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A technical objection is the first refuge of a scoundrel.

quote by Heywood Broun
Added by Lucian Velea
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God Is My Refuge

We invite you God to this place.
God is my refuge,
My refuge and my strength.
I will not be shaken all of my days.
God is my refuge my refuge and my strength
I will not be shaken, no
All of my days.
God is my refuge my refuge and my strength
I will not be shaken all of my days
And I wont move from your presents of your holiness I will sing
I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings
And I will move from your presence of your holiness I will sing
I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings
God is my refuge my refuge and my strength I will not be shaken all of my days
Sing it again church
God is my refuge my refuge and my strength
I will not be shaken all of my days
And I wont move from your presence of you holiness I will sing
I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings
In the shadow of your wings
In the shadow of your wings
In the shadow of your wings
You are great god
Oh you are great
You are great god
You are great

song performed by Lifehouse
Added by Lucian Velea
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We Have A Technical

We have a random on the westside
Personality malfunction
He says I cant give you anything at all
Just a room with a bad view of you
He sent a letter to a downstat
Saying sorry that I missed you
But I cant think of anything to do
Hes addicted to the time track
We have a technical
We have a technical
Hes in a hotel where they all go
Saying boy, Ive lost my memory
Its so surprising
Just how quickly things can end
Like a hero on a platform of friends
This table is so crowded
With people that I dont know
And I never really turn
My thoughts on you
So the image breaks down again
We have a technical
We have a technical
I suppose its very shady
At least until the lights go out
Advertising posters on the wall
And the young boys singing softly
Do they ever come back
Or is it always at the wrong time
I could crawl around the floor
Just like Im real
And move a hand in front of my eyes
We have a technical
We have a technical

song performed by Gary Numan
Added by Lucian Velea
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Morning Refuge Prayer

i take refuge in the Buddha
who shows us the path.
i take refuge in the Dharma
that teaches us to walk in compassion.
i take refuge in the Sangha
the family of living beings working together for peace.

i take refuge in Jesus
in the way that He lived and died.
in the Kingdom of Heaven within us
that heals the sick and feeds the hungry.

i take refuge in the Tao
in the uncarved block.
in water flowing over rocks
finding its own way.

i take refuge in the Great Spirit
in the embrace of Mother Earth.
i take refuge in the wind and rain
in the thunder and lightning,
in the stillness of night.

i take refuge in the howl of the wolf,
in the eyes of small children.
in the truth that breaks down the wall
between living and existing, between sorrow and joy.

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Knowledge Is Power

In the morning watch,
Into the midst of learning;
In the evening tide,
Out of the muse that muses;
A knowledge from a pavement made to achieve success,
Like the tune of a beautiful song.
Say it again,
Write it again,
Sing it again,
Play it again,
Come to ACTION SECONDARY TECHNICAL SCHOOL;
A learning environment with love and care.
I do remember, i do remember! !
Like the watchful minutes to the hour when,
I have this loving muse to all who want to learn.

Look!
Over there is ACTION SECONDARY TECHNICAL SCHOOL;
A place where knowledge gained is power to you!
I remember,
Like the open window;
With 'deep-green unifrom' to the vegetation.
Now i know,
'Knowledge is power'!
A peaceful atmosphere of love and care to share with you.

To learn,
To know,
Of a muse like rain drops;
With teachers dedicated to serve you all.
Go, tell it on the moutains;
A candle light from MADINA ESTATE where,
Knowledge is power.
Listen oh heavens,
Hear oh earth,
ACTION SECONDARY TECHNICAL SCHOOL is around you;
A place where knowledge is acquired through learning.

Of the 'grey-trousers' to the world so sweet,
A candle light of hope;
Of the muse that leads to love,
Like a pleasant wit at hand;
A timely success iy all that you need in life.
This is wher love is found,
This is where people learn to gain,
With hopeful years at school;
I remember,
I remember!

