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I am just a normal professional with a great job and a great life.

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Soccer Rollback

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S. N. A. F. U.

Now, the industry has got me thinking twice
Thinking with the treble mix, gotta shake em like dice
Let the whole world know I cant go for that
Girls know that I got gold and stacks
In every cul de sac from the streets to the clubs
Im making hits and everybodys showing love
Fact is Im back and Im rolling like jackson
Wont stop until Im back at multi platinum
So I start with some action, Im the main attraction
Here to lie down to the west crackin
Stackin big chips, holmes, gotta get em
Hauling in lots of residuals, what you got
You cant choose me
Bring it to you live for the year 2g
Situation normal all fu_ked up
Situation normal all fu_ked up
Situation normal all fu_ked up
Situation normal all fu_ked up
Thought I was a puppet you tried to play me
Yeah - and Im going crazy
Thought I was a puppet you tried to play me
No - you never ever made me
Thought I was a puppet you tried to play me
Yeah - and Im going crazy
Thought I was a puppet you tried to play me
No - Im all fu_ked up
Yo, ice its jim splice me in - no, stop
Begin, pause, cause I gotta call the next of kin
Tell em where you been, tell em that youre ok
Doa, here say, no way, wont say
Dead yes, dead all, not dead and gone
Like a multi-leader, a little bit withdrawn
Time and go like a vicious cycle
Then wham, make em think that you are coming out like george michael
On par to make people to turn in no sooner
Hook, line, and sinker; like charlie the tuna
Drop the hero and get with the zero
Ill try to keep it clean like mr. belvedere
Fu_k me, fu_k you, fu_k the single
Dont want to take it in the can, youre not pringles
But once you pop you cant stop
So dont interrupt - situation normal all fu_ked up
Situation normal all fu_ked up
Situation normal all fu_ked up
Situation normal all fu_ked up
Situation normal all fu_ked up
Thought I was a puppet you tried to play me
Yeah - and Im going crazy
Thought I was a puppet you tried to play me
No - you never ever made me

[...] Read more

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Eternal Creation

The Parent’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to the child; but to irrefutably ensure that the infant was nourished with their breath and blood till the time it could unflinchingly fend for its symbiotic survival; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created them for,

The Sun’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to light; but to irrefutably ensure that the rays optimistically enlightened even the most infinitesimally lugubrious cranny of remorsefully cloistered earth; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

The Rose’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to fragrance; but to irrefutably ensure that the majestic resplendence ebulliently blossomed into the lives of countless haplessly beleaguered and bereaved; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

The Peak’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to victory; but to irrefutably ensure that the royal triumph peerlessly massacred even the most ethereal iota of devilishness form this Universe; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

Nature’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to newness; but to irrefutably ensure that the evolution metamorphosed every bit of egregiously stagnating ghoulishness into a sky of rhapsodic freshness; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

The Cloud’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to rain; but to irrefutably ensure that the water stupendously ignited vivaciously iridescent life in every ingredient of hopelessly dying soil; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

The Conscience’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to truth; but to irrefutably ensure that the righteousness insuperably conquered every trace of diabolical lies on earth and the atmosphere; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

The Ocean’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to salt; but to irrefutably ensure that the tanginess wonderfully illuminated every treacherously spiceles and deliriously lackadaisical moment of life; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

The Poet’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to fantasy; but to irrefutably ensure that the dream spellbindingly impregnates the winds of Omnipotent romance into monotonously monstrous robots; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created him for,

The Lip’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to smiles; but to irrefutably ensure that the happiness altruistically perpetually perpetuates into every dwelling incarcerated in chains of murderous gloom; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

The Rainbow’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to vividness; but to irrefutably ensure that the color timelessly enshrouded every gruesomely befriended orphan; miserably deteriorating on the globe; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

The Shadow’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to tranquility; but to irrefutably ensure that the peacefulness granted celestial reprieve to every bizarrely estranged soul squandering on this Universe; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

