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I enjoy writing for third and fourth graders most of all.

quote by Beverly Cleary
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Truth and the Devil

The devil unstoppably took pride in salaciously writing; the book of
obnoxious caste-creed and venomously penalizing hatred,

The devil unstoppably took pride in acrimoniously writing; the book of
indiscriminate bloodshed and disastrously traumatizing ruthlessness,

The devil unstoppably took pride in vengefully writing; the book of
tyrannical devastation and lecherously bellicose orphaning,

The devil unstoppably took pride in fretfully writing; the book of
vindictive war and satanically criminal holocausts,

The devil unstoppably took pride in maliciously writing; the book of
coldblooded barbarism and manipulatively bizarre malice,

The devil unstoppably took pride in forlornly writing; the book of
worthless
ghosts and mortuaries brutally anointed with fresh blood,

T The devil unstoppably took pride in indigently writing; the book of
nonchalant spuriousness and fecklessly insipid meaninglessness,

The devil unstoppably took pride in torturously writing; the book of
ominous
animosity and hedonistically pugnacious illwill,

The devil unstoppably took pride in dictatorially writing; the book of
licentious bawdiness and insanely threadbare nothingness,

The devil unstoppably took pride in heinously writing; the book of
lascivious poverty and baselessly crippling uncertainty,

The devil unstoppably took pride in savagely writing; the book of
despicable
defeat and lethally ballistic atrociousness,

The devil unstoppably took pride in raunchily writing; the book of
dolorous
delinquency and insidiously slandering betrayal,

The devil unstoppably took pride in preposterously writing; the book of
scurrilous lunatism and barbarously incarcerating fiendishness,

The devil unstoppably took pride in frigidly writing; the book of
jejune
mockery and impudently castigating brazenness,

The devil unstoppably took pride in heartlessly writing; the book of
ghastly
bloodshed and indefatigably bombarding politics,

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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When I wasn't breathing

When I wasn’t blissfully snoring; I was still inexhaustibly writing a
cistern of stupendously rhapsodic and gloriously majestic Immortal Love
Poetry,

When I wasn’t unsurpassably fantasizing; I was still inexhaustibly
writing a
garden of ingeniously magical and miraculously mitigating Immortal Love
Poetry,

When I wasn’t superbly adventuring; I was still inexhaustibly writing
an
ocean of bountifully resplendent and timelessly undefeated Immortal
Love
Poetry,

When I wasn’t scrumptiously relishing; I was still inexhaustibly
writing a
playground of optimistically enlightening and unbelievably royal
Immortal
Love Poetry,

When I wasn’t limitlessly triumphing; I was still inexhaustibly writing
a
cascade of beautifully panoramic and effulgently liberating Immortal
Love
Poetry,

When I wasn’t pricelessly smiling; I was still inexhaustibly writing a
lantern of unendingly vibrant and inscrutably tantalizing Immortal Love
Poetry,

When I wasn’t gloriously partying; I was still inexhaustibly writing a
paradise of eternally vivacious and pristinely redolent Immortal Love
Poetry,

When I wasn’t unassailably inspiring; I was still inexhaustibly writing
a
festoon of incredulously ameliorating and perpetually compassionate
Immortal
Love Poetry,

When I wasn’t magnanimously feasting; I was still inexhaustibly writing
a
cocoon of symbiotically philanthropic and ubiquitously coalescing
Immortal
Love Poetry,

When I wasn’t ebulliently fornicating; I was still inexhaustibly
writing a
mist of wonderfully reinvigorating and blessedly burgeoning Immortal

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Writing To

Writing to feel
Writing to heal
Writing to steal
Writing every emotion..
With such a white background.
It makes no sound
Even as the keys I pound.
Let my words have bite
Let from my words drip out meanings beyond meanings
Its something I try to be constantly be achieving.

Writing to feel
Writing to heal
Writing to steal
I want every heart and mind
Sucked in cause this is my world stage
No sense of the time.
Never to turn the page
Stuck in to a world oh so oh so fine

Writing to feel
Writing to heal
Writing to steal
Listen to her melody, as she sings.
Let chaos reign down from the skies
What will this day really bring?
Will the letter say good bye?
Will it mend everything?