'Grey-trousers like grey hairs;

[...] Read more

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Soccer Under 20

soccer teams close to pa
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soccer teams england
soccer teams aurora co age 11
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soccer teams for the facup 2007
soccer teams for toddlers in california
soccer teams from colombia and argentina
soccer teams for winfield
soccer teams games in sarasota florida
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soccer teams for s in delaware
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soccer teams for youth in newark
soccer teams in clifton new jersey
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soccer teams in brazil
soccer teams in around chicago
soccer teams in cocoa
soccer teams in central america
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soccer teams in chula vista
soccer teams in carrollton tx
soccer teams in canada
soccer teams in central valley
soccer teams in charlotte nc
soccer teams in athens greece
soccer teams in charlotte
soccer teams in chile
soccer teams in argintina
soccer teams in arizona
soccer teams in argentina and chile
soccer teams in argentina
soccer teams in concord mass
soccer teams in dundee il

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Objection

objection
curled for fatal seduction
uncareful for a rash eruption
fight for a quick attention
untamed for a sleek attraction

objection
thirsty for a dew satisfaction
sober for a raw reflection
craving for a clear deflection
low for a deep penetration

objection
enticed in the short benediction
ecstacy in a romantic inclusion
known for a shaby deception
and a steady alteration

objection
he is no exception
in your rigid redemption
for a solid reception
of the product of your equation

poem by Chidubem Okeke
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While Silence Is Her Refuge

He crushed her being,
spat on her education,
raked her self-confidence
burned her plans
charted in the kitchen
where her work was never done.
Violence upon violence
visited her scar-ridden body
The pain so severe
she could not even scream.
Silence was her refuge.

Her wounds ran much deeper
than sisters could imagine
But she swam alone in the
sea of her nightmares and anguish
fears covered, cries stifled
Silence was her refuge.

The crowd had a million ears
but not one for the moans
of a sister’s tortured soul
It taunted her for her questions
crucified her for her speech
Word of pain was infamy
The crowd rubbed salt on the
raw, bleeding wound
Since then, silence became her refuge

A daughter now does the work
that is never done
Her spirit protests not
numbed by her mother’s death
and her own, for like her mother
she died a hundred deaths
and will die a hundred more
because silence is her refuge.

The crowd does not know
that silence betrays
The crowd itself has run
a million times
to silence for refuge
It still does.
When will the crowd realize
that silence is a foe?
It harbors violence
and squeezes the blood
that waters and keeps alive
the tree of death

[...] Read more

poem by Cheryl L. DaytecYañgot
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Scoundrel Days

Was that somebody screaming...
It wasnt me for sure
I lift my head up from uneasy
Pillows
Put my feet on the floor
Cut my wrist on a bad thought
And head for the door
Outside on the pavement
The dark makes no noise
I can feel the sweat on my lips
Leaking into my mouth
Im heading out for the steep hills
Theyre leaving me no choice
And see...as our lives are in the making
We believe through the lies and the hating
That love goes free
For want of an option
I run the wind round
I dream pictures of houses burning
Never knowing nothing else to do
With death comes the morning
Unannounced and new
Was it too much to ask for
To pull a little weight...
They forgive anything but greatness
These are scoundrel days
And Im close to calling out their names
As pride hits my face
See...as our lives are in the making
We believe through their lies and the hating
That love goes free through
Scoundrel days
I reach the edge of town
Ive got blood in my hair
Their hands touch my body
From everywhere
But I know that Ive made it
As I run into the air
And see...as our lives are in the making
We believe through the lies and the hating
That love goes free
Through scoundrel days

song performed by A-Ha
Added by Lucian Velea
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Monday Papers

I dont want to go out any more
I read the news, I cant believe my eyes
I push the table against the door
You know Ive had it with the world outside
If you want to know about the murderers and junkies
If you want to know about the lower east side
Now they got a map shows you where to get your monkey
You can read it in the monday papers, monday papers
Some people like a little gore
Some people always at the scenes of crimes
Now they can watch the tv more
Now they can get it in the sunday times
If you find it hard to handle what you see on page one
You can pull the funnies out and have some laughs
Take a drink and maybe you can laugh at ronald reagan
You can read it in the monday papers, read it in the monday papers
Monday papers dont ask no questions
Monday papers dont get no lies
Monday papers dont raise objection
Monday papers dont got no eyes
Brothers heading that way now I guess
He just read something made his face turn blue
Well I got nothing against the press
They wouldnt print it if it wasnt true
If you want to know about the gay politician
If you want to know how to be a star
Ladies - if you want to know about the new sex position
You can read it in the monday papers, read it in the monday papers
Monday papers dont ask no questions
Monday papers dont get no lies
Monday papers dont raise objection
Monday papers dont got no eyes
Monday papers dont ask no questions
Monday papers dont get no lies
Monday papers dont raise objection
Monday papers dont got no eyes
Read all about it, monday papers

song performed by Joe Jackson
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sunday Papers

