Latest quotes | Random quotes | Vote! | Latest comments | Add quote

I didn't want to make a man the No. 1 quest in my life.

quote by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Related quotes

You Make Me Want To Be A Man

(Chorus)
I really wanna tell you something
This is just the way I am
I really wanna tell you something, but I can't
You make me want to be a man
Arguments that have no meaning
This is just the way I am
You really wanna tell me something, but you can't
You make me want to be a man
The thunder and the rain called you when you came
We didn't need to say much to communicate
Now it's different; 99% is misinterpreted
Chorus
Every word you say finds a home in me
Nothing that anyone could ever say
Could hurt me like this
Baby please, don't light that cigarette
Don't light that cigarette
Chorus (2x)

song performed by Utada HikaruReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

I want to make you cry!

I like You to remember me for ever
A man is here with out name and fame
But has a pure heart, no one can blame
He does not have nice face or good figure
Only With love and care he is very near and dear

That man is me and I want to do those works
Your heart must melt with those of my soft words
My smile always gives you happiness and pleasure
In your heart it will remain for ever as a treasure
I want to live along with you low and high
With pleasure and sorrow in the sky we together fly
So intense is my love and so soft my touch
Affection passionate intimate so much
My hugs are so warm, hearts and hearts rub so tight
I remain so close to share the moments heavy and light
You must ask me all these things, I do why
It is for nothing but when I shall say final good bye
I promise, at that time out of love I want to make you cry!

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
Patrick White

Dancing With An Old Man Under The Moon

Dancing with an old man under the moon
with nothing but your tattoos on,
as it rose over the treeline like a mushroom
and as beauty is to wisdom,
the blossom of your fire
to the smoke of stacked firewood
waiting to be immolated in the Bonfire of the Vanities
like an library of fingerprints on paper
just to prove that we were here once
long before this autumn made a ghost of us
and we could feel more naked with our clothes on
than we ever have done with them off.

Junkies hitting up in a snakepit of desire,
the Burmese python a heroin addict in a swamp,
the high-wire act of the rose in the circus,
the aerial acrobatics of our noblest emotions
swinging through the unimpeachable air
on a one-handed trapeze that was the axis mundi
of the world in the aberrant orbit
of a lightning struck weathervane.

Your body, a guitar; your soul, an inflammable violin,
when I wasn't burning bridges with you
like connections we didn't want to make
we were going for long firewalks among the stars
hand in hand like a couple that grew up
in the same neighbourhood that paid no attention
to whether they went out into the world and made good.
I was improbably inclined
and you were desperately uncertain
and we kept the little that was chaste between us
bucolic with shepherd moons
and major and minor dogs trying to pasture a rabbit.

Some women are beautiful like moonlit gazelles
and Greek vases are, and you stand back silently
as you would before any masterpiece of classical form
cooly and contemplatively as if you were musing
in your amazement on a first magnitude star
it would be an aesthetic desecration to touch
with anything as unshapely as a human in love.
But you knew how to swing your hips like an hourglass
and I've always been happy to be suckered by time
into filling in on the night shift for a sacred clown
who had to meet a dead line, finishing a cartoon
of the constellations he drew for a newspaper
like an out of date starmap that had to cut back on its print run.

You came with doves, I saw them, with plaster casts
on their broken wings, deadly nightshade, black orchids
that had once been the shadows of beauty queens,
and the fragrance of big pheromones charging
the summer night in your eyes with an aura of urgency
you kept hid under the eyelids of your innocence
and I could never tell whether you were the salvage
of the witch that was drowned in a trial by ordeal
or the one that showed everyone how easy it was
to walk on water when you had to save yourself.
Intrigued by the dawn of your smile, by midnight,
I was ready to sacrifice myself to the cult of it
like a Druid with a lunar sickle to the apple-bloom
of a tree alphabet deranged by the dissociated sensibilities
of an occult muse just coming out of eclipse.

I was making catalogues of the stars
that lay like ashes in my eyes when you suddenly flared up
like the saline spirit of a green flame burning in all my firepits
that began to feel they had the vision of a young dragon again
to see such foxfire blooming in the eye-sockets of its urns,
after the dark rain and fire storms, the excruciating pain
of living a life of coal predicated upon the possibility of diamonds,
the transmutation of the low into a union with the high
like a snake with wings that could ride, by God, it could ride
its own mystic wavelengths like a plutonic alloy
of the early Bronze Age just as the heroes were getting ready
to cut the umbilical cords with their hysterical, Medusan mothers.

