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The soul, like the body, lives by what it feeds on.

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The Valediction Of The Body For The Soul

I am the body, and you are the soul. I let you in. You are my guest.
Inside my body, you feel what i feel.You know what i know.
What you like i too must like.
What you disgust I too must disgust.
We have become one. Ideally, we go. I go where you go.
I let you stand on my feet
I let you touch the persons and things that you love
Through my Hands.

I am the body and you are the Soul. Inside me
You are my guest. They say that you are more important.
Holier. More wise. Filled with Understanding,
As I let you stay, I have become of lesser importance
To those who worship you, through me.

I am the body, and I have become secondary
to Your importance. But you are just my guest. I have let you in.
Now I demand that you too must respect my flesh,
My bones, My blood. I bleed. You don't. I feel the pain
You don't. I now demand that you too My Soul
Must understand my simple needs. My need for warmth
and Desire.

I am the Body and You are the Soul. I demand respect
and understanding otherwise I may use my power
to Oust You. I still have the power to put an end
To this Body and it is you who must leave.

You must understand me. When I end the life of this Body
As I very well know I can, then you Leave.
I will be left. I may rot. I may turn to Dust. But I have done
what is within my Power.

Respect my little lusts. That is my compromise with You.
Have a little understanding to my confusions.
Bear with Me too. Be my Guest. Be the Good One.

My Soul, My friend, My companion.I am your Faithful Body.

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Walt Whitman

I Sing The Body Electric

I SING the Body electric;
The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth them;
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the

Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal
And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the
And if the body does not do as much as the Soul?
And if the body were not the Soul, what is the Soul?

The love of the Body of man or woman balks account--the body itself
balks account;
That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect. 10

The expression of the face balks account;
But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face;
It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of
his hips and wrists;
It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist
and knees--dress does not hide him;
The strong, sweet, supple quality he has, strikes through the cotton
and flannel;
To see him pass conveys as much as the best poem, perhaps more;
You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder-

The sprawl and fulness of babes, the bosoms and heads of women, the
folds of their dress, their style as we pass in the street, the
contour of their shape downwards,
The swimmer naked in the swimming-bath, seen as he swims through the
transparent green-shine, or lies with his face up, and rolls
silently to and fro in the heave of the water,
The bending forward and backward of rowers in row-boats--the horseman
in his saddle, 20
Girls, mothers, house-keepers, in all their performances,
The group of laborers seated at noon-time with their open dinner-
kettles, and their wives waiting,
The female soothing a child--the farmer's daughter in the garden or
The young fellow hoeing corn--the sleigh-driver guiding his six
horses through the crowd,
The wrestle of wrestlers, two apprentice-boys, quite grown, lusty,
good-natured, native-born, out on the vacant lot at sundown,
after work,
The coats and caps thrown down, the embrace of love and resistance,
The upper-hold and the under-hold, the hair rumpled over and blinding
the eyes;
The march of firemen in their own costumes, the play of masculine
muscle through clean-setting trowsers and waist-straps,
The slow return from the fire, the pause when the bell strikes
suddenly again, and the listening on the alert,
The natural, perfect, varied attitudes--the bent head, the curv'd
neck, and the counting; 30
Such-like I love--I loosen myself, pass freely, am at the mother's
breast with the little child,
Swim with the swimmers, wrestle with wrestlers, march in line with
the firemen, and pause, listen, and count.

I know a man, a common farmer--the father of five sons;
And in them were the fathers of sons--and in them were the fathers of

This man was of wonderful vigor, calmness, beauty of person;
The shape of his head, the pale yellow and white of his hair and
beard, and the immeasurable meaning of his black eyes--the
richness and breadth of his manners,
These I used to go and visit him to see--he was wise also;
He was six feet tall, he was over eighty years old--his sons were
massive, clean, bearded, tan-faced, handsome;
They and his daughters loved him--all who saw him loved him;
They did not love him by allowance--they loved him with personal
love; 40
He drank water only--the blood show'd like scarlet through the clear-
brown skin of his face;
He was a frequent gunner and fisher--he sail'd his boat himself--he
had a fine one presented to him by a ship-joiner--he had
fowling-pieces, presented to him by men that loved him;
When he went with his five sons and many grand-sons to hunt or fish,
you would pick him out as the most beautiful and vigorous of
the gang.

You would wish long and long to be with him--you would wish to sit by
him in the boat, that you and he might touch each other.

