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Knowing is not enough we must apply. Willing is not enough we must do.

quote by Bruce Lee
Added by Lucian Velea
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Alley

Apply, apply
no reply.

I do not know
how to apply
what to apply
I do not know
whether I am
eligible to apply
I do not know
whether there is
age limit to apply
I do not know
what is the
last date to apply.

Apply, apply
no reply.

And you find a fly
in this alley.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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One Step Closer

I'm 'round the corner from anything that's real
I'm across the road from hope
I'm under a bridge in a rip tide
That's taken everything I call my own
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
I'm on an island at a busy intersection
I can't go forward, I can't turn back
Can't see the future
It's getting away from me
I just watch the tail lights glowing
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
Knowing, knowing
I'm hanging out to dry
With my old clothes
Finger still red with the prick of an old rose
Well the heart that hurts
Is a heart that beats
Can you hear the drummer slowing?
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
To knowing, to knowing, to knowing

song performed by U2
Added by Lucian Velea
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Knowing Me, Knowing You

No more carefree laughter
Silence ever after
Walking through an empty house, tears in my eyes
Here is where the story ends, this is goodbye
Knowing me, knowing you (ah-haa)
There is nothing we can do
Knowing me, knowing you (ah-haa)
We just have to face it, this time were through
(this time were through, this time were through
This time were through, were really through)
Breaking up is never easy, I know but I have to go
(I have to go this time
I have to go, this time I know)
Knowing me, knowing you
Its the best I can do
Memries (memries), good days (good days), bad days (bad days)
Theyll be (theyll be), with me (with me) always (always)
In these old familiar rooms children would play
Now theres only emptiness, nothing to say
Knowing me, knowing you (ah-haa)
There is nothing we can do
Knowing me, knowing you (ah-haa)
We just have to face it, this time were through
(this time were through, this time were through
This time were through, were really through)
Breaking up is never easy, I know but I have to go
(I have to go this time
I have to go, this time I know)
Knowing me, knowing you
Its the best I can do

song performed by ABBA
Added by Lucian Velea
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How Can You Sleep?

How can you sleep, knowing that the one who Really do Loves you Feels Bad He Let You Go?

How can you sleep, knowing that the one who Really Loves you cant sleep at night?

How can you sleep, knowing that the one who Really do Loves you cant Eat Because you are no longer there?

How Can you sleep, knowing that all he wants to do is hear your voice every night before he goes to sleep?

How can you sleep, knowing that everyday all he do is long for your touch and the warmth of your Lips?

How can you sleep, knowing that your on his mind everyday, Minute, Hour, Second?

How can you sleep, knowing your his one and only, even when your not together?

How can you sleep, telling him truth about him but not being true to yourself?

How can you sleep, not telling him what you know you want him to know?

How can you sleep, knowing he put his trust in you and you let him down?

How can you know so much yet so little?

How Would You Sleep Knowing That One Day Soon Will Be The Last Day You Ever See Him Again Knowing He Did You So Good And Yet One Day You Let Him Down?

poem by Nathaniel Hayes
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Knowing you

Exhausted and tired, I met you,
All the right reasons I saw,
Asked for a hand you gave me both,
Called for care I received love,
Knowing you knowing love

Shivering without any hope,
I asked for warmth i got heat,
In your tender arms i rested,
Darling give me more
Knowing you is knowing love

You took me by the hand,
Whispered in my ear,
You called me to your side,
You loved so dearly,
Take my hand you will see,
Love is becoming us,
Knowing you is knowing love

Tell me you love me,
With words im healed,
With the gentle touch im in ecstacy,
Knowing you was a fortune,
Like a beggar finding gold,
Knowing you was knowing love

poem by Gaylord Munemo
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It Makes More Sense

It makes more sense,
Stopping something not to start.
Yes it makes more sense,
Not to tear things all apart.
Or bring up filthy garbage,
Knowing it is just a farce.

It makes more sense,
To walk away than to be petty.
And it makes more sense,
To prevent a thumping headache.
And it makes more sense,
Not to argue with a fool.
Knowing this is something done,
Many fools love to do.

And it makes more sense,
Stopping something not to start.
Yes it makes more sense,
Not to tear things all apart.
Or bring up filthy garbage,
Knowing it is just a farce.
And it makes more sense,
Not to argue with a fool.
Knowing this is something done,
Fools love to do.

And it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To chase all bitterness away.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.

And it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To chase all bitterness away.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.

Yes it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.
Yes it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Knowing

There is a danger of knowing too much

knowing too much danger

Crossing a road without looking

Taking a risk with your cooking

A danger in knowing

There is a danger in knowing too much

Having digitalised lives

synched to computer

GOOGLED

There is a danger

Is there a danger in knowing?

