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Grace tried is better than grace, and more than grace; it is glory in its infancy.

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Better Than Expected

I am feeling better than expected, on a journey I haven’t selected,
An unexpected journey in this life, that could bring pain and strife,
Not fully aware what it’s all about; I may even struggle with doubt,
Concerning The Lord’s faithful love, or God’s Power, from above.

I could question His power to heal, a sudden illness that is so real,
Or even question the reason why, this befell on to my family and I;
And for them what may lie ahead, regarding an illness many dread,
But this He allowed to happen to me, for He’s The God of Eternity.

Friend, this isn’t just another story, but, a real life, for God’s Glory,
Another chapter in my life, of the sustaining Grace of Jesus Christ,
More pages on God’s Grace to me, as we journey towards eternity,
While all I need, He will afford, through Jesus, my Savior and Lord.

In days ahead, my Lord will sustain, me through any trials and pain,
And Christ shall uphold all my family, in ways that we’ve yet to see;
What I will feel like, I don’t know, but God will help me when I’m low,
To trust in The Rock of Ages, as in this chapter, He turns the pages.

Whatever happens, I know for sure, I will be with Christ forevermore,
And my Lord shall forsake me not, whatever may be my present lot.
For every lot, cast within my life, is through the Will of Jesus Christ,
Who grants me an abiding peace, which from God, will never cease.

(Copyright ©09/2010)

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Envy Of Other Poets Greater And More Honored Than Me

ENVY OF OTHER POETS GREATER AND MORE HONORED THAN ME

Envy of other poets greater and more honored than me
Only shows how petty and foolish and unwisely ambitious I am-

Each is what he or she is,
And each is only one-
And no one is anyone else-
And better are many, and worse are many-

A poet should write his own lines
And mind his own business-
And take pleasure in the poetry of others
When it gives that.

A poet need not compare and measure himself
But rather simply be what he is.

Write the poems
Leave the honors and the praises to someone else.

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Any form of life was better than death

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw countless haplessly orphaned children; being viciously kicked into dustbins of malice; for ostensibly no reason or rhyme,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw the pricelessly innocuous female fetus; being brutally assassinated and aborted; right in the very depths of the unassailably godly womb,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw heartlessly cold-blooded men; ruthlessly felling innumerable a tree; using its blessed branches; trunk and roots; for evolving lifelessly wastrel commodities,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw demonically manipulating politicians; weigh the very essence of unconquerably righteous life; in terms of wantonly decrepit currency coin,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw innocently minor girls being brutally raped; by the diabolically idiosyncratic perversions of sadistic man,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw peerlessly impeccable blood being parasitically sucked from newborn forms; just in order to spuriously enrich and consecrate; the already blessed and bountiful human form,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw boundless wives and children reduced to a cadaverous carcass; as the man of the family simply refrained to budge an inch to earn; cannibalistically guzzling the last dropp of wine and vixen; to be found of planet earth,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw beautifully fructifying wildlife being emotionlessly beheaded; just in order to become the exuberant delicacy; of the already replenished palette,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw robustly ebullient organisms doing nothing but just endlessly gazing at fathomless sky; nonsensically proclaiming that their destiny would one day and eventually take them to the absolute epitome of cloud nine,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw one man derogatorily slaving and slavering for another man; wherein the Omnipotent Creator had created all symbiotically equal in the first place,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw millions of innocent being indiscriminately butchered; in the wrath and aftermath of barbarously thwarting bombardment and war,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw satanic terrorists launch an inconsolably pulverizing assault on one particular fraternity of mankind; in the name of sacrifice to the Omnipresent Lord,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw hordes of people blindfoldedly offering their last ounce of wealth to the Omnipotent deity of the Lord; who in the first place owned every speck of the unending Universe; and who wanted them to benevolently donate the same to all suffering living kind instead,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw school going girls and boys begging hoarsely on the obdurately chauvinistic streets; with their parents abhorrently using them to tickle the soft corner of the opulent society,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw women of all ages; right from the age of my daughter; to sister to mother; tawdrily selling their flesh to hedonistically dastardly men; just for securing those two quintessential morsels of food,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw limitless dying unattended on the freezing streets; because of unforgivably ghastly corruption; viciously infiltrating in every echelon of the government and society,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw impudently pretentious brats; telling their life-bestowing parents to clean the stagnating shit in their houses; whilst they themselves deliriously drowned themselves; into barrels of sinfully expensive wine and cigarette smoke,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw the most perpetually faithful of lovers salaciously separate like a miserably broken leaf; at the tiniest of objection from the sanctimoniously turgid society,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw selfishly shriveled man; praying to God for solely impregnating his lungs with a countless breaths; instead of immortally sharing the same in perfect symbiosis with endless numbers of his own kind,