The philanthropist’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to unity; but to irrefutably ensure that the oneness miraculously coalesced every spuriously staggering and cold-bloodedly fighting caste; creed and tribe into the unassailable religion of humanity; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created him for,

The wind’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to freedom; but to irrefutably ensure that the liberation unequivocally freed every element of torturously enslaved earth till times immemorial; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,

The night’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to sensuality; but to irrefutably ensure that the passion brilliantly transformed every speck of infertility into the chapters of everlastingly Omniscient procreation; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,

The eyelash’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to flirtation; but to irrefutably ensure that the mischief serenely catapulted every fretfully frenetic organism into realms of impeccable childhood; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,

The soldiers job just doesn’t end at giving birth to martyrdom; but to irrefutably ensure that the valor to timelessly serve the mothersoil; throbbed fearlessly in every chest; even centuries after his veritable death; was what the Almighty Creator had created him for,

The breath’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to life; but to irrefutably ensure that the exultation inexhaustibly transcended over; even the most inane anecdote of baseless corruption and demeaning death; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,

And the heart’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to Love; but to irrefutably ensure that the compassionate togetherness tirelessly bonded the entire planet into a paradise of Omnipresently unshakable strength; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for…

©copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. All rights reserved.

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Dead End Job

Words and music by The Police
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
The queue gets longer everyday
I just ain't no time to stay
I ain't gonna run away
All I want to do is play
Don't wanna be no teacher
I don't wanna be no slave
I don't wanna work no assembly line
A' like my uncle Dave
The queue gets longer everyday
I just ain't got time to stay
I ain't gonna run away
All I wanna do is play
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
The queue gets longer everyday
All I wanna do is play
I just ain't got time to stay
But I ain't gonna run away
Don't wanna be no millionaire
Don't wanna own no mint
I don't wanna be no tax exile
And I don't mind being skint
The queue gets longer every day
I just ain't got time to stay
I ain't gonna run away
All I wanna do is play
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
The queue gets longer everyday
I just ain't no time to stay
I ain't gonna run away
All I want to do is play
Don't wanna be no millionaire

[...] Read more

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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

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Mans Job

Well you can go out with him
Play with all of his toys
But takin care of you darlin
Aint for one of the boys
Oh theres somethin in your soul
That hes gonna rob
And lovin you baby lovin you darlin
Lovin you woman is a mans mans job
Lovin yous a mans job baby
Lovin yous a mans job
Lovin yous a mans job baby
Lovin yous a mans job
Well now his kisses may thrill
Those other girls that he likes
But when it comes to treatin
A real woman right
Well of all of his tricks
No they wont be enough
cause lovin you baby lovin you woman
Lovin you darlin is a mans mans job
Lovin yous a mans job baby
Lovin yous a mans job
Lovin yous a mans job baby
Lovin yous a mans job
Youre dancin with him hes holding you tight
Im standing here waitin to catch your eye
Your hands on his neck as the music sways
All my illusions slip away
Repeat riff from intro twice
Now if youre lookin for a hero
Someone to save the day
Well darlin my feet
Theyre made of clay
But Ive got something in my soul
And I wanna give it up
But gettin up the nerve
Gettin up the nerve
Gettin up the nerve is a mans mans job
Lovin yous a mans job baby
Lovin yous a mans job
Lovin yous a mans job woman
Lovin yous a mans job

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The Power Beyond What Is Normal (2 Cor.4: ; 7) ...

The Power Beyond What Is Normal
Humans Can Hardly Explain
But The Power Beyond What Is Normal
Can Pull You Out of Pain

The Power Beyond What Is Normal
Can Really Make A Change
It Can Lift You From The Dumps
Up Into Sun Rays!

It Can Take An Aching Heart
In The Deep Of The Night
Heal It ‘Til It Glows
Like Candlelight

Whether Its Your Lowest Moments
Or The Coldest, Lonely Hours
The Power Beyond What Is Normal
Is A High Power!

It Is The Powers That Be
It Is The Power That Is
It Beats All Other Powers
and It’s HIS!

