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Carlos Castaneda

All paths are the same, leading nowhere. Therefore, pick a path with heart!

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We Are The Same...

gas rices up,
fuel prices up,
grocery prices up,
heating prices up...

and the poor man's dollar
is still a dollar!

cant afford sickness,
cant afford hospitals,
cant afford shelter,
cant afford, cant afford.

it's time to band together
in small communities,
and be neighbors again.

we cannot rely on the government,
on churches, on the elite...
we have each other,
and that is all!

forget about differences.
skin color, religion, politics...
let it go.
we are the same!

same needs, same desires,
same prayers, same love...
red blooded, dirty, stinking
human beings...
human beings in need
of each other!

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Emily Dickinson

All Circumstances are the Frame

820

All Circumstances are the Frame
In which His Face is set—
All Latitudes exist for His
Sufficient Continent—

The Light His Action, and the Dark
The Leisure of His Will—
In Him Existence serve or set
A Force illegible.

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We Are The Same

I present to you a woman
who wishes she were not
judged by the color of her
skin and the clothes she wears.
Why must I because I’m
different be a target to
your insults and your
ignorance. I am human
like you.
So I talk with a slang and
dance different some of you
dance just like me.
Yeah our skin color is different,
but we are the same.
Like you I want respect
I deserve respect. I do not
want to be stereotyped
because of my Friday nights
outfit. I do not want to be
discriminated against when
I’m working and you see
me wearing pants that show
off my round butt or my top
that show my breast when I
bend over to give you your
dinner.
We are God’s creation and God’s
children once at heaven’s gate
there will be no color because
love, respect, and acceptance
has no color.

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We Are The Same

I present to you a woman
who wishes she were not
judged by the color of her
skin and the clothes she wears.
Why must I because I’m
different be a target to
your insults and your
ignorance. I am human
like you.
So I talk with a slang and
dance different, some of you
dance just like me.
Yeah, our skin color is different,
but we are the same.
Like you I want respect
I deserve respect. I do not
want to be stereotyped
because of my Friday nights
outfit and I do not want to be
discriminated against when
I’m working and you see
me wearing pants that show
off my round butt or my top
that show my breast when I
bend over to give you your
dinner.
We are God’s creation and God’s
children once at heaven’s gate
there will be no color because
love, respect, and acceptance
has no color.

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At The End You Must Become The Part Of Everyone

not all paths are the same
not everything are carved by tradition

somehow you deviate not because you want to deviate
it is just written in the lines of your palm and there is no way
that you can avoid it

oedipus rex is not an exception
what he wanted to avoid he instead entered
it is the tragedy that leads him precisely
to his own tragic fate

someone was once asking: who wants to be myself?
and no one answered quite well
most people find themselves unwanted and that is tragedy by itself

' i never wanted to be myself' the ugly creature in grief said it frankly
to himself who never answered him

you end up unsatisfied and resigned
how heavy is it to carry oneself as a burden
how unfaithful one can be
what a disadvantage to keep an enemy within you
what tragic moment
to hurt your feet with your own hands
to torture your mind with your own thoughts
to pluck out your eyes from your sockets because you do not want to see yourself or to uproot your very nerves that you think are the ones hurting your bones to tear your heart apart
and shatter your fragile self into some kind of irreconcilable pieces

what if you were just as gentle as the wind caressing the waves of the sea
as warm as the sun landing on the valley
your hands are not dichotomies
your heart never a wasted part of your body

what if...you forget the self and think of it as nothing
so that you shall become the wind of the earth
the sea of the continent
the earth on this universe? a darkness moving with space which has become the part of everyone.

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We are the all...

Mystical and magical all are the same
Without doubt none singular is to blame?
Except all meaning and question your finds
For all opposites in all climbs, chime?
Truth is a chemist, who doctors all
Simply put we are the immeasurable.
We are the all...
Whatever the size large or small
We are the all...
At transgressions fall...?

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Do All Religions Give The Same Light?

two famous folk singers
once said at their concert
that all earth's religions

give the light
but is this
the same light?

Do all these religions
teach believe
the same teachings?

Do true faithful advocates
of each of these religions
believe the same beliefs?