Gratitude? Yes. You braved the taboo of the wizard
like a night bird on my windowsill, like a star
through the bars of my isolation cell
in a covert observatory buried underground
like a radical theater in a dead planetarium
staging doomsday scenarios for an unenlightened think tank
that never turned the light around on themselves
to discover that their third eye isn't the lens of a telescope.

And maybe you were the last hurrah of my flesh and bones
but, baby, you didn't leave anything elegaic in my blood
to prove it and I think it came as no less of a surprise to you
as it did to me, beyond the shadow of the searchlight of our doubt,
love had removed the black spot from my heart
like a planet in transit across a Venutian sun
and put it on your cheek like a beauty mark
in the name of Allah, the Merciful, the Beneficent
to tempt Hafiz into offering Samarkand
to a young slave girl if she would only take his hand
among the rose bushes on the banks of the Ruknabad
even if it meant he had to account to the khan
for what he squandered like gardens on the moon.

Born with wings on the heels of my cowboy boots
instead of spurs, who so club-footed
or cloven-hoofed and sodden
as camels in a B.C. gold rush
as to dance with you in sensible shoes?

Your hair was autumn. Your eyes were spring.
I lived for awhile, o who could know how to thank you,
for six months like a supernova in love with a black hole
at the vernal equinox in the thirteenth house
of the zodiac I still consult like a starmap of your tattoos
when I'm out walking in the woods alone
with the full moon that hasn't paled them in its light
even after all these years, still dancing with you in the night,
an old man circumambulating the fires of a dark bliss
by himself, certain he knows who he's dancing with and for.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

I Didn't Want To Set My Foot

I didn't want to set my foot
In this strange city
But I had no choice
Because the airplane
Had landed in this city at the airport

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

If you want to make God laugh

Plan out your future
Put your ducks in a row
Put your life to a schedule
And reap what you sow

Put things in motion
That’ll guide you through life
All the checks and balances
To belay stress and strife

You can lay out your life
Do all that you can
But if you really want to make God laugh….
…….have a plan…..

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

I Didn't Want It Around

I sat and chatted with the fear I was given.
I had grown accustomed to it and grew tired.
And asked of it before I angered...
Why it felt comfortable to sit with me.
Why I had to look over my shoulder,
To acknowledge its presence?
And if it was not there...
Why was I out to find it?
To identify it.
And attract it back into my life.
And why was it closer to me than anyone?
I wanted an answer.
I looked fear in the face.
And I demanded that it leave me.
With doubt and all of its associates.
I did not realize how easy that was.
I knew then...
For fear to go,
I had to release my hold of it!
It was only there because I allowed it to visit!
And I didn't care who or what gave fear to me.
I didn't want it around!

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

I Want a Pick-Up Man

vs.1 Today, I had a little a dream,
I thought it was real, or so it seemed,
And the guy that was in it was almost perfect.
I realized it was too good to be true,
But it told me somethin' I knew,
And now I see that it was worth it.
(chorus)
I want somebody who is down to earth,
I want someone who will understand.
I want somebody who can heal my heart,
I want someone who will hold my hand.
I want someone who will take care of me,
I want somebody that will tell me they love me, and
I want a pick-up man.
vs.2 It doesn't matter who they are,
As long as they can play guitar,
But that's not the only thing that matters to me.
I need a guy who's really tough,
A man who is actually sweet enough,
Caring and loving as he could be.
(chorus)
(instrumental/guitar)
Bridge: I need a man
Who sends good vibrations.
Somebody who gives me
This tingly sensation!
(chorus) x 2
Whoooahh, I want a pick-up man!

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Wealthy Man Don't Hoard Your Money

Some one else will own your property when you are dead and gone
The day you die the World won't stop life it will carry on
You've made it big, you've reached the top, you're plutocratic kind
But wealthy guy you too must die and leave your wealth behind.

You came out of your mother free of guilt and evil sin
But now you're just a money hoarder like all other greedy men,
Your dreams of wealth have all come true you are now a millionaire
But moneyed man you too will die as sure as cows wear hair.

There's nothing wrong with money without money man can't live
But in a man there must be what is known as take and give
And just like all other greedy men you never give but take
And the more money you accumulate the more you want to make.