It Is The Power For The Better
It Is The Power That Lasts Forever
To Really Turn It On
Just Pull Love – Lever

Call On It In A Hurry
In An Emergency
When It Comes To You
You Will Finally See

It Is The Power Of Holy Spirit
And It’s Awesome To Be Near It
But When It Fills Your Soul
… Boy, It’s Joy Is Bold!

It’s Like An Apple Covered In Carmel (1 Pet.2: 3)
I Can’t Resist The Power Beyond Normal
It’s The Sweetest Power Treat (Ps.19: 7-10)
I’ll Ever Eat …

It’s The Strongest Power Trip, I’ll Take
While I’m Awake …
It’s Not A Gimmick Fake
It Feels So Great!

[...] Read more

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[9] O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!

O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
[LOVE POEMS]

POET: MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR

POEMS

1 Passion And Compassion / 1
2 Affection
3 Willing To Live
4 Passion And Compassion / 2
5 Boon
6 Remembrance
7 Pretext
8 To A Distant Person
9 Perception
10 Conclusion
10 You (1)
11 Symbol
12 You (2)
13 In Vain
14 One Night
15 Suddenly
16 Meeting
17 Touch
18 Face To Face
19 Co-Traveller
20 Once And Once only
21 Touchstone
22 In Chorus
23 Good Omens
24 Even Then
25 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (1)
26 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (2)
27 Life Aspirant
28 To The Condemned Woman
29 A Submission
30 At Midday
31 I Accept
32 Who Are You?
33 Solicitation
34 Accept Me
35 Again After Ages …
36 Day-Dreaming
37 Who Are You?
38 You Embellished In Song

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John Milton

Paradise Regained

THE FIRST BOOK

I, WHO erewhile the happy Garden sung
By one man's disobedience lost, now sing
Recovered Paradise to all mankind,
By one man's firm obedience fully tried
Through all temptation, and the Tempter foiled
In all his wiles, defeated and repulsed,
And Eden raised in the waste Wilderness.
Thou Spirit, who led'st this glorious Eremite
Into the desert, his victorious field
Against the spiritual foe, and brought'st him thence 10
By proof the undoubted Son of God, inspire,
As thou art wont, my prompted song, else mute,
And bear through highth or depth of Nature's bounds,
With prosperous wing full summed, to tell of deeds
Above heroic, though in secret done,
And unrecorded left through many an age:
Worthy to have not remained so long unsung.
Now had the great Proclaimer, with a voice
More awful than the sound of trumpet, cried
Repentance, and Heaven's kingdom nigh at hand 20
To all baptized. To his great baptism flocked
With awe the regions round, and with them came
From Nazareth the son of Joseph deemed
To the flood Jordan--came as then obscure,
Unmarked, unknown. But him the Baptist soon
Descried, divinely warned, and witness bore
As to his worthier, and would have resigned
To him his heavenly office. Nor was long
His witness unconfirmed: on him baptized
Heaven opened, and in likeness of a Dove 30
The Spirit descended, while the Father's voice
From Heaven pronounced him his beloved Son.
That heard the Adversary, who, roving still
About the world, at that assembly famed
Would not be last, and, with the voice divine
Nigh thunder-struck, the exalted man to whom
Such high attest was given a while surveyed
With wonder; then, with envy fraught and rage,
Flies to his place, nor rests, but in mid air
To council summons all his mighty Peers, 40
Within thick clouds and dark tenfold involved,
A gloomy consistory; and them amidst,
With looks aghast and sad, he thus bespake:--
"O ancient Powers of Air and this wide World
(For much more willingly I mention Air,
This our old conquest, than remember Hell,
Our hated habitation), well ye know
How many ages, as the years of men,

