We compound our suffering by victimizing each other.
quote by Athol Fugard
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A Letter To My Families.
It's compound though,
Irrespective of racism, tribalism and lots of culturistic value,
Indeed enormous in its adventurous reaction,
To see survival of the day.
It's compound though,
To have the time rolling and unstopped,
What exact is it by the watch,
The world wall clock as the case be?
What exact is it to the unborn ruled and its rulers?
It's compound though..
Happy is the reverences,
Happy is the life and lives,
A man, Woman or gods?
A spirit I owe.
It's compound though,
compound in depth of its unlimited,
Compound in depth of its wisdom,
Compound to celebrate its celebrities,
It's a start.
It's compound though,
To expose your world,
To expose my world,
To expose the world,
A start to many undivine,
A start to the unborn rulers,
It's compound though....
Avoid a kingdom's fight,
A letter to my families.
poem by Bunmi Orogun Samuel
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Suffering
I heard about your happiness
And all the plans that youre involved in
Since youre gone youd be impressed
To know i, too, have been evolving
But I dont think you comprehend
Ive been suffering
Yeah, Ive been suffering
Guess Ill be suffering up around the bend
This love is a cancer in me
I can feel it advancing in me
This fire it is my light in the world
Well, I found me a new friend
Ive been suffering
Yeah, Ive been suffering
Guess Ill be suffering up around the bend
I hung around in a leather bar
They threw me on the cement
Slept all night in my plastic car
Got in an accident
I brushed by you in the supermart
And I had me a touch of whats real
It was real when you crushed me with your steel
Black clouds roll through my mind
Who says anyway these halls are sovereign?
I am a hater of the human kind
So keep away, this hearts not softening
No, I dont think that its the end of this suffering
Yeah, Ive been suffering
Ive been suffering
Ive been suffering
And Ill be suffering up around the bend
song performed by Frank Black
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Conscious Bond of Universal Suffering and The Coming Opus Love Overflow!
The Human bond of earthly suffering
Suffering earthly bondage of the body
The human suffering and earthly bondage
caused by the love filtering psyche!
Nothing bonds like human suffering
nothing damages love more than the suffers of desire
No suffering as human as the desire to be loved!
The fact remains universal:
all on earth who succumb to the power
creating human suffering
possess still the human power of transcending
So tell me who's suffering this day
or any day?
Who needs an arm, a hug,
a warm home cooked meal?
Who else needs to feel the warmth of a breathing body
during those quiet solitaire coffin hours of the night?
Who has not a bed to sleep?
Nor roof overhead to protect from the impending storm?
Who else senses the overwhelming lack of human compassion?
Who's ready for the opus love overflow!
For you are just as ready as I!
And I as ready as he or she!
They as open and prepared to receive as we!
Together, all exchanging our love
indiscriminate and Free!
Oh for everyone to experience each day
the way the cherry trees receive summer and spring!
When you recognize the indistinct face of beauty
you shall become the mirror of eternity!
Fashion age race sex weight
these are inconsequential to beauty's eyes!
When true love is realized
one receives nothing further or less in return!
For love, pure and essential is the only return!
To love undeterred and undivided is to love with the soul!
When you love with the soul
there remains not a soul on earth or any sphere beyond
can not help but fall in love with you!
Alleviation Human Connection!
[...] Read more
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Kajura
My love for you is like the big mango tree in my compound,
Upon which sits the monkey to look at you;
But i will follow you to Hew Guinea!
Of fowls, ducks, goats ans sheep to play in this compound;
And it is like the rice and chicken that you love to eat,
But we will sleep well under this mosquito net of love.
Don't worry my love,
For the centre of my compound is this mango tree!
And we should take life as it is around us,
For my love for you is like the big mango tree in my compound.
You and i have to accept this chronology and,
There is a place for us to sit and drink at times;
So come and drink a bottle of whisky with me tonight.
Kajura my love,
I want to tell you more about myself and more about life!
But the myth of love is all that hangs arouns us,
And i am the leader around here to lead you on.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Hind And The Panther, A Poem In Three Parts : Part III.
Much malice, mingled with a little wit,
Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ;
Because the muse has peopled Caledon
With panthers, bears, and wolves, and beasts unknown,
As if we were not stocked with monsters of our own.
Let Æsop answer, who has set to view
Such kinds as Greece and Phrygia never knew;
And Mother Hubbard, in her homely dress,
Has sharply blamed a British lioness;
That queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep,
Exposed obscenely naked, and asleep.
Led by those great examples, may not I
The wonted organs of their words supply?
