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There is no life
but Family.

When I am young
I live with my Family.

When I grow up
I leave my Family.

When I am lonely
I miss my Family.

When I am drunk
I reverse-charge my Family.

When I pass away
I unite my Family.

There is no life
but Family.

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There Is No Poem I Can Write / That Can Deal With The Threats

There is no poem I can write
That can deal with the threats
To our very existence-
There is no poem I can write
That can imagine the horrors
We might go through-
Nothing I say and nothing I know
Can prepare
For the evils that might come-

We live on the edge of an ‘abyss’
For which ‘abyss’ is a tame word
And we get by each day
By ignoring the ‘hells’ that might come to us-
Evils worse than death may await us
And nothing I say or write
Can contend with this-

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Libido exertion

Umpteen chances are there for flirtation.
Equally are there thwarts for their abortions.
Youths have learnt to live with flirtation
As means for their libido exertion.

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Everythings Your Fault

Have you heard them talk about it?
You say theyre wrong but they know all about it
Have you tried another story?
Were tired of all the lies and allegories
Every single things your fault
There you are not really jaded
Youve learned to live with being underrated
But they dont know just what youre made of
Because of them who knows how you will end up?
Every single things your fault
With you its always something
Wwhen everyones the same
Dont you try to blame me

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I began in the beginning
in my mother's womb.
What was it like?
Like a warm happy room

But they soon squeezed me out of there.
They said she's cute but not much hair.

And I began to grow and grow.
There wasn't anything I didn't know
but they beat it out of me.
They didn't like what they could see
reflected in my eyes.
I was too young and yet too wise.

They tried to fill me up with lies
and yet somehow I knew.

Just what I knew
I do not know
for I forget more
the more I grow.

But this I know
its lies

Its lies.
There's hollowness behind their eyes.
They fill us up with lies.
They make us grow foolish
though we were born wise.

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Love Finds It Hard To Live Amongst Poverty

The most I can offer you is sympathy
That life can be a bugger one would have to agree
Your mind it is ravaged by financial worries and care
The spectre of poverty at you does stare
Life is not meant to be easy said George Bernard Shaw
And in the bigger World out there it is Murphy's Law
Everyone for themselves and God for us all
Those words from my boyhood I often recall
Your ex wife with her and your young son and daughter live with another man
For to grow old with you was not in her life's plan
You were the man she once did love and admire
But of a poverty type of existence she quickly did tire
Love finds it hard to live amongst poverty
Life can be a bugger you are telling me.

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Well-Adjusted- Don't Be-Brain-Stuffing

To be well adjusted
can be a terrible thing
for where am I to dream
what does not yet exist
if I am only focused
upon what currently is?

And where in this
is to come to be

It can be a terrible thing
to be adjusted
because the mind
becomes hard-wired
to only what we
have personally experienced-
when I am out to discover
what is different from me?

No small thing this:
sailors die on the open sea
because their hard-wired minds
think that they need to find land
for fresh-water
making them forget
that they can catch fish
and drink.

Adjusted means
thinking like all the others think
knowing they will punish those
who dare to utter something
different from the orthodoxy.

Takes a strong mind
and character
to really think
from what the others
saying you
should think.

Protect that brain:
don't let the others
fill it in
for you,

find your own stuffing
to put in there
after all
you have to
all your life
live with it.

So open up
the Brain-Door
spend at least
five hours
a day
that is how the Brain
wards off

This what Einstein did-
five hours a day
you can see
how good
he did.

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Shaking The Doll

Oh I wont be your pretty baby,
I wont eat from your hand again.
And the man in the white says its alright,
He says, come on girl give up the fight.
Youll go to sleep, there will be no pain.
Well I want to live with myself again.
Well, where we lived there was a lighthouse,
Throwing a white beam into our house,
Over my body when I was sleeping,
Over the secrets I was keeping,
I could tell myself there would be no pain,
But I have to live with myself again.
Im digging up, Im digging up,
Im digging up, Im digging up,
Im digging up, Im digging up,
Im digging in the earth.
Im looking for signs
And Im shaking the dolls
And the fairy-tales lied
And somewhere, back there
I didnt understand,
Man and woman and woman and man.
And Im shaking the dolls
Im shaking the dolls.
Oooh, the dream isnt coming through,
I cant feel for you.
Well somewhere, back there
I didnt understand,
Man and woman and woman and man,
And Im shaking the dolls
Im shaking the dolls.
Oooh I have to live with myself again,
Oohh I want to be with my body again,
Ooohyou cant make me hollow again.
Oooh, the dream isnt coming through
I cant feel for you.
Love, shooting up, through my veins,
I gotta get a hit again.