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Bad Side Of The Moon

(bernie taupin/elton john)
Published by songs of polygram international - bmi
Seems as though Ive lived my life on the bad side of the moon
To stir your dregs, and sittin still, without a rustic spoon
Now come on people, live with me, where the light has never shone
And the harlots flock like hummingbirds, speakin in a foreign tongue
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
It seems as though Ive lived my life on the bad side of the moon
To stir your dregs, and sittin still, without a rustic spoon
Now come on people, live with me, where the light has never shone
And the harlots flock like hummingbirds, speakin in a foreign tongue
Im a light world away, from the people who make me stay
Sittin on the bad side of the moon
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
There aint no need for watchdogs here, to justify our ways
We lived our lives in manacles, the main cause of our stay
And exiled here from other worlds, my sentence comes to soon
Why should I be made to pay on the bad side of the moon
Im a light world away, from the people who make me stay
Sittin on the bad side of the moon
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life

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Dirty Job

Its a dirty job
But somebodys got to do it
Better get to it
Somebodys gotta do it
Whatever it takes, whatever it takes
Any work at all
Is better than none
Better buckle down to it
Gotta get the job done
Gotta earn my pay... I gotta earn my pay
I cant wait around on the lottery
And there aint no millionaires
Lookin for me
And somebodys gotta do it, do it
Somebodys gotta do it, do it
Somebodys gotta do it, do it
Somebody
I can think of better things
Id rather do
I might get lucky
And Im hopin to
But until I do
I gotta compromise
The job aint much
But at least its mine
It beats standin
In the unemployment line
Put pride aside
And Ill improvise
Even if I do get a better job
Somebody else
Has gotta fill my spot
Somebodys gotta do it, do it
Somebodys gotta do it, do it
Somebodys gotta do it, do it
Somebody
Somebody
Somebodys gotta do it, do it
Somebodys gotta do it, do it
Its a dirty job
Its a low-down dirty job
Somebody
Even if the rules are too hard to follow
Even when pride is too hard to swallow
Its another day so its another dollar
Thats what its all about, oh
Its a dirty job
But somebodys got to do it
Better get to it
Somebodys gotta do it

[...] Read more

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The Third Monarchy, being the Grecian, beginning under Alexander the Great in the 112. Olympiad.

Great Alexander was wise Philips son,
He to Amyntas, Kings of Macedon;
The cruel proud Olympias was his Mother,
She to Epirus warlike King was daughter.
This Prince (his father by Pausanias slain)
The twenty first of's age began to reign.
Great were the Gifts of nature which he had,
His education much to those did adde:
By art and nature both he was made fit,
To 'complish that which long before was writ.
The very day of his Nativity
To ground was burnt Dianaes Temple high:
An Omen to their near approaching woe,
Whose glory to the earth this king did throw.
His Rule to Greece he scorn'd should be confin'd,
The Universe scarce bound his proud vast mind.
This is the He-Goat which from Grecia came,
That ran in Choler on the Persian Ram,
That brake his horns, that threw him on the ground
To save him from his might no man was found:
Philip on this great Conquest had an eye,
But death did terminate those thoughts so high.
The Greeks had chose him Captain General,
Which honour to his Son did now befall.
(For as Worlds Monarch now we speak not on,
But as the King of little Macedon)
Restless both day and night his heart then was,
His high resolves which way to bring to pass;
Yet for a while in Greece is forc'd to stay,
Which makes each moment seem more then a day.
Thebes and stiff Athens both 'gainst him rebel,
Their mutinies by valour doth he quell.
This done against both right and natures Laws,
His kinsmen put to death, who gave no cause;
That no rebellion in in his absence be,
Nor making Title unto Sovereignty.
And all whom he suspects or fears will climbe,
Now taste of death least they deserv'd in time,
Nor wonder is t if he in blood begin,
For Cruelty was his parental sin,
Thus eased now of troubles and of fears,
Next spring his course to Asia he steers;
Leavs Sage Antipater, at home to sway,
And through the Hellispont his Ships made way.
Coming to Land, his dart on shore he throws,
Then with alacrity he after goes;
And with a bount'ous heart and courage brave,
His little wealth among his Souldiers gave.
And being ask'd what for himself was left,
Reply'd, enough, sith only hope he kept.