But when I was actually committing suicide. I felt that any form of life was better than death; as I approached my very last breath. For if at all I could endeavor my very best to ameliorate every fraternity of estranged and maliciously cannibalistic living kind; then by the grace of God it could be only while in undefeated life and not the slightest after stonily gory death…

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The Future Promise Of Beings Better Than We Are

The future promise of beings better than we
One hundred year old brains in twenty year bodies
Creatures more knowledgeable more healthy more durable than we are
Perhaps our descendants-

And the old wonder
At how we the antiquated of the present
Will love and be worthy of love
In the world of more perfect
If not wiser beings.

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There Are Poets Better Than Me

There are poets better than me:
Many known, and many more unknown-
They have language I don’t have
And an ability to surprise in ways I cannot
And the beauty of their sound is a beauty beyond mine-
They have worlds I do not know
And rhythms I cannot reach
They can entertain as I cannot-
And they see and feel what I cannot;
They are better than me:

Other poets are better than me
Greater than me
More than me.

And the only consolation is
Writing what I feel I must-
Going on.

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Better Than Nothing

J. spinks
(chorus)
Its better than nothing girl
Its better than nothing at all
Its better than nothing girl
Its better than nothing
Lets find a hideaway tonight
Somewhere where we can be together
Im tired of waiting for the right time
If this is not the ritz whatever
(chorus)
I wanna hold more than your hand
I wanna touch more than emotion
You dont need words to understand
This hole might be run down and broken
(chorus)
Dont think because I just cant wait that I dont care
This isnt meant to be a back seat love affair
(chorus)

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Better Than It Was

Once I had it all planned out
My dirty fingers moved about
To make a mess of everything around me
I dont claim to know my way
I still run in circles everyday
Running around half blind
Life can be unkind
But its better than it was
Its better than it was
I complain very little because
Its better than it was
I get to remembering
We had a lot more money then
To make a mess of everything around us
Now the money comes and goes a bit faster
Then my confidence grows
Everybody knows
There aint nothing new about money woes
But its better than it was
Its better than it was
Its better than it was
Its better than we ever could have
Wished it to before
It was bad a while ago
Better this I know
Its better than it was
Better than it was
I complain very little because
Its better than it was
Better than it was

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Better Than The Knife

A woman can cut you up better than a butcher can skin and bone a turkey.
A woman can burn holes in you better than either one of us can iron a shirt.
A woman will first tell you everything, even though you weren't expecting
Then she'll expect all that back and more in return.

And if she doesn't get it
She'll put a knife through you.
Some use a sharpened, shining blade
Others barb their words with
Just the same.

A woman can melt through your heart like acid through wood and grass
A woman can rip the damn heart out through your ass
A woman is more insidious than you realise
A woman is a curse and a blessing twice disguised.

And if you don't expose the hidden truths of your soul
You'd better believe you'll suffer more letting them fly
Out in to the darkness, into the bartenders ear
Wherever they land.

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Sorrow is better than insomnia.

Neither a sister, nor a daughter,
Nor any one by blood you are.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Never a tryst, nor a rendezvous,
Nor an innuendo, you granted.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Glamour, splendor, or pretext,
You never played to gravitate.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Formidable and forbidden you were.
Sojourn was so short.
Parting was abrupt and aborting.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Every beginning has an end.
An episode should, however, end.
But abortion and usurpation?
May be, by a boon I’ll see you soon.
That can retrieve our past monsoon.
But the crop is already gone.
So my sorrow never sleeps.
Time was over before I could score.
No more game is set up in the court.
That is why my sorrow never sleeps.
With your parting, came to an end
All my springs and monsoons.
Let my sorrow never sleep.
It is better than insomnia.
08.05.2001, Pmdi

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Better Than My Last

When will I put my pen to rest?
After I achieve my best written poem,
I guess.
And the next best one...
To satisfy that one as my best!