Christianity teaches
Jesus is the only begotten
Son of divine God

Jesus claimed
he was the way
the truth the light

that none no one
comes to God
except through him

an exclusive claim


Islam declares
God has no sons
Jesus is but one

prophet like Moses
Noah Muhammad
Jesus never died

on sacrifice cross
was no Messiah
to take your sins

supreme is finality
faith in prophethood
chosen Muhammad


Five Pillars Of Islam
five duties incumbent
on all every Muslim

Shahadah
profession
of faith

Salat prayers
Sawm fasting
Zakat giving of alms

specifically
during
Ramadan


Hajj
pilgrimage
to Mecca

five practices
essential
to all Muslims


Hinduism the most
important Indian religion
characterized by a belief

in reincarnation
belief in a large pantheon
of gods and goddesses


Buddhism is a religion
philosophy encompassing
a variety of traditions

beliefs practices
inspired based
on many teachings

attributed to Siddhartha

many religions
many differences
many sources


different sources of light?

yet some concepts
are paramount
to all true believers

tolerance compassion
vengeance belongs to God alone
love worship holy God

remove huge rafter of sin
from your own eye before
straw from another's eye


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Candy and Music are the same

As a friend of mine said once music is like candy you have to throw away all the rappers. That friend of mine is right.
Music can make you smile, laugh and sad all at the same time but all the rappers take our music and add there cussing and dirty way then it can no longer be called music cuzz rappers take away the meaning and the emotion so now it is no more then some one yelling out cuss words and ditty things now I ask you please open your candy and throw away the rappers so all that is left is the sweet emotion

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The Same As I

i get so tired
of writing poems
about suffering....

but everywhere i look,
all around me,
people are hurting....

and try as i might,
i cant close my eyes,
cant shut my ears up

to the sounds of need and want.
and i cannot be silent
as long as there's one person

who is not free,
one person whose rights
have been violated....

one person who is hungry,
one person who is homeless,
one person sick who cannot

get medical care....
one person abused, enslaved,
or treated like property...

i cannot, and i will not stop,
for they are the same
as i... i see their faces

every time i look in the mirror!

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In all torn arrays the wisdom fell

In all torn arrays the wisdom fell
Ragged and dusty like the roads it took
It sounded apeace like a church and its bell
And the highest steeple that can take a look
Into the sky with never the same clouds
The most secret fourth element of blue
To put the thought into golden moulds
Of a faith and a dream of both me and you

In all torn arrays the wisdom fell
The stones stood still by the burden doors
Perceptions closed divorced heaven from hell
And all tribes rose in ancient folk lores
Into the sky with never the same limits
Reaching beyond a fragile countenance
With numberless marbles in colourful digits
Counting the time of final transcendence

In all torn arrays the wisdom fell
Its robes on fire plague purified paid
For none of its edges could ever tell
An endless faith love and hope there laid
To dawn upon the doom of a clay made hand
Shaping the lines destiny led paths
Too blind to travel too hard to understand
The burdens of life and its aftermath

©Miroslava Odalovic

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Stay The Same

It sometimes happens, it always happens to me
But then "always" isn't a word I use, "always" isn't a word I choose
When I know that this won't survive much longer
Unless we alter what we have
But then again survival is not why we should
Stay the same, if we can't be the same
We won't stay the same
Our similar thoughts will never let us
Stay the same, if we can't be the same
We won't stay the same as we intend
You know that I won't be much help to you,
But it won't happen the way
That you've always planned it
Just so you could become, more interesting this time
For a purpose, only now I know the purpose
And I know that what is here will not be here much longer
Unless we alter what we have, or alter what we don't have
What we won't have, what we've never seemed to have
What we tried to have, we've failed to have
And all of this was just so we won't
Stay the same, if we can't be the same
We won't stay the same
Our similar thoughts will never let us
Stay the same, if we can't be the same
We won't stay the same
Just because we think we are the same
It's just so we won't
Stay the same, if we can't be the same
We won't stay the same
When we believe we are not the same

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Walt Whitman

Great Are The Myths

GREAT are the myths--I too delight in them;
Great are Adam and Eve--I too look back and accept them;
Great the risen and fallen nations, and their poets, women, sages,
inventors, rulers, warriors, and priests.
Great is Liberty! great is Equality! I am their follower;
Helmsmen of nations, choose your craft! where you sail, I sail,
I weather it out with you, or sink with you.

Great is Youth--equally great is Old Age--great are the Day and
Night;
Great is Wealth--great is Poverty--great is Expression--great is
Silence.

Youth, large, lusty, loving--Youth, full of grace, force,
fascination!
Do you know that Old Age may come after you, with equal grace, force,
fascination? 10

Day, full-blown and splendid--Day of the immense sun, action,
ambition, laughter,
The Night follows close, with millions of suns, and sleep, and
restoring darkness.