If men transact like brutes, 'tis equal then
For brutes to claim the privilege of men.
Others our Hind of folly will indite,
To entertain a dangerous guest by night.
Let those remember, that she cannot die,
Till rolling time is lost in round eternity;
Nor need she fear the Panther, though untamed,
Because the Lion's peace was now proclaimed;
The wary savage would not give offence,
To forfeit the protection of her prince;
But watched the time her vengeance to complete,
When all her furry sons in frequent senate met;
Meanwhile she quenched her fury at the flood,
And with a lenten salad cooled her blood.
Their commons, though but coarse, were nothing scant,
Nor did their minds an equal banquet want.
For now the Hind, whose noble nature strove
To express her plain simplicity of love,
Did all the honours of her house so well,
No sharp debates disturbed the friendly meal.
She turned the talk, avoiding that extreme,
To common dangers past, a sadly-pleasing theme;
Remembering every storm which tossed the state,
When both were objects of the public hate,
And dropt a tear betwixt for her own children's fate.
Nor failed she then a full review to make
Of what the Panther suffered for her sake;
Her lost esteem, her truth, her loyal care,
Her faith unshaken to an exiled heir,
Her strength to endure, her courage to defy,
Her choice of honourable infamy.
On these, prolixly thankful, she enlarged;
Then with acknowledgments herself she charged;
For friendship, of itself an holy tie,
Is made more sacred by adversity.
Now should they part, malicious tongues would say,
They met like chance companions on the way,
[...] Read more
poem by John Dryden
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We compound our suffering by victimizing each other.
Rubaiyat Of A Robin - After Edward Fitzgerald - Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam
Jest plays with rubaiyat and, four by four,
unseals for your amusement more and more
verses together thread in rosary
unreeled to bloom till tomb will curtains draw.
Repealed are value judgement and perspective
revealed through standpoint purely introspective,
darkside concealed of moon’s yin-yang shines clear
when we’re in orbit, - option more effective.
Rolled form performs rôle midwife to perception,
sprung tongue in cheek, tweaks sense of imperfection
or willingness to leach between the lines,
impeach entrenched ideas of self-[s]election.
This prose arose as stream deprived of section,
where ‘dip at will’ will still sustain inspection,
the current’s sense, at odds with current views
ignores round holes, square pegs, top-down direction.
Here there’s no fear of critics’ peer rejection,
contention treated with due circumspection
intention is to mention for retention
an overview or clue to extrospection.
Life’s curtains are a veil through which few see,
as many haste taste-waste eternity,
mixed up, ignore life fixes finite sum
to/through infinite opportunity.
Can “Truth” exist? all ask, who seek its core,
we, modest, etch our words to sketch the score,
diverse the verses which converge to link
reflections mirrored many times before.
Vast content, style, a while, united are,
aim at soul stimulation, nothing bar,
to pleasure, treasure, or discard at will
as minds outreach to other minds on par.
Meditating, we shed light on what
tomorrow’s tot may factor into ‘bot’ -
the poet’s lot, forgot, to help all think
ahead of time, enhance life for a lot
Some seek Nirvana, Faith speaks more than “how”.
Others reject Salvation’s wraith, - w[h]ine “now”.
Verifying facts? Inventing dreams?
Each furrow-burrows with a different plough.
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Alankar(Decor) -108
Sugar Cravings (Compound Word Verse)
The Compound Word Verse is:
stanzaic, written in 5 tercets.
syllabic,8-8-3 syllables per line.
rhymed, rhyme scheme aax bbx ccx ddx eex; x being unrhymed.
each tercet ends with a compound of a stem word in the title.