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A personal goal

Set the personal goal and try to scale new heights
Never get burdened with more worries and weights
Nothing can discourage you from achieving it
You may always think positive and remain fit

You must think of doing always good
It must serve you as nourishing food
Everything must move and go in planned way
You must stick to pint and hold the sway

It is highly improper on our part to neglect
We should be careful to choose or select
Even people’s representative must be chosen to elect
This must be made known as simple fact

You may go down in history as coward
There won’t be any prize or reward
You should think of future and go ahead
You must provide leadership and lead

There is nothing impossible in this world
Try to live with warm relation and not cold
Have complete harmony with neighbors
Don’t bear ill will or encourage to harbor

There can’t be escape from our responsibility
We have developed skill and have the capability
It needs for sight and clear vision
Only timely action needed with decision

What are we trying to achieve for?
Is it only personal interest in store?
Do we seek and fight only for gain?
Is there no other way to reduce the pain?

How many may be reaching to the safety?
It may take for them whole life to reach fifty
There won’t be left any more charm
There might have been taken some recourse for harm

It has to be step forward with clear aim
No tall promises and unnecessary claims
Clear the way of all hurdles and offer the blow
It may then be the way open for us to grow

Nothing can be easily achieved
Hardship can only be believed
No one may come to your rescue
You must get everything whichever is due

Lay the seize open and open the new avenue
Earn enough from it as reward and revenue
It has to generate enough to sustain the growth
Success and fame may come to you as both

Every individual may form strong chain
There efforts may never go in vain
Momentarily there will be set back and pain
It must be understood clearly as fact very plain

Don’t leave the scene before you get on stage
You must be prepared for struggle to wage
Try to cut it as hard as possible for relief
Strengthen the move with strong belief

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Good Family

When you see a man behaving well
People are curious to know his family
When a naughty interacts
His source is easily identified
Good family is a big attractive tree
That offers shade in rain and heat
Good family bears good branches
That produces good fruits
Good family has its firm roots
Which nourishes and beautifies
Good family gives birth to good nations
In peace, good family is there
In war, good family endures
Good family wipes away tears and sorrows
Loneliness is absent with good family
Security is guaranteed with nice family
He who has a good family
Is half done in life
See a man dancing on the street
No need to ask if his family is okay
If you have a good family
Sacrificially hold on to it
Never allowed it to crack
Pass the baton to others
To enable the world get better.

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Family disappearing

Rent a house to live in.
Neibours turning hostile,
You can shift your staying.
Buying house ties you there.

Have a woman to live with.
She turning hostile,
You can shift your partner.
Marriage will bind you both.

This trend is emerging,
Thanks to equal power
And to equal income.
Family is disappearing.

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Family Pain

Why do family lie?
Why do family fight?
We suppose to be there for each other.
Family is suppose to be tight.
I don't get phone calls nor text messages from y'all.
Something just don't seem right.

Family pain is the worse pain.
The pain that make your heart not feel the same.
It really hurts when your own family don't remember your name.
Your heart is breaking fast, the pieces falling from it can't be tamed.
Makes you want to break down and cry when you hear your family talk about you being the family shame.

Why do family lie?
Why do family fight?
We suppose to be there for each other.
Family is suppose to be tight.
'Family will hurt you the worst than abybody.'
I guess that saying is right.

