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Language ought to be the joint creation of poets and manual workers.

quote by George Orwell
Added by Lucian Velea
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Joint 2 Joint

If u wanna we can kick it, baby, joint 2 joint
Chorus:
(sex me) - uh, yeah (safe), joint 2 joint
(sex me) - uh, yeah (safe), kick it, baby, joint 2 joint
(sex me) - uh, yeah (safe), joint 2 joint
(sex me) - uh, yeah
Before I melt the wax 2 quizzical
Let me just say that u are physically
The most toned one Ive ever seen
Ure making me proud 2 be a human be-i-ng (uh huh!)
And if were ever naked in the same machine
Im gonna lick it, baby, joint 2 joint
Chorus
So first I need a picture of your mother
2 verify the fact that theres not another
One in the universe so supreme
Damn, u got the rock 2 give a brotha cream (cream)
And if were ever naked in the same machine
Im gonna lick it, baby, joint 2 joint
(sex me) - uh, yeah (safe), joint 2 joint
(sex, sex, sex me) - if u wanna we can kick it, baby, joint 2 joint
(sex me) - oh yeah, I got some hot sauce, joint 2 joint (ha ha ha)
(sex me) - said kick it baby, joint 2 joint (right on, ha ha ha)
(sex me) - yeah (safe)
Come upstairs 2 my room
Joint 2 joint (I never sucked...) {x2}
I never sucked sour splints from a chew stick
Dont lick bics cuz fire sticks 2 flame (flame)
Get wicks 2 catch brothers who choose 2 let burns remain
Now I see all dicks, toms and harrys are not the same
Some dipped in my lower lip, sipped a supple poison (poison {x3})
Joint 2 joint (I never sucked...) {x4}
(come with me, 4 those who wanna change)
(but nothing comes 4 free)
Joint 2 joint, nothing comes 4 free
If u show your love, u can get with me
U can get with me, u can get with me
Joint 2 joint
Up the stairs 2 my lovely room
Stroke your face and ure under soon
Sittin in the corner in your underwear
Lettin me caress your nappy hair
Joint 2 joint, nothing comes 4 free
If u show your love, u can get with me
And if u light my candle, we can share the stone
Flames of desire, sweet gypsy moans
Sweet gypsy moans
Joint 2 joint {x3}
Joint 2 joint, nothing comes 4 free
Oh great, now u think ure my soulmate

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
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0005 Totally Boring Poem

I’m totally bored by:

poems that sound like other poems

poems that try to sound unlike any other poems

poets who never take risks

poets who think that taking risks
makes them good poets

poems with 'meaning'

poems with no meaning

poets who slag off other poets
as if that achieves something

poets that tell you that rhyme
is not for an age but for all time

poets that tell you that rhyme is outmoded and boring

poets who think that the poetry of 'the past'
is greater than that of 'the present'

poets who think that the poetry of 'the present'
is greater than that of 'the past'

poems that tell you the poet's the first to discover sex

poets that tell you they’re the best sex you’ll ever have
although you’ll never meet them to find out

poets that tell you they’ve been dumped

poets who've never known love and being dumped

poets who are ambitious

poets who are unambitious

poets who tell you all about higher things

poets who reject higher things

poets who think life’s just a joke

poets who think life’s no joke

[...] Read more

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Good Poets and Bad Poets

Some poets get awards and think they are good poets.

Some poets never get awards and think they are bad poets.

Some poets think they are good poets only in their own mind

Some poets think they are bad poets in somebody's else mind.

Some poets think they are good poets in somebody else mind.

Some poets think others think they are good poets but they don't in their hearts.

Some poets think they are good poets in their hearts but not in anyone else's mind.

All are insecure, except those who get security from the opinions of others and that, alas, doesn't last and isn't real.

Some poets have left the entire scene and live only in their mind.

Some poets take criticism and don't mind.

Some poets avoid criticism and do mind.

Some poets write poetry to get love.