Sugar Cravings
Look, how a diabetic craves
Despite doctor's caution enslaves
For sugar
Watch firstly how he just slips out
To the kitchen snouted, we doubt
Sugary
Watch more as he goes out for 'walk'-
Daily halt for a sweet shoptalk
High sugared
Then at a wedding, just don't miss
He gobbles the way all with' issssss'
Sugar tongued
Sugar and spice'-his only hymn
Tell me, who can stop and change him
Sugar free
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Once I Was A Prince
Once i was a prince in your highbeamed palm-thatched house
timber and stone
of hardened mud and cold green shiny cement
in your village ribbed with drying splintering palmleaf fences
buttressed by ferns
palmyra jackfruit mango trees standing solitary sentinel in compound
corners
then just for a month
i was a prince in your eyes
i hazarded the Bay of Bengal on a lolling steamer
and watched in unbelief naked children dive for coins in the Nagapattinam offshore anchorage
just to be with you
still a teeny dreamy youth
and there you were
afraid that your village ways might irk me
make me want to go back before time
the day i arrived a double murder in the island
a day or two earlier another
vendetta vengeance wreaked in blood for slights of caste contraventions
other threats other life-taking threats for mere unintended insults
innuendoes injuries
to the state of one's birth
to the validity of one's finance one's moral upstandingness one's looks one's genealogy
a longdrawnout court case for the plucking of a ripe mango from an overhanging branch in the neighbour's compound
sitting squat on your two firm broiled scarred feet
your coarse borderless demure saree stretched to its apparent tatters
your stalwart all-bearing sturdiness masked in that humble crouching
posture
your rough-rolled cheroot smouldering on the edge of the kitchen-patio
cemented mudfloor
and rolling off the corner of the wallbacked seat from where you listened to the swish swish of my coming down the fine sand-filled path rising swiftly furtively only to prepare the ceremonial washing of my feet hands face with the natural coolness from your own ancestral well the chembu as you reverently tilted it giving off just that much of thrashing water into my upturned cupped hands
your meloncholy dreamy gaze riveted on my face my hands my hair my feet recalling perhaps the husband you moaned and whom I had never seen not even in a word-picture
your eyes those bee's full trusting warm honey-coloured ensconced within sharply falling epicanthic folds watching without imposing but who knows how nostalgically
your fear of touching me with those toil-knotted fingers lest I recoil worn yet tender frail still strong from serving two husbands over half a century lest I inadvertently even make a gesture that might make you feel unlike someone of your highborn bridal glory
Once i was a prince in your eyes
my every wish granted
even before I could wish it
eevaa peerankal muuvaa maruntu
the hot kuul boiling complaining in the chemman earthenpot
your apparent fear that the nextdoor neighbour woman might begin her daily chant of your ancestors' drawbacks failings mishaps for fear that my still sheltered ears might tire of your village ways tire of the lack of other comforts running water showers toilets for fear that your native untutored tongue might sound too outlandish to my ears
your pain perpetually shrivelled between your brows notching your fine
flanking nose
Once you touched me
for I had not risen at the appointed hour for my ritual bath
[...] Read more
poem by T. Wignesan
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I'm Ready To Go.
I'm ready to go.
Take me to heaven.
I'm ready to go.
End my suffering.
I'm ready to go.
Let me stop all this blubbering.
I can't help anyone.
Wish I could.
The grave of the good.
As much as I need to know whats not understood.
Conclusions so sour sometime I wish you would.
I'm ready to go.
Take me to heaven.
I'm ready to go.
End my suffering.
I'm ready to go.
Let me stop all this blubbering.
I've look into the abyss so many times before.
This time their is no going back.
Me and the angel of the death have a contract.
With blood as the ink it has been signed and sealed.
I'm sorry but I no longer want to feel.
I'm ready to go.
Take me to heaven.
I'm ready to go.
End my suffering.
I'm ready to go.
Let me stop all this blubbering.
My emotions ride me like a hound.
Biting at my heels.
A heart that isn't real.
Watch as another layer of skin I peel.
I stand then kneel.
I'm ready to go.
Take me to heaven.
I'm ready to go.
End my suffering.
I'm ready to go.
Let me stop all this blubbering.
Wishing for something I can never have.
Denied the right as stars shoot across the twilight.
Beating myself up on the inside.
I'm so ready to so ready to die.
[...] Read more
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Comprehension...Or Torment
No one knows,
When we suffer.
Or how it is we suffer,
When suffering comes and is done...
By anyone
No one knows the extent of it.
How deep what is felt.
And when those sorrows visit to sit.
Although folks give advice and instructions.
With sections of pamphlets,
To read by professionals.
To emphasize their recommendations,
Underlined in 'red'.
Suggestions researched...
To read and ease our minds,
Before going to bed!
Hopefully not to stay awake...
To pace the floor instead.
No one knows,
When we suffer.
Or how it is we suffer,
When suffering comes and is done...
By anyone.
When suffering comes.
And alone it is done!
And listening to someone say to us to pray...
Is not a cure all or remedy,
That takes our suffering to numb quickly away.
But...
Pray we must,
And trust...
That those burdens carried,
Will be lifted up and away from us.
Knowing in our hearts...
God watches and will do His part!
No one knows,
When we suffer.
Or how it is we suffer,
When suffering comes and is done....
By anyone.
When suffering comes.
And alone it is done!