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(tom eyen/henrey kreiger)
Is it a beautiful day? youre beautiful!
I mentioned earlier that the world is watching each of you. you make me so proud Im the happiest woman in the world right now. I have a dream come true.
I want you to listen to me now. this is being televised again worldwide today. just calm yourselves, come on. alright.
Can you feel me?
Yes, this may be the most important moment in my life.
There are words in this song that to me are very special listen.
Its more than you
Its more than me
No matter what we are
We are a family
This dream is for us
This one can be real
They cant stop us now
Because of how we feel
Its more than you
Its more than me
Whatever dreams we have
Theyre for the family
Were not alone any more then
There are others there
And this dreams big enough
For all of us to share
So dont think youre going
Were not going anywhere
Were staying, taking our share
If you get afraid again
Ill be there
We are a family
Like a giant tree
Branching out towaards the sky
We are a family
And so much more
Than just you and i
We are a family
Like a giant tree
Growing strong
Growing wiser
We are
We are
A family
I love you

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Joint family

Joint family culture now days not found
It was ideal and was placed very sound
It has made long full circle and round
Now it has disappeared and lost ground

Is it losing its original charm and magic?
They used to provide good humor and comic
There is no immediate solution and remedy
Family remains in tension without any comedy

The economic burden is taking heavy toll
Old people find it very difficult to stroll
Limited space and mobility makes them venerable
They feel neglected and lead the life miserable

How much trouble parents face for bringing their children?
Without kids their life seems sultry and barren
Parents still go for all out efforts to over come
All difficulties they bear with happy face and welcome

The phase is reversed with change of trend
Children grow up with so much to mend
They find it difficult to continue with old
Go for immediate change with old items to be sold

Overnights the parents have become unwanted
Their presence is not liked and unwarranted
They want to have their own world with freedom
They seemed to have run out of wisdom

It is irony of fact that we have run out of courtesy
How can we forget their efforts and majesty?
Do we confine our selves to feel only pity?
Is it the only way to face the situation or reality?

Old people are sometimes pushed to the wall
They are simply shunted from home or hall
Where to go and how to live is only concern?
They tend to forget that tomorrow will be their turn

We need to think in right prospective
Their plight should be considered as subjective
We are not inhuman or live in stage primitive
Deep concern should be made and efforts to revive

We must develop sound mechanism
It should be considered best humanism
Nothing can substitute for good gesture
They are not our past but best future

They should be considered as national heritage
Why we should neglect them because of old age?
They should have all their dues and respect
We need to pay attention and introspect

They have parted everything for our betterment
We should look after out them for good treatment
We should do it as matter of self respect and pride
It should form basis and not attempted to hide

History will not pardon us if we fail on this count
You will not be at ease and heavy pressure will mount
Nothing will go well if they are made to suffer
How can we afford joy if we have nothing to offer?

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Walt Whitman

There Was A Child Went Forth

THERE was a child went forth every day;
And the first object he look'd upon, that object he became;
And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of
the day, or for many years, or stretching cycles of years.

The early lilacs became part of this child,
And grass, and white and red morning-glories, and white and red
clover, and the song of the phoebe-bird,
And the Third-month lambs, and the sow's pink-faint litter, and the
mare's foal, and the cow's calf,
And the noisy brood of the barn-yard, or by the mire of the pond-
And the fish suspending themselves so curiously below there--and the
beautiful curious liquid,
And the water-plants with their graceful flat heads--all became part
of him.

The field-sprouts of Fourth-month and Fifth-month became part of
him; 10
Winter-grain sprouts, and those of the light-yellow corn, and the
esculent roots of the garden,
And the apple-trees cover'd with blossoms, and the fruit afterward,
and wood-berries, and the commonest weeds by the road;
And the old drunkard staggering home from the out-house of the
tavern, whence he had lately risen,
And the school-mistress that pass'd on her way to the school,
And the friendly boys that pass'd--and the quarrelsome boys,
And the tidy and fresh-cheek'd girls--and the barefoot negro boy and
And all the changes of city and country, wherever he went.

His own parents,
He that had father'd him, and she that had conceiv'd him in her womb,
and birth'd him,
They gave this child more of themselves than that; 20
They gave him afterward every day--they became part of him.

