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Quotes about Clapping

Every Knee

Wherefore God had highly exlted him and given him a name
Which is above every name and at the feet of jesus
Every knee shall bow
Of things of heaven and of things of earth
And things under the earth and at the name of jesus
Every tongue shall confess that he is king
Under God the father
Christ is king, he is god
Who so you seek you deny
That in the begining was the word and the word was with god
The word was god. so why do you fight
Which were not born of blood, nor of the flesh
Nor of the will of man, but of god
The word became flesh and dwelt among us
And we beheld his glory
Full of grace and truth
Whos gonna bow down? every knee
Whos gonna confess? every tongue
2x
Prophets of the past, claim the son of man would come

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So Tight

Verse 1:
Only took a second to catch my eye
Dancin like ya knowin that youre fly
Do I wanna step to ya I think might wanna move with you tonight
You make me say you got me going and girl I need (you you)
Out to the floor and dance with me (do do)
Do what you wanna do with me
Come one baby you know you gotta
Chorus:
Come show me how you move it drop
Because youre so fine baby just dont stop
I wanna get down wanna do my thing with you
All night youre so tight
I wanna jump, jump (jump jump jump)
I wanna clap, clap (::clapping::)
I know you want to so do I tonight
Cuz girl youre just so tight
Verse 2:
Babygirl the way you move around
Oh ya know it makes me think about

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I've been thinking about that old Zen conundrum what's the sound of one hand clapping My personal opinion--nothing. You don't have two hands, you don't have any clapping. It's as simple as that. Stars, galaxies, clapping hands, what's the point The point is that we all need somebody, whether you're a supercluster or a little proton, a yin or a yang. Everybody is hooked into everybody else.

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Ballerina Style

Lift me down again
that always feels new;
Twirl me down again
to cure my dizziness.

Turn my pedestal upside down
finding me with Humilities Smile
on my upside face.

Can a man walk on one leg?
Can you hear the sound of one hand clapping?

Can you hear a butterfly sing?

You can.

Can anything compare to
the lift me down,
the dizzy cure
the upside down pedestal

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The Old Poet And The Young Poet

a young poet complains
the life of a poet gets too boring
when there are no readers
or hands clapping
perhaps he is searching for
fame or honor
the old poet believes otherwise

the years of silence
bury him into oblivion
he had those hands clapping
in the passions of his youth
the summit of fame is the mountain
he worked for

he once lived on top of the hill
the naives think he is the cloud king
it is when you still love to write
even if no one is listening

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I have a dream

'I have a dream! '
The man on the platform began...
'I have, a dream.'
The people all around cheering, clapping.
The signs were raised in the sky.
The man spoke strong and true,
His voice singing with hope, equality, and power.
His name is King, Marting Luther King, Jr.
His dream is to have white and black people equal.
To have friendship between them, to have no vision of color.

'I solemly swear! '
The man on the platform begain...
'I do so solemly swear.'
The people all around cheering, clapping.
The signs were raised in the sky.
The man spoke strong, and determined,
His voice filled with change, with strength.
His name is Obama, Barack Obama.
He is the begining of the future, and the present.

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The Cycle

The clapping blackness of the wings of pointed cormorants,
the great indolent planes
Of autumn pelicans nine or a dozen strung shorelong,
But chiefly the gulls, the cloud-caligraphers of windy spirals
before a storm,
Cruise north and south over the sea-rocks and over
That bluish enormous opal; very lately these alone, these and the
clouds
And westering lights of heaven, crossed it; but then
A hull with standing canvas crept about Point Lobos . . . now
all day long the steamers
Smudge the opal's rim; often a seaplane troubles
The sea-wind with its throbbing heart. These will increase, the
others diminish; and later
These will diminish; our Pacific has pastured
The Mediterranean torch and passed it west across the fountains
of the morning;
And the following desolation that feeds on Crete
Feed here; the clapping blackness of the wings of pointed cormorants,
the great sails

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A Musical Note

Liddle lie, liddle lie, liddle lie lay lee.
Liddle lie, liddle lie, liddle lie lay low.
These are the words that were sent to me
in a letter from my brother-in-law-Joe.

He said as the cock-crowed last Tuesday morning
he heard singing coming from down his garden.
Surprised and not believing what he was hearing
he went to see where the sound was coming from.

As he casually walked to the bottom of the garden
the singing became louder with his every stride.
He slowly parted the branches of the hedgerow
and saw a toad and mouse sitting side by side.

The toad sat cross-legged on a spotted toadstool
playing a mandolin and singing out loud.
The mouse was clapping in time to the music,
as were other animals that made up the crowd.

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That's my Moment

oh! faith that always come in the midst of nothingness
shower thy blessing to now more of the things my
life needs, you have been in every conscience, reflected
in all hands, seduce in every eyes that tears in thy
most Holy Name, who master the universe through out
eternity

look upon me. in the highest echelon I conquer, wondering
in command to the clapping hands of the people who
believe that I am a little god, in the arena of rings and
stage I always stand, my everything brings me to survive
in each gift you give, cheering with out knowing of where
this might be the end, yet! I forget to recess my human
strength who signal and give me the signal that everything
has gone

I shouted when all I see is everybody happy, not I know
I murmur in my heart saying it’s my moment, of where I
fought so hard just to get the Honor and Prestige now
you see, I kept this all through the years, believing that

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The Quiet Room

By a thread, I hang, as the knell tolls.
Moribund and cacophonous,
Surrounded by angels of death, I am.
They chortle and laugh at me, as
The tragic side show carries on.
I am amongst the persecuted,
Caught in a sinister grasp-
With the clapping of thunder,
My flailing limbs, caught in a vice.
Crouched in a corner, I have lost my battle with life.
My hair, frazzled, as that of a madman.
Blackened ice paves the floors through the doors of death.
Kicking and screaming, I find myself surrounded by
Yellowed walls, caught in a cyclone as
Veracity slips through my open palms.
None but a glimmer of light,
Hope without a prayer has been snuffed out as
I am a prisoner trapped within this iron vault.
The foul stench of urine permeates as the
Walls spin in an emotional typhoon.

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