Making everything better.
Destroying all the consequences
That exist in your world.
Welcome to the place I visit daily.
Inspirational maddness,
It attacks, attacks, and attacks.
With perfect sadness
I must let go once more.
And then the words hit the floor

Writing to feel
Writing to heal.
Writing to steal.
Becoming one with my soul.
Fighting for its one and only control.
Its mine, Its mine. Its mine.
In this reality it subsequently is not
A constant questioning of what?

Writing to feel
Writing to heal.

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Whos Been Writing On The Wall Again

Someone keeps on telling me how much he loves me so
Writes it on the wall outside so I will always know
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Lori, I love you , lori, I love you
Evry evening I come home , its waiting there for me
Three little words, one little voice , someone I cant see
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Lori , I love you , lori , I love you
Is he tall or is he small
I wonder what his game is
I wish hes write it on the wall
And tell me what his name is
I dont know if his hair is blonde or if his eyes are blue
But I know that when I meet him ,Im gonna love him too
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Lori , I love you , lori , I love you
Is he tall or is he small
I wonder what his game is
I wish hed write it on the wall
And tell me what his name is
I dont know if his hair is blonde or if his eyes are blue
But I know that when meet him , Im gonna love him too
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Lori , I love you , lori , I love you
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again (fade)

song performed by Bee Gees
Added by Lucian Velea
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Something

I'm writing in hope for something with sweet melody,
A rhythm that can be felt,
A beauty that can be read.
With words flowing like water over rocks,
Steadily without fault or obstruction.
A liquid in its purest state.

I'm writing in hope for something with sweet remembrance,
Like the scent of falling rain,
Or the memorable sound of a mothers cooing voice.
Something so memorable,
The slightest reminder sends you back to the exact moment,
Replaying in unbroken pattern of mind.

I'm writing in hope for something spectacular to happen,
For my words to form a feeling so deep they hurt,
For each image to be as clear as these words on this paper.
I want you to feel what I feel,
A feeling of lonely discontent,
Sitting alone in my own my own world, writing away.

I am writing this in hope for something to stick with you,
A message or a meaning that I've hidden inside a syllable,
A voice of reason that you have kept from yourself,
Silenced with the voice of your shallow desires.
A dream that you once had forgotten,
Lost in the darkness of the night.

I am writing this in hope for something to be brought to light.
Maybe a buried thought that you wish you never had,
Or an inner conflict that you hadn't noticed but feel tearing apart your skin,
Even an aspiration you promised to live up to but left to die.
Something so lost in the world of your mind,
Swallowed by deep chasms of thought and memory.

I am writing this in hope of telling a story.
The story of a world that can only be imagined in a dark room,
Hidden from the world and apart from anything else.
The story of a broken heart of a shortened life,
The story of the silent cries of a lost soul reaching for sanity.
My own story, perhaps, or even yours, is this your story?

I am writing in hope of making your thoughts and feelings dance,
A slow and steady music in the background,
Propelling your eyes left to right and back again.
Following the steps of each word,
The flow off each line and stanza.
An endless waltz with the reader and the writer, will you dance with me?

I am writing in hope of making an impression on your mind,

[...] Read more

poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Day of the Refugios

  In Mexico and Latin America, celebrating one's
  Saint's day instead of one's birthday is common.

I was born in Nogales, Arizona,
On the border between
Mexico and the United States.

The places in between places
They are like little countries
Themselves, with their own holidays

Taken a little from everywhere.
My Fourth of July is from childhood,
Childhood itself a kind of country, too.

It's a place that's far from me now,
A place I'd like to visit again.
The Fourth of July takes me there.

In that childhood place and border place
The Fourth of July, like everything else,
It meant more than just one thing.

In the United States the Fourth of July
It was the United States.
In Mexico it was the día de los Refugios,

The saint's day of people named Refugio.
I come from a family of people with names,
Real names, not-afraid names, with colors

Like the fireworks: Refugio,
Margarito, Matilde, Alvaro, Consuelo,
Humberto, Olga, Celina, Gilberto.