Some poets love to write poetry.

Some poets are ahead of their time, in their mind

Some poets spend a lifetime feeling like failures in their mind

Some poets live only after they die.

Some poets have much to say but can't articulate

Some poets retreat, believing others don't understand

So which one of these am I?

I guess I am all of these and none of these

and no matter what my description

I intend to keep doing what I do:

Write. Right

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A Map Of Culture

Culture

Contents

What is Culture?

The Importance of Culture

Culture Varies

Culture is Critical

The Sociobiology Debate

Values, Norms, and Social Control

Signs and Symbols

Language

Terms and Definitions

Approaches to the Study of Culture

Are We Prisoners of Our Culture?

What is Culture?

I prefer the definition used by Ian Robertson: 'all the shared products of society: material and nonmaterial' (Our text defines it in somewhat more ponderous terms- 'The totality of learned, socially transmitted behavior. It includes ideas, values, and customs (as well as the sailboats, comic books, and birth control devices) of groups of people' (p.32) .

Back to Contents

[...] Read more

poem by Nyein Way
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Body Language

Words and music by freddie mercury
Give me body give me body body
Give me your body
Dont talk dont talk dont talk dont talk
Baby dont talk
Body language body language body language
Give me your body
Just give me yeah your body
Give me yeah your body
Dont talk
Body language huh huh
Body language body language
You got red lips snakes in your eyes
Long legs great thighs
You got the cutest ass Ive ever seen
Knock me down for a six any time
Look at me I gotta case of body language
Look at me I gotta case of body language
Look at me I gotta case of body language
Look at me I gotta case of body language
Of body language of body language
Yeah sexy body sexy sexy body
I want your body
Baby youre hot
Body language body language body language
Body language body language body language
Body language body language body language

song performed by Queen
Added by Lucian Velea
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Portugal Manoel Da Assumpcam Missionary.

'Portugal Manoel Da Assumpcam
Amar Sonar Moyna Pakki Amigo,
I never seen you in my live ever before
Which Country are you from?
My dear amigo Manoel Da Assumpcam.

Your colour of heritage in unknown Land l fear to bear your name in word.
I can't bear to missed you my amigo, Oh yes it can't be forgot either
You have contributed your nameless name in the nation without name
To influence other and to form the crowd in unknown Land,
Where are you from Sir?

And to shape not my nationalities in Language in Culture but yours!
The present Language in Bangla o' my dear amigo never was counted by.
You may be nothing To Government of Portugal than but today.
Priceless name in the heart of people's in the unknown Land.

I have nothing to say in Language Portuguese other than to say thank you.
For teaching and advocating me in Language in Bangla
That nation today celebrates every year.
With their tears on their eyes and face.

Bear to say words other than few minute in silent,
As orphanage children's looking at each other face.
Remembering those who gave their words in Bangla and live for.
And today I believe in visual hallucination it's not too late
to say how much I love you in Language in Bangla ‘Nil Dariar Prem'

The Birth of new Generation in Culture in Bangla.
Almost was given birth after more than three century in Bangla
'Inna-Lilla-He-O-Inna-He-La-He-Ra-Je-Ow n'
When will I met you?

Day of Kiamot is to far from Bay of Bengal to Portugal.
The mother of all living things on Earth,
Singing in the name of Almighty Lord ‘Allah' too
In the soil of unknown Land in British India my not his or her love.

How lucky you was never assassinated by knowing you was pigeons,
As Bongo Bandhu,
First Prime Ministers of Bangladesh.
I miss you ‘Manoel Da Assumpcam'
Your name prescribed in Language Bangla by name
'Shaheed Minar'
Capital City o Bangladesh.
By name once was known Dac-ca' now became ‘DHA-KA'

Your name in my Language Mother tongues days and nights,
‘Joy Bangla'
To Miss you my dear amigo you left us under your own broken umbrella.