Too much danger?

Too much knowing?

Too much?

we have/are becoming

More like a shopping mall

Packed full of brands

And gadgets

our apps additives

There is a danger of losing your child

In a shopping mall

Losing your self

In the underground

A danger in knowing

A danger in looking

[...] Read more

poem by Yvette Smith
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Rhythm Section Want Ad

In a world we call our home theres lots of room to roam
Plenty of time to turn mistakes into rhyme
Theres a place for those who love their poetry
Its just across from the sign that says, pros only
So if you like a band with a chick singer,
Say your cup of tea is a wall of trombones
If you dig menudo, or mdc we salute you the way we know
For every one with dollar signs in his eyes
There must be hundreds who look at you as if youre some kind of
Rhythm section want ad
No others need apply to the rhythm section want ad
Ill tell you why
Hats off to the new age hairstyle made of bones
Hats off to the use of hats as megaphones
Speak softly, drive a sherman tank
Laugh hard, its a long way to the bank
Do you sing like olive oyl on purpose
You guys must be into the eurythmics
For every one with dollar signs in his eyes
There must be hundreds who look at you as if youre some kind of
Rhythm section want ad
No others need apply to the rhythm section want ad
And heres the reason why
Hats off to the new age hairstyle made of bones
Hats off to the use of hats as megaphones
Speak softly, drive a sherman tank
Laugh hard, its a long way to the bank
Do you sing like olive oyl on purpose
You guys must be into the eurythmics
For every one with dollar signs in his eyes
There must be hundreds who look at you as if youre some kind of
Rhythm section want ad
No others need apply to the rhythm section want ad
And heres the reason why
Rhythm section want ad
No others need apply to the rhythm section want ad
And heres the reason why
Why
Why

song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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Life a school, learning the living

Life, a school
With no class rooms
With no black boards
With no one standing before you and teaching
With no tests
With no exams
With no marks, ranks and promotions
With no books
Life, a school
And you are in the same standard or class life through

Who is teaching, but
Everyone you come across and
Everything nearby
From just born to the one waiting to depart
The leaf dancing to the tunes of the wind
The car that is speeding by your side
The plane flying up in the sky
The water flowing gently in the stream
The stars twinkling in the dark sky
The colourful horizon at the other end
The mist, cloud, smoke and emission
The small ant busy carrying a much-bigger-to-its-size dry leaf
The butterfly jumping from flower to flower
All have potentials to teach,
If you have the desire to learn

What do they teach
To remain happy ever
To help others improve their status of happiness
To keep yourself balanced in all situations
To go ahead with your work emotion free
To stay healthy and be kicking
To be special of your own
To be social and sociable
To lead and to be an active part in team
Not to lose time in dreams and wasteful thinking
Not to be lazy and lost
Not to feel unwanted
And quite a number of other things for lively living
And to apply what all you learnt
And just not remeber and pour it out for scoring marks

Who assesses performance?
You and you only
As you only know what was taught
And you only know what was learnt
The more you apply what you learnt
The better is your performance
Know your performace from

[...] Read more

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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A Hill

A hill is in the sky much too high,
Offering us a new scene too beautiful,
But when is the strength to apply?

We must shift and learn and amplify,
Leaving too much time that is abnormal,
A hill is in the sky much too high.

Kill the souls of the fathers that are by,
Watch for the elements of risks considerable,
But when is the strength to apply?

I shun from single mothers who fight and buy
A lesser man who burns the clothes all horrible,
A hill is in the sky much too high.

You must change your job like water, or die,
For to die is greater than to be immortal,
But when is the strength to apply?

Jostle in the sand for a gun or a plan to dissatisfy,
Finding one job is too plain and immoral,
But when is the strength to apply?
A hill is in the sky much too high.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Nevada Mental Institute

Is this really a mental hospital?
It didn't look that way to me
a man in his wheel chair
kept saying this to himself
'O I wish I was never born!
O I wish I was never born! '
Some gaunt apparitions
here and there
minding their own businesses
howling at me
'Stay away! '
Seeing the blood stains
on the carpet floor
I shivered with fear and fright
that they might
devour me and my body
drinking my blood
dripping on the floor
which caused me to refuse
to take any medications
Was nice they didn't impose them on me
simply a shot or two
once in a while
Gosh!
Let me get some sleep
can you stop these women
screaming at nights
in room where I was assigned
to stay and sleep?
Madness drove me to all the way
to that place
though I tried to escape
the hands who put me there
after a long ride to San Francisco
to see the one I wanted to see
but failed to find the person's number
on phone book
for his wife's name was
on the registered
Couldn't keep these followers
from my back
in fear of being murdered
I decided to kill myself
but not with enough money to buy
the twenty-five dolor silver knife
from the shop I visited
during the break of the bus stop
I ran for help
to the law enforcement man
who took me to the hospital

