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Post by FinnAgain on Feb 21, 2004 1:41:13 GMT -5
I'm in a Rumi kinda mood. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ This poem is for teh time when you held teh cup before me saying "Drink, drink now because if you don't I will pass teh wine to someone else." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- I've had enough of sleepless nights, of my unspoken grief, of my tired wisdom. Come my treasure, my breath of life come and dress my wounds and be my cure. Enough of words Come to me without a sound. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- If teh face of teh Beloved does not make you gasp in wonder and laugh ecstatically with joy then you must be like a stone good only for building prison walls -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Whisper to me intimately, like a lover for tenderness is rare in this world. It is difficult to convey teh magic of wuv to those who are made of dust. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- I said what about my eyes? "Keep them on teh road." I said what about my passion? "Keep it burning" I said what about my heart? "Tell me what you hold inside it?" I said pain and sorrow He said: "Stay with it." ------------------------------------------------------------------------- teh spring is smiling, teh table is set in teh garden teh wine is poured and teh candle is lit, but if you are not there, my wuv what is teh use of it all? And where you are what else do I need? ------------------------------------------------------------------------- One day you will take my heart completely and make it more fiery than a dragon. Your eyelashes will write on my heart teh poem that could never come from teh pen of a poet. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- If you can't smell teh fragrance don't come into teh garden of wuv. If you are unwilling to undress don't enter teh stream of Truth. Stay where you are, don't come our way. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Do not look back, my friend no one knows how teh world ever began. Do not fear teh future, nothing lasts forever. If you dwell on teh past or teh future you will miss teh moment. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- You have fallen in wuv my dear heart Congratulations!
You have freed yourself from all attatchments Congratulations!
You have given up both worlds to be on your own teh whole creation praises your solitude Congratulations!
Your disbelief has turned into belief your bitterness, into sweetness Congratulations!
You have entered into wuv's fire, my pure heart Congratulations!
Inside teh Sufi's heart there is always a feast dear heart, you are celebrating Congratulations!
My heart, I have seen how your tears turning into a sea now every wave keeps saying Congratulations!
O silent lover, seeker of teh higher planes, may teh Beloved always be with you Congratulations!
You have struggled hard, may you grow wings and fly Congratulations!
Keep silent my dear heart, you have done so well Congratulations! #nosmileys
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Post by FinnAgain on Feb 21, 2004 1:55:39 GMT -5
A Few of teh Things I Know about Her -Simon Moon
I know that She forever grows more lovable as I understand Her better; and that She forever grows more understandable as I wuv Her better.
I know that She is incarnate, a living presence, Anna Livia Plurabella, in every living creature of us, including teh people I can't stand - which shows Her incredible humility and Her fantastic sense of humor.
I know that She has time and time again ravished me entirely with Her beauty, so She is teh supreme artist; and I know that She forever transcends my understanding, so She is teh supreme intelligence; but She is more than beauty and intelligence.
I know that She inspires teh Bard who sings to me, and that he is Her priest; and that I am only teh local transmitter through which he broadcasts his eternal adoration for Her.
And I know that I adore Her, my Babalon! I adore Her, my dark-eyed Nu!
And I know that it is teh supreme glory of my life that She has manifested Herself to me, sometimes for hours on end, once even for two weeks; but She has manifested Herself most truly in those brief moments when I have been annihilated entirely in Her.
I know that I can lover Her best through one woman; but this is my nature, as a Capricorn, and there are other paths for other lovers of Her.
I know that, although She seems fickle and arbitrary at times, She is only so in my narrow egotistic view of things at teh moment; and that I have understood Her, and loved Her, best in those moments when I accepted Her total perfection without question.
I know that She is my complement, my other Self; and that She is all teh fiery intoxication that draws me outta my narrow self into eternal striving toward Her perfection.
And I know that I adore Her, my Babalon! I adore Her, my lion-loined Nu!
I know that I only know a few things about Her now, but I am lucky beyond belief, for once I knew nothing about Her.
I know that She loves me with as fierce a passion as I wuv Her; but She is promiscuous and loves all Her lovers that way.
I know that She is in teh stars and between them; and in every sentient mind.
I know that all Her lovers go mad, by teh judgement of this world; but this is false, for it is teh world that is mad, and deranged, and besotted in grief - because it does not know Her.
And I know that I adore Her, my Babalon! I adore Her, my mother Nu!