The mother at home, quietly placing the dishes on the supper-table;
The mother with mild words--clean her cap and gown, a wholesome odor
falling off her person and clothes as she walks by;
The father, strong, self-sufficient, manly, mean, anger'd, unjust;
The blow, the quick loud word, the tight bargain, the crafty lure,
The family usages, the language, the company, the furniture--the
yearning and swelling heart,
Affection that will not be gainsay'd--the sense of what is real--the
thought if, after all, it should prove unreal,
The doubts of day-time and the doubts of night-time--the curious
whether and how,
Whether that which appears so is so, or is it all flashes and specks?
Men and women crowding fast in the streets--if they are not flashes
and specks, what are they? 30
The streets themselves, and the façades of houses, and goods in the
Vehicles, teams, the heavy-plank'd wharves--the huge crossing at the
The village on the highland, seen from afar at sunset--the river
Shadows, aureola and mist, the light falling on roofs and gables of
white or brown, three miles off,
The schooner near by, sleepily dropping down the tide--the little
boat slack-tow'd astern,
The hurrying tumbling waves, quick-broken crests, slapping,
The strata of color'd clouds, the long bar of maroon-tint, away
solitary by itself--the spread of purity it lies motionless in,
The horizon's edge, the flying sea-crow, the fragrance of salt marsh
and shore mud;
These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who now
goes, and will always go forth every day.

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The Borough. Letter X: Clubs And Social Meetings

YOU say you envy in your calm retreat
Our social Meetings;--'tis with joy we meet.
In these our parties you are pleased to find
Good sense and wit, with intercourse of mind;
Composed of men who read, reflect, and write,
Who, when they meet, must yield and share delight.
To you our Book-club has peculiar charm,
For which you sicken in your quiet farm;
Here you suppose us at our leisure placed,
Enjoying freedom, and displaying taste:
With wisdom cheerful, temperately gay,
Pleased to enjoy, and willing to display.
If thus your envy gives your ease its gloom,
Give wings to fancy, and among us come.
We're now assembled; you may soon attend -
I'll introduce you--'Gentlemen, my friend.'
'Now are you happy? you have pass'd a night
In gay discourse, and rational delight.'
'Alas! not so: for how can mortals think,
Or thoughts exchange, if thus they eat and drink?
No! I confess when we had fairly dined,
That was no time for intercourse of mind;
There was each dish prepared with skill t'invite,
And to detain the struggling appetite;
On such occasions minds with one consent
Are to the comforts of the body lent;
There was no pause--the wine went quickly round,
Till struggling Fancy was by Bacchus bound;
Wine is to wit as water thrown on fire,
By duly sprinkling both are raised the higher;
Thus largely dealt, the vivid blaze they choke,
And all the genial flame goes off in smoke.'
'But when no more your boards these loads

When wine no more o'erwhelms the labouring brain,
But serves, a gentle stimulus; we know
How wit must sparkle, and how fancy flow.'
It might be so, but no such club-days come;
We always find these dampers in the room:
If to converse were all that brought us here,
A few odd members would in turn appear;
Who, dwelling nigh, would saunter in and out,
O'erlook the list, and toss the books about;
Or yawning read them, walking up and down,
Just as the loungers in the shops in town;
Till fancying nothing would their minds amuse,
They'd push them by, and go in search of news.
But our attractions are a stronger sort,
The earliest dainties and the oldest port;
All enter then with glee in every look,
And not a member thinks about a book.
Still, let me own, there are some vacant hours,
When minds might work, and men exert their powers:
Ere wine to folly spurs the giddy guest,
But gives to wit its vigour and its zest;
Then might we reason, might in turn display
Our several talents, and be wisely gay;
We might--but who a tame discourse regards,
When Whist is named, and we behold the Cards?
We from that time are neither grave nor gay;
Our thought, our care, our business is to play:
Fix'd on these spots and figures, each attends
Much to his partners, nothing to his friends.
Our public cares, the long, the warm debate,
That kept our patriots from their beds so late;
War, peace, invasion, all we hope or dread,
Vanish like dreams when men forsake their bed;
And groaning nations and contending kings
Are all forgotten for these painted things;
Paper and paste, vile figures and poor spots,
Level all minds, philosophers and sots;
And give an equal spirit, pause, and force,
Join'd with peculiar diction, to discourse:
'Who deals?--you led--we're three by cards--had you
Honour in hand?'--'Upon my honour, two.'
Hour after hour, men thus contending sit,
Grave without sense, and pointed without wit.
Thus it appears these envied Clubs possess
No certain means of social happiness;
Yet there's a good that flows from scenes like