[...] Read more

poem by Sangnam Nam
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Essay on Psychiatrists

I. Invocation

It‘s crazy to think one could describe them—
Calling on reason, fantasy, memory, eves and ears—
As though they were all alike any more

Than sweeps, opticians, poets or masseurs.
Moreover, they are for more than one reason
Difficult to speak of seriously and freely,

And I have never (even this is difficult to say
Plainly, without foolishness or irony)
Consulted one for professional help, though it happens

Many or most of my friends have—and that,
Perhaps, is why it seems urgent to try to speak
Sensibly about them, about the psychiatrists.

II. Some Terms

“Shrink” is a misnomer. The religious
Analogy is all wrong, too, and the old,
Half-forgotten jokes about Viennese accents

And beards hardly apply to the good-looking woman
In boots and a knit dress, or the man
Seen buying the Sunday Times in mutton-chop

Whiskers and expensive running shoes.
In a way I suspect that even the terms “doctor”
And “therapist” are misnomers; the patient

Is not necessarily “sick.” And one assumes
That no small part of the psychiatrist’s
Role is just that: to point out misnomers.

III. Proposition

These are the first citizens of contingency.
Far from the doctrinaire past of the old ones,
They think in their prudent meditations

Not about ecstasy (the soul leaving the body)
Nor enthusiasm (the god entering one’s person)
Nor even about sanity (which means

Health, an impossible perfection)
But ponder instead relative truth and the warm

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Pinsky
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No Difference

i stared out the window
at the bare frozen limbs
of my favorite old tree...
i closed my eyes...
saw leaves bud forth
and turn green...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i stared at the young girl
reading at a corner table
i closed my eyes...
and saw an old grandmother
washing dishes with her grandbabies
playing in the floor at her feet...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw the young man
carrying his son on his shoulders
i closed my eyes...
and saw an old man standing
by his son's casket
draped by a flag...
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw an old man
standing on the corner begging
i closed my eyes...
i saw a young boy
playing ball in the street
laughing and dodging cars
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw a crack head shivering
by an electric heater in a bare apartment
i closed my eyes...
and saw a young a/g student
helping some kid with his math
i opened my eyes...
knowing there was no difference.

i saw a desperate girl
walking the streets
looking for a john
i closed my eyes...
and saw a young girl's room
stuffed animals on the bed

[...] Read more

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Grew To Believe

I did not awaken with dreams to write.
Or decide I was creative.
I awakened each day trying to fight it,
This appetite I had.
Especially when I thought that I had,
Something I should not want to have.

Few people I knew were encouraged to express,
An acceptance of their gifts.
I grew up in the projects.
And those who were 'different' were made to feel it.

Few people I knew were encouraged to express,
A happiness with talents they possessed.
With a gladness from others...
Who did not address an envy with a jealousness.

But a showing of a knowing that I knew,
Grew...
Inside of me.
Yes,
A showing of a knowing that I knew...
Grew!

A showing of a knowing that I knew,
Grew...
Inside of me.
Yes,
A showing of a knowing that I knew...
Grew,
To believe.

I did not awaken with dreams to write.
Or decide I was creative.
I awakened each day trying to fight it,
This appetite I had.
But...
A showing of a knowing that I knew,
Grew...
Inside of me.
Yes,
A showing of a knowing that I knew...
Grew,
To believe.

A showing of a knowing that I knew,
Grew...
Inside of me.

A showing of a knowing that I knew...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Knowing Your Perimeters

knowing your perimeters is not an easy job,
not really expensive, but it takes the mind of the pensive man,
the wiles of the wise and the wit of the wounded

who am i? where am I? what am i?
where am i heeded? where i will stop?
what can i do? what i cannot do?

knowing the length of your arms and feet
the distance of your vision
and knowing what you can touch and
see, and knowing what you cannot
even touch and see no matter how
wide you open your eyes

knowing your place, your fences, the limits
of your garden, the source of your water,
your air, your food, the quiet imagination

knowing what you can give and you can hold,
knowing what you can let go
and what you must keep in your heart forever

knowing the limits of your mind
the stretch of your hands, the number of times that
you can blink your eye,
the right time to fear and the right time to kill
the right time to love and the right time to hate
or just be the foolish man who is so indifferent

i know my limits and i mark my boundaries.
please do not go any further. i am just staying
within the bounds of my hands and feet.
i am seeing you and i am warning you.