Wealthy man don't hoard your money, don't be scared to spend a pound
Or someone else will spend it for you when your bones rest underground
Everybody hates a miser, no one loves a greedy soul
And you too will be forgotten when you're placed in earthy hole.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

I Want My Poetry

(8/22/12)

I want my poetry to touch the hearts and minds of all who read
And on their emotions my words would feed.
To express to all people no matter who they may be
Or what schooling they may or may not have
That their voices will be heard and told
And their emotions will all unfold.

Every emotion known to man will be written
With a gentle hand.
We as poets can climb into your being
And see what you are seeing, and to feel
Your every emotional pain
For no two are ever the same.

To feel your hunger, your thirst, your needs
And feel the cut vein when you bleed.
To feel your sorrows, your bitterness, your hate
And also feel your religious faith.

We are you - you are us
And in our minds you put your trust.
Let us tell the future generations
That these words were our salvation.

I want to make you feel the splendor
And to my words you will surrender.
To make you feel happy inside
And with a smile you can not hide.
To make you see that ALL LIFE is worthwhile
As you look upon that newborn child.
To let you know that your life was given to you
Because the love your parents knew.

© L. RAMS

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
Patrick White

I Want To Make A Contribution

I want to make a contribution.
I want to leave something on the stairs of the temple
in the dead of the night and steal away like a shadow,
hoping my small gift of a gift is well-received.
That the stars don't think they're wasting their light
to shine down upon it. Nor the wind resent the seeds it carries.
Fifty years of poetry. Painting the picture-music
the darkness pours into my heart and my heart conveys to my ears.
I can taste thousands of wildflowers like eyes in my blood.
I can taste the homelessness of the rogue stars in my tears,
and pull the wounded swords I cull like thorns of the rose
from the stone of my brain that fell in the farmer's field
like a rock through the window of the abyss
and make it clear as Merlin locked in his tower of glass,
that the stars only look fixed from a distance,
up close and intimate as atoms they're in a frenzy of creation
like a cloud of gnats in the last rapture of the sunset
radioactive with the bliss of being alive to know this.
That we're all longing for home in the lap of an expansive awareness
that threw the starmaps away the moment we were born
into the radiance of things that let go of the light
as if they knew something they just couldn't keep to themselves
without doing great injury to the flowers of life
that space was mind, and time was its emotional life
and as the dark mother said to her last incarnation
as it was stepping through the doorway into a stranger,
we're just going to wing it from here on end.

I want to be a strong storm tree twisted and bent by the wind
like the last letter of a sacred alphabet with no alpha or omega
to mark where things begin and end like death in life.
And wind up like a windfall of sweet fruit without end.
I want to make something of my falling, I want to honour
the table I eat at like iron and carbon and oxygen
by bringing something back for what I have received
without asking, or making a decision when I was not aware
of some unimaginable god that holds me personally responsible for it.
What a sleight to humans everywhere matter enjoins them
in a common labour to resonate so perfectly with the light
that lucidity isn't the exclusive property of the unknown,
and just because it's dark, the new moon of the black swan
shedding the feathers of the white, doesn't mean, it's not enlightened.

Though I come like a bird to a windowsill, though I pass
like a star from the window, though I sing of death
on the green bough, though I sing of life on the dead,
though I have been a dragon, a kitten, and a bee,
though I have floundered in sorrows like a lifeboat
way over my head, and lived through starless nights of fear
pulled down like executioners hoods over my eyes,
waiting to see what the morning brings that's vital,
I have not trafficked with my life like a pimp in a flower bed.
I have endured whatever excruciating transfigurations
I've ever had to go through, naked as a knife of light
unsheathed from the ore of this body that can no more
be cast off on the slag heap, than my spirit can paint in blood
a mural of all the changes we've been through like stars and mud.

I want to deepen the roots of the flowering night.
I want to beseech the poppies with my eyes
for more luminous experiences of cadmium red light
for more mystery among the stars than even they're aware of,
for more moons in the apple, more suns in the bread,
for more crazy wisdom than there is the Tibetan Book of the Dead.
I want to show the pine-cones they're pagodas as well
and point out where the mourning doves nest under their eyelids
and the shamans dwell in the upper branches of their evergreens
waiting to see if down will come cradle, baby and all,
or the next ascent is a red-tailed hawk at liberty
to fall upon whatever it likes, raising the snake of the lowest
up into the mystic delirium of the highest
to feather its scales in boas of oxymoronic light.

