and assumed finally a monomaniac character of a novel and extraordinary form -hourly and momently gaining vigor -and at length obtaining over me the most incomprehensible ascendancy. This monomania, if I must so term it, consisted in a morbid irritability of those properties of the mind in metaphysical science termed the attentive. It is more than probable that I am not understood; but I fear, indeed, that it is in no manner possible to convey to the mind of the merely general reader, an adequate idea of that nervous intensity of interest with which, in my case, the powers of meditation (not to speak technically) busied and buried themselves, in the contemplation of even the most ordinary objects of the universe.

To muse for long unwearied hours with my attention riveted to some frivolous device on the margin, or in the topography of a book; to become absorbed for the better part of a summer's day, in a quaint shadow falling aslant upon the tapestry, or upon the door; to lose myself for an entire night in watching the steady flame of a lamp, or the embers of a fire; to dream away whole days over the perfume of a flower; to repeat monotonously some common word, until the sound, by dint of frequent repetition, ceased to convey any idea whatever to the mind; to lose all sense of motion or physical existence, by means of absolute bodily quiescence long and obstinately persevered in; -such were a few of the most common and least pernicious vagaries induced by a condition of the mental faculties, not, indeed, altogether unparalleled, but certainly bidding defiance to anything like analysis or explanation.

Yet let me not be misapprehended. -The undue, earnest, and morbid attention thus excited by objects in their own nature frivolous, must not be confounded in character with that ruminating propensity common to all mankind, and more especially indulged in by persons of ardent imagination. It was not even, as might be at first supposed, an extreme condition or exaggeration of such propensity, but primarily and essentially distinct and different. In the one instance, the dreamer, or enthusiast, being interested by an object usually not frivolous, imperceptibly loses sight of this object in a wilderness of deductions and suggestions issuing therefrom, until, at the conclusion of a day dream often replete with luxury, he finds the incitamentum or first cause of his musings entirely vanished and forgotten. In my case the primary object was invariably frivolous, although assuming, through the medium of my distempered vision, a refracted and unreal importance. Few deductions, if any, were made; and those few pertinaciously returning in upon the original object as a centre. The meditations were never pleasurable; and, at the termination of the reverie, the first cause, so far from being out of sight, had attained that supernaturally exaggerated interest which was the prevailing feature of the disease. In a word, the powers of mind more particularly exercised were, with me, as I have said before, the attentive, and are, with the day-dreamer, the speculative.

My books, at this epoch, if they did not actually serve to irritate the disorder, partook, it will be perceived, largely, in their imaginative and inconsequential nature, of the characteristic qualities of the disorder itself. I well remember, among others, the treatise of the noble Italian Coelius Secundus Curio 'de Amplitudine Beati Regni dei'; St. Austin's great work, the 'City of God'; and Tertullian 'de Carne Christi, ' in which the paradoxical sentence 'Mortuus est Dei filius; credible est quia ineptum est: et sepultus resurrexit; certum est quia impossibile est' occupied my undivided time, for many weeks of laborious and fruitless investigation.

Thus it will appear that, shaken from its balance only by trivial things, my reason bore resemblance to that ocean-crag spoken of by Ptolemy Hephestion, which steadily resisting the attacks of human violence, and the fiercer fury of the waters and the winds, trembled only to the touch of the flower called Asphodel. And although, to a careless thinker, it might appear a matter beyond doubt, that the alteration produced by her unhappy malady, in the moral condition of Berenice, would afford me many objects for the exercise of that intense and abnormal meditation whose nature I have been at some trouble in explaining, yet such was not in any degree the case. In the lucid intervals of my infirmity, her calamity, indeed, gave me pain, and, taking deeply to heart that total wreck of her fair and gentle life, I did not fall to ponder frequently and bitterly upon the wonder-working means by which so strange a revolution had been so suddenly brought to pass. But these reflections partook not of the idiosyncrasy of my disease, and were such as would have occurred, under similar circumstances, to the ordinary mass of mankind. True to its own character, my disorder revelled in the less important but more startling changes wrought in the physical frame of Berenice -in the singular and most appalling distortion of her personal identity.