Wealth, with the flush hand, fine clothes, hospitality;
But then the Soul's wealth, which is candor, knowledge, pride,
enfolding love;
(Who goes for men and women showing Poverty richer than wealth?)

Expression of speech! in what is written or said, forget not that
Silence is also expressive,
That anguish as hot as the hottest, and contempt as cold as the
coldest, may be without words.


Great is the Earth, and the way it became what it is;
Do you imagine it has stopt at this? the increase abandon'd?
Understand then that it goes as far onward from this, as this is from
the times when it lay in covering waters and gases, before man
had appear'd. 20

Great is the quality of Truth in man;
The quality of truth in man supports itself through all changes,
It is inevitably in the man--he and it are in love, and never leave
each other.

The truth in man is no dictum, it is vital as eyesight;
If there be any Soul, there is truth--if there be man or woman there
is truth--if there be physical or moral, there is truth;
If there be equilibrium or volition, there is truth--if there be
things at all upon the earth, there is truth.

O truth of the earth! I am determin'd to press my way toward you;
Sound your voice! I scale mountains, or dive in the sea after you.


Great is Language--it is the mightiest of the sciences,
It is the fulness, color, form, diversity of the earth, and of men
and women, and of all qualities and processes; 30
It is greater than wealth--it is greater than buildings, ships,
religions, paintings, music.

Great is the English speech--what speech is so great as the English?
Great is the English brood--what brood has so vast a destiny as the
English?
It is the mother of the brood that must rule the earth with the new
rule;
The new rule shall rule as the Soul rules, and as the love, justice,
equality in the Soul rule.

Great is Law--great are the few old land-marks of the law,
They are the same in all times, and shall not be disturb'd.


Great is Justice!
Justice is not settled by legislators and laws--it is in the Soul;
It cannot be varied by statutes, any more than love, pride, the
attraction of gravity, can; 40
It is immutable--it does not depend on majorities--majorities or what
not, come at last before the same passionless and exact
tribunal.

For justice are the grand natural lawyers, and perfect judges--is it
in their Souls;
It is well assorted--they have not studied for nothing--the great
includes the less;
They rule on the highest grounds--they oversee all eras, states,
administrations.

The perfect judge fears nothing--he could go front to front before
God;
Before the perfect judge all shall stand back--life and death shall
stand back--heaven and hell shall stand back.


Great is Life, real and mystical, wherever and whoever;
Great is Death--sure as life holds all parts together, Death holds
all parts together.

Has Life much purport?--Ah, Death has the greatest purport.

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Strongest Men are the Most Lonely

Apart from all men,
That have taken the world
Of genders, ambivalent or certain
Might have blunted themselves
Like stones on the shore

And in all their hearts,
Cancel the robust, omit the womanizers
Isolate the drunkards, and ostracize the blissful
One would remain, and straight with candor,
I will tell you this: he is the strongest.

Robust men, who pilfer the weak
And the womanizers with a blarney so obsolete
That it has overstated what stain these men hold
In their souls, that is why they fail to enrapture women
I too, have failed to enthrall, with or without love.

For the air is as scintillating,
As for the air that women share with men,
And that, as we ostracize the ebullient,
And talk about their tedious work during supper
We would be pondering over the unnoticed:

Where are all the lonely men?
You wouldn’t know, and you wouldn’t be sure
Because their tears are the most pure,
They ensconce pain because they’d rather see you there
In bejeweled beds, or waterbeds, making love with a drunkard

I shall quote Ibsen, like Bukowski did
For the quote justifies and vindicates the deed
The strongest men are the most lonely.” You dare talk to me about somber
The somber felt in the loss of one’s reputation, without love
Then I shall tell you a story, where I have lost love before it took off.

In a thousand hazy nights, I do not drink with people
Stupid people, sullying with the same kinds of men and women
Who know nothing about pain, or what mystery lies
Behind the strongest men, for society has dictated
That a broken man is either confused with gender, or not that sharp with women.

I will tell you why I am not sharp with women,
And I shall tell you about my prayers
With my hands folded in the soliloquy of nostalgia and sallow nights
As my pallid lips utter words, words of the strongest men,
We do not pray for merriment, we pray for torture

Because men are forged with experience,
And not with cheap thrills of sex, alcohol, lust and indolence
If you do so, then you are not forged,
You are a child, in a playground, wan and wild
But devoid of all learning

Do if you must, conquer if you shall,
I tell you, I have been there, but not with lust and indolence and sex
But with alcohol perhaps, because a lonely man deserves a drink
From a goblet, in a narrowing room, and in a world that shrinks
Right before his feet, feet of stone.