Mother doesnt go out any more
Just sits at home and rolls her spastic eyes
But every weekend through the door
Come words of wisdom from the world outside
If you want to know about the bishop and the actress
If you want to know how to be a star
If you want to know about the stains on the mattress
You can read it in the sunday papers, sunday papers
Mothers wheelchair stays out in the hall
Why should she go out when the tvs on
Whatever moves beyond these walls
Shell know the facts when sunday comes along
If you want to know about the man gone bonkers
If you want to know how to play guitar
If you want to know about the other suckers
You can read it in the sunday papers, read it in the sunday papers
Sunday papers dont ask no questions
Sunday papers dont get no lies
Sunday papers dont raise objection
Sunday papers dont got no eyes
Brothers heading that way now I guess
He just read something made his face turn blue
Well I got nothing against the press
They wouldnt print it if it wasnt true
If you want to know about the gay politician
If you want to know how to drive your car
If you want to know about the new sex position
You can read it in the sunday papers, read it in the sunday papers
Sunday papers dont ask no questions
Sunday papers dont get no lies
Sunday papers dont raise objection
Sunday papers dont got no eyes
Sunday papers dont ask no questions
Sunday papers dont get no lies
Sunday papers dont raise objection
Sunday papers dont got no eyes
Read all about it, sunday papers

song performed by Joe Jackson
Added by Lucian Velea
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Therefore, be ye lamps unto yourselves, be a refuge to yourselves. Hold fast to Truth as a lamp; hold fast to the truth as a refuge. Look not for a refuge in anyone beside yourselves. And those, who shall be a lamp unto themselves, shall betake themselves to no external refuge, but holding fast to the Truth as their lamp, and holding fast to the Truth as their refuge, they shall reach the topmost height.

quote by Buddha
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Refuge Of The Roads

I met a friend of spirit
He drank and womanized
And I sat before his sanity
I was holding back from crying
He saw my complications
And he mirrored me back simplified
And we laughed how our perfection
Would always be denied
Heart and humor and humility
He said will lighten up your heavy load
I left him for the refuge of the roads
I fell in with some drifters
Cast upon a beachtown
Winn dixie cold cuts and highway hand me downs
And I wound up fixing dinner
For them and boston jim
I well up with affection
Thinking back down the roads to then
The nets were overflowing
In the gulf of mexico
They were overflowing in the refuge of the roads
There was spring along the ditches
There were good times in the cities
Oh, radiant happiness
It was all so light and easy
Till I started analyzing
And I brought on my old ways
A thunderhead of judgment was
Gathering in my gaze
And it made most people nervous
They just didnt want to know
What I was seeing in the refuge of the roads
I pulled off into a forest
Crickets clicking in the ferns
Like a wheel of fortune
I heard my fate turn, turn turn
And I went running down a white sand road
I was running like a white-assed deer
Running to lose the blues
To the innocence in here
These are the clouds of michelangelo
Muscular with gods and sungold
Shine on your witness in the refuge of the roads
In a highway service station
Over the month of june
Was a photograph of the earth
Taken coming back from the moon
And you couldnt see a city
On that marbled bowling ball
Or a forest or a highway

[...] Read more

song performed by Joni Mitchell
Added by Lucian Velea
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Here In My Heart

(gayla borders/susan ashton)
Wondering, waiting
Restless for a sign
I thought you walked so slow
In my haste I left you behind
Caught in the pace of this madness
Searching for shelter I find
That here in my heart theres a refuge waiting
Here in my heart you just wont let me go
I could run away run away
But you stay here in my heart
Meaning, purpose
Got lost in pursuit of my dreams
Ive been longing, aching
In quest for a love thats supreme
I couldnt see you were reaching
But I shouldve known all along
That here in my heart theres a refuge waiting
Here in my heart you just wont let me go
I could run away run away
But you stay here in my heart
Theres a refuge waiting
Here in my heart you just wont let me go
I could run away run away
But you stay here in my heart
I couldnt see you were reaching
But I shouldve known all along
That here in my heart theres a refuge waiting
Here in my heart you just wont let me go
I could run away run away
But you stay here in my heart
Theres a refuge waiting
Here in my heart you just wont let me go
I could run away run away
I could run away run away
I could run away run away
But you stay here in my heart
(here in my heart) here in my heart
(here in my heart) here in my heart
(here in my heart) here in my heart
(here in my heart) here in my heart
(here in my heart)
(here in my heart)

song performed by Martina Mcbride
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Ancient Banner