I want to intensify the dark until people can find
their way home by it, stars that broke into themselves
like morning glory tangled in an old bicycle wheel.
A pine-cone would do, a locket of sky, a piece of straw,
I could offer anything I wanted to, all those nests and pockets
I made in my pillow for years like a cat with a catcher's mitt
trying to find the perfect spot for its nightmare to sleep.
Or any one of a hundred cornerstones that were never built upon
or were torn down before the first brick laid.
Or I could lay my life down like a grain of wheat
among millions, at the feet of a silo so immaculately empty
it's never needed a single one of us, or all the animals
that bleated and bellowed and bled upon the earth
because we started drinking blood long before
we turned to bread like a better body to sacrifice.
Or my eyes like little thumb-drives of everything they've seen.

A gift of a gift as was given to me without a giver,
the ashes of a dead butterfly on a pyre of autumn leaves,
without ritual, celestial spin, I just want to come by myself
like a human in confusion we make the labour of our lives
as if I were stepping out of the trees like a white-tailed buck
come down to the river to drink from the moonlight
and add my reflection to the water that gave it to me,
with my head bowed toward the earth like a broken branch
heavy with the scarred fruits of life that have sweetened
like the moon over the years, poems I can recite by heart,
like the names of the stars and the flowers and the birds
and the ghosts of all those sad, passionate women who
tried so hard to be happy their tears clung like eyes
to the mystery of the windows they kept looking through
as if they were resilvering the mirrors of old telescopes
with the dew of a morning from a long time ago
witching in the dark for stars to explain their loss.

I want to bring a word that's been so deeply hidden in the open
like the flower of a rootless tree, it's got no colour of its own,
no seed, no leaf, no humming bird or bee, the tuning fork
of the nightbird, but no song, no honey, no nectar,
no likeness anywhere to compare it with, demonic or benign,
no meaning no mouth has ever wrapped itself around
like the atmosphere of a habitable planet, though the wind has tried,
a word so indelibly original it can't be washed out
like the whisper of a watercolour in the ear of a solar flare,
a word so private it gets said over the graves of the sacred syllables
that died in the mouths of men like the names of their gods,
not a prayer, not a mantra, not the shriek of a war-cry,
not a curse, not a blessing, not the answer to anything,
and I want to say the unsayable so unsayably free of veils
no junkie in the snakepit of a burning spoon, no lover
thawing virgin watersheds in the nunnery of Madame Moon
has ever stood so naked in their own eyes
even the emptiness inside felt overdressed for the occasion.