these -
Man meets with man at leisure and at ease;
We to our neighbours and our equals come,
And rub off pride that man. contracts at home;
For there, admitted master, he is prone
To claim attention and to talk alone:
But here he meets with neither son nor spouse;
No humble cousin to his bidding bows;
To his raised voice his neighbours' voices rise,
To his high look as lofty look replies;
When much he speaks, he finds that ears are closed,
And certain signs inform him when he's prosed;
Here all the value of a listener know,
And claim, in turn, the favour they bestow.
No pleasure gives the speech, when all would

And all in vain a civil hearer seek.
To chance alone we owe the free discourse,
In vain you purpose what you cannot force;
'Tis when the favourite themes unbidden spring,
That fancy soars with such unwearied wing;
Then may you call in aid the moderate glass,
But let it slowly and unprompted pass;
So shall there all things for the end unite,
And give that hour of rational delight.
Men to their Clubs repair, themselves to please,
To care for nothing, and to take their ease;
In fact, for play, for wine, for news they come:
Discourse is shared with friends or found at home.
But Cards with Books are incidental things;
We've nights devoted to these queens and kings:
Then if we choose the social game, we may;
Now 'tis a duty, and we're bound to play;
Nor ever meeting of the social kind
Was more engaging, yet had less of mind.
Our eager parties, when the lunar light
Throws its full radiance on the festive night,
Of either sex, with punctual hurry come,
And fill, with one accord, an ample room;
Pleased, the fresh packs on cloth of green they

And seizing, handle with preluding glee;
They draw, they sit, they shuffle, cut, and deal;
Like friends assembled, but like foes to feel:
But yet not all,--a happier few have joys
Of mere amusement, and their cards are toys;
No skill nor art, nor fretful hopes have they,
But while their friends are gaming, laugh and play.
Others there are, the veterans of the game,
Who owe their pleasure to their envied fame;
Through many a year with hard-contested strife,
Have they attain'd this glory of their life:
Such is that ancient burgess, whom in vain
Would gout and fever on his couch detain;
And that large lady, who resolves to come,
Though a first fit has warn'd her of her doom!
These are as oracles: in every cause
They settle doubts, and their decrees are laws;
But all are troubled, when, with dubious look,
Diana questions what Apollo spoke.
Here avarice first, the keen desire of gain,
Rules in each heart, and works in every brain:
Alike the veteran-dames and virgins feel,
Nor care what graybeards or what striplings deal;
Sex, age, and station, vanish from their view,
And gold, their sov'reign good, the mingled crowd

Hence they are jealous, and as rivals, keep
A watchful eye on the beloved heap;
Meantime discretion bids the tongue be still,
And mild good-humour strives with strong ill-will
Till prudence fails; when, all impatient grown,
They make their grief by their suspicions known,
'Sir, I protest, were Job himself at play,
He'd rave to see you throw your cards away;
Not that I care a button--not a pin
For what I lose; but we had cards to win:
A saint in heaven would grieve to see such hand
Cut up by one who will not understand.'
'Complain of me! and so you might indeed
If I had ventured on that foolish lead,
That fatal heart--but I forgot your play -
Some folk have ever thrown their hearts away.'
'Yes, and their diamonds; I have heard of one
Who made a beggar of an only son.'
'Better a beggar, than to see him tied
To art and spite, to insolence and pride.'
'Sir, were I you, I'd strive to be polite,
Against my nature, for a single night.'
'So did you strive, and, madam! with success;
I knew no being we could censure less!'
Is this too much? Alas! my peaceful Muse
Cannot with half their virulence abuse.
And hark! at other tables discord reigns,
With feign'd contempt for losses and for gains;
Passions awhile are bridled: then they rage,
In waspish youth, and in resentful age;
With scraps of insult--'Sir, when next you play,
Reflect whose money 'tis you throw away.
No one on earth can less such things regard,
But when one's partner doesn't know a card -
I scorn suspicion, ma'am, but while you stand
Behind that lady, pray keep down your hand.'
'Good heav'n, revoke: remember, if the set
Be lost, in honour you should pay the debt.'
'There, there's your money; but, while I have