i have this detonator. My finger is ready.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Evil Will Prevail

With loving hands and their arms are stretched so wide they cant
Seem to take a breath knowing evil will prevail, and a million people
Seems
Like a lot, and a million people cant be wrong...
With loving smiles, and their mouths are stretched so wide they cant
Even
Take a breath, knowing evil will prevail, and the magic bullet is the
Glowing mother ship, and the mother zaps you dead...
With loving hands knowing evil will prevail
Knowing evil will prevail
Knowing that evil will prevail
Knowing evil will prevail
Knowing that evil will always win...

song performed by Flaming Lips
Added by Lucian Velea
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Great knowing

Knowing nothing
Knowing everything
Knowing what is
The use of knowing
Knowing great
Great knowing is
Earnig knowing.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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In A Windowpane

I looked into a windowpane
Last evening in a city far away
I was feelin sad and blue
I wondered then if I should really stay
Wanting someone to be with me in the light of this uncertain time
Waiting by the window for the man inside
To please make up his mind
Will you be one who passed through but never saw
Never knowing never feeling anything
Will you live your whole life through never knowing what to do
Will you be one who passed through but never saw
I walked along the roadway to a fountain
Where lovers come to meet
A hobo walked up to me, I could tell
He didnt have enough to eat
He said, good sir you look so kind
And though the years have stripped me to the bone
It seems I am the better man
For in this place Ive never walked alone
Will you be one who passed through but never saw
Never knowing never feeling anything
Will you live your whole life through never knowing what to do
Will you be one who passed through but never saw
Where will you be, my friendly, when your
Telephone aint givin out no calls
And when the seasons come to haunt you
Will you still find springtime in the fall
And when youre on your island
Will you wave at every ship that passes by
And will you feed a hungry man
I thank you, sir,
Now Ill just say goodbye
Dont you be one who passed through but never saw
Never knowing never feeling anything
Will you live your whole life through never knowing what to do
Will you be one who passed through but never saw
Will you live your whole life through never knowing what to do
Will you be one who passed through but never saw

song performed by Gordon Lightfoot
Added by Lucian Velea
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Going

Breaking it all down.
Just look around.
A life so quaint.
A blotch of paint here and there.
Painting a portrait out of thin air.
Oh where did you come from?
Where are you going?
Without ever really knowing.
Is this really how its gonna be.
So hard to see.
The glassed fogged by a change in temperature.
Heat rising and falling.
Emotions forever turning.
Were just churning the same sickness over and over again.
Oh where did you come from?
Where are you going?
Without ever really knowing.
Walking among the shadows.
A pact with devils.
Toss everything aside.
Take another, take a better ride.
Follow the motion of the oceans tides.
Eventually the chaos will subside.
Then again I will ask,
oh where did you come from?
Where are you going?
Without ever really knowing.
Look at that. It has start snowing.
Water crystallized and compromised.
Green skies.
A bitter wind grabs the skin.
Being ripped within.
I can already see the end.
Every move that can and will be made.
We are destinies slave.
Oh so brave.
But in a jaded sense.
How can it benifit me.
What a diease.
Another sneeze from a life deformity.
Oh where did you come from?
Where are you going?
Without ever really knowing.
Without ever really knowing.
Going, going forever going.
Do you have a map?
Are you bound to a contract?
Is there something you lack?
Just what is it that got you moving in zig zag.
Are you crossing the alps too just to get to other side.

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Better Days Are Made For The Ones Who Pay The Price

Falling down to get up,
And determined to get out of a rut...
Is better than a weeping.

Brushing off the dust,
And knowing that you've had enough...
With a strut you're keeping.

Better days are made for the ones who pay the price,
Of...
Knowing what time it is and taking advice,
Without a self defeating.

Some folks like to groan as if moans they own,
As if they live to get a beating.
Some folks like to groan as if moans they own,
As if they live to get a beating.
Better days are made for the ones who pay the price,
Of...
Knowing what time it is and taking advice.

Falling down to get up,
And determined to get out of a rut...
Is better than a weeping.

Some folks like to groan as if moans they own,
And...
Do it as if they are singing in different tones.

Well. Well. Well. Well...
Falling down to get up,
And determined to get out of a rut...
Is better than a weeping.

Brushing off the dust,
And knowing that you've had enough...
With a strut you're keeping.

Better days are made for the ones who pay the price,
Of...
Knowing what time it is and taking advice.

Well. Well. Well. Well...
Falling down to get up,
And determined to get out of a rut...
Is better than a weeping.

Brushing off the dust,
And knowing that you've had enough...
With a strut you're keeping.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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