Names that take a moment to say,
Names you have to practice.
These were the names of saints, serious ones,

And it was right to take a moment with them.
I guess that's what my family thought.
The connection to saints was strong:

Mu grandmother's name--here it comes--
Her name was Refugio,
And my great-grandmother's name was Refugio,

And my mother-in-law's name now,
It's another Refugio, Refugios everywhere,

[...] Read more

poem by Alberto Ríos
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Writing On The Wall

Words and music by rick nielsen
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
Lo and behold, heard it on the radio.
It was a long time comin, but it sounds so sweet, come on, man, get off my back.
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
In the midwest and in the east.
Canada, southwest, around the world,
L.a., tokyo, sounds so sweet,
Come on honey, get on your feet.
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
The words were oh, so...
The words were oh, so clear.
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
Lo and behold, heard it on the radio.
It was a long time comin, but it sounds so sweet, come on, man, get off my back.
Saw it at the airport, it was on t.v.
Read it in a magazine, runnin down the street.
Makes no sense, but I hope its gonna last,
The next big thing, I really gotta laugh.
Worked and slaved and played like hell,
Everybodys goin crazy, youre the last to know.
Cant explain it, still a joke to me,
Maybe Im naive, cause its so plain to see.
Its right in front of your face, man.
Its right in front of your face, man.
Played like hell, whoa!
Played like hell, whoa!

song performed by Cheap Trick
Added by Lucian Velea
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Miss Fourth Of July

I used to live but now I survive
I used to believe but now it's just one day at a time
The circus is gone, it's all packed away
The clown's hat, the makeup's been packed in his case
Chorus:
So we wave goodbye to Miss Fourth of July
The queen of the roses has left us with nothing but thorns
Don't say we never tried, Miss Fourth of July
The stars that we reached for left us with nothing but dawn
I used to laugh but I've learned to cry
For I ain't too proud to let you see tears fall from these eyes
For all of my hopes, my heartaches and fears
For a night I just watched and you walked out of here
Chorus:
I just waved goodbye to Miss Fourth of July
The queen of the roses has left us with nothing but thorns
Don't say we never tried, Miss Fourth of July
The crown that we reached for left us with nothing
But your thorns left me wounded not unlike the truth
When innocence sang his last song
He'd tell me that it's all gone
Just look me in the eyes and say man, nothing at all
- solo -
I used to live, now I've learned to die
And I used to dream I used to dream
Chorus:
So now we wave goodbye to Miss Fourth of July
The queen of the roses has left us with nothing but thorns
Don't say we've never tried, Miss Fourth of July
The stars that we reached for, they've left us with nothing but dawn
Oh, yeah
Nothing but a heavy hit of heartbreak
A handful of blues..
Oh, yeah

song performed by Bon Jovi
Added by Lucian Velea
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Saturday In The Park

Saturday in the park
I think it was the fourth of july
Saturday in the park
I think it was the fourth of july
People dancing, people laughing
A man selling ice cream
Singing italian songs
(fake italian lyric)
Can you dig it (yes, I can)
And Ive been waiting such a long time
For saturday
Saturday in the park
Youd think it was the fourth of july
Saturday in the park
Youd think it was the fourth of july
People talking, really smiling
A man playing guitar
Singing for us all
Will you help him change the world
Can you dig it (yes, I can)
And Ive been waiting such a long time
For today
Slow motion riders fly the colors of the day
A bronze man still can tell stories his own way
Listen children all is not lost
All is not lost
Funny days in the park
Every days the fourth of july
Funny days in the park
Every days the fourth of july
People reaching, people touching
A real celebration
Waiting for us all
If we want it, really want it
Can you dig it (yes, I can)
And Ive been waiting such a long time
For the day

song performed by Chicago
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Come Alive In Writing

I come alive in writing
Even if the writing means nothing to anyone else-
I come alive in writing
Even if I am totally deluding myself as to its value-
I come alive in writing
Even if at times while writing there is an underlying hopelessness and despair -