I have perceiv'd that to be with those I like is enough,
To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,
To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is
To pass among them, or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly
round his or her neck for a moment--what is this, then?
I do not ask any more delight--I swim in it, as in a sea.

There is something in staying close to men and women, and looking on
them, and in the contact and odor of them, that pleases the
soul well; 50
All things please the soul--but these please the soul well.

This is the female form;
A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot;
It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction!
I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor--
all falls aside but myself and it;
Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth, the
atmosphere and the clouds, and what was expected of heaven or
fear'd of hell, are now consumed;
Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it--the response
likewise ungovernable;
Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands, all
diffused--mine too diffused;
Ebb stung by the flow, and flow stung by the ebb--love-flesh swelling
and deliciously aching;
Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quivering jelly of
love, white-blow and delirious juice; 60
Bridegroom night of love, working surely and softly into the
prostrate dawn;
Undulating into the willing and yielding day,
Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-flesh'd day.

This is the nucleus--after the child is born of woman, the man is
born of woman;
This is the bath of birth--this is the merge of small and large, and
the outlet again.

Be not ashamed, women--your privilege encloses the rest, and is the
exit of the rest;
You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of the soul.

The female contains all qualities, and tempers them--she is in her
place, and moves with perfect balance;
She is all things duly veil'd--she is both passive and active;
She is to conceive daughters as well as sons, and sons as well as
daughters. 70

As I see my soul reflected in nature;
As I see through a mist, one with inexpressible completeness and
See the bent head, and arms folded over the breast--the female I see.

The male is not less the soul, nor more--he too is in his place;
He too is all qualities--he is action and power;
The flush of the known universe is in him;
Scorn becomes him well, and appetite and defiance become him well;
The wildest largest passions, bliss that is utmost, sorrow that is
utmost, become him well--pride is for him;
The full-spread pride of man is calming and excellent to the soul;
Knowledge becomes him--he likes it always--he brings everything to
the test of himself; 80
Whatever the survey, whatever the sea and the sail, he strikes
soundings at last only here;
(Where else does he strike soundings, except here?)

The man's body is sacred, and the woman's body is sacred;
No matter who it is, it is sacred;
Is it a slave? Is it one of the dull-faced immigrants just landed on
the wharf?
Each belongs here or anywhere, just as much as the well-off--just as
much as you;
Each has his or her place in the procession.

(All is a procession;
The universe is a procession, with measured and beautiful motion.)

Do you know so much yourself, that you call the slave or the dull-
face ignorant? 90
Do you suppose you have a right to a good sight, and he or she has no
right to a sight?
Do you think matter has cohered together from its diffuse float--and
the soil is on the surface, and water runs, and vegetation
For you only, and not for him and her?

A man's Body at auction;
I help the auctioneer--the sloven does not half know his business.

Gentlemen, look on this wonder!
Whatever the bids of the bidders, they cannot be high enough for it;
For it the globe lay preparing quintillions of years, without one
animal or plant;
For it the revolving cycles truly and steadily roll'd.

In this head the all-baffling brain; 100
In it and below it, the makings of heroes.

Examine these limbs, red, black, or white--they are so cunning in
tendon and nerve;
They shall be stript, that you may see them.

Exquisite senses, life-lit eyes, pluck, volition,
Flakes of breast-muscle, pliant back-bone and neck, flesh not flabby,
good-sized arms and legs,
And wonders within there yet.

Within there runs blood,
The same old blood!
The same red-running blood!
There swells and jets a heart--there all passions, desires,
reachings, aspirations; 110
Do you think they are not there because they are not express'd in
parlors and lecture-rooms?

This is not only one man--this is the father of those who shall be
fathers in their turns;
In him the start of populous states and rich republics;
Of him countless immortal lives, with countless embodiments and

How do you know who shall come from the offspring of his offspring
through the centuries?
Who might you find you have come from yourself, if you could trace
back through the centuries?

A woman's Body at auction!
She too is not only herself--she is the teeming mother of mothers;
She is the bearer of them that shall grow and be mates to the

Have you ever loved the Body of a woman? 120
Have you ever loved the Body of a man?
Your father--where is your father?
Your mother--is she living? have you been much with her? and has she
been much with you?
--Do you not see that these are exactly the same to all, in all
nations and times, all over the earth?