During the brightest days of her unparalleled beauty, most surely I had never loved her. In the strange anomaly of my existence, feelings with me, had never been of the heart, and my passions always were of the mind. Through the gray of the early morning -among the trellised shadows of the forest at noonday -and in the silence of my library at night, she had flitted by my eyes, and I had seen her -not as the living and breathing Berenice, but as the Berenice of a dream -not as a being of the earth, earthy, but as the abstraction of such a being-not as a thing to admire, but to analyze -not as an object of love, but as the theme of the most abstruse although desultory speculation. And now -now I shuddered in her presence, and grew pale at her approach; yet bitterly lamenting her fallen and desolate condition, I called to mind that she had loved me long, and, in an evil moment, I spoke to her of marriage.

And at length the period of our nuptials was approaching, when, upon an afternoon in the winter of the year, -one of those unseasonably warm, calm, and misty days which are the nurse of the beautiful Halcyon*, -I sat, (and sat, as I thought, alone,) in the inner apartment of the library. But uplifting my eyes I saw that Berenice stood before me.

*For as Jove, during the winter season, gives twice seven days of warmth, men have called this clement and temperate time the nurse of the beautiful Halcyon -Simonides.

Was it my own excited imagination -or the misty influence of the atmosphere -or the uncertain twilight of the chamber -or the gray draperies which fell around her figure -that caused in it so vacillating and indistinct an outline? I could not tell. She spoke no word, I -not for worlds could I have uttered a syllable. An icy chill ran through my frame; a sense of insufferable anxiety oppressed me; a consuming curiosity pervaded my soul; and sinking back upon the chair, I remained for some time breathless and motionless, with my eyes riveted upon her person. Alas! its emaciation was excessive, and not one vestige of the former being, lurked in any single line of the contour. My burning glances at length fell upon the face.

The forehead was high, and very pale, and singularly placid; and the once jetty hair fell partially over it, and overshadowed the hollow temples with innumerable ringlets now of a vivid yellow, and Jarring discordantly, in their fantastic character, with the reigning melancholy of the countenance. The eyes were lifeless, and lustreless, and seemingly pupil-less, and I shrank involuntarily from their glassy stare to the contemplation of the thin and shrunken lips. They parted; and in a smile of peculiar meaning, the teeth of the changed Berenice disclosed themselves slowly to my view. Would to God that I had never beheld them, or that, having done so, I had died!

The shutting of a door disturbed me, and, looking up, I found that my cousin had departed from the chamber. But from the disordered chamber of my brain, had not, alas! departed, and would not be driven away, the white and ghastly spectrum of the teeth. Not a speck on their surface -not a shade on their enamel -not an indenture in their edges -but what that period of her smile had sufficed to brand in upon my memory. I saw them now even more unequivocally than I beheld them then. The teeth! -the teeth! -they were here, and there, and everywhere, and visibly and palpably before me; long, narrow, and excessively white, with the pale lips writhing about them, as in the very moment of their first terrible development. Then came the full fury of my monomania, and I struggled in vain against its strange and irresistible influence. In the multiplied objects of the external world I had no thoughts but for the teeth. For these I longed with a phrenzied desire. All other matters and all different interests became absorbed in their single contemplation. They -they alone were present to the mental eye, and they, in their sole individuality, became the essence of my mental life. I held them in every light. I turned them in every attitude. I surveyed their characteristics. I dwelt upon their peculiarities. I pondered upon their conformation. I mused upon the alteration in their nature. I shuddered as I assigned to them in imagination a sensitive and sentient power, and even when unassisted by the lips, a capability of moral expression. Of Mad'selle Salle it has been well said, 'que tous ses pas etaient des sentiments, ' and of Berenice I more seriously believed que toutes ses dents etaient des idees. Des idees! -ah here was the idiotic thought that destroyed me! Des idees! -ah therefore it was that I coveted them so madly! I felt that their possession could alone ever restore me to peace, in giving me back to reason.

And the evening closed in upon me thus-and then the darkness came, and tarried, and went -and the day again dawned -and the mists of a second night were now gathering around -and still I sat motionless in that solitary room; and still I sat buried in meditation, and still the phantasma of the teeth maintained its terrible ascendancy as, with the most vivid hideous distinctness, it floated about amid the changing lights and shadows of the chamber. At length there broke in upon my dreams a cry as of horror and dismay; and thereunto, after a pause, succeeded the sound of troubled voices, intermingled with many low moanings of sorrow, or of pain. I arose from my seat and, throwing open one of the doors of the library, saw standing out in the antechamber a servant maiden, all in tears, who told me that Berenice was -no more. She had been seized with epilepsy in the early morning, and now, at the closing in of the night, the grave was ready for its tenant, and all the preparations for the burial were completed.