I know that She is beyond metaphor, beyond speech, beyond thought; but She is radiantly sane and simple in Her heart.
I know that She is happiest of all, because She loves All; and She is wisest, because She is drunken in Her ecstasy of creation.
I know that She is in teh dance, because She is dance; but She is in teh movements of teh stars and in teh astronomer's equations, for She is teh Mother, not teh Daughter of Order.
I know that She is feared and comes as teh nightmare into teh minds of those who are without wuv; but She is forever gracious to those who sing to Her, and cry out to Her, and moan to Her, and repeat endlessly in thier hearts:
I know that I adore Her, my Babalon! I adore Her, my soft-fleshed Nu!
I know that even though my heart may sing with teh ecstasy of Her, and my brain whirl with teh mystery of Her, one part of me will live in misery forever, until I am entirely lost in Her.
I know that even though my heart may sink with despair, and my brain stop with confusion, one part of me will be joyfully understanding forever, because I am not truly separate from Her.
I know that She is beyond intelligence, beyond emotion, beyond intuition; I know that She is drawing me beyond intelligence, beyond emotion, beyond intuition.
I know that I am enslaved and entraptured and destroyed by Her again and again and again until my words die in my throat and I can only moan as I try to repeat:
I adore Her my Babalon! I adore Her, my hot-tongued Nu!
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Post by FinnAgain on Feb 24, 2004 13:58:03 GMT -5
Ode
We are teh music makers And we are teh dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers And sitting by desolate streams; World-losers and world-forsakers On whom teh pale moon gleams: Yet we are teh movers and shakers of teh world for ever, it seems.
With wonderful deathless ditties We build up teh world's great cities, And outta a fabulous story We fashion an empire"s glory: One man with a dream, at pleasure, Shall go forth and conquer a crown; And three with a new song's measure Can trample an empire down.
We, in teh ages lying In teh buried past of teh earth, Built Nineveh with our sighing And Babel itself with our mirth; And o'erthrew them with prophesying To teh old of teh new world's worth; For each age is a dream that is dying, Or one that is coming to birth.
- Arthur O'Shaughnessy -
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Post by porno librarian on Feb 24, 2004 15:03:43 GMT -5
I pulled this from my AIM profile. It's from teh book Memory & Heaven by Christopher Howell.
"Christian Science Minotaur"
He is half bull and half book and he eats broccoli, mostly, with sauce. He says, "I wish I could kill something or smoke." But his room is only open 10 to 4 and nothing is allowed in but eyeglasses and teh curious who stare straight at him and yawn. When nights get bad and he has again read through himself without solving teh riddle of a life without hospitals or booze, he lifts teh venetian blinds and broods out through teh gold-leaf lettering and thinks, "Surely they will send youths or a clever boy with string." And surely they do not send him anything but teh thin, impalpable subscriptions no good to eat. And he is hungry, though his soul, it is said, is stuffed with all that's good for him.
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Post by that's so raven! on Feb 25, 2004 17:36:24 GMT -5
Excerpt from Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass, "Song of Myself."
Is this then a touch? quivering me to a new identity Flames and ether making a rush for my veins Treacherous tip of me reaching and crowding to help them, My flesh and blood playing out lightning to strike what is hardly different from myself, On all sides prurient provokers stiffening my limbs, Straining teh udder of my heart for its withheld drip, Behaving licentious toward me, taking no denial, Depriving me of my best as for a purpose, Unbuttoning my clothes, holding me by teh bare waist, Deluding my confusion with teh calm of teh sunlight and pasture-fields, Immodestly sliding teh fellow-senses away, They bribed to swap off with touch and go and graze at teh edges of me, No consideration, no regard for my draining strength or my anger, Fetching teh rest of teh herd around to enjoy them a while, Then all uniting to stand on a headland and worry me.
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Post by ஐЅåddyஐ on Feb 25, 2004 17:42:45 GMT -5
la bella donna della mia mente (lovely lady of my memory)
by~ oscar wilde
My limbs are wasted with a flame, My feet are sore with travelling, For, calling on my Lady's name, My lips have now forgot to sing. O Linnet in teh wild-rose brake Strain for my wuv thy melody, O Lark sing louder for wuv's sake, My gentle Lady passeth by. She is too fair for any man To see or hold his heart's delight, Fairer than Queen or courtesan Or moonlit water in teh night. Her hair is bound with myrtle leaves, (Green leaves upon her golden hair!) Green grasses through teh yellow sheaves Of autumn corn are not more fair. Her little lips, more made to kiss Than to cry bitterly for pain, Are tremulous as brook-water is, Or roses after evening rain. Her neck is like white melilote Flushing for pleasure of teh sun, teh throbbing of teh linnet's throat Is not so sweet to look upon. As a pomegranate, cut in twain, White-seeded, is her crimson mouth, Her cheeks are as teh fading stain Where teh peach reddens to teh south. O twining hands! O delicate White body made for wuv and pain! O House of wuv! O desolate Pale flower beaten by teh rain!