[...] Read more

poem by Abdul Haye Amin
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The language with largest vocabulary

It has only seven letters
And has the largest vocabulary
There is no dearth
Of expression
For any situation or emotion
One same thing
Can mean a million things

King Solomon deciphered
Ants’ impression using this language
Indian mythology has it that
A much revered teacher
Taught all his disciples
Using this language
Clearing their all doubts
On any subject

It is not written
It is not spoken
It is not heard
But has in-depth meaning
And a lot application

It is not formally taught
As it has no syllabus
People pick up this
In their life paths
Some do not just pick this up
But, make excellent use of it
And successfully overcome
Difficult and challenging maneuvers

This language came into being
Long before the creation of this universe
Yes, it is not a just a global language
It is a universal language

This is in use world over
This is a common language
But often not used
This language has no grammar
No problem of spelling words wrong
There are no present, future or past tenses
There is no subject, predicate or object
As there are no sentences framed with this language

When used the person can still keep smiling
Often understood as a consent granted

Even the just new born is

[...] Read more

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Blue Collar Workers

Blue collar workers feeling used.
And being replaced,
By a robotic hasted pace.

Blue collar workers feeling used,
And moved...
From an assembled human touch,
To programmed computers...
More effective as tools.

Blue collar workers feeling used,
And moved...
From positions that were sacrificed,
To improve what they do.
Automated are these times,
And cheap labor too!

Booted by computers that leave nothing to do,
For the blue collar workers,
Feeling used and abused.

Delete.
Don't need.
Delete.
Don't need.

Booted by computers that leave nothing to do,
For the blue collar workers,
Feeling used and abused.

Blue collar workers feeling used,
And moved...
From positions that were sacrificed,
To improve what they do.
Automated are these times,
And cheap labor too!

Delete.
Don't need.
Delete.
Don't need.

Booted by computers that leave nothing to do,
For the blue collar workers,
Feeling used and abused.

Delete.
Don't need.
Delete.
Don't need.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nuclear Is Safe? No They Lied To You

A list of non classified nuclear disasters
chalk one up for Chalk River Canada
rating 5 a “reactor shutoff rod failure,

combined with several operator errors,
led to a major power excursion of more
than double the reactor's rated output
at AECL's NRX reactor” then a big deal.1952

Entrant two Windscale Pile United Kingdom
rating 5 a “Release of radioactive material to
the environment following a fire in a reactor
core.” Toast a good year for nuclear disasters.1957

graphite core of a British nuclear “[weapons
programme] reactor at Windscale, Cumberland
(now Sellafield, Cumbria) caught fire, releasing
substantial amounts of radioactive contamination
into the surrounding area.” Radioactive fire.

A warm welcome to entrant three. Kyshtym
Russia rating 6 a “Significant release of
radioactive material to the environment
from explosion of a high activity waste tank.” 1957

Please all welcome contestant one back
Chalk River Canada (rating?) “Due to
inadequate cooling a damaged uranium
fuel rod caught fire and was torn in two.” 1958

Champagne pops cheer another good year
Vinč a Yugoslavia (rating?) “During
a subcritical counting experiment a power
buildup went undetected - six scientists
received high doses.” What detailed detail? 1958

Applause please for our first American entry
Santa Susana Field Laboratory US (rating?)
“Partial core meltdown.” Sounds serious.
Tick one deep operations public cover up.1959

Time to take a nice country waltz in a US county
Westinghouse Waltz Mill Westmoreland County
(rating?) a core melt accident in a test reactor? 1960

Looks like American is going for a hat trick
Charlestown US (rating?) “Error by a worker
at a United Nuclear Corporation fuel facility
led to an accidental criticality”. Human error? 1964

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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An Essay on Criticism

Part I

INTRODUCTION. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them.

'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But of the two less dangerous is th'offence
To tire our patience than mislead our sense:
Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
A fool might once himself alone expose;
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In Poets as true Genius is but rare,
True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share;
Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well;
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
But are not Critics to their judgment too?

Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right:
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
Is by ill col'ring but the more disgraced,
So by false learning is good sense defaced:
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools:
In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn Critics in their own defence:
Each burns alike, who can or cannot write,
Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite.
All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
There are who judge still worse than he can write.

Some have at first for Wits, then Poets pass'd;
Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools at last.
Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass,
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle,
As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,

[...] Read more

poem by Alexander Pope
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Zig Zag Stories

I had a zig zag story just the other day
I rolled a fat blunt and yo, it ripped this way
I took a puff (uh-huh) and what did i see?
Those motherf__kers still wanna i-c-e
To blaze up a sac of that green bombay
And when i reach my peak, i explode like dante
Tha ganjay has got my mind wide open, i'm soakin'
In the music, i use it, and don't abuse it
And true, it gets me high like the sky
I will buy 'till the day that i die
You ain't gotta ask me why
I take tokes from the smoke, i can't deny
Got a lifetime supply
And i wanna get you high
Get you high all night
'cause i wanna get you high
Get you high all night
And i wanna get you high
Bang another joint
Zig zag stories
Bang another joint
Zig zag stories
This is a zig zag story that i had last night
A six-pack, a joint, and i was feeling all right
Lit up tha chronic, and what did i see?
This bad-a__ bit_h creeping up on me
She had the look that could get the ice cooked up in a second
I pictured her undressing and gettin' butt-naked
She walked up to me and said her name was mary jane
Ain't no shame in my game, down to do anything
Took me by the hand, ask me if i'd like to fly
You know i like to fly
'cause i wanna get you high
Get you high all night
'cause i wanna get you high
Get you high all night
And i wanna get you high
Bang another joint
Zig zag stories
Bang another joint
Zig zag stories
(right here, you know we're gettin' 'em high right now)
Now here's a zig zag story that i'm havin' right now
Gotta get myself together 'cause some sh_t is goin' down
Hit you people off with my new cd
Hard to swallow, like saying "f__k the industry!"
I'm stompin' through the bayou with my black boots laced
And takin' out you motherf__kers acting two-faced
For the people out there gonna blaze 'till i die
Blaze up the thai

[...] Read more

song performed by Vanilla Ice
Added by Lucian Velea
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Satan Absolved

(In the antechamber of Heaven. Satan walks alone. Angels in groups conversing.)
Satan. To--day is the Lord's ``day.'' Once more on His good pleasure
I, the Heresiarch, wait and pace these halls at leisure
Among the Orthodox, the unfallen Sons of God.
How sweet in truth Heaven is, its floors of sandal wood,
Its old--world furniture, its linen long in press,
Its incense, mummeries, flowers, its scent of holiness!
Each house has its own smell. The smell of Heaven to me
Intoxicates and haunts,--and hurts. Who would not be
God's liveried servant here, the slave of His behest,
Rather than reign outside? I like good things the best,
Fair things, things innocent; and gladly, if He willed,
Would enter His Saints' kingdom--even as a little child.

[Laughs. I have come to make my peace, to crave a full amaun,
Peace, pardon, reconcilement, truce to our daggers--drawn,
Which have so long distraught the fair wise Universe,
An end to my rebellion and the mortal curse
Of always evil--doing. He will mayhap agree
I was less wholly wrong about Humanity
The day I dared to warn His wisdom of that flaw.
It was at least the truth, the whole truth, I foresaw
When He must needs create that simian ``in His own
Image and likeness.'' Faugh! the unseemly carrion!
I claim a new revision and with proofs in hand,
No Job now in my path to foil me and withstand.
Oh, I will serve Him well!
[Certain Angels approach. But who are these that come
With their grieved faces pale and eyes of martyrdom?
Not our good Sons of God? They stop, gesticulate,
Argue apart, some weep,--weep, here within Heaven's gate!
Sob almost in God's sight! ay, real salt human tears,
Such as no Spirit wept these thrice three thousand years.
The last shed were my own, that night of reprobation
When I unsheathed my sword and headed the lost nation.
Since then not one of them has spoken above his breath
Or whispered in these courts one word of life or death
Displeasing to the Lord. No Seraph of them all,
Save I this day each year, has dared to cross Heaven's hall
And give voice to ill news, an unwelcome truth to Him.
Not Michael's self hath dared, prince of the Seraphim.
Yet all now wail aloud.--What ails ye, brethren? Speak!
Are ye too in rebellion? Angels. Satan, no. But weak
With our long earthly toil, the unthankful care of Man.