I found myself sitting in the library, and again sitting there alone. It seemed that I had newly awakened from a confused and exciting dream. I knew that it was now midnight, and I was well aware that since the setting of the sun Berenice had been interred. But of that dreary period which intervened I had no positive -at least no definite comprehension. Yet its memory was replete with horror -horror more horrible from being vague, and terror more terrible from ambiguity. It was a fearful page in the record my existence, written all over with dim, and hideous, and unintelligible recollections. I strived to decypher them, but in vain; while ever and anon, like the spirit of a departed sound, the shrill and piercing shriek of a female voice seemed to be ringing in my ears. I had done a deed -what was it? I asked myself the question aloud, and the whispering echoes of the chamber answered me, 'what was it? '

On the table beside me burned a lamp, and near it lay a little box. It was of no remarkable character, and I had seen it frequently before, for it was the property of the family physician; but how came it there, upon my table, and why did I shudder in regarding it? These things were in no manner to be accounted for, and my eyes at length dropped to the open pages of a book, and to a sentence underscored therein. The words were the singular but simple ones of the poet Ebn Zaiat, 'Dicebant mihi sodales si sepulchrum amicae visitarem, curas meas aliquantulum fore levatas.' Why then, as I perused them, did the hairs of my head erect themselves on end, and the blood of my body become congealed within my veins?

There came a light tap at the library door, and pale as the tenant of a tomb, a menial entered upon tiptoe. His looks were wild with terror, and he spoke to me in a voice tremulous, husky, and very low. What said he? -some broken sentences I heard. He told of a wild cry disturbing the silence of the night -of the gathering together of the household-of a search in the direction of the sound; -and then his tones grew thrillingly distinct as he whispered me of a violated grave -of a disfigured body enshrouded, yet still breathing, still palpitating, still alive!

He pointed to garments; -they were muddy and clotted with gore. I spoke not, and he took me gently by the hand; -it was indented with the impress of human nails. He directed my attention to some object against the wall; -I looked at it for some minutes; -it was a spade. With a shriek I bounded to the table, and grasped the box that lay upon it. But I could not force it open; and in my tremor it slipped from my hands, and fell heavily, and burst into pieces; and from it, with a rattling sound, there rolled out some instruments of dental surgery, intermingled with thirty-two small, white and ivory-looking substances that were scattered to and fro about the floor.

poem by Erie Morganmaples
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Into how many parts would you divide the child after Divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many insane parts would you divide your new-born child’s eternal happiness; after your treacherously vindictive divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many heartless parts would you divide your new-born child’s invincible freedom; after your venomously unbearable divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many ribald parts would you divide your new-born child’s unsurpassable creativity; after your lethally unceremonious divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many salacious parts would you divide your new-born child’s majestic destiny; after your lecherously ignominious divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many emotionless parts would you divide your new-born child’s triumphant spirit; after your contemptuously debasing divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many terrorizing parts would you divide your new-born child’s unbridled fantasies; after your abhorrently cadaverous divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many excruciating parts would you divide your new-born child’s humanitarian blood; after your cold-bloodedly cannibalistic divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many tyrannized parts would you divide your new-born child’s unconquerable artistry; after your violently besmirching divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many reproachful parts would you divide your new-born child’s redolent playfulness; after your despicably devastating divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many sacrilegious parts would you divide your new-born child’s impregnable mischief; after your sadistically bemoaning divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many wanton parts would you divide your new-born child’s impeccable integrity; after your hedonistically carnivorous divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many ghoulish parts would you divide your new-born child’s limitless fertility; after your mindlessly malicious divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many diabolical parts would you divide your new- born child’s infallible innocence; after your unforgivably truculent divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many vengeful parts would you divide your new-born child’s uninhibited cries; after your preposterously bigoted divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many criminal parts would you divide your new-born child’s princely silkenness; after your tempestuously confounding divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many satanic parts would you divide your new-born child’s tiny brain; after your barbarously ungainly divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many sadistic parts would you divide your new-born child’s unlimited curiosity; after your egregiously dastardly divorce?

You might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but into how many carnivorous parts would you divide your new-born child’s parental longing; after your inanely decrepit divorce?

And you might legally divide each other from the bonds of immortal marriage; but tell me; into how many goddamned parts would you divide your new-born child’s immortal love; after your devilishly vituperative divorce?