If any thing is sacred, the human body is sacred,
And the glory and sweet of a man, is the token of manhood untainted;
And in man or woman, a clean, strong, firm-fibred body, is beautiful
as the most beautiful face.

Have you seen the fool that corrupted his own live body? or the fool
that corrupted her own live body?
For they do not conceal themselves, and cannot conceal themselves.

O my Body! I dare not desert the likes of you in other men and women,
nor the likes of the parts of you; 130
I believe the likes of you are to stand or fall with the likes of the
Soul, (and that they are the Soul;)
I believe the likes of you shall stand or fall with my poems--and
that they are poems,
Man's, woman's, child's, youth's, wife's, husband's, mother's,
father's, young man's, young woman's poems;
Head, neck, hair, ears, drop and tympan of the ears,
Eyes, eye-fringes, iris of the eye, eye-brows, and the waking or
sleeping of the lids,
Mouth, tongue, lips, teeth, roof of the mouth, jaws, and the jaw-
Nose, nostrils of the nose, and the partition,
Cheeks, temples, forehead, chin, throat, back of the neck, neck-slue,
Strong shoulders, manly beard, scapula, hind-shoulders, and the ample
side-round of the chest.

Upper-arm, arm-pit, elbow-socket, lower-arm, arm-sinews,
arm-bones, 140
Wrist and wrist-joints, hand, palm, knuckles, thumb, fore-finger,
finger-balls, finger-joints, finger-nails,
Broad breast-front, curling hair of the breast, breast-bone, breast-
Ribs, belly, back-bone, joints of the back-bone,
Hips, hip-sockets, hip-strength, inward and outward round, man-balls,
Strong set of thighs, well carrying the trunk above,
Leg-fibres, knee, knee-pan, upper-leg, under leg,
Ankles, instep, foot-ball, toes, toe-joints, the heel;
All attitudes, all the shapeliness, all the belongings of my or your
body, or of any one's body, male or female,
The lung-sponges, the stomach-sac, the bowels sweet and clean,
The brain in its folds inside the skull-frame, 150
Sympathies, heart-valves, palate-valves, sexuality, maternity,
Womanhood, and all that is a woman--and the man that comes from
The womb, the teats, nipples, breast-milk, tears, laughter, weeping,
love-looks, love-perturbations and risings,
The voice, articulation, language, whispering, shouting aloud,
Food, drink, pulse, digestion, sweat, sleep, walking, swimming,
Poise on the hips, leaping, reclining, embracing, arm-curving and
The continual changes of the flex of the mouth, and around the eyes,
The skin, the sun-burnt shade, freckles, hair,
The curious sympathy one feels, when feeling with the hand the naked
meat of the body,
The circling rivers, the breath, and breathing it in and out, 160
The beauty of the waist, and thence of the hips, and thence downward
toward the knees,
The thin red jellies within you, or within me--the bones, and the
marrow in the bones,
The exquisite realization of health;
O I say, these are not the parts and poems of the Body only, but of
the Soul,
O I say now these are the Soul!

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The Body And The Soul

i hear the body speak through its mouth

there is no God
there is no God

i see the body wasting itself
like a tree whose roots are eaten by the fungus

but inside that body is the soul that raises his hands
to the skies looking at God and calling his name

My God why have you abandoned me?

there is only the usual silence and the soul is restless
anticipating to get out from the body that is killing and wasting itself

and the time has come
for the soul to be liberated
to be alone
in itself moving towards the light, dancing in the dark, and singing out aloud

My God here i am back to you
It is only in You that i find back peace and happiness & bliss.

Let that soul be me My Lord.

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Soul's Complaint Against The Body. (From The Anglo-Saxon)

Much it behoveth
Each one of mortals,
That he his soul's journey
In himself ponder,
How deep it may be.
When Death cometh,
The bonds he breaketh
By which were united
The soul and the body.

Long it is thenceforth
Ere the soul taketh
From God himself
Its woe or its weal;
As in the world erst,
Even in its earth-vessel,
It wrought before.

The soul shall come
Wailing with loud voice,
After a sennight,
The soul, to find
The body
That it erst dwelt in;--
Three hundred winters,
Unless ere that worketh
The Eternal Lord,
The Almighty God,
The end of the world.

Crieth then, so care-worn,
With cold utterance,
And speaketh grimly,
The ghost to the dust:
'Dry dust! thou dreary one!
How little didst thou labor for me!
In the foulness of earth
Thou all wearest away
Like to the loam!
Little didst thou think
How thy soul's journey
Would be thereafter,
When from the body
It should be led forth.'