Satan. Ye have in truth good cause.

Angels. And we would know God's plan,
His true thought for the world, the wherefore and the why
Of His long patience mocked, His name in jeopardy.

[...] Read more

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Hablemos El Mismo Idioma

En la vida hay tantos senderos por caminar
Qu ironia que al fin nos llevan al mismo lugar
Pesar de las diferencias que solemos buscar
Respiramos el mismo aire, despertamos al mismo sol
Nos alumbra la misma luna, necesitamos sentir amor
Nos alumbra la misma luna, necesitamos sentir amor
Hay tanto tiempo que hemos perdido por discutir
Por diferencias que entre nosotros no deben existir
Las costumbres, raices y herencias que me hacen quien soy
Son coloros de un arcoiris, acordes de un mismo son
Las palabras se hacen fronteras, cuando no nacen del corazn
Hablemos el mismo idioma y as las cosas irn mejor
(coro)
Hablemos el mismo idioma, que hay tantas
Cosas porque luchar
Hablemos el mismo idioma, que solo unidos se lograrn
Hablemos el mismo idioma, que nunca es tarde para empezar
Hablemos el mismo idioma, bajo la bandera de libertad
Si lo pensamos nosotros tenemos tanto en comn
Y no conviene que el mundo nos oiga
Con una sla voz
Es importante seguir adelante con fuerza
Y con f
Forgemos nuevos caminos, en la unin hay
Un gran poder
Orgullosos de ser latinos no importa
De donde, todo podemos vencer
(coro)
Hablemos el mismo idioma, que hay tantas
Cosas porque luchar
Hablemos el mismo idioma, que solo unido se lograr
Hablemos el mismo idioma, que nunca es tarde para empezar
Hablemos el mismo idioma, bajo la bandera de libertad
Hablemos el mismo idioma dame la mano
Mi hermano
(ad lib) no importa de donde seas todos
Somos hermanos t ves
Que no existan las diferencias entre nosotros hispanos
En esta vida hay que trabajar para lograr lo que queremos, latinos
Las palabras se hacen fronteras cuando no se
Hablan del corazn si t ves
No importa raza ni religion, somos hermanos
En el corazn pero que fuerza tenemos
Los latinos si nos mantenemos unidos
(translation:
In life there are so many paths that we can choose to walk
How ironic that they all lead to the same place
In spite of all the differences that we tend
To look for in each other
We all breathe the same air and wake up to the same sun

[...] Read more

song performed by Gloria Estefan
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Tongue-suicide is not only the choice of children. It is common among the infantile heads of state and power merchants whose evacuated language leaves them with no access to what is left of their human instincts for they speak only to those who obey, or in order to force obedience. The systematic looting of language can be recognized by the tendency of its users to forgo its nuanced, complex, mid-wifery properties for menace and subjugation. Oppressive language does more than represent violence; it is violence; does more than represent the limits of knowledge; it limits knowledge. Whether it is obscuring state language or the faux-language of mindless media; whether it is the proud but calcified language of the academy or the commodity driven language of science; whether it is the malign language of law-without-ethics, or language designed for the estrangement of minorities, hiding its racist plunder in its literary cheek — it must be rejected, altered and exposed. It is the language that drinks blood, laps vulnerabilities, tucks its fascist boots under crinolines of respectability and patriotism as it moves relentlessly toward the bottom line and the bottomed-out mind. Sexist language, racist language, theistic language — all are typical of the policing languages of mastery, and cannot, do not permit new knowledge or encourage the mutual exchange of ideas.