So again, do not be envious
I am lonely, perhaps then, I am strong
Or maybe, I am wrong
Because with love, or without love
In the eyes of one woman, I am in distraught

The strongest man gets to be laughed at,
Jeered at, with stabbing convictions tousled in some bed
Not of cotton, but of sand, quicksand maybe, buried underneath it
No rescue has arrived, it is okay, for he is chivalric
Perhaps a gin tonic would do, if the circumstance permits.

I tell you again, I drink until I die,
Or at least, until the birth of the dawn,
But I never forget to kneel on both knees to pray,
Never did I avoid my pains, trust me, I cry at night
And cringe with the pain that I feel, perhaps, I will not be all right.

I am staunch in my beliefs,
That when one suffers here, animate, then he must be
Entitled to some kingdom far off, when time tells him so
Because the strongest men do not have place here on Earth,
They will never be approved by the mirth of the Gods.

I do not know if I am strong, let’s say,
A woman has left me; I will weep, and yes a woman has left me departed
In the morose dusk, I would feel unwanted,
As I unravel and unsheathe my scrawny shin,
I weep like a river, with my tears trickling down my chest

I would not advise you to give everything,
Because if love is a gamble, then it must be hinged
Or manipulated, fabricated or done with hearts on halves
Yet, I still did, wagered everything, gambled my whole life
As if to say, that in the conclusion, I will have my wife

Yet, my voyage is devoid and null
Look at me, I am categorized among the strongest men
Though not strong, for society has dictated again: “A man does not cry.”
Did you even ask why?
Maybe not, for men are scared of the truth.

In the littlest gist of allegories,
In poetry, prose, novels and short stories,
I have encountered men, who are the same as I am,
In times I long to live in a book, in the lines of a narrative
So all of you could see what lies behind this face

And so apart from all men,
The strongest are the loneliest
And so when the abandonment sets loose in a tempest
You will watch them weep, with or without love
But never did they flee. They never did.

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Book III - Part 04 - Folly Of The Fear Of Death

Therefore death to us
Is nothing, nor concerns us in the least,
Since nature of mind is mortal evermore.
And just as in the ages gone before
We felt no touch of ill, when all sides round
To battle came the Carthaginian host,
And the times, shaken by tumultuous war,
Under the aery coasts of arching heaven
Shuddered and trembled, and all humankind
Doubted to which the empery should fall
By land and sea, thus when we are no more,
When comes that sundering of our body and soul
Through which we're fashioned to a single state,
Verily naught to us, us then no more,
Can come to pass, naught move our senses then-
No, not if earth confounded were with sea,
And sea with heaven. But if indeed do feel
The nature of mind and energy of soul,
After their severance from this body of ours,
Yet nothing 'tis to us who in the bonds
And wedlock of the soul and body live,
Through which we're fashioned to a single state.
And, even if time collected after death
The matter of our frames and set it all
Again in place as now, and if again
To us the light of life were given, O yet
That process too would not concern us aught,
When once the self-succession of our sense
Has been asunder broken. And now and here,
Little enough we're busied with the selves
We were aforetime, nor, concerning them,
Suffer a sore distress. For shouldst thou gaze
Backwards across all yesterdays of time
The immeasurable, thinking how manifold
The motions of matter are, then couldst thou well
Credit this too: often these very seeds
(From which we are to-day) of old were set
In the same order as they are to-day-
Yet this we can't to consciousness recall
Through the remembering mind. For there hath been
An interposed pause of life, and wide
Have all the motions wandered everywhere
From these our senses. For if woe and ail
Perchance are toward, then the man to whom
The bane can happen must himself be there
At that same time. But death precludeth this,
Forbidding life to him on whom might crowd
Such irk and care; and granted 'tis to know:
Nothing for us there is to dread in death,
No wretchedness for him who is no more,
The same estate as if ne'er born before,
When death immortal hath ta'en the mortal life.