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Rich Man, Poor Man

When God looked down from Heaven's Throne to Job upon the Earth,
God saw Job's faith had fully grown and that this man had worth...
God told the Devil of this man, so righteous and so pure.
God said, 'He does the best he can, almost without a flaw...'

The Devil fumed and then replied, 'You made him rich, that's why!
How many times has that man sighed? He has no cause to cry! '
Then God let Satan smite Job's land and suffer for a while
And death was very near to hand... and poor Job lost his smile...

The Lord received Job's faithful praise, despite the tragic loss!
Job proved he loved the Lord always! That made the Devil cross!
'What say you now? ' the Lord remarked! But Satan argued still...
For he was livid, he was narked, 'What if I make him ill? '

So God agreed, 'But spare his life! ' So Satan went below
And Job fell ill, such that his wife saw skin boils start to grow...
'Why praise the Lord? Reject His love! ' But Job dismissed each word.
'I trust the Lord who dwells above! Rejection's quite absurd! '

Alas, poor Job conferred with friends, who said that he had sinned...
But Job had faith that never ends! Though he no longer grinned!
Through gritted teeth, he set them straight, 'Of what sin am I blamed?
Of every sin I've learned to hate! I sit here unashamed! '

Then God spoke loud and God spoke clear, of everything He'd made,
Both sun and moon, things far and near, so truth could be displayed.
A structured world to live upon, from valleys to snowflakes!
If rainbow-coloured lights are shone, then, oh, what joy, each makes!

Poor Job, he suffered all he could, yet now he'd seen God's face,
By faith, he'd done the things he should, yet Job was saved by grace!
By faith, not works, lest any boast, no matter, rich or poor...
In Christ, receive the Holy Ghost... You'll never want for more...


Denis Martindale, copyright, May 2011.

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Bible Stories: Job (Chapter XXXXII)

I know You do just everything;
To You, no one can hindrance bring;
May be, I’ve dealt with some great things-
Things all unknown to e’en earth’s kings!

No one can block your purpose, Lord;
I came to know You by mouth’s word;
And now, my eyes both have seen God;
I’m sorry for whatev’r I said.

Of things I knew, I cannot know;
They are so wonderful Lord, O!
I disown things I said before;
In ashes, dust, I repent, Oh!

The Lord then spoke to Eliphaz,
I’m angry with you three, because
How you spoke to Job of me was
Never aright and made Job worse.’

‘My servant Job had spoken right;
Take bullocks, rams all seven each
To job who’ll pray with all his might,
To make up for your blunders, breach.’

‘Concerning me, you didn’t talk well,
As well as my servant Job’s spell!
I’ll accept his prayer to not
To punish severely, I thought.’

Eliphaz, Zohar, Bildad did
According to what God had bid.
God accepted Job’s prayer soon
For all, life turned from bane to boon!

God then restored Job’s sad a plight,
After Job prayed for friends aright;
He blessed him two-fold as before,
And Job was happy, all the more.

His relatives came back to him,
Enquiring how life had turned grim;
They condoled, comforted him also,
And shared their wealth with him therefore.

The latter days of Job were blessed,
More than the earlier ones, God dressed;
God gave him immense cattle-wealth;
He lived one-forty years in health.

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Bishop Blougram's Apology

No more wine? then we'll push back chairs and talk.
A final glass for me, though: cool, i' faith!
We ought to have our Abbey back, you see.
It's different, preaching in basilicas,
And doing duty in some masterpiece
Like this of brother Pugin's, bless his heart!
I doubt if they're half baked, those chalk rosettes,
Ciphers and stucco-twiddlings everywhere;
It's just like breathing in a lime-kiln: eh?
These hot long ceremonies of our church
Cost us a little—oh, they pay the price,
You take me—amply pay it! Now, we'll talk.