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Sleep of the Body the Soul's Awakening

Every night Thou freest our spirits from the body
And its snare, making them pure as rased tablets.
Every night spirits are released from this cage,
And set free, neither lording it nor lorded over.
At night prisoners are unaware of their prison,
At night kings are unaware of their majesty.
Then there is no thought or care for loss or gain,
No regard to such an one or such an one.
The state of the 'Knower' is such as this, even when awake.
God says,4 'Thou wouldst deem him awake though asleep,
Sleeping to the affairs of the world, day and night,
Like a pen in the directing hand of the writer.
He who sees not the hand which effects the writing
Fancies the effect proceeds from the motion of the pen.
If the 'Knower' revealed the particulars of this state,
'Twould rob the vulgar of their sensual sleep.
His soul wanders in the desert that has no similitude;
Like his body, his spirit is enjoying perfect rest;
Freed from desire of eating and drinking,
Like a bird escaped from cage and snare.
But when he is again beguiled into the snare,
He cries for help to the Almighty.

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Pleasing The Body

in pleasing the body
you imply that the soul cries,

what choice do i have
when this body dies?

in pleasing the soul
the body must suffer?

tell me how to please both
please hand me the broth.

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Emily Dickinson

The Body grows without


The Body grows without—
The more convenient way—
That if the Spirit—like to hide
Its Temple stands, alway,

Ajar—secure—inviting&md ash;
It never did betray
The Soul that asked its shelter
In solemn honesty

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I Hear The Body Speak

i hear the body speak
today warning the soul
that its demands sometimes
cannot be granted because

the soul is merely its visitor
and here on earth
the body is the host and as

host, it decides what is
good for the moment
what is best for itself

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Soul and the body.

As long as the soul
Loves the body
There sticks fortitude.
Pain could be borne
For pleasure to follow.
Once the soul deserts
The body, it is dead.
Where is the fortitude?
Where is the pain?
Where is the pleasure?
Soul is forgotten.

You, the soul,
I, the body.
Be they together

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When The Body Speaks

To the soul's desires
The body listens
What the flesh requires
Keeps the heart imprisoned

What the spirit seeks
The mind will follow
When the body speaks
All else is hollow

I'm just an angel
Driving blindly
Through this world

I'm just a slave here
At the mercy
Of a girl

Oh I need your tenderness
Oh I need your touch
Oh I dream of one caress
Oh I pray too much

To the soul's desires
The body listens
What the flesh requires
Keeps the heart imprisoned

What the spirit seeks
The mind will follow
When the body speaks
All else is hollow

You keep me waiting
For the promise
That is mine

Please stop debating
Please stop wasting
Your time

Oh I need your tenderness
Oh I need your touch
Oh I dream of one caress
Oh I pray too much

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The Body Box

She is the body slim
the nymph
who's shown to us everyday
smiling cover girl
wife and mother-debutante
supple woman hood
and many place themselves
beside her life-sized cut
to see if there is a body fit
and then make-up
and plastic surgery
flow from the credit cards
vision seen in vanity mirrors
yet inside
no one knows
that she wonders
if that outward glow
is enough
to assuage her inward doubts;
'Am I a person
or just this cut-out
that people, especially men
glance at
flirt with
even desire on sight;
and I
take these glances as my birthright
yet why do I, nonethess, remain insecure?

There are no wars like the Beauty Wars
where every pound, line and bulge
is surveyed each day, acessed and graded,
even by people that don't even know you
yet feel free to inspect like this
reflecting back to me
'I do or I don't like this'
like the Facebook avatar.

And hungrily
and guiltily
I took the positive looks
feeling vindicated
for something
I never desired
until the day I made the change;
looked in the mirror
got dressed
and walked out make-up less
feeling utterly naked
noticing right away every non-glance
non look
feeling terrified
ugly even
yet defiant.

This I thought will be what it will be like aging
no longer beautiful, sexy or attractive
to all except those who share or have shared the same
But there were exceptions this make-up less day
women noticed-some of them could tell what I had done
and stared at me sideways, some thinking she looked odd
some thinking me brave, some even guessing that I was making a statement.

But not the men. They didn't look therefore didn't know
me in my invisible self.