Hence, where thou seest a man to grieve because
When dead he rots with body laid away,
Or perishes in flames or jaws of beasts,
Know well: he rings not true, and that beneath
Still works an unseen sting upon his heart,
However he deny that he believes.
His shall be aught of feeling after death.
For he, I fancy, grants not what he says,
Nor what that presupposes, and he fails
To pluck himself with all his roots from life
And cast that self away, quite unawares
Feigning that some remainder's left behind.
For when in life one pictures to oneself
His body dead by beasts and vultures torn,
He pities his state, dividing not himself
Therefrom, removing not the self enough
From the body flung away, imagining
Himself that body, and projecting there
His own sense, as he stands beside it: hence
He grieves that he is mortal born, nor marks
That in true death there is no second self
Alive and able to sorrow for self destroyed,
Or stand lamenting that the self lies there
Mangled or burning. For if it an evil is
Dead to be jerked about by jaw and fang
Of the wild brutes, I see not why 'twere not
Bitter to lie on fires and roast in flames,
Or suffocate in honey, and, reclined
On the smooth oblong of an icy slab,
Grow stiff in cold, or sink with load of earth
Down-crushing from above.
"Thee now no more
The joyful house and best of wives shall welcome,
Nor little sons run up to snatch their kisses
And touch with silent happiness thy heart.
Thou shalt not speed in undertakings more,
Nor be the warder of thine own no more.
Poor wretch," they say, "one hostile hour hath ta'en
Wretchedly from thee all life's many guerdons,"
But add not, "yet no longer unto thee
Remains a remnant of desire for them"
If this they only well perceived with mind
And followed up with maxims, they would free
Their state of man from anguish and from fear.
"O even as here thou art, aslumber in death,
So shalt thou slumber down the rest of time,
Released from every harrying pang. But we,
We have bewept thee with insatiate woe,
Standing beside whilst on the awful pyre
Thou wert made ashes; and no day shall take
For us the eternal sorrow from the breast."
But ask the mourner what's the bitterness
That man should waste in an eternal grief,
If, after all, the thing's but sleep and rest?
For when the soul and frame together are sunk
In slumber, no one then demands his self
Or being. Well, this sleep may be forever,
Without desire of any selfhood more,
For all it matters unto us asleep.
Yet not at all do those primordial germs
Roam round our members, at that time, afar
From their own motions that produce our senses-
Since, when he's startled from his sleep, a man
Collects his senses. Death is, then, to us
Much less- if there can be a less than that
Which is itself a nothing: for there comes
Hard upon death a scattering more great
Of the throng of matter, and no man wakes up
On whom once falls the icy pause of life.
This too, O often from the soul men say,
Along their couches holding of the cups,
With faces shaded by fresh wreaths awry:
"Brief is this fruit of joy to paltry man,
Soon, soon departed, and thereafter, no,
It may not be recalled."- As if, forsooth,
It were their prime of evils in great death
To parch, poor tongues, with thirst and arid drought,
Or chafe for any lack.
Once more, if Nature
Should of a sudden send a voice abroad,
And her own self inveigh against us so:
"Mortal, what hast thou of such grave concern
That thou indulgest in too sickly plaints?
Why this bemoaning and beweeping death?
For if thy life aforetime and behind
To thee was grateful, and not all thy good
Was heaped as in sieve to flow away
And perish unavailingly, why not,
Even like a banqueter, depart the halls,
Laden with life? why not with mind content
Take now, thou fool, thy unafflicted rest?
But if whatever thou enjoyed hath been
Lavished and lost, and life is now offence,
Why seekest more to add- which in its turn
Will perish foully and fall out in vain?
O why not rather make an end of life,
Of labour? For all I may devise or find
To pleasure thee is nothing: all things are
The same forever. Though not yet thy body
Wrinkles with years, nor yet the frame exhausts
Outworn, still things abide the same, even if
Thou goest on to conquer all of time
With length of days, yea, if thou never diest"-
What were our answer, but that Nature here
Urges just suit and in her words lays down
True cause of action? Yet should one complain,
Riper in years and elder, and lament,
Poor devil, his death more sorely than is fit,
Then would she not, with greater right, on him
Cry out, inveighing with a voice more shrill:
"Off with thy tears, and choke thy whines, buffoon!
Thou wrinklest- after thou hast had the sum
Of the guerdons of life; yet, since thou cravest ever
What's not at hand, contemning present good,
That life has slipped away, unperfected
And unavailing unto thee. And now,
Or ere thou guessed it, death beside thy head
Stands- and before thou canst be going home
Sated and laden with the goodly feast.
But now yield all that's alien to thine age,-
Up, with good grace! make room for sons: thou must."
Justly, I fancy, would she reason thus,
Justly inveigh and gird: since ever the old
Outcrowded by the new gives way, and ever
The one thing from the others is repaired.
Nor no man is consigned to the abyss
Of Tartarus, the black. For stuff must be,
That thus the after-generations grow,-
Though these, their life completed, follow thee;
And thus like thee are generations all-
Already fallen, or some time to fall.
So one thing from another rises ever;
And in fee-simple life is given to none,
But unto all mere usufruct.
Look back:
Nothing to us was all fore-passed eld
Of time the eternal, ere we had a birth.
And Nature holds this like a mirror up
Of time-to-be when we are dead and gone.
And what is there so horrible appears?
Now what is there so sad about it all?
Is't not serener far than any sleep?
And, verily, those tortures said to be
In Acheron, the deep, they all are ours
Here in this life. No Tantalus, benumbed
With baseless terror, as the fables tell,
Fears the huge boulder hanging in the air:
But, rather, in life an empty dread of gods
Urges mortality, and each one fears
Such fall of fortune as may chance to him.
Nor eat the vultures into Tityus
Prostrate in Acheron, nor can they find,
Forsooth, throughout eternal ages, aught
To pry around for in that mighty breast.
However hugely he extend his bulk-
Who hath for outspread limbs not acres nine,
But the whole earth- he shall not able be
To bear eternal pain nor furnish food
From his own frame forever. But for us
A Tityus is he whom vultures rend
Prostrate in love, whom anxious anguish eats,
Whom troubles of any unappeased desires
Asunder rip. We have before our eyes
Here in this life also a Sisyphus
In him who seeketh of the populace
The rods, the axes fell, and evermore
Retires a beaten and a gloomy man.
For to seek after power- an empty name,
Nor given at all- and ever in the search
To endure a world of toil, O this it is
To shove with shoulder up the hill a stone
Which yet comes rolling back from off the top,
And headlong makes for levels of the plain.
Then to be always feeding an ingrate mind,
Filling with good things, satisfying never-
As do the seasons of the year for us,
When they return and bring their progenies
And varied charms, and we are never filled
With the fruits of life- O this, I fancy, 'tis
To pour, like those young virgins in the tale,
Waters into a sieve, unfilled forever.