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Madraykin
(K.J.Garside)
Let not your hold be so tight,
She'll return in the morning,
If you give her the night.
Madraykin is she suffering?
Is she suffering?
Madraykin is she suffering?
Revealing her birthmark you cast out her eye,
Clipped are the wings of the angels sighs,
Revealing her birthmark you put out her tongue,
Clipped are the wings of the fairies who run.
Madraykin is she suffering?
Is she suffering?
Madraykin is she suffering?
How deep does she weep in your well of unkeep,
The kiss of Madraykin will keep you from sleep.
Keep you from sleep,
Keep you from sleep,
Keep you from sleep,
Keep you from sleep.
song performed by Queen Adreena
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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Always Suffering
Let's take a walk
Just you and me
And talk of days gone by
Across the fields
Under the trees
Let's speak of you and I
While the whole world
Was wandering
We walked a steady line
When all our friends
Were wavering
We kept on trying
Now we're always suffering
Already lost
Always suffering
Already lost
Remember when
On summer days
I would sing a lovers son
How you would smile
Shower me with praise
And the sun shined on
Now the rain is falling slow
And the nights grow long
And the train
Cries out so hauntingly
She is gone
Now we're always suffering
Already lost
We're always suffering
Already lost
Please take these flowers
Smell the perfume
Let your soul come alive
Let there be hope
Hope in your heart
That our love may revive
For life is but a chance
On a wind swept hill
And the seeds of love
Are swirling above
Let them be still
[...] Read more
song performed by Rolling Stones from Bridges To Babylon
Added by Lucian Velea
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However We Embrace It Intimately To Humanize It
However we embrace it intimately to humanize it
and make it ours, ingratiate it into our hearts and minds,
to understand it, and through understanding befriend it,
suffering remains impersonal, oblivious to tenderness,
faceless, a dragon without compassion for our appeals.
As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods:
they kill us for their sport. Shakespeare. But suffering
is not what we think about it, not the way we feel,
or the little human why of the fact that it exists at all
we shriek into the unlistening abyss, or keep to ourselves
and cry behind whatever lifemasks we care to put on it
as if it were happening to someone else we didn't recognize.
These are my eyes and they're weeping blood.
This is my mouth but the tongue's been torn out
like the flame of a black candle at a mass for the mute.
And the holy men say suffering purifies. The poet
makes something transformatively creative out of it
as if he had a reptile for a muse that can shapeshift
all around him like a caduceus but doesn't cure his ills
however he try to dull the pain with an anodyne of symbols.
Two women electrocuted in a pool of water running
to rescue a woman in a car on fire that's just
brought down a powerline like a cobra from a branch.
The noisy bliss of a school bus smashed at a train crossing
like a beer can in a drunken fist that spares no one,
regardless of age, innocence, karma or the satin in the coffins
to prove that heaven's a better place than this one
where all we ever see is bloodstains on favourite cotton dresses
little girls with ribbons in their hair are killed in every day.
I've opened myself up to the suffering of others
and I've seen the waterlilies of compassion
gaping at the stars as if waiting for an explanation
that would make it all beautiful and sane again.
I've seen friends go methodically mad trying
to gnaw through the glass lenses of the telescopic eyes
they feel they're caged in like a spider mount
or a live rat in an aquarium with an exotic trophy snake
blunting the bullet of its head off the walls
until one of the ricochets strikes its exhausted mark.
One man's agony is the way another makes up for
a personality deficiency by enjoying the kill.
Thirty dead wolves in a pick-up truck culled
by two redneck goofs with egos like guns
to protect the cattle on their way to the abattoir.
And when I drove cab, every morning from six
until noon when even the shadows had to turn away,
I was amazed at how many sick and injured people,
young and old, I drove to the hospital as if there were a war
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick White
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A Lover's Complaint
FROM off a hill whose concave womb reworded
A plaintful story from a sistering vale,
My spirits to attend this double voice accorded,
And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale;
Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale,
Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain,
Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain.
Upon her head a platted hive of straw,
Which fortified her visage from the sun,
Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw
The carcass of beauty spent and done:
Time had not scythed all that youth begun,
Nor youth all quit; but, spite of heaven's fell rage,
Some beauty peep'd through lattice of sear'd age.
Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne,
Which on it had conceited characters,
Laundering the silken figures in the brine
That season'd woe had pelleted in tears,
And often reading what contents it bears;
As often shrieking undistinguish'd woe,
In clamours of all size, both high and low.