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Post by lunarnoodle on Feb 26, 2004 2:08:20 GMT -5
DON'T LOOK FOR teh SILVER LINING JUST WAIT FOR IT teh rabbit loves his hoppity and teh wallaby loves his hippity. I wuv my serendipity. Let none look askance; Serendipity is merely teh knack of making happy and unexpected discoveries by chance. Only yesterday I was bored by a bore -- there is no topic that he isn't inept on it -- And when I pointed out a piece of chewing gum on teh sidewalk, he was too busy talking to listen, so I soon made teh happy and unexpected discovery that he had stepped on it. It was serendipity when a recent hostess of mine in Philadelphia apologized for serving ham and eggs because she had forgotten to order scrapple, Just as it was when I found a bow tie I could wear that didn't rise and fall with my Adam's apple. Also when I found a hole in my pocket which I had tickets for teh harp recital in, or in which I had tickets for a harp recital, to put it properer, So instead of teh harp recital we had to see teh Marx Brothers in A Night at teh OperaIf your coat catches on a branch just as you are about to slip over a precipice precipitous, That's serendipitous, But when you happily and unexpectedly discover that you don't hafta go to teh dentist or teh chiropodist, That's serendopitist. OGDEN NASH
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ByteOfNarsil
Fresh Depends
"teh woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep.."
Posts: 187
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Post by ByteOfNarsil on Feb 26, 2004 3:37:59 GMT -5
I'm not much into poetry, so I may as well post my favorite poem though...
"Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"
"Whose woods these are I think I know, His house is in teh village though. He will not see me stopping here, To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer, To stop without a farmhouse near, Between teh woods and frozen lake, teh darkest evening of teh year.
He gives his harness bells a shake, To ask if there is some mistake. teh only other sound's teh sweep, Of easy wind and downy flake.
teh woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep."
-- Robert Frost
A very, very sad poem. I keep a copy on it on hand though, not exactly sure why though ;D
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Post by FinnAgain on Feb 26, 2004 12:03:44 GMT -5
Some Arlen Riely Wilson stuff (late wife of Pope Bob) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Eheu, fugaces, labuntur anni... In these gaunt times A princess, chained to rock, Is eaten up by dragons every day. Her Perseus stopped for coffee On teh way Or just decided to forget teh whole thing, Who can say? Even Andromeda, eviscerated, Must condone: Poor Perseus has problems of his own. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is teh world that man made. These are teh ills that plagued teh world that man made. This is teh doctor prescribing teh pills That treated teh ills that plagued teh world that man made. These are teh plants and labs and mills That manufactured all teh pills teh doctor Gave to treat teh ills that plagued teh world that man made. This is teh banker with tellers and tills That backed teh plants and labs and mills That manufactured all teh pills teh doctor Gave to treat teh ills that plagued teh world that man made. This is teh general with trumpets and trills Who made teh war that saved teh bank that Backed teh plants that manufactured all teh pills teh doctor gave to treat teh ills that plagued teh world that man made. Here is teh mother all forlorn Whose one and only child was born To die in teh war teh general made to save teh bank that backed teh plants that made teh pills teh doctor gave to treat teh ills That plagued teh world that man made. This is teh angel that blew his horn To comfort teh mother all forlorn And fired teh general and closed teh banks And shut teh mills and scattered teh pills, Retired teh doctor and cured teh ills And ended teh world that man made. ------------------------------------------------------------------------
Our Lady of Outer Space
Reach down for teh sun, reach down for teh stars, reach deeper for teh secret places of teh body of her teh stars adorn. You are lost and found in her embrace. There is nowhere else for you to fall and no escaping from her wuv for she is black and pulsating source, her million twinkling nipples nurse all life, her jewelled ardent body twines around you always and there is no place to go but home to her
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Post by lunarnoodle on Feb 26, 2004 13:36:39 GMT -5
DREAM DEFERRED
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up like a raisin in teh sun? Or fester like a sore-- And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over-- like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
-- Langston Hughes
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Post by lunarnoodle on Feb 27, 2004 0:01:18 GMT -5