I come alive in writing
As if writing is what God has given me to do-
I come alive in writing
As if through it I can truly give to and help others-
I come alive in writing
As if life has meaning through it-

I come alive in writing
Even when I sense the writing is not good or great
As I would wish it to be.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Rage...paİ N And Shame

unfortunately outburst a big rage.......on our small border village.....on a windy and damned day....who are these black men...with black masks on face...from darkness...with guns..machine guns and turrets...with light armour weapons...aimed on humans....how dare...they ki, ll small chidren...men and women...how dare...even children in their mothers'...even not born yet..not a bbay yet....even praying...how this vengeance and rage emerged and fed..who are this hatred men with gun....combing the wedding crowd with bullets.....pain and shame covered this village..near the border...in fact near the border of humanity.....but no traces of regret.....when will this hatred end....nobody knows yet...thr bulldosers...the graders....the excavators dug the graves..of fifty human beings....a moment before were livings...it is spring may be may...hopeless tears shed....and never end...dug soil smells spring...body..sometimes corpse...chidren unaware..play on newly dug graves...interlocked...they play hide and seek....but the some hidden will never come out...tears are shed...mournings....elegies sung...it was a wedding ceremony...turning into a burial ceremony...suddenly in a moment...rage outburst...a funeral..pell_mell..informal...that is real...not a dream..death is side by side...with living...is a part of life...but should not have come so easy...should not have fallen on even not babies..in their mothers'....not born yet...graders..bulldozers...excavators...dug the graves..pell-mell...things are not developing well...for humanity....really...mournings...tears shed....elegies sung and cried....never stopping and will not stop yet..rage ..pain and shame...emerging from the small village near the border..scattered...and... covered all over the world...neverless...stealthily ..and slowly...in darkness

poem by Metin Sahin
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Fourth Of July

Trembling
Starry eyed
As you put your hand in mine...

It was twilight
One the Fourth of July
Sparkling colors were
Strewn across the sky
And we sat close enough
That we just barely touched
While roman candles
Went soaring above us and baby

Chorus
Then you put your hand in mine
And we wandered away
I was trembling inside
But I wanted to stay
Pressed against you there
And leave the world behind
On that Fourth of July

So starry eyed
On the flower hillside
Breathless and fervid
Amid the dandelions
As it swept over me
Like the wind through the trees
I felt you sigh with a
Sweet intensity and baby

Chorus
Then you put your hand in mine
And we floated away
Delicately lay entwined
In an intimate daze
A crescent moon began to shine
And I wanted to stay
Tangled up with you among the fireflies

(Bridge)
Thunder clouds
Hung around
So threateningly
Ominously hovering
And the sky
Opened wide
Showering

Chorus

[...] Read more

song performed by Mariah Carey from Butterfly
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Writing The Words

I’m writing this at your funeral.
As I watch all the people in tears.
I wish I could join them,
But I know I have to be strong.

I’m writing this on my hand,
No paper to get it down on.
I want to remember your funeral,
So I’m writing this to honour you.

I’m writing the thoughts that pop into my head,
Making sure they are only the best.
I have to remember,
Because I couldn’t live with myself if I ever forgot.

I’m writing this at your funeral,
As people dropp flowers onto your coffin.
I stand up to dropp my own,
Blue, unlike the others, because I know it’s your favourite.

I’m writing this through the ceremony,
Because if I listen to the words I’ll cry.
And I know I can’t, for you,
I have to keep it together.

I’m writing the words I want to say,
To make people remember how much love you gave.
Because I want them to know,
How much of it you gave to me.

So, I’m writing this at your funeral,
To stop myself from shedding a tear.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
So that I never ever forget you.

poem by Rachel Brewer
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A Beauty of Love!

I enjoy beauty of star studded night sky;
I enjoy beauty of harmonious waves of sea;
I enjoy beauty of peaceful living of people;
I enjoy beauty of natural poems of poets!