Sometimes her levell'd eyes their carriage ride,
As they did battery to the spheres intend;
Sometime diverted their poor balls are tied
To the orbed earth; sometimes they do extend
Their view right on; anon their gazes lend
To every place at once, and, nowhere fix'd,
The mind and sight distractedly commix'd.
Her hair, nor loose nor tied in formal plat,
Proclaim'd in her a careless hand of pride
For some, untuck'd, descended her sheaved hat,
Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside;
Some in her threaden fillet still did bide,
And true to bondage would not break from thence,
Though slackly braided in loose negligence.
A thousand favours from a maund she drew
Of amber, crystal, and of beaded jet,
Which one by one she in a river threw,
Upon whose weeping margent she was set;
Like usury, applying wet to wet,
Or monarch's hands that let not bounty fall
Where want cries some, but where excess begs all.
Of folded schedules had she many a one,
Which she perused, sigh'd, tore, and gave the flood;
[...] Read more
poem by William Shakespeare
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Like birth and death
Birth brings happiness.
Parents bring happiness.
Brothers and sisters too.
So do wife and children.
Their exit one by one
Brings you much suffering.
Your death looms with suffering.
Your enemy brings suffering.
Your rivals cause suffering.
Usurpers and thieves too.
So do the wicked and cheats.
Their exit brings happiness.
Accept happiness and suffering
As you accept your birth and death.
02.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Everything
You got your blind indecisions of all the things they say
This is your life this time live it how you know.
Give one man power to kill
And one man hands to heal
Left one man suffering
All I want is everything
All I want is
All I want is
All I want is everything
They got the door wide open, won't you walk on in?
We're goin for a freak ride, won't you take a spin?
Okay thisll be the last chance so now make it right
If someone tries to stop you stand your ground and fight
Give one man power to kill
And one man hands to heal
Left one man suffering
All I want is everything
All I want is
All I want is
All I want is everything
Everything, everything
Everything, everything
Everything, everything
Everything, everything
Give one man power to kill and one man hands to heal
Give one man everything still others left suffering
Thrill of livin' stay on the right path
When death is calling you cant take it all back
Can't take it all back
Can't take it all back
Give one man power to kill
And one man hands to heal
Left one man suffering
All I want is everything
Give one man power to kill
And one man hands to heal
Left one man suffering
All I want is everything
All I want
All I want
All I want is everything
All I want
All I want
All I want is everything
song performed by Zug Izland
Added by Lucian Velea
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Closer to Happiness
What do you get when you run away from
a predator? You get exactly what I'm
writing about: something chasing after
you. Not letting you go.
Walk around the house,
It's sunny outside.
It's nice,
Warm,
Pretty.
Then I hear the first of the
Trucks and I know
It's not going to end well.
No matter how far I get,
It always catches up to me.
I keep running.
Running away from all the hurt,
All the pain,
All the pessimism and all the suffering.
I keep running.
Running away from all the death,
All the heartbreak,
All the cancer and all the disease.
Trying to get farther from all that,
Closer to happiness.
He was a truck driver,
We saw him every once in a while.
It was nice,
Something we could rely on,
Then his cancer acted up again,
The chemo and radiation started,
And being a pessimist really sucked.
Being a realist sucks even more.
No matter how far I get,
It always catches up with me.
I keep running.
Running away from all the hurt,
All the pain,
All the pessimism and all the suffering.
I keep running.
Running away from all the death,
All the heartbreak,
All the cancer and all the disease.
Trying to get farther from all that,
Closer to happiness.
[...] Read more
poem by Raven Lightner
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Halitosis
My mind seems to want to find you,
In times when my thoughts...
Wander and stray.
And I am not fine with that at all.
Since those days of togetherness...
Have long gone away.
I would say hello to you...
If I knew you would do the same.
Just to acknowledge your presence.
And nothing else would I wish to obtain.
But I have no desire for that to occur.
Perhaps it is you,
Who thinks of me today.
After victimizing someone else...
You charmed and betrayed.
You appear from a distance,
I would rather dismiss!
Than to sit and wonder 'if'...
My happiness would be better appreciated,
Under hypnosis...
And cleansed of all of it.
To completely remove your existence!
Like a rebirth renewed and fresh.
That's how much I want your face erased,
From my memory.
Totally!
And I know that would be best!
Requesting without haste,
To clear the air.
Desiring it to be replaced!
When scented by a mint...
Offered to give and taken,
By one suffering from...
Halitosis of the breath,
That leaves a stomach aching.
And it makes me sick...
To think,
I craved to kiss your lips!
UGH!
'Medic...? '
No.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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