So, you despise me, Mr. Gigadibs.
No deprecation—nay, I beg you, sir!
Beside 't is our engagement: don't you know,
I promised, if you'd watch a dinner out,
We'd see truth dawn together?—truth that peeps
Over the glasses' edge when dinner's done,
And body gets its sop and holds its noise
And leaves soul free a little. Now's the time:
Truth's break of day! You do despise me then.
And if I say, "despise me"—never fear!
1 know you do not in a certain sense—
Not in my arm-chair, for example: here,
I well imagine you respect my place
(Status, entourage, worldly circumstance)
Quite to its value—very much indeed:
—Are up to the protesting eyes of you
In pride at being seated here for once—
You'll turn it to such capital account!
When somebody, through years and years to come,
Hints of the bishop—names me—that's enough:
"Blougram? I knew him"—(into it you slide)
"Dined with him once, a Corpus Christi Day,
All alone, we two; he's a clever man:
And after dinner—why, the wine you know—
Oh, there was wine, and good!—what with the wine . . .
'Faith, we began upon all sorts of talk!
He's no bad fellow, Blougram; he had seen
Something of mine he relished, some review:
He's quite above their humbug in his heart,
Half-said as much, indeed—the thing's his trade.
I warrant, Blougram's sceptical at times:
How otherwise? I liked him, I confess!"
Che che, my dear sir, as we say at Rome,
Don't you protest now! It's fair give and take;
You have had your turn and spoken your home-truths:
The hand's mine now, and here you follow suit.

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Z. Comments

CRYSTAL GLOW

Madhur Veena Comment: Who is she? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ....You write good!

Margaret Alice Comment: Beautiful, it stikes as heartfelt words and touches the heart, beautiful sentiments, sorry, I repeat myself, but I am delighted. Your poem is like the trinkets I collect to adorn my personal space, pure joy to read, wonderful! Only a beautiful mind can harbour such sentiments, you have a beautiful mind. I am glad you have found someone that inspires you to such heights and that you share it with us, you make the world a mroe wonderful place.

Margaret Alice Comment: Within the context set by the previous poem, “Cosmic Probe”, the description of a lover’s adoration for his beloved becomes a universal ode sung to the abstract values of love, joy and hope personified by light, colours, fragrance and beauty, qualities the poet assigns to his beloved, thus elevating her to the status of an uplifting force because she brings all these qualities to his attention. The poet recognises that these personified values brings him fulfilment and chose the image of a love relationship to illustrate how this comes about; thus a love poem becomes the vehicle to convey spiritual epiphany.


FRAGRANT JASMINE

Margaret Alice Comment: Your words seem to be directed to a divine entity, you seem to be addressing your adoration to a divinity, and it is wonderful to read of such sublime sentiments kindled in a human soul. Mankind is always lifted up by their vision and awareness of divinity, thank you for such pure, clear diction and sharing your awareness of the sublime with us, you have uplifted me so much by this vision you have created!

Margaret Alice Comment: The poet’s words seem to be directed to a divine entity, express adoration to a divinity who is the personification of wonderful qualities which awakens a sense of the sublime in the human soul. An uplifting vision and awareness of uplifting qualities of innocence represented by a beautiful person.


I WENT THERE TO BID HER ADIEU

Kente Lucy Comment: wow great writing, what a way to bid farewell

Margaret Alice Comment: Sensory experience is elevated by its symbolical meaning, your description of the scene shows two souls becoming one and your awareness of the importance of tempory experience as a symbol of the eternal duration of love and companionship - were temporary experience only valid for one moment in time, it would be a sad world, but once it is seen as a symbol of eternal things, it becomes enchanting.


I’M INCOMPLETE WITHOUT YOU

Margaret Alice Comment: You elevate the humnan experience of longing for love to a striving for sublimity in uniting with a beloved person, and this poem is stirring, your style of writing is effective, everything flows together perfectly.

Margaret Alice Comment:

'To a resplendent glow of celestial flow
And two split halves unite never to part.'

Reading your fluent poems is a delight, I have to tear myself away and return to the life of a drudge, but what a treasure trove of jewels you made for the weary soul who needs to contemplate higher ideals from time to time!