'But how will you know
Which one of those to decide as your best? '

I am not the one to decide,
Nor is my pride being tested
Or teased to enter contests to best!
I love what I do.
And I am flattered that I am read.
But my head is not swollen,
With thoughts to impress.
I am thankful to be grateful...
To realize I am blessed!
That alone brings me happiness!

And be read too?
What more can someone like me,
From gifts I have choose?
To sell millions of books?
To be in the hands of everyone?
Even those preparing meals to cook?

Okay!
But that alone wouldn't complete my day!
I'd still be looking for a better way,
To better best with something else to say!
In a way I have not said today.
If it is God's will to have it that way!
But I will confess...
I do have thoughts of having my 'next' one,
Better than my last...
Considered my very best yet!

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The King Of Kings And More

There's not one single fact unknown
To God who dwells above.
In Christ, no man lives life alone,
His grace will prove enough...
If only we would praise the Lord
When trouble comes our way,
With faith so bold we stand assured,
Or on our knees we pray.

The heart that grieves is known to Him,
His comfort never fails...
He saved each soul, the cost was grim,
For He was pierced with nails.
His sacred heart was also pierced
To prove that He was dead...
And though His Mother wept her tears,
For us, our Saviour bled...

God raised Him up from death to life,
Through Him we are reborn...
And while each one of must must strive,
We need not feel forlorn...
Through Him, we know that God forgave
Believers rich or poor.
We serve a Saviour strong and brave,
The King of Kings and more...

Blessed is the man who knows God's word,
With psalms and wisdom, too.
By faith, his heart is daily stirred,
Inspired and made new...
So praise the Lord your whole life long.
You'll meet the Lord one day!
To join God's angels in their song
And there, content, you'll stay...

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Even Better Than The Real Thing

Give me one more chance
And you'll be satisfied
Give me two more chances
You won't be denied

Well my heart is where it's always been
My head is something in between
Give me one more chance
Let me be your lover tonight

(Check it out)

You're the real thing
Yeah the real thing
You're the real thing
Even better than the real thing

Give me one last chance
And I'm gonna make you sing
Give me half a chance
To ride on the waves that you bring

You're honey child to a swarn of bees
Gonna blow right through you like a breeze
Give me one last chance
We'll slide down the surface of things

You're the real thing
Yeah the real thing
You're the real thing
Even better than the real thing

We're free ti fly the crimson sky
The sun won't melt our wings tonight

Oh now
Here she comes

Take me higher
Take me higher
Can you take me higher?
Will you take me higher?

You're the real thing
Yeah the real thing
You're the real thing

Even better than the real thing
Even better than the real thing
Even better than the real thing

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Better By You Better Than Me

You could find a way to ease my passion
You listen to the blood flow in my veins
You hear the teaching of the wind
Tell her why Im alive within
I cant find the words
My mind is dead
Its better by you better than me
Guess youll have to tell her how I tried
To speak up thoughts Ive held so inside
Tell her now I got to go
Out in the streets and down the shore
Tell her the worlds not much living for
Its better by you better than me
Everybody
Everybody knows
Everybody
Everybody knows
Better by you better than me
You can tell what I want it to be
You can say what I only can see
Its better by you better than me
Guess Ill have to change my way of living
Dont wanna really know the way I feel
Guess Ill learn to fight and kill
Tell her not to wait until
Theyll find my blood upon her windowsill
Its better by you better than me
Everybody
Everybody knows
Everybody
Everybody knows
Better by you better than me
You can say what I only can see
You can tell what I want it to be
Its better by you better than me
Better by you better than me
You can tell what I want it to be
You can say way all they can see
Better by you better than me

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Something is Better than Nothing

After a long time
He wrote me a letter of warmth
It came a tad too late
To do its intended effect.

Didn’t melt me down
Sent shivers thru me?
No way!
Nothing no more
Excites me about him.