Here I was on the street shaking my fist at the media parasites
who had made me afraid of facing life without the mask
I had to pay them to acquire-terror really
'Buy what I tell you to or you'll not have your 'happily ever after.'

I walked into the coffee shop and Bob said
Something about you is different-did you cut your hair? '
It was like that, all day. Men didn't get it but women did.

Maybe I thought I will start my own revolution, maybe where a sign
that says 'You can go make-up less.'
They would say I is a threat to the whole American economy, suppose it really caught on and billions would not be spent, the Macy's cosmetic counter would close.
Models would suddenly look plain.
And if it spread to plastic surgery as well
it could bring big noses back.

I smiled.

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The body matters

With the soul gone, even the king turns a corpse.
Event the fly has a soul; so do snakes.
Soul is imperative as it lends light.
It is the body that gives the soul weight.

Well worded, a thought gets uplift.

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The Ibis Lives In Tragedy

Job 38: 36

the ibis
lives in tragedy

but trickster
spider knows

all along
what rooster's saying.

tails or heads?
call it!

you lose.

guess you're extinct ibis

*Posting 'shape of wings to come' mar.25
***Special Post 'grain' apr.1

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The body has all merits

Imagine there is no temple where it is.
Imagine there is no tomb where it is.
The space underneath the both is same.
Imagine the soul casts its holy body.
Imagine the soul casts its lowly body.
Which do you hate: the soul or the body?
If body, the body sans soul is a corpse.
We still love and hate one’s body alone.
05.05.2001, Pmdi

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When The Body Is Bound

when the body is bound by an
invisible rope of morality and decorum
how can the arms and hands scheme
and make the discreet meeting
with the lustful desires of the feet?
the heart is full. the mind empties itself.
the tongue wants to talk, but the mouth
does not open.
the pen writes, and keeps on writing
what is never spoken.
that is what happens when age comes
when the spirit is willing but the body complains.

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The Body

when i look at the body
i do not look
for a name
i only see the contours
of the body
looking for the map
and the signs
where i may finally
get in

body to body
just this
no names just places
plain touch
loveless and so careless
this moment
and then the next and the next

no strings no bridge
just the flow of the river
no docking no ports
no stopping

just this kiss for today
and then
nothing for what tomorrow may

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Food For The Body

Food is of geese, blood and guts,
Under this river of blood and ancestry.
Friendly relationships come forth when adjusted
By the food granted by the authors of books
And the very changers of uniform.
Ichor, a fluid of the Gods, runs through it all,
The body of drugs and violence,
To shatter and obey, to be munched and abstained,
Like lionesses.
Food is critical, it needs a message
So that you abide by the rules of music and wizardry.
Food is of the wizards and witches, fully able
To delight and appal and be rejected.

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Occupy, The Body Of Freedom

'no more Kent States, more Kent States...'

President Obama,
dont turn a deaf ear!
dont sell out to the machine.....
dont betray us like Nixon did!

silence is betrayel!
inaction is betrayel!

you cannot turn your head,
and hope we go away!
this isnt about helping you
get re-elected!

it's about the truth!
corporate America wont stand for it.
Wall street wont take it!

how many will be beaten?
how many pepper sprayed?
the fear you seek to instill
only validates freedom's song!

you cant sell us the lie anymore!
we're not buying it!

occupy the body
.....of freedom!

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HOW many of the body's health complain,

HOW many of the body's health complain,
When they some deeper malady conceal;
Some unrest of the souled, some secret pain,
Which thus its presence doth to them reveal.
Vain would we seek, by the physician's aid,
A name for this soul-sickness e'er to find;
A remedy for health and strength decayed,
Whose cause and cure are wholly of the mind
To higher nature is the soul allied,
And restless seeks its being's Source to know;
Finding not health nor strength in aught beside;
How often vainly sought in things below,
Whether in sunny clime, or sacred stream,
Or plant of wondrous powers of which we dream!

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The Body Of The Future....

there is this abundance that flows within you
it goes outside
looking for a place
to settle

you have been searching
no one fits
the world is looking for that
about you going into the woods
and finding
the best wild flower
for you to
take home and offer it to someone
who can love you for what
you are

it is absurd
no one believes it
no one can
love you as true as you can love
that someone

even the world accepts its own blindness
it cannot give you
what you long for

the equation for mutuality lies there
upon its half body
without a face yet

the hands are still drawn so that you
can touch
the body of the future

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