IN CELESTIAL WINGS

Margaret Alice Comment: When you describe how you are strengthened by your loved one, it is clear that your inner flame is so strong that you need not fear growing old, your spirit seems to become stronger, you manage to convey this impression by your striking poetry. It is a privilege to read your work.

Obed Dela Cruz Comment: wow.... i remembered will shakespeare.... nice poem!

Margaret Alice Comment: The poet has transcended the barriers of time and space by becoming an image of his beloved and being able to find peace in the joy he confers to his beloved.

'You transcend my limits, transcend my soul, I forget my distress in your thoughts And discover my peace in your joy, For, I’m mere image of you, my beloved.'

Margaret Alice Comment: You are my peace and solace, I know, I am, yours too; A mere flash of your thoughts Enlivens my tired soul And fills me with light, peace and solace, A giant in new world, I become, I rise to divine heights in celestial wings. How I desire to reciprocate To fill you with light and inner strength raise you to divine heights; I must cross over nd hold you in arms, light up your soul, Fill you with strength from my inner core, Wipe away your tears burst out in pure joy How I yearn to instill hope and confidence in you we never part And we shall wait, till time comes right. the flame in my soul always seeks you, you transcend my limits, transcend my soul, I forget my distress in your thoughts And discover my peace in your joy, For, I’m mere image of you, my beloved.


RAGING FIRE

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Virginia's Story

Elizabeth Gates-Wooten is my Grand mom.

She was born in Canada with her father and brothers.
They owned a Barber Shoppe.
I don't remember exactly where in Canada.
I believe it was right over the border like Windsor or Toronto.
I never knew exactly where it was.

When she was old enough she got married.

First, she married a man by the name of Frank Gates.
He was from Madagascar.
He fathered my mom and her brother and sister.
The boy's name was Frank Gates, Jr.
Two girls name were Anna and Agnes.

Agnes was my mother.

Frank Gates went crazy after the war
He drank a lot and died
Then grandma Elizabeth married a man by the name of Mr. Wooten.
He had a German name, but I don't think he was German.
She took his last name after they got married.

Then they moved to West Virginia in the United States.

Their son, Frank Gates Jr. Became a delegate in the democratic party.
He use to get into a lot of trouble because he liked to fight.
He was a delegate from the 1940's to 1970's.
He died of gout in the 1970's.

Anna was a maid and cook.

She baked cakes and stuff for people as a side line.
She had a hump on her back (scoliosis) .
She had to walk with a cane.
She could cook good though.
She did this kind of work all of her life, just like her mom, Elizabeth

They were both good cooks

They had a lot of money because they had these skills
Especially when people had parties.
Because they would make all of this food and then they would have left-overs.
We got to eat a lot of stuff we normally wouldn't get because of that.
When they cooked, they didn't use no measuring stuff, they would just use there hand.

My moms name was Agnes Barrie Gates.

She married James Wright and moved to Cleveland.

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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

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Bible Stories: Job (Chapter II)

When angels came before Yahweh,
Satan too joined them again.

The Lord asked him, “Whence do you come? ”
And Satan told, “By roaming earth,
And going on lands, back and forth.”

God asked, “Did you notice my servant Job?
There’s none like him upon the earth! ”
“You ruined Job without a cause! ”

And Satan answered Lord and said,
“Man gives all things to save his life;
Just touch his body, he’ll curse God.”

So, God placed Job in Satan’s hands;
Just spare his life, ’ God warned Satan.

So, Satan went from Lord’s presence,
And caused Job boils from head to foot;
Job took a potsherd to scrape with
And sat amongst the ashes sad.

His wife advised, “Curse God and die! ”
Job told her not to be foolish.
“When good things come, we praise the Lord.”
“Why shouldn’t some evil come? ” asked Job.
In all this, Job didn’t sin by word!

Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar-
Good friends of Job, heard the sad news,
And rushed to mourn and console him!

From far, they couldn’t recognize Job;
They wept aloud and tore their cloaks;
They sprinkled dust upon their heads;
And sat with him upon the ground,
For seven days and nights, speechless.
They saw his grief was very great!

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