May be, I’ve got over him
May be the pain is so much
Perennial and everlasting…
That it has swallowed up
All the love -
Like the gigantic waves
Of the gluttonous Tsunami.

In this letter of warmth
Did I see the word ‘Romantic’?
I thought the sky has fallen over
Seeing such words from a man
So cold and frozen before
That it all seems so surreal.

Did he not tell me that
All my suffering is caused
By me and me alone
Nobody to blame.
He? Never, ever!
Giving a clean chit to himself
In all what he said and did to me.

And did he not label my lamentations
As mere, feeble acts of self-pity?
It is so true that when it happens
To others, you can put so many
Labels to make them feel
The problem is so much theirs
They to blame, they the cause,
They the ‘actors’ of agony.

And now when he talks of
His state of being down and out
So much so that he doesn’t like to
Go to work as before…
Feels like staying at home
Forever more
I don’t question further
Who to blame.

Remembering the times
He left me stranded
When I needed him the most.
I don’t even broach self-pity
For unlike me,
He could be in ‘real’ agony.

No, I don’t even go all out
To give him warm hugs of
Care and Concern
For I don’t feel any warmth
Whatsoever…
As that ‘Apu’ which he calls me
In this letter of his,
Has frozen long back
In his icy coldness of the past.

Instead, I write him an inspiring
Story and send in some good music
To uplift him.
With all the pain pulsating in me…
I still manage to give him something.

And as they say, that at least
Something is Better than Nothing.

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Indebted A Million and More!

A lifetime may fall short for a love to suffice,
What’s caught in twinkle of an eye, the heavens can’t revise
Names etched in gneiss, will bring not lost eternity,
Heed love, ebbing tides in destiny’s hand, may not always agree.

What journeyed miles that faraway look in your eyes burn,
With my first haul of kisses, it is from there I return,
There, when we first met, rich was I, with so much in store,
Smothered with near misses? Now you owe me a million and more!

It all began with consecrating a kiss uninhibited.
One for the sunshine smile, another for that look- contented,
One for the way of conveying quietly, shadows embracing,
One for a trick of thought, played graciously, me listening.

Grew manifold, when you tip-toed in my thoughts and stood vigil,
For times when you never tried to break my pride or bow my will,
For the give and take of glances and breaths caught,
And the times we went home with a song in our heart.

For the grief I gave all at once, one the salt of my tears,
That you resiliently bore, the other curdled in those sighing years.
Some martyred over those jealous fits and sleepless nights,
Some saved for times when in our fervor the sky ignites.

A hundred for breaking my morn, and startling dew,
Another for the noon bustle, to sear and not let the fumes show,
For evenings red halo-see a benediction hover,
For moonlit walks on avenues where shivering stars lower.

Thousand for steaming summers;
Heated sonnets, jealous fits, in restraining fight and muscle agur,
Bowers and meadows take a demure look, scorched in sun’s ardor,

Thousand for the wanton rite of spring;
When wind teasing plucks, flower-petals with the lover’s chant,
Great neural energy, over ablaze hills, resounding he love’s me, he love’s me not.

Thousand for the monsoons;
Eyes speak more than lips seal, what Insatiable green hunger meant,
A letdown of wetness and tears, wondering where the lightening went.

Thousand for brooding Autumn;
Trees in group hypnosis, drift fluff knee high,
Winds wail grief of many partings, every rustle bracing rushes by..

Thousand warmer for sordid winters;
In dawn’s flushed gathering light, flesh hurts and bones rattle,
Icicles dropped on our dreams, a reason to seek warmth and huddle.

Come into my life, a way to retrieve my debt I shall find,
To the circling seasons, good times devoid, how I foolishly blind,
While in bad times, you stood ground and my frivolities bore,
Both weighed you outshine, I fall short by score,
Indebted I am -millions and many more


Seema.Joglekar-23rd October-2011

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Starbuck Poem = Christmas Love and More

Christmas is coming and I'm all alone,
With no one to snuggle at night.
My wineglass is empty to help dull the desire
To kiss you by soft candlelight.

A rare pearl of value, you don 't leave alone
Or someone will steal them from you.
After they've gone and flown far away
It's hard to know just what to do.