In boundless mercy, the Redeemer left,
The bosom of his Father, and assumed
A servant's form, though he had reigned a king,
In realms of glory, ere the worlds were made,
Or the creating words, 'Let there be light'
In heaven were uttered. But though veiled in flesh,
His Deity and his Omnipotence,
Were manifest in miracles. Disease
Fled at his bidding, and the buried dead
Rose from the sepulchre, reanimate,
At his command, or, on the passing bier
Sat upright, when he touched it. But he came,
Not for this only, but to introduce
A glorious dispensation, in the place
Of types and shadows of the Jewish code.
Upon the mount, and round Jerusalem,
He taught a purer, and a holier law,—
His everlasting Gospel, which is yet
To fill the earth with gladness; for all climes
Shall feel its influence, and shall own its power.
He came to suffer, as a sacrifice
Acceptable to God. The sins of all
Were laid upon Him, when in agony
He bowed upon the cross. The temple's veil
Was rent asunder, and the mighty rocks,
Trembled, as the incarnate Deity,
By his atoning blood, opened that door,
Through which the soul, can have communion with
Its great Creator; and when purified,
From all defilements, find acceptance too,
Where it can finally partake of all
The joys of His salvation.
But the pure Church he planted,—the pure Church
Which his apostles watered,—and for which,
The blood of countless martyrs freely flowed,
In Roman Amphitheatres,—on racks,—
And in the dungeon's gloom,—this blessed Church,
Which grew in suffering, when it overspread
Surrounding nations, lost its purity.
Its truth was hidden, and its light obscured
By gross corruption, and idolatry.
As things of worship, it had images,
And even painted canvas was adored.
It had a head and bishop, but this head
Was not the Saviour, but the Pope of Rome.
Religion was a traffic. Men defiled,
Professed to pardon sin, and even sell,
The joys of heaven for money,—and to raise
Souls out of darkness to eternal light,
For paltry silver lavished upon them.

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Americas
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The Parish Register - Part III: Burials

THERE was, 'tis said, and I believe, a time
When humble Christians died with views sublime;
When all were ready for their faith to bleed,
But few to write or wrangle for their creed;
When lively Faith upheld the sinking heart,
And friends, assured to meet, prepared to part;
When Love felt hope, when Sorrow grew serene,
And all was comfort in the death-bed scene.
Alas! when now the gloomy king they wait,
'Tis weakness yielding to resistless fate;
Like wretched men upon the ocean cast,
They labour hard and struggle to the last;
'Hope against hope,' and wildly gaze around
In search of help that never shall be found:
Nor, till the last strong billow stops the breath,
Will they believe them in the jaws of Death!
When these my Records I reflecting read,
And find what ills these numerous births succeed;
What powerful griefs these nuptial ties attend;
With what regret these painful journeys end;
When from the cradle to the grave I look,
Mine I conceive a melancholy book.
Where now is perfect resignation seen?
Alas! it is not on the village-green: -
I've seldom known, though I have often read,
Of happy peasants on their dying-bed;
Whose looks proclaimed that sunshine of the breast,
That more than hope, that Heaven itself express'd.
What I behold are feverish fits of strife,
'Twixt fears of dying and desire of life:
Those earthly hopes, that to the last endure;
Those fears, that hopes superior fail to cure;
At best a sad submission to the doom,
Which, turning from the danger, lets it come.
Sick lies the man, bewilder'd, lost, afraid,
His spirits vanquish'd, and his strength decay'd;
No hope the friend, the nurse, the doctor lend -
'Call then a priest, and fit him for his end.'
A priest is call'd; 'tis now, alas! too late,
Death enters with him at the cottage-gate;
Or time allow'd--he goes, assured to find
The self-commending, all-confiding mind;
And sighs to hear, what we may justly call
Death's common-place, the train of thought in all.
'True I'm a sinner,' feebly he begins,
'But trust in Mercy to forgive my sins:'
(Such cool confession no past crimes excite!
Such claim on Mercy seems the sinner's right!)
'I know mankind are frail, that God is just,
And pardons those who in his Mercy trust;