quote by Toni Morrison
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Joint

(dj can you play it as a favour for me? )
[scratch]
(dj can you play it as a favour for me? )
[scratch]
Dj can you play it as a favour for me
You know the joint that she shortys keep talkin about
Dj can you play it as a favour for me
You know the joint that makes em get down, get down
Take those
New records off the shelf
cause I aint dancin by myself
And youre the only one who can help
Uh huh
Saw this hunnie come through the back door
And I need to get her out on the floor
So get up on to your feet
By breakin you off a drink
cause you know what I came here for..
[chorus]
Dj can you play it as a favour for me
You know the joint that she shortys keep talkin about
Dj can you play it as a favour for me
You know the joint that makes em get down, get down
Dj can you play it as a favour for me
You know the joint that she shortys keep talkin about
Dj can you play it as a favour for me
You know the joint that makes em get down, get down
I love
Rockin, rockin
Hip hop with rock n roll
Mix it with a lil rhythm and soul
And you know that well be good to go
Uh huh
I think its time for the place to get hot
So dj make the beat drop
You better raise up your glass
And start shakin yo (ahh)
cause the party aint about to stop
[chorus]
Ima put another dime up in the jukebox
Let the music play all night long
Giving you a taste of southern comfort
Wraped up in a love song
Record man can we do it again?
Press rewind before the joint ends
cause Im about to pull a round up of seats
And I wont be ........... stand the heat
Ohhhhh
[bridge]
Burnin up, burnin up

[...] Read more

song performed by O-town
Added by Lucian Velea
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Fresh Air

I

At the Poem Society a black-haired man stands up to say
“You make me sick with all your talk about restraint and mature talent!
Haven’t you ever looked out the window at a painting by Matisse,
Or did you always stay in hotels where there were too many spiders crawling on your visages?
Did you ever glance inside a bottle of sparkling pop,
Or see a citizen split in two by the lightning?
I am afraid you have never smiled at the hibernation
Of bear cubs except that you saw in it some deep relation
To human suffering and wishes, oh what a bunch of crackpots!”
The black-haired man sits down, and the others shoot arrows at him.
A blond man stands up and says,
“He is right! Why should we be organized to defend the kingdom
Of dullness? There are so many slimy people connected with poetry,
Too, and people who know nothing about it!
I am not recommending that poets like each other and organize to fight them,
But simply that lightning should strike them.”
Then the assembled mediocrities shot arrows at the blond-haired man.
The chairman stood up on the platform, oh he was physically ugly!
He was small-limbed and –boned and thought he was quite seductive,
But he was bald with certain hideous black hairs,
And his voice had the sound of water leaving a vaseline bathtub,
And he said, “The subject for this evening’s discussion is poetry
On the subject of love between swans.” And everyone threw candy hearts
At the disgusting man, and they stuck to his bib and tucker,
And he danced up and down on the platform in terrific glee
And recited the poetry of his little friends—but the blond man stuck his head
Out of a cloud and recited poems about the east and thunder,
And the black-haired man moved through the stratosphere chanting
Poems of the relationships between terrific prehistoric charcoal whales,
And the slimy man with candy hearts sticking all over him
Wilted away like a cigarette paper on which the bumblebees have urinated,
And all the professors left the room to go back to their duty,
And all that were left in the room were five or six poets
And together they sang the new poem of the twentieth century
Which, though influenced by Mallarmé, Shelley, Byron, and Whitman,
Plus a million other poets, is still entirely original
And is so exciting that it cannot be here repeated.
You must go to the Poem Society and wait for it to happen.
Once you have heard this poem you will not love any other,
Once you have dreamed this dream you will be inconsolable,
Once you have loved this dream you will be as one dead,
Once you have visited the passages of this time’s great art!