I'll never more sit down with man and wife;
They snap and snarl indeed, but in the heat
Of all their spleen, their understandings meet;
They are Freemasons, and have many a sign,
That we, poor devils! never can divine:
May it be told, do ye divide th' amount,
Or goes it all to family account?'


Next is the Club, where to their friends in town
Our country neighbours once a month come down;
We term it Free-and-Easy, and yet we
Find it no easy matter to be free:
E'en in our small assembly, friends among,
Are minds perverse, there's something will be

Men are not equal; some will claim a right
To be the kings and heroes of the night;
Will their own favourite themes and notions start,
And you must hear, offend them, or depart.
There comes Sir Thomas from his village-seat,
Happy, he tells us, all his friends to meet;
He brings the ruin'd brother of his wife,
Whom he supports, and makes him sick of life;
A ready witness whom he can produce
Of all his deeds--a butt for his abuse;
Soon as he enters, has the guests espied,
Drawn to the fire, and to the glass applied -
'Well, what's the subject?--what are you about?
The news, I take it--come, I'll help you out:' -
And then, without one answer he bestows
Freely upon us all he hears and knows;
Gives us opinions, tells us how he votes,
Recites the speeches, adds to them his notes;
And gives old ill-told tales for new-born

Yet cares he nothing what we judge or think,
Our only duty's to attend and drink:
At length, admonish'd by his gout he ends
The various speech, and leaves at peace his

But now, alas! we've lost the pleasant hour,
And wisdom flies from wine's superior power.
Wine like the rising sun, possession gains,
And drives the mist of dulness from the brains;
The gloomy vapour from the spirit flies,
And views of gaiety and gladness rise:
Still it proceeds; till from the glowing heat,
The prudent calmly to their shades retreat: -
Then is the mind o'ercast--in wordy rage
And loud contention angry men engage;
Then spleen and pique, like fireworks thrown in

To mischief turn the pleasures of the night;
Anger abuses, Malice loudly rails,
Revenge awakes, and Anarchy prevails;
Till wine, that raised the tempest, makes its

And maudlin Love insists on instant peace;
He, noisy mirth and roaring song commands,
Gives idle toasts, and joins unfriendly bands:
Till fuddled Friendship vows esteem and weeps,
And jovial Folly drinks and sings and sleeps.


A Club there is of Smokers--Dare you come
To that close, clouded, hot, narcotic room?
When, midnight past, the very candles seem
Dying for air, and give a ghastly gleam;
When curling fumes in lazy wreaths arise,
And prosing topers rub their winking eyes;
When the long tale, renew'd when last they met,
Is spliced anew, and is unfinish'd yet;
When but a few are left the house to tire,
And they half sleeping by the sleepy fire;
E'en the poor ventilating vane that flew
Of late so fast, is now grown drowsy too;
When sweet, cold, clammy punch its aid bestows,
Then thus the midnight conversation flows: -
'Then, as I said, and--mind me--as I say,
At our last meeting--you remember'--'Ay?'
'Well, very well--then freely as I drink
I spoke my thought--you take me--what I think.
And, sir, said I, if I a Freeman be,
It is my bounden duty to be free.'
'Ay, there you posed him: I respect the Chair,
But man is man, although the man's a mayor;
If Muggins live--no, no!--if Muggins die,
He'll quit his office--neighbour, shall I try?'
'I'll speak my mind, for here are none but

They're all contending for their private ends;
No public spirit--once a vote would bring,
I say a vote--was then a pretty thing;
It made a man to serve his country and his king:
But for that place, that Muggins must resign,
You've my advice--'tis no affair of mine.'