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One and All

Run and run
Sing then sing
Dance the dance
Play during work
We all are the same
In every little way
The way you run
How I sing
When they dance
And how we all play
A single voice
A rose in bloom
It's all the same
Like me, like you
We are the feet that run
We are the voice that sings
We are the best of the dance
We are the playing beings
We are one
We are all
We are the same
One and all

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The Companion

Let him answer as he will,
Or be lightsome as he may,
Now nor after shall he say
Worn-out words enough to kill,
Or to lull down by their craft,
Doubt, that was born yesterday,
When he lied and when she laughed.

Let him and another name
for the starlight on the snow,
Let him teach her till she know
That all seasons are the same,
And all sheltered ways are fair,—
Still, wherever she may go,
Doubt will have a dwelling there.

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Who Knows Which Way the Wind Blows For Them

No it is not a bother at all.
I can not remember if it was you or me,
But...
I do believe we both agreed,
We could care less.
And went on to accept happiness,
To enrich our giving lives.

Perhaps...
That is why the lack of caring,
Has reflected as is observed.
And those who rejected our efforts then,
Are the same ones proclaiming...
A mending of fences with unity can be done.
Who knows which way the wind blows for them!

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The Same Room

It was the same room,
The same favours,
The same rights as your feet.
Agreeing must take on mastery
Of beliefs and houses are kept.
To order heaviness creates disunited
Manners of a procedure,
The processes are the same,
We announce the names
That we master forming the goals
To enlighten the few who have woes
In the light and darkness.
Let trees found the beliefs
Of nature that steals nothing
From the one who owns property.

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You Are The One

No i won't surrender
At any cost
You're something so sweet and tender
From my heart
Yes i've done my evil
I've done my good
Just believe me honey
I won't let go off you
You are the one
And there's no regrets at all
You are the one
And there's no regrets at all
We've had our share of misfortune
We've had our blues
And god is not on our side
Yes it's true
We keep forgetting baby
The others too
There is no one who can take that away
From me and you
You are the one
And there's no regrets at all
You are the one
And there's no regrets at all

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Wrong Answers May Not Be The Same!

The right answers are the same,
For the same questions asked,
Whether they write on their own or copy,
Teachers won't have doubts, but feel happy,
For their students are smart.
When the wrong answers are written,
Not by only one, but by many in the class,
Teachers know that the students resort to copy,
When the same wrong concept is written,
Many times in many places without knowing,
That the concept is wrong and need to be corrected,
The same wrong answer may not be written by many,
But by the one who does not know that it is wrong.

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