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Slow Burn

I've got a name for a certain quarantine her name is slowburn she makes me feel real mean when i ask why she says i'm caught in a lie she's got a bad disguise i ask a question never got a reaction and caught a glimpse subtle distraction instinctive stomach pain i lie in bed awake again this time its my revenge i wanna be you already beaten when you are bound i'm free (dying under me) i' like to hold you so close you know i'm there (there is no refuge (rage you cant refuse) slowburn I've got a name for someone who shouldnt be in my mind when she's away it seems i can't escape i'm doing time without a place to go i'm lost inside nobody knows the rules will have to bend i wanna be you already beaten me when you are bound i'm free. (dying under me) i' like to hold you so close you know i'm there (there is no refuge (rage you cant refuse) slowburn this has been a process and i'm sorry i had to do you in like this and i cant say how good i feel about it there was so much so much that you stope you took my heart you took my soul but most of all you took my sanity now watch while i asses the situation at hand this had has turned to a fist i wanna be you already beaten when you are bound i'm free (dying under me) i' like to hold you so close you know i'm there (there is no refuge (rage you cant refuse) slowburni wanna be you already beaten when you are bound i'm free (dying under me) i' like to hold you so close you know i'm there (there is no refuge (rage you cant refuse) slowburn

song performed by 1208
Added by Lucian Velea
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Where Could I Go But To The Lord

Living below in this old sinful world
Hardly a comfort can afford
Striving alone to face temptations call
Where could I go to the lord
Where could I go where could I go
Seeking a refuge for my soul
Needing a friend to help me in the end
Where could I go to the lord
Neighbors are fun I love them everyone
We get along in sweet accord
But when I pass the chilling hand of death
Where could I go to the lord
Where could I go where could I go
Seeking a refuge for my soul
Needing a friend to help me in the end
Where could I go to the lord
Life here is grand with friends I love so well
Comfort I get from gods own word
But when my soul needs manna from above
Where could I go to the lord
Where could I go where could I go
Seeking a refuge for my soul
Needing a friend to help me in the end
Where could I go to the lord
Where could I go where could I go
Seeking a refuge for my soul
Needing a friend to help me in the end
Where could I go to the lord
Where could I go to the lord

song performed by Emmylou Harris
Added by Lucian Velea
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Canto the Fourth

I.

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand:
I saw from out the wave her structures rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter’s wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying glory smiles
O’er the far times when many a subject land
Looked to the wingèd Lion’s marble piles,
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles!

II.

She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers:
And such she was; her daughters had their dowers
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East
Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.
In purple was she robed, and of her feast
Monarchs partook, and deemed their dignity increased.

III.

In Venice, Tasso’s echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear:
Those days are gone - but beauty still is here.
States fall, arts fade - but Nature doth not die,
Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!

IV.

But unto us she hath a spell beyond
Her name in story, and her long array
Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond
Above the dogeless city’s vanished sway;
Ours is a trophy which will not decay
With the Rialto; Shylock and the Moor,
And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away -
The keystones of the arch! though all were o’er,
For us repeopled were the solitary shore.

V.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1818)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Cool Refuge

At last, a place to hide away, cool refuge from the sun...
Some solitude, a chance to stay, where nothing much gets done.
A perfect spot meant to beguile the busy beasts on Earth,
No more to worry for a while, for what is worry worth?
The sun was fierce and in his face. Too close for comfort, friend.
The tiger tried to slow the pace till he was on the mend...
And once his ears heard nothing new, he slowly closed his eyes
And lowly breathed and time just flew and caught him by surprise.
The sun had moved across the sky, now tired, in retreat.
The tiger didn't question why the sky eye lost its heat.
Enough to know his cool refuge would soon be cooler still...
His change in mood would then be huge and end this passing thrill.
The tiger tarried in repose with great tranquillity
And gently scratched his tickled nose with tingling ecstasy...
One final hour in the shade... his refuge then grew cold.
The sad decision must be made, now that the day grew old...
So up he stood, with strength renewed, recharged and vibrant now
And thankful for this interlude, vowed to return... somehow...

The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cool Refuge'.

poem by Denis Martindale
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Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto IV.

I.
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand:
I saw from out the wave her structures rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying Glory smiles
O'er the far times, when many a subject land
Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles,
Where Venice sate in state, thron'd on her hundred isles!

II.
She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers:
And such she was; her daughters had their dowers
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East
Pour'd in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.
In purple was she rob'd, and of her feast
Monarchs partook, and deem'd their dignity increas'd.

III.
In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear:
Those days are gone -- but Beauty still is here.
States fall, arts fade -- but Nature doth not die,
Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!

IV.
But unto us she hath a spell beyond
Her name in story, and her long array
Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond
Above the dogeless city's vanish'd sway;
Ours is a trophy which will not decay
With the Rialto; Shylock and the Moor,
And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away --
The keystones of the arch! though all were o'er,
For us repeopl'd were the solitary shore.

V.
The beings of the mind are not of clay;
Essentially immortal, they create
And multiply in us a brighter ray
And more belov'd existence: that which Fate
Prohibits to dull life, in this our state

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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