The Poor Man has his Club: he comes and spends
His hoarded pittance with his chosen friends;
Nor this alone,--a monthly dole he pays,
To be assisted when his health decays;
Some part his prudence, from the day's supply,
For cares and troubles in his age, lays by;
The printed rules he guards with painted frame,
And shows his children where to read his name;
Those simple words his honest nature move,
That bond of union tied by laws of love;
This is his pride, it gives to his employ
New value, to his home another joy;
While a religious hope its balm applies
For all his fate inflicts, and all his state

Much would it please you, sometimes to explore
The peaceful dwellings of our Borough poor:
To view a sailor just return'd from sea,
His wife beside; a child on either knee,
And others crowding near, that none may lose
The smallest portions of the welcome news;
What dangers pass'd, 'When seas ran mountains high,
When tempest raved, and horrors veil'd the sky;
When prudence fail'd, when courage grew dismay'd,
When the strong fainted, and the wicked pray'd, -
Then in the yawning gulf far down we drove,
And gazed upon the billowy mount above;
Till up that mountain, swinging with the gale,
We view'd the horrors of the watery vale.'
The trembling children look with steadfast eyes,
And, panting, sob involuntary sighs:
Soft sleep awhile his torpid touch delays,
And all is joy and piety and praise.


Masons are ours, Freemasons--but, alas!
To their own bards I leave the mystic class;
In vain shall one, and not a gifted man,
Attempt to sing of this enlightened clan:
I know no Word, boast no directing Sign,
And not one Token of the race is mine;
Whether with Hiram, that wise widow's son,
They came from Tyre to royal Solomon,
Two pillars raising by their skill profound,
Boaz and Jachin through the east renown'd:
Whether the sacred Books their rise express,
Or books profane, 'tis vain for me guess:
It may be lost in date remote and high,
They know not what their own antiquity:
It may be, too, derived from cause so low,
They have no wish their origin to show:
If, as Crusaders, they combine to wrest
From heathen lords the land they long possess'd;
Or were at first some harmless club, who made
Their idle meetings solemn by parade;
Is but conjecture--for the task unfit,
Awe-struck and mute, the puzzling theme I quit:
Yet, if such blessings from their Order flow,
We should be glad their moral code to know;
Trowels of silver are but simple things,
And Aprons worthless as their apron-strings;
But if indeed you have the skill to teach
A social spirit, now beyond our reach;
If man's warm passions you can guide and bind,
And plant the virtues in the wayward mind;
If you can wake to Christian love the heart, -
In mercy, something of your powers impart.
But, as it seems, we Masons must become
To know the Secret, and must then be dumb;
And as we venture for uncertain gains,
Perhaps the profit is not worth the pains.
When Bruce, that dauntless traveller, thought he

On Nile's first rise, the fountain of the flood,
And drank exulting in the sacred spring,
The critics told him it was no such thing;
That springs unnumber'd round the country ran,
But none could show him where the first began:
So might we feel, should we our time bestow,
To gain these Secrets and these Signs to know;
Might question still if all the truth we found,
And firmly stood upon the certain ground;
We might our title to the Mystery dread,
And fear we drank not at the river-head.


G riggs and Gregorians here their meeting hold,
Convivial Sects, and Bucks alert and bold;
A kind of Masons, but without their sign;
The bonds of union--pleasure, song, and wine.
Man, a gregarious creature, loves to fly
Where he the trackings of the herd can spy;
Still to be one with many he desires,
Although it leads him through the thorns and

A few! but few there are, who in the mind
Perpetual source of consolation find:
The weaker many to the world will come,
For comforts seldom to be found from home.
When the faint hands no more a brimmer hold,
When flannel-wreaths the useless limbs infold,
The breath impeded, and the bosom cold;
When half the pillow'd man the palsy chains,
And the blood falters in the bloated veins, -
Then, as our friends no further aid supply
Than hope's cold phrase and courtesy's soft sigh,
We should that comfort for ourselves ensure,
Which friends could not, if we could friends