©®copyright-2005, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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The rain and my newborn baby daughter

The rain was uninhibitedly untamed; and so was my new born baby
daughter;
kicking left; right and center; in her diminutively blessed cradle,

The rain was Omnipotently pristine; and so was my new born baby
daughter;
mischievously tossing in unadulterated joy on the tufts of majestic
green
grass galore,

The rain was magically mitigating; and so was my new born baby
daughter;
miraculously ameliorating me of my most horrific despair; with her
innocuously fluttering eyelashes,

The rain was eternally liberating; and so was my new born baby
daughter;
naughtily smiling amidst her spectrum of teddy bears; as if there was
not
even the most infinitesimal trace of tension on this fathomless
Universe,

The rain was perennially fructifying; and so was my new born baby
daughter;
perpetually proliferating into unparalleled festoons of happiness;
every
unfurling minute of inscrutable existence,

The rain was unbelievably colorful; and so was my new born baby
daughter;
unfurling into the infinite shades of mystically emollient life; every
time
she alighted her pristinely nimble foot,

The rain was timelessly life-yielding; and so was my new born baby
daughter;
perpetuating a paradise of unsurpassably undefeated newness; in every
direction that she cast her immaculately dancing sight,

The rain was pricelessly inimitable; and so was my new born baby
daughter;
unconquerably enamoring even the most farthest quarter of heaven; with
the
twinkle in her rhapsodically infallible eyes,

The rain was the ultimate gift of the heavens; and so was my new born
baby
daughter; whose cries of stupendously charismatic freshness; spawned a
civilization of boundless beauty; till times beyond infinite infinity,

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Born This Day

Christmas is the day
The angels came to say
they said be not afraid
for born on this day
born to save is Christ The Lord
Sheperds watched by night
When that angel appeared from on high
and said be not afraid for born on this day
born to save is Christ The Lord
Christ the Lord
Wise men from afar
Said they followed the eastern star
followed it to this place
For born on this day
born to save is Christ The Lord
Born this day
Christmas day
Born to save the world is Christ the Lord
(2X)
they said be not afraid
for born on this day
born to save is Christ The Lord
Christ The Lord
He's GOd the Father, God the Son and Holy Spirit
Christmas is the day
When the angels appeared to say
they said be not afraid
for born on this day
born to save is Christ The Lord
Born this day
Christmas day
Born to save the world is Christ the Lord
(4X)
They said be not afraid
for born on this day
born to save our lives
His name is Jesus Christ
He is Emmanuel
He is Christ
and he is born to save
He's Christ the Lord

song performed by Yolanda Adams
Added by Lucian Velea
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Born This Day

Christmas is the day
The angels came to say
they said be not afraid
for born on this day
born to save is Christ The Lord
Sheperds watched by night
When that angel appeared from on high
and said be not afraid for born on this day
born to save is Christ The Lord
Christ the Lord
Wise men from afar
Said they followed the eastern star
followed it to this place
For born on this day
born to save is Christ The Lord
Born this day
Christmas day
Born to save the world is Christ the Lord
(2X)
they said be not afraid
for born on this day
born to save is Christ The Lord
Christ The Lord
He's GOd the Father, God the Son and Holy Spirit
Christmas is the day
When the angels appeared to say
they said be not afraid
for born on this day
born to save is Christ The Lord
Born this day
Christmas day
Born to save the world is Christ the Lord
(4X)
They said be not afraid
for born on this day
born to save our lives
His name is Jesus Christ
He is Emmanuel
He is Christ
and he is born to save
He's Christ the Lord

song performed by Yolanda Adams
Added by Lucian Velea
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X’mas

Born was a child in a manger;
Born was the son of God, the Father;
Born was the love of the Maker;
Born was for men, a Redeemer.

Born was a baby boy, a king;
Born was on earth a prophet great;
Born was the love of God in human form;
Born was a Messiah.

Born was a son of a carpenter;
Born was the king of Jews;
Born was the living God as flesh;
Born was a Savior.

Born was a babe, who brought,
Joy and peace to the world;
Born was a babe on a bed of hay,
As angels choirs kept singing on.

Born was the spotless Lamb of God
Who was to die on the cross;
Born was a divine child,
From the Virgin Mary’s womb!