2

“Oh to be seventeen years old
Once again,” sang the red-haired man, “and not know that poetry

[...] Read more

poem by Kenneth Koch
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Silences Speak In My Soul

how can I tell you
of the silences
that speak to me
that I reach out

to touch in moments
stretching back to
inspiration of creation
I feel speak in my soul

unique in my stillness
witnessing one vast smile
as whole universe shines
in God’s creative smile

creation comes upon me
creation is all within me
creation infuses my being
creation is sea of awareness

no thoughts form into words
imagery is words within soul
no noise forms into fleet sound
voice spoke creation into being

thoughts wash over my soul
behold creation in appreciation
perceived in stillness attained
God speaks infuses my brain

behold felt essence of life is laden
within love which birthed creation
I reach out touch recipe of gift life
love embraces lungs touch breath air

alertness is alive creation perceives
life is breath breathed into life being
awareness perceives in complexities
multiple lifeforms perceive creation

all life is one life linked in earth biosphere
all earth’s surface abounds in life lease
atmosphere sea abound in one life lease
across eons interwoven creation breathe

ingenious species fail extinct in man greed
independent species erased link cut expire
independent species disappear into oblivion
earth rape accelerates inducing earth death

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
Added by Poetry Lover
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Language Of Love

I want your flesh and blood
And to feel your heart pumping hard
I want to tell my story to your eyes
I want to watch you react
To me baby
Maybe Im dreaming
I got to do something
We may be on the same planet
Living in different worlds
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devils playground
Hear the church bells ring
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
Shes my great obsession
And the girl likes me too
I think she has the wrong impression
She thinks I want to be friends
Maybe Im dreaming
I better do something
We might be on the same planet
But talk different tongues
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devils playground
Hear the church bells ring
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
She thinks I want to be friends
Maybe Im dreaming
I better do something
We may be on the same planet
Living in different worlds
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger

[...] Read more

song performed by Rick Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Language Of Love

I want your flesh and blood
And to feel your heart pumping hard
I want to tell my story to your eyes
I want to watch you react
To me baby
Maybe I'm dreaming
I got to do something
We may be on the same planet
Living in different worlds
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devil's playground
Hear the church bells ring
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
She's my great obsession
And the girl likes me too
I think she has the wrong impression
She thinks I want to be friends
Maybe I'm dreaming
I better do something
We might be on the same planet
But talk different tongues
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger
In the devil's playground
Hear the church bells ring
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
She thinks I want to be friends
Maybe I'm dreaming
I better do something
We may be on the same planet
Living in different worlds
I speak the language of love
I speak the language of love
Do you speak the language of love
Living in the touch of your fingers
Are you the passionate type
Is this a natural thing
Do you speak the language of love
Second hand emotional trigger

[...] Read more

song performed by Rick Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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My Name Is Jonas

My name is jonas!
Im carrying the wheel.
Thanks for all youve shown us.
But this is how we feel.
Come sit next to me, pour yourself some tea.
Just like grandma made, when we couldnt find sleep.
Things were better then.
Once but never again.
Weve all left the den, let me tell you bout it.
The choo-choo train left right on time.
A ticket cost only your mind.
The driver said hey man, we go all the way.
Of course we were willing to pay!
My name is wepeel !
Got a box full of your toys.
Theyre fresh out of batteries.
But youre still making noise! making noise!
Tell me what to do,
Now the tank is dry, now this wheel is flat, and you know what else!
Guess what I received in the mail today,
Words of deep concern, for my little brother.
The buildings not going as he planned...
The foreman has injured his hand,
The dozer will not clear a path,
The driver swears he learned his math !
The workers are going home.
Workers are going home.
The workers are going home.
The workers are going home.
Yeah!
The workers are going home.
The workers are going home.
The workers are going home.
Yeah yeah yeah!
My name is jonas.

song performed by Weezer
Added by Lucian Velea
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