Quotes about massage, page 10
Touchy Subject for M'Lady Tara
As scientists now try to prove
by surveys and experiment.
That being touched by one you love
is itself benificient
Alternative therapies
abound but every one relies on touch
To put the patient at his ease.
What kind of touch won’t matter much
Reiki or reflexology
and all the methods of massage
Are challenging orthodoxy
and are succeeding by and large.
The orthodox, impersonal
and modern treatment of disease.
Is in itself inimical.
promoting feelings of unease.
[...] Read more
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Nothing Else From One Through Nine
Its gotta be love...
When she shows it,
He knows it.
Its gotta be love...
When he shows it,
She knows it!
And nothing else from one through nine.
She knew the man was her's and fine.
And he knew how to blow her mind!
They did it when they did it,
And it was most of the time
Its gotta be love...
When she shows it,
He knows it.
Its gotta be love...
When he shows it,
She know it!
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When the Bubble Bursts
People worry much about being fresh out
of emotions of love due to ageing.
Sensible people think a hundred times
before giving their data in the nets
for dating and for life with single moms.
In a society, which has freewheeling lifestyles,
people face no problems by typing their email-id.
But in countries where people are at large,
men are called to a place, valuables seized,
punched and thrown out with bleeding injuries.
They are also warned not to report to the police
or else hard copies of their nude photos will be
sent to their wives when the soft copies flash in nets.
Some in western culture are frank about gayness.
In some rural hamlets of India, the gay guys are tonsured,
marked with block and red dots on their body
and forced to ride on donkeys while the boys and men
beat them with brooms and slippers.
Problems they face in plenty when their age crosses sixty.
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poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Notre terre qui est à Votre taille
Notre terre qui est à Votre taille
Forgive us please our enormous bilious hubris
The quasar-lit heavens smile only down upon us
For Our Master he presideth over the Universe
Our Architect-Father he beds down in the blackest holes
Our temple bells and lodges' knell toll only for Thee
While Thou slips from one parallel universe to another
Yeah, notre terre qui est à Votre taille
The muezzin's cry reaches far into the darkest cloud
From turret to galactic turret resounds the prophetic call
Colliding antennae make a murky Baghdad morass
The fallout heralds the bigcrunchy messianic massage
Our Master who art the shine on the Brahmin's head
Which knows no limbs feet chest nor shivering loins
Forgive us our cowering at the spewing Purusha mouth
For Thine is the thunder exploding forever and ever
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poem by T. Wignesan
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NO NEED FOR ME...by Talile Ali
NO NEED FOR ME
YOU GOT NO NEED FOR ME BABY
YOU GOT NO NEED FOR ME
DON'T WANT MY SEX OR MY LOVIN
DON'T WANT MY SYMPATHY
EVERY TIME I COME AROUND YOU
YOU ACT LIKE YOU CAN'T STAND ME
OFF TO THE BARS YOU GO HUNT
FOR SOME YOUNG MEAT FOR YOUR BUN
NEVER A THOUGHT DO YOU GIVE TO ME
DAMN I MUST BE LESS THAN SOME
I KNOW I DON'T LOOK MUCH LIKE A MAN
IS THAT WHY YOU LED ME ON?
HEY, I DON'T MIND BEING A FRIEND
BUT DAMN, I LIKE BEING DONE ONCE IN A WHILE
BUT NOT RANK SOME CONSIDERATION
[...] Read more
poem by Talile Ali
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My view of fog
People often view fog in one way only
I personally don't see it that way, and...
the feeling it conjures is more than just lonely
It's totally different...
as night is to day
It depends on your age and your state of mind
to be able to see fog in a different light
To see it one way only is to be partially blind
and most peoples vision is locked in...
too tight
Fog, coldly defined, is water suspended in air
And while defined so, gives no true definition, and yet
we know fog can defy easy description and,
can tiptoe soft as a kitten....or slither snake-like
from it's lair
To a child, fog's a soft, hidey-place plaything,
droplets of laughter, giggling out of the mist
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poem by David Whalen
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Philippines the Pearl of the Orient
as the Pacific ocean pushing down the cool breezing
fresh air facing east, where the set of the rising sun, the
Philippines alluring beautiful islets welcome the
foreign lands
hundreds and thousands people wish to stay in the 7,107
seashore and islands they want to play, even Ferdinand
Magellan leads its way to conquer the island for Spain
to offer, but Lapu Lapu the local chieftain stop their
intension and say the great promise land is not for sale
and please go faraway than to stay bitter
the Philippines island, endowed with natural beauty: the
the chocolate hills and the underground river as while the
Mayon volcano viewed its degree, where the rice terraces
splendid its wonderful technology of the centuries from
other neighboring countries
richness in the vast land and rivers, seas and sky the
country is full, wild life and animal every where you can
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poem by Antonio Liao
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~The Power of a Tear~
Pounds of pain punctured my progress
Tons of trouble terminated my tranquility
Swarms of stress subtracted my substance
My heart exploded like a thousand thunders
My mind melted and my spirit splintered
Hanging by a thread destined to burst
I tried to wash away the wounds with words
But the stains were deeply dyed in concrete colors
Verbal detergents were badly and sadly defeated
Verbosity crumbled, fell at my feet and retreated
Internal torment was the architect of my demise
Terrorizing my thoughts and hijacking my hope
Music tried to massage me out of my misery
But though the words were so wonderful
And the melody so moving and majestic
Misfortune only mushroomed and multiplied
I sought solution in the fraternity of friends
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poem by Howard Simon
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This Poem..
This poem
was about to speak to you
assuming that there is a you right there and now
but
hesitated, a little unsure of itself
this poem
though all ready to be
a bouncy, Tiggerish, extravert sort of poem
is going instead to take a quiet moment for
introspection
this poem
remembers that computers are essentially
binary – built up of millions of yes-no choices
so
this poem
is above all,
yes;
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poem by Michael Shepherd
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Simple Pleasures
In our lives, there are many little pleasures;
Little moments which we love to treasure.
Things which, on your face, put a smile,
Even if only for the very briefest while.
Sleeping between freshly laundered cotton sheets.
Breakfast in bed is an experience, which can’t be beat.
Discovering that you’ve at last lost a few pounds in weight.
Going to the cinema to see the latest film with a good mate.
Browsing around a second hand bookshop.
Making the bubbles on bubble-wrap pop!
Sitting, browsing through your old photos.
Playing about in the freshly fallen snow.
Singing your heart out to your favourite song in your car.
Meeting up for a drink with your friends at a local bar.
Curling up on the sofa with a hot drink and a good book.
Someone paying you a compliment on the way you look.
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poem by Angela Wybrow
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