Born was Lord Jesus Christ,
Who paid the price for our sins,
And by His death and resurrection,
Made it possible for sinners too,
To go to Heaven.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-25-2006

poem by John Celes
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From The Time I Was Born

All of my life,
From the time I was born...
I was told,
From the time I was born...
Don't have initiative too bold.

And all of my life,
From the time I was born...
I found that wrong.
From the time I was born...
I had to be,
From the time I was born...
More than stong,
Bold all day long.

All of my life,
From the time I was born...
I was told,
From the time I was born...
Don't have initiative too bold.

And all of my life,
From the time I was born...
I found that wrong.
From the time I was born...
I had to be,
From the time I was born...
More than stong,
All day long...
And bold,
All of my life.

I was taught so early,
To feel real blessed.
And...
To watch the eyes on my back.
With no rest from taking a nap.

I was taught so early,
To feel real blessed.
And...
Not to ask for slack.
Or be slapped for lacking facts.
If I lived my life like that.

All of my life,
From the time I was born...
I was told,
From the time I was born...
Don't have initiative too bold.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lovers

Sit down and listen 'cause I've got good news for you
It was in the papers today
Some physician had made a discovery
This' what she had to say:
(Oooh you know that)
She said that every result she had backed her
Claiming that love's a longevity factor
So lovers live a little longer, baby
You and me, we got a chance to live twice
Lovers live a little longer, ain't that nice
Lovers live a little longer, baby
What a feeling when I hold you tight
Lovers live a little longer, yeah
I can imagine, I'll see in my fantasy
I'll enjoy every day
Making love is a dynamite drug, baby
So why don't we start right away
(Ahh, please don't wait)
I don't care if they're watching 'cause listen
We've got a reason for each time we're kissing
'Cause lovers live a little longer, baby
You and me, we got a chance to live twice
Lovers live a little longer, ain't that nice
Lovers live a little longer, baby
What a feeling when I hold you tight
Lovers live a little longer, yeah
I just don't care if they're watching 'cause listen
We've got a reason for each time we're kissing
'Cause lovers live a little longer, baby
You and me, we got a chance to live twice
Lovers live a little longer, ain't that nice
Lovers live a little longer, baby
What a feeling when I hold you tight
Lovers live a little longer, yeah
Lovers live a little longer, baby
You and me, we got a chance to live twice
Lovers live a little longer, yeah

song performed by ABBA
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hark The Herald Angels Sing

Hark the herald angels sing
Glory to the new born king
Peace on earth and mercy mild
God and sinners reconciled
Joyful all ye nations rise
Join the triumph of the skies
With angelic host proclaim
Christ is born in bethlehem
Hark the herald angels sing
Glory to the new born king
Hail the heavn-born prince of peace
Hail the son of rightousness
Light and life to all he brings
Risen with healing in his wings
Mild he lays his glory by
Born that man no more may die
Born to raise the sons of earth
Born to give them second birth
Hark the herald angels sing
Glory to the new born king
Hark the herald angels sing
Glory to the new born king
Peace on earth and mercy mild
God and sinners reconciled
Joyful all ye nations rise
Join the triumph of the skies
With angelic host proclaim
Christ is born in bethlehem
Hark the herald angels sing
Glory to the new born king
Uhhh yeah
(glory) glory to the new born king
With angelic host proclaim
Christ is born in bethlehem
Hark the herald angels sing
Glory to the new born
Glory to the new born
Glory to the new, born king
Mhhh yeah
Sing it

song performed by Vanessa Williams
Added by Lucian Velea
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Be Aggressive

I started this
Its all for me
Whats yours is mine and mine is mine
Thats plain to see
So give it up
Ive got to have
I swalllow, I swalllow, I swalllow, I swalllow
Be aggressive
B-e aggressive
B-e-a-g-g-r-e-s-s-i-v-e
What someone else
Would leave behind
And spit it out, let go to waste
I claim as mine
Youre my flavour of the week
I swalllow, I swalllow, I swalllow, I swalllow
Tall and reckless
Ugly seed
Reach down my throat
You filthy bird
Thats all I need
The empty pit
Ive got to feed
To prove Im fit
A healthy man
Ive got to be
Malnutrition, my submission
Youre the master and I take it on my knees
Ejaculation
Tribulation
I swalllow, I swalllow, I swalllow, I swalllow
Be aggressive
B-e aggressive
B-e-a-g-g-r-e-s-s-i-v-e
Go, fight, go, fight, go, fight, go, fight, win

song performed by Faith No More
Added by Lucian Velea
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