Beauty of human life I enjoy in all forms;
Beauty of fun loving children I enjoy often;
Beauty of smiling flowers I enjoy in garden;
Beauty of art work I enjoy in all forms ever!

World is full of beauty Nature bestows to all;
World is paradise due to love and beauty ever;
World is the abode of man's cultural refinement;
World is the spring board to heaven at the end!

Beauty of love is eternal for all to enjoy in life
Evolving animal into man and man into divine!

poem by Ramesh T A
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The Third Monarchy, being the Grecian, beginning under Alexander the Great in the 112. Olympiad.

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

[...] Read more

poem by Anne Bradstreet
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Dear Friend

i always love to write, as early as
gradeschool when we were classmates
while you were playing and chasing and stumbling
i just sat on the grass of the playground under a tree and scribble anything
and read a lot about some stories with lots of pictures
and colors of fairies and kings and queens and butterflies and bees,

i do not stop writing, in fact, writing has become my life
that without words i may die an instant death
i dream that i have written novels and stories and lots of poems
i wake up with some ideas like some seeds that i want to sow
and grow in the field and see them become shrubs and trees and forests

and i keep on this life writing and writing and writing and writing
for writing's sake and i wish i may live longer so i may write
some more, some sequels of my love stories and suspense thrillers
and write finally all the poems that are inside my mind
hanging like ripe grapes and creeping like vines on my fence

as i am writing now as you always want to read me
until such time my friend that i will die, or end my life myself (who knows?)
(i will not talk about it now, it is something bizarre and makes me
shiver, but who knows, well you know, all are but possibilities and nothing
but possibilities in this vast wide world of realities and dreams)

there is something i must say somehow
there is something that i must have forgotten, i have not written about myself
i have always written about them, about you, about the world,

please do not refuse me, stop playing with your life,
gradeschool ended
a long time ago, i have one and ultimate request:

write the story of my life, because it is you who only knows about it.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Me And Nature

I love to enjoy the wind that
rule the shore of the ocean,
i love to enjoy the wild sun
of Africa and the expatacular
snow of of europe,
i love to enjoy the beauty and
the fragrance of flower that
grace the soil of Africa (Europe,
America) .

I love to enjoy the divine beauty
of the sky at nite when the sun
and the stars proof their worth,
i love to enjoy the rain so when
it pour i dance my way through
it.

I love to enjoy the green grass so
when am within them i feel them
with my hands
i love to enjoy the sweet melodies
of the brids, the sound of the
flute and that of the drum.
I love to enjoy nature..

poem by Enyinwa Okechukwu Enyinwa
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Metamorphoses: Book The Ninth

Theseus requests the God to tell his woes,
Whence his maim'd brow, and whence his groans arose
Whence thus the Calydonian stream reply'd,
With twining reeds his careless tresses ty'd:
Ungrateful is the tale; for who can bear,
When conquer'd, to rehearse the shameful war?
Yet I'll the melancholy story trace;
So great a conqu'ror softens the disgrace:
Nor was it still so mean the prize to yield,
As great, and glorious to dispute the field.
The Story of Perhaps you've heard of Deianira's name,
Achelous and For all the country spoke her beauty's fame.
Hercules Long was the nymph by num'rous suitors woo'd,
Each with address his envy'd hopes pursu'd:
I joyn'd the loving band; to gain the fair,
Reveal'd my passion to her father's ear.
Their vain pretensions all the rest resign,
Alcides only strove to equal mine;
He boasts his birth from Jove, recounts his spoils,
His step-dame's hate subdu'd, and finish'd toils.
Can mortals then (said I), with Gods compare?
Behold a God; mine is the watry care:
Through your wide realms I take my mazy way,
Branch into streams, and o'er the region stray:
No foreign guest your daughter's charms adores,
But one who rises in your native shores.
Let not his punishment your pity move;
Is Juno's hate an argument for love?
Though you your life from fair Alcmena drew,
Jove's a feign'd father, or by fraud a true.
Chuse then; confess thy mother's honour lost,
Or thy descent from Jove no longer boast.
While thus I spoke, he look'd with stern disdain,
Nor could the sallies of his wrath restrain,
Which thus break forth. This arm decides our right;
Vanquish in words, be mine the prize in fight.
Bold he rush'd on. My honour to maintain,
I fling my verdant garments on the plain,
My arms stretch forth, my pliant limbs prepare,
And with bent hands expect the furious war.
O'er my sleek skin now gather'd dust he throws,
And yellow sand his mighty muscles strows.
Oft he my neck, and nimble legs assails,
He seems to grasp me, but as often fails.
Each part he now invades with eager hand;
Safe in my bulk, immoveable I stand.
So when loud storms break high, and foam and roar
Against some mole that stretches from the shore;
The firm foundation lasting tempests braves,
Defies the warring winds, and driving waves.