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

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
for me to be checked
and eventually
hospitalized
here at the Nevada Mental Institute
'You might hurt yourself.'
It's safer here
no more of murder-fear
no more of followers' torments
but sleep and rest
It was only two weeks' time
but felt like centuries
Mother was wondering where her child
had disappeared to
since the last she contacted her
Never heared from her
was on look out for her
but in no vain
I was still asking the people in that
institute
if this was really mental institute
they say it was
but she didn't believe it
nor could confirm the fact
for they all looked like normal
town people who gathered for the day's town meeting
but they kept saying to me
that it was mental hospital
which I couldn't believe
The night came
and I had to go back to the room
where the apparitions were screaming all night
I decide to stay outside
which the caretaker minded so
'Go back to the room
Go back! '
I didn't listen to her directions
but stayed outside
for the whole night
When the dawn broke
she found me
never having slept for the whole night
thinking those people might
devour me and my body
drinking my blood drip
staining the floor
which was already stained
by someone else's blood
they might have drunk
together as an orgy
a ritual to celebrate the new birth
of being a complete transformation
that had to take place
Being dead and torn apart
and devoured by the members of the ancient sect
one is able to renew its being
like the Greek god Dionysos
Bachus his name was
I had to be devoured by these people
who gathered for the town meeting
to discuss the matter
for that day
I was ready for the ritual
to take place
and be dead and torn a part
so my renewal will follow
but that never happened
to my surprise
people were all at their places
minding their businesses
with a child with mother
with a handicapped man in wheel chair
who kept repeating himself
'O I wish I was never born!
O I wish I was never born! '
You have a dillusionary hallucination
The doctors told me
that was my diagnosis
but what is it?
No idea
anyway the diagnosis is over
and I refuse still to take medications
A girl who was sweet to me all through
showed me how to swallow pills
doctors prescribed her
and I do know how to swallow pills
but I wouldn't do that
for that will keep me to sleep
and they will eat my meat and drink
my blood staining the floor with my blood
shed and dripped
I fear these women gaunt
approaching me with their silence
Taught me how to wash hands clean
how to clean face clean
They themselves were also not that clean
either though
they showed me the step by step
processes to clean and wash my hands and face
It was late fall
with trees turning their leaves red and yellow
I missed my home
chilly fall seasons when the trees change
their colors leaves fall on streets
Mother still couldn't locate the girl lost
and she gave up on finding her
Looking out the window
to see all the tree leaves changed into red and yellow
I sighed
when I would go home?
Would that time will arrive
or would I be murdered here
and be eaten by these strange people
and disappear from this planet?
The caretaker Richard was playing the zig saw puzzle game
and he was very good at it
2: 48 pm
(November 22,2012)
I was watching him play the puzzle game
just as I was watching over these kids
play chess game during their learning class time
their minds were being practiced by
the game playing and thaw out the wrong
that have been done unto their system that made
the kids learning disabled
it was not about learning but
about the system that got them
crooked and wronged in their processing
of the information that was coming into their perceptions
Old people deny the truth
the young want to confront the truth
but not many are courageous enough to
admit that they were wrong and they were
not in the right path in dealings with these minds
so artistic were the learning disabled students
share the extreme sensibility that no minds
could have ever experienced
They wrote poems songs plays and
newspaper articles and did some
creative things but their system was
wronged by the wrong information process system
The victims of the system were all gathered in my
Special Education classes
wanting to learn their way
but the schools didn't know how to educate them
how to meet their needs
to challenge them in a way they can
truly learn the lessons in their lives
That's what these doctors were doing with me
in each session
probing and inquiring my modes and my motives
for doing the things I was doing with my life
and my thinking..
Why did you not apply for the citizenship?
Does this mean you don't want to accept the main stream
of the United States of America?
Do they want me to lose my nationality
and become totally devoted to their nation
The USA?
What did they say that for?
It was so funny I thought these people
who followed me got mad at me
for I didn't apply for the citizenship to conform
to the main stream America.
Was I to say sorry that I didn't?
Was I supposed to get the citizenship once I become
the permanent residence of the USA?
Am I that needed quality that they impose me
to become the USA citizen for I was not
and that might have offended them a lot
So I feel I have to explain why I am not
a citizen of the USA
to the people who seemed quite upset with me
so to appease them I told the doctors
I might apply for the citizenship
for I was half committed to the nation
who hosted me for the last 8 years
but I didn't want to lose my nationality
as a Korean and didn't want to be one of the
immigrants losing their faces and histories
and their names none of them attracted me
So I have said to the doctors
I might apply for the citizenship
to appease them and make them not so offended
what I am in the country of the dream land
where many new comers are actually
making their way up to the ladder
to reach the American dreams
and I have to defend my self
for not applying for the citizenship
if I didn't they would kill me and murder me
that was a horror
to see these people around me seeing me
as a foreigner not quite part of the
American scene
Anyway there came the time that
made me discharged from the hospital
after moving onto to the next ward
more peaceful and more friendly
Could get to talk to some people
around the table
could get some night sleeps
and the time that felt like centuries
actually two weeks was over
and I was headed for home
That caretaker Richard, bless his soul,
spared his $20.00 for me to use
on my way back to home
It was a sheer donation he gave
out of his own pocket
that I will never forget
and safely home voyage made
and them back to my home country
to the loving family and country of my own
I never wanted to abandon my nationality
as a Korean
and never really wanted to be a part of the
American scene
not quite my style though
so I began writing poems after poems
upon arrival in my country
and here I am now telling you
the story of my own
how I became to know the verses
and the skills I always had been
envying in others who did a good job on
doing it...
got a good job working at a college
teaching the young
finding the proper accommodation
and commuting back and forth from
Seoul to the small town
where the college was located
which was a big inspiration for me
to meet the young minds face to face
on daily basis learning their
learning style developing the right instruction
that might suit them learn better
This has been going on for 15 years
now as of today
The new language they spoke was so refreshning
in me that resonated the long gone memories
that I had forgotten
and new language with a new life began
with this job assignment
I got at this college
yet still being challenged by the
past experiences and memories
that don't go away out of my mind
that will keep ringing
in my ears and brain to teach the good lesson
they can teach
Education is the ability to enable a person
to listen and understand the others
without losing their temper
the calm and serene mode of thinking comes
only from the proper education
to listen and understand what others are
saying to them
This writing of poems is also an art
that requires that kind of attention
to draw the attention of the readers
who are tuned in
what the poet is telling them about
so the connection between the writer and the reader
has to be established
and foremost of all
the freedom to speak out what one has
in mind
the place where they can express themselves
in free mode of consciousness
all these come from the true
democratic society where the nation Korea
didn't have when I left the peninsula
some 13 years before the time
Thoughts were strictly controlled
and the expression of one's feelings and minds
are extremely limited and banned
almost
from I which I found an exile
in some other country for that period
of time
No body knew I was on exile
even myself
until one man asked me if I was on exile
then I realized that it was an exile
long way from home
to renew my new interiority
new paradigm of thinking and feeling
Thanks to the doctors at this
institute
I was finally able to gather
information on me and my processing information
channels
which helped me understand where I stood
in two different societies
By stating this facts
I am no longer compelled
to feel obligated to assimilate to any
nation nor pressure to have to explain what my doings
and sayings and writings
Finally the nation was allowing me to speak
what I want to say
before I was banned to write to the
college newspapers
for my thoughts were too radical
and my papers were mostly
not published for my thoughts
could have offended the school officials
Wow you are bright!
Wow you are bright!
Those empty praises usually followed
after my papers were denied
publications
They would rather go along with the
system that suppressed the freedom of speech
wanted to remain in the safe side
while I had to suffer the unnecessary
unworthiness and low self-esteem
their praises didn't help me to get over
the damages they had done on me
but I persisted and endured the crushing down
on free thoughts and expressions
only through some healing that took place
prior to that time
I was finally able to see the truth
directly on their faces
and face it more gracefully
without much emotional turmoils
nor unnecessary crushing down on self
It was my exile that I took
to get over the wounds the society had done
to me
with so many angelic hands helping me
assisting me
with their warm family members
How can I not remember the ones I met
on the road to heal and cure myself
and eventually return my gratitudes back to them
whenever the chances came to me
Life is in good hands now
and I no longer have to suffer
for the truth stays in me
from now on.