Early in life, when we can laugh aloud,
There's something pleasant in a social crowd,
Who laugh with us--but will such joy remain
When we lie struggling on the bed of pain?
When our physician tells us with a sigh,
No more on hope and science to rely,
Life's staff is useless then; with labouring breath
We pray for Hope divine--the staff of Death; -
This is a scene which few companions grace,
And where the heart's first favourites yield their

Here all the aid of man to man must end,
Here mounts the soul to her eternal Friend:
The tenderest love must here its tie resign,
And give th' aspiring heart to love divine.
Men feel their weakness, and to numbers run,
Themselves to strengthen, or themselves to shun;
But though to this our weakness may be prone,
Let's learn to live, for we must die, alone.

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Love your family

Newely married
Husband and

Love move the bed...
Wife with
Don't fight...

Every time...
Speand the
Love on
The bed...

Don't waste
The time...
If you are
Imedetely start

The fight...
Life was boor...
Minde gore...

Married one are
Two years run...
Fight too fight...
Words and hit too

With love...
Every day's family life
It is simple...

Take it easy to live...
With your family love...
My dear husband
And wife...!

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Sonnet: A Happy Family

A happy family is one blessed by God!
Both parents slog all life for their children;
And children honor parents, without rod;
All walk united en way to Heaven.

A happy family lives in piety;
Their home is warm and welcomes everyone;
They’re satisfied and live with satiety;
There’s time for love, care, work, play, also fun!

A happy family loves its neighbors well;
All share their joys, woes, grief and problems too;
Their faith in God, their smiling faces tell;
With divine aim, all earthly works, they do!

A happy family prays in harmony;
God meets their needs of body, soul, money!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-1-2006

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There's fear in my eyes

No sorrows in my life
No enemies to fight
There are thousand reasons to smile
Yet there's fear in my eyes

Sweet dreams to see
Beautiful day to live
There are many reasons to love
Yet there's fear in my eyes

No fire to burn
No darkness to curse
No valleys to fall
Yet there's fear in my eyes

A Mother to love
A Father to care
A sweet family to live with
Yet there's fear in my eyes

All friend with me
No enemies far mile
There are all relations of truth
Yet there's fear in my eyes

Showers of blessings on me
All smiling faces for me
All words of love for me
Yet there's fear in my eyes

But what I fear for I'm unknown
What? When all these things will go
And I'll be left all alone?
And for all these things I'll have to say bye! !
May be for this reason
There's fear in my eyes
There's fear in my eyes

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A Casualty

The old man sits
On top of a brown
Battered suitcase
This now contains
All his belongings
I remember him
He was the toymaker
In our village
He was always a happy man
Now I see him
As we flee
The light has gone
From his eyes
There is fear there
That stops me cold
What does he know?
What has he seen?
He sits there
Waiting for his family
People pass by
Asking him
If he needs help
He says no
He is waiting for
His daughter to come
She went into the fields
To pick some sugar canes
That's when the soldiers
Set the fields on fire
Burning sugar
Now pungent
But the first whiff was sweet
That's when the village
Began to burn
The old man sits
And waits for her
I wonder how long
He's been sitting there?
He looks to every face
And says her name
Every girl he stops
And examines to see
If it might be her
The old man sits
All alone.

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Is There Life Out There

(susan longacre, rick giles)
She married when she was twenty
She thought she was ready
Now shes not so sure
She thought shed done some living
But now shes just wonderin
What shes living for
Now shes feeling that theres something more
Is there life out there
So much she hasnt done
Is there life beyond
Her family and her home
Shes done what she should
Should she do what she dares
She doesnt want to leave
Shes just wonderin
Is there life out there
Shes always lived for tomorrow
Shes never learned how
To live for today
Shes dyin to try something foolish
Do something crazy
Or just get away
Something for herself for a change
Repeat chorus
Theres a place in the sun that shes never been
Where life is fair and time is a friend
Would she do it the same as she did back then
She looks out the window and wonders again
Repeat chorus twice

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