I'm watching my neighbors hang lights on their tree;
With tinsel and striped candy cane.
I took you for granted and didn't hug enough;
And now I must suffer my pain.

Lord, I'm so lonely; I wish I could die,
Then be born to relive again.
I realize the value of someone to love
And the danger of my selfish sin.

There's a ring on my phone and a knock at the door.
Which do I dare go for?
If neither is you, I'll break down and cry
And again pound my fist on the floor.

I run down the hall and the doorknob turns,
As the swirling snow rides on the wind.
There, in my doorway, it's the face I love
Such a beautiful present to send.

Now, I am happy and dancing around,
With a permanent smile on my face.
As children are singing their Christmas love songs,
And the world is a wonderful place.

NIGHT OF NIGHTS

In the tiny town of Bethlehem,
Born in a stable, an infant lie.
While he slept his first dreamless night,
A whole universe of stars passed by.

When Jesus Christ our savior was born
Most of the angels began to sing,
Of peace, and good will to all mankind,
And hallelujah to earth's new king.

There were those angels, who did not sing,
For they had passed through the devil's gate.
They knew this young lad belonged to God,
And for them salvation was too late.

So let's rejoice, and sing with great cheer,
That night when Jesus slept without fear.
For our Lord's birthday comes once a year,
On that night of nights we hold so dear.

CREDIT CARD CHRISTMAS

Christmas is coming and our cards are all maxed.
My wife says don't fret, just try to relax.
But her car needs breaks, and mine needs new tires.
Tax time is coming, and yet, we're still buyers.

For beneath our tree, there's one empty place
Which we'll buy gifts for that will fill up the space.
Cause what fun is Christmas if we can't give out gifts
That kids tear open as the snow outside drifts.

We'll light up the fire, and have a Christmas feast.
Say thank you to God, for saving us from the beast.
It may seem silly, but we can 't help but share.
It's that time of year to show others we care.

CHRISTMAS LIGHTS

Red, gold, yellow, green and blue
Are the colors of Christmas, which glow.
They help us feel their value within
As we travel our way through the snow.

Red stands for passion, anger or desire
Gold is the steadiness of love.
Yellow is fear of the unforeseen
Green and blue are the stars above.

The luster of Christmas can be yours
Most anywhere at a nearby store.
To purchase and adorn your tree and home.
Celebrating life, Jesus and more.

THE KING OF CHRISTMAS

The son of God came down to earth
To be our Lord by divine birth.
Born to a virgin in a stable He lie
Destine to lead, teach, suffer and die.

Satan transformed from laughter to rage
When Christ arrived to destroy man's cage.
A never ending chance to redeem our soul
A new opportunity to achieve God's goal.

Evil doers hate the birth of God's child
They love what is immoral, wicked and wild.
Degrading Christmas wherever they can
Jealous of the joy and rapture of man.

Hallelujah Jesus the king of Christmas night
With a star for his crown bathed in holy light
Christ is our savior who leads by trust and love
Delivering us from Satan to the grace of God Above.

By God's Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet
On The Web!

Tom Zart www.internetvoicesradio.com/t_zart/
http: //www.veteranstodayforum.com/viewforum.php? f=38
'To book Tom Zart for guest appearances, product, or services, contact Raymond L. LaPietra-Exclusive Personal Manager,913-681-7750 (office) , modelman@careerimages.com (e-mail) ,

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Better Than Me

I really miss your hair in my face
And the way your innocence tastes
And I think you should know this
You deserve much better than me

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Oh Words and More Words

Oh words and more words
What can you mean now?

A prayer for the health
Of one we love
Is so much more than words-

All our being says ‘Please Help’ to God -
And will God answer
Even those who need God so much?

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Better Than

Two is better than one,
Three is better than two,
Four is better than three,
Five is better than four,
Six is better than five,
Seven is better than six,
And like the strength of sharing with one another;
But listen to the songs of my muse,
For i am here to show you love.

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Growing Old Is Failing At More And More Small Things

GROWING OLD IS FAILING AT MORE AND MORE SMALL THINGS

Growing old is failing at more and more small things
It is losing power after power.

Diminished
And growing less and less
Down and down
An old man tries to sing
But even his voice is no more than
A cracked- filled silence.

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