7: 09 am
(November 23,2012)
Korea-Japan time

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

I didn't want to kill a man. I'm not capable of killing a man. I wanted to kill a tyrant.

quote by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

I wasn't absolutely too sure where the Falklands was, and I didn't want to make a bloody fool of myself.

quote by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
Pedro Almodovar

Even though I love my mother, I didn't want to make an idealized portrait of her. I'm fascinated more by her defects - they are funnier than her other qualities.

quote by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

I didn't want to make it a lifetime thing. I don't believe in statutory term limits, but people can limit themselves if they want to, and that's what I decided to do.

quote by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
Holly Valance

I just want to do something risque for my debut, purely because I didn't want to make an entrance being the pretty, sweet type that I've been seen as for the last 3 years.

quote by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
Patrick Stewart

Encouraging people to believe in it was the most important thing of all. It's one of the reasons I was always uncomfortable whenever film crews came on the set to shoot things. I didn't want our make-believe to be exposed.

quote by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

So I told Robert from the start that if we couldn't get Charles and Max to take part, but especially Charles, that I didn't want to make the film. So would he call his mother and talk to Charles and see if Charles would at all be interested.

quote by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

2008: Things I Don't Want to Leave Behind

Didn't want to leave you
With a bad imnpression
Didn't want to take you
In the wrong direction

Didn't want to fool you
About my affection
Didn't want to leave you
With my last confession

I didn't want to end up
Without a reflection
Didn't want to accept fate
In the end there's no deception

poem by Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share

Help Me Make It Through The Night

(words & music by kris kristofferson)
Take the ribbon from your hair
Shake it loose, let it fall
Lay it soft against my skin
Like the shadow on the wall
Come and lay down by my side
Till the early morning light
All Im taking is your time
Help me make it through the night
I dont care whats right or wrong
I wont try to understand
Let the devil take tomorrow
cause tonight I need a friend
Yesterday is dead and gone
And tomorrows out of sight
And its sad to be alone
Help me make it through the night
I dont care whats right or wrong
I wont try to understand
Let the devil take tomorrow
cause tonight I need a friend
Yesterday is dead and gone
And tomorrows out of sight
And its sad to be alone
Help me make it through the night
I dont want to be alone
Help me make it through the night

song performed by Elvis PresleyReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Share
 

Search


Recent searches | Top searches