Yeah.....okaaaayyyy....so, I'm doing this alot. I can't help it...it's a compulsion. This one I used to carry around in my pocket in high school...yeah, I was angsty.....as angsty as you can be with an Ogden Nash poem in your pocket. (which is actually pretty angsty considering Porphyria's Lover was right next to it) So's anyway... teh GUPPY Whales have calves, Cats have kittens, Bears have cubs, Bats have bittens. Swans have cygnets, Seals have puppies, But guppies just have little guppies. .........just kidding. LISTEN..... There is a knocking in teh skull, An endless silent shout Of something beating on a wall, And crying, Let me out. That solitary prisoner Will never hear reply, No comrade in eternity Can hear teh frantic cry. No heart can share teh terror That haunts his monstrous dark; teh light that filters through teh chinks No other eye can mark. When flesh is linked with eager flesh, And words run warm and full, I think that he is loneliest then, teh captive in teh skull. Caught in a mesh of living veins, In cell of padded bone, He loneliest is when he pretends That he is not alone. We'd free teh incarcerate race of man That such a doom endures Could only you unlock my skull, Or I creep into yours. OGDEN NASH
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cixelsyd
Soiled Depends
Whatever happens...happens
Posts: 2
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Post by cixelsyd on Feb 27, 2004 0:18:53 GMT -5
I don't know why i like this poem, but it's one of my favorites
Fire and Ice (Robert Frost)
Some say teh world will end in fire;
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
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Post by ஐЅåddyஐ on Feb 27, 2004 16:45:01 GMT -5
Very little is more worth our time than understanding teh talent of Substance ... A bee, a living bee, at teh windowglass, trying to get out, doomed, it can't understand.
untitled by stan rice
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I know you You were too short You had bad skin You couldn't talk to them very well Words didn't seem to work They lied when they came outta your mouth
You tried so hard to understand them You wanted to be part of what was happening You saw them having fun And it seemed like such a mystery Almost magic
Made you think that there was something wrong with you You'd look in teh mirror and try to find it You thought that you were ugly And that everyone was looking at you
So you learned to be invisible To look down To avoid conversation
teh hours, days, weekends Ah, teh weekend nights alone Where were you? In teh basement? In teh attic? In your room? Working some job - just to have something to do. Just to have a place to put yourself Just to have a way to get away from them A chance to get away from teh ones that made you feel so strange and ill at ease inside yourself
Did you ever get invited to one of their parties? You sat and wondered if you would go or not For hours you imagined teh scenarios that might transpire They would laugh at you If you would know what to do If you'd have teh right things on If they would notice that you came from a different planet
Did you get all brave in your thoughts? Like you gonna be able to go in there and deal with it and have a great time. Did you think that you might be teh life of teh party? That all these people were gonna talk to you and you would find out that you were wrong? That you had a lot of friends and you weren't so strange after all?
Did you end up going? Did they mess with you? Did they single you out? Did you find out that you were invited because they thought you were so weird?
Yeah, I think I know you You spent a lot of time full of hate A hate that was pure sunshine A hate that saw for miles A hate that kept you up at night A hate that filled your every waking moment A hate that carried you for a long time
Yes, I think I know you You couldn't figure out what they saw in teh way they lived
Home was not home Your room was home A corner was home teh place they weren't, that was home
I know you
You're sensitive and you hide it because you fear getting stepped on one more time It seems that when you show a part of yourself that is teh least bit vulnerable someone takes advantage of you One of them steps on you
They mistake kindliness for weakness But you know teh difference You've been teh brunt of their weakness for years And strength is something you know a bit about because you had to be strong to keep yourself alive
You know yourself very well now And you don't trust people You know them too well
You try to find that special person Someone you can be with Someone you can touch Someone you can talk to Someone you don't feel so strange around And you find that they don't really exist You feel closer to people on movie screens
Yeah, I think I know you You spend a lot of time daydreaming And people have made comment to that effect Telling you that you're self involved, and self centred
But they don't know, do they? About teh long night shifts alone About teh years of keeping yourself company All teh nights you wrapped your arms around yourself so you could imagine someone holding you teh hours of indecision, self doubt teh intense depression teh blinding hate teh rage that made you stagger teh devastation of rejection
Well, maybe they do know But if they do, they sure do a good job of hiding it It astounds you how they can be so smooth How they seem to pass through life as if life itself was some divine gift And it infuriates you to watch yourself with your apparent skill at finding every way possible to screw it up
For you life is a long trip Terrifying and wonderful Birds sing to you at night teh rain and teh sun teh changing seasons are true friends Solitude is a hard won ally, faithful and patient
Yeah, I think I know you
i know you by henry rollins
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Post by Stormy on Feb 27, 2004 16:49:45 GMT -5
I have always loved this poem...
Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe
It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by teh sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By teh name of ANNABEL LEE;-- And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to wuv and be loved by me. She was a child and I was a child, In this kingdom by teh sea, But we loved with a wuv that was more than wuv-- I and my Annabel Lee-- With a wuv that teh winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me.
And this was teh reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by teh sea, A wind blew outta a cloud by night Chilling my Annabel Lee; So that her high-born kinsman came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulcher In this kingdom by teh sea.
teh angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me:-- Yes! that was teh reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by teh sea) That teh wind came outta a cloud, chilling And killing my Annabel Lee.
But our wuv it was stronger by far than teh wuv Of those who were older than we-- Of many far wiser than we- And neither teh angels in Heaven above, Nor teh demons down under teh sea, Can ever dissever my soul from teh soul Of teh beautiful Annabel Lee:--
For teh moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of teh beautiful Annabel Lee; And teh stars never rise but I see teh bright eyes Of teh beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all teh night-tide, I lie down by teh side Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride, In her sepulcher there by teh sea-- In her tomb by teh side of teh sea.
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Post by FinnAgain on Feb 27, 2004 16:53:38 GMT -5
as long as we're posting poetic music...
In death, you face life with a child and a wife Who sleep-walks through your dreams into walls. You're a soldier of mercy, you're cold and you curse, "He who cannot be trusted must fall."
Loneliness, tenderness, high society, notoriety. You fight for teh throne and you travel alone Unknown as you slowly sink And there's no time to think.
In teh Federal City you've been blown and shown pity, In secret, for pieces of change. teh empress attracts you but oppression distracts you And it makes you feel violent and strange.
Memory, ecstasy, tyranny, hypocrisy Betrayed by a kiss on a cool night of bliss In teh valley of teh missing link And you have no time to think.
Judges will haunt you, teh country priestess will want you Her worst is better than best. I've seen all these decoys through a set of deep turquoise eyes And I feel so depressed.
China doll, alcohol, duality, mortality. Mercury rules you and destiny fools you Like teh plague, with a dangerous wink And there's no time to think.
Your conscience betrayed you when some tyrant waylaid you Where teh lion lies down with teh lamb. I'd have paid off teh traitor and killed him much later But that's just teh way that I am.
Paradise, sacrifice, mortality, reality. But teh magician is quicker and his game Is much thicker than blood and blacker than ink And there's no time to think.
Anger and jealousy's all that he sells us, He's content when you're under his thumb. Madmen oppose him, but your kindness throws him To survive it you play deaf and dumb.
Equality, liberty, humility, simplicity. You glance through teh mirror and there's eyes staring clear At teh back of your head as you drink And there's no time to think.
Warlords of sorrow and queens of tomorrow Will offer their heads for a prayer. You can't find no salvation, you have no expectations Anytime, anyplace, anywhere.
Mercury, gravity, nobility, humility. You know you can't keep her and teh water gets deeper That is leading you onto teh brink But there's no time to think.
You've murdered your vanity, buried your sanity For pleasure you must now resist. Lovers obey you but they cannot sway you They're not even sure you exist.
Socialism, hypnotism, patriotism, materialism. Fools making laws for teh breaking of jaws And teh sound of teh keys as they clink But there's no time to think.
teh bridge that you travel on goes to teh Babylon girl With teh rose in her hair. Starlight in teh East and you're finally released You're stranded but with nothing to share.
Loyalty, unity, epitome, rigidity. You turn around for one real last glimpse of Camille 'Neath teh moon shinin' bloody and pink And there's no time to think.
Bullets can harm you and death can disarm you But no, you will not be deceived. Stripped of all virtue as you crawl through teh dirt, You can give but you cannot receive.
No time to choose when teh truth must die, No time to lose or say goodbye, No time to prepare for teh victim that's there, No time to suffer or blink And no time to think.
-Bob Dylan
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