[...] Read more

poem by Ovid
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Love Is Coming Down

Surrounded by people
Surrounded by people
A real heavy crowd
A real heavy crowd
But inside I still feel lonely now
But inside I still feel lonely now
Should I get away
Should I get away
From the high heels so proud
From the high heels so proud
Is there something different life can show me now
Is there something different life can show me now
First chance - I blew it, I better start it all again
First chance - I blew it, I better start it all again
Second chance - ooh, I knew it wouldnt be as easy as they said
Second chance - ooh, I knew it wouldnt be as easy as they said
Third chance - Im cut up, lifes like a razors edge
Third chance - Im cut up, lifes like a razors edge
Fourth chance - ooh, Im all shut up and Im standing on the ledge
Fourth chance - ooh, Im all shut up and Im standing on the ledge
And Im goin down (Im goin down)
And Im goin down (Im goin down)
Goin down (Im goin down)
Goin down (Im goin down)
Goin down (Im goin down)
Goin down (Im goin down)
Ooh, down
Ooh, down
Im not a loser
Im not a loser
But did I really win?
But did I really win?
Can I afford to go through it all again?
Can I afford to go through it all again?
I hope I dont sound
I hope I dont sound
As immature as I feel
As immature as I feel
But when I get wise, Ill give you a call, my friend
But when I get wise, Ill give you a call, my friend
First chance - I blew it, I better start it all again
First chance - I blew it, I better start it all again
Second chance - ooh, I knew it wouldnt be as easy as they said
Second chance - ooh, I knew it wouldnt be as easy as they said
Third chance - Im cut up, lifes like a razors edge
Third chance - Im cut up, lifes like a razors edge
Fourth chance - Im all shut up and Im standing on the ledge
Fourth chance - Im all shut up and Im standing on the ledge
Now Im goin down (Im goin down)
Now Im goin down (Im goin down)

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song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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Unwise Are Wise Enough!

Wise is the one who eats to live
And live to eat;
He knows for sure he will be hungry,
And the stomach can never be filled,
Keeps it half filled!

People are with head,
One fourth filled with thoughts and ideas,
One fourth by emotions and prejudice,
One fourth by desires and ambitions,
One fourth felt empty but filled with froth of ego and lies!
Some love to live, but most live to love,
many like to
Work and earn!
Some only dream and yearn,
Even many saints live in painted mansions,
Golden shoes, cosmetics,
bold and beautiful
Girls on posh cot and beds,
False are these,
when men and woman are lusty,
They fear God,
Godmen when are lusty,
Fear neither god or men!
Bright they are in daylight,
dark and devilish, under the veil of dark
or they twinkle with twinkling form stars!

Most like to live with hope,
hope of love or love of hope,
Falling to faiths and superstitions,
no faith is better than faith in one's own Self,
Whom we call low people,
Daring they are to take what fate,
or the Gods may give.
They ask no question,
no time to make no prayer,
No time to kiss the lips and caress the
hair,
Only tired they retire!
No passion no fashion,
as they greet morning Sun with busy and tense mind,
ready to face flow of life and accept failure or pain as their fate,

The work hard and toil
To have that little for the day,
Try to hold breath and to face trifles,
they have to work with clock,
in time they reach their workplace, they are ready to anything
let go anythong they have,

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poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
Added by Poetry Lover
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