An atheist is as religious as a theist.
quote by Kedar Joshi
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Related quotes
Atheist & Theist
No atheist all are theist
Every man has trust to his self
to trust own self
or thyself is the trust of God
Atheist is one kind of fashion
Atheist want separation by other ideology
but to trust his self or thyself
No controversy with atheist and theist
All are trust his self is believe in God
God stay every where
but God throne is made in human self
Whose wish is God Wish
Whose think is God think
Whose talk is God talk
Whose act is God atc
whose head is God head.....
All believers are theist
poem by Mashiur Rahman
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Experiencia Religiosa (remix)
Un poco de ti para sobrevivir
Esta noche ue viene fria y sola
Un aire de extasis en la ventana
Para vestirme de fiesta y ceremonia
Cada vez que estoy contigo
Yo descubro el infinito
Tiembla el suelo
La noche se ilumina
El silencio se vuelve melodia
Y es casi un
experiencia religiosa
Sentir que resucito si me tocas
Subir al firmamento prendido de tu
cuerpo
es un experiencia religiosa
Casi una experiencia religiosa
Contigo cada instante en cada cosa
Besar la boca tuya merece
un aleluya
Es una experiencia religiosa
Vuelve pronto mi amor
te necesito ya
Porque esta noche tan honda
me da miedo
Necesito la musica de tu alegria
Para callar los demonios que
llevo dentro
Cada vez que estoy contigo
Yo descubro el infinito
Tiembla el suelo
La noche se ilumina
El silencio se vuelve melodia
Y es casi un
experiencia religiosa
Sentir que resucito si me tocas
Subir al firmamento prendido de tu
cuerpo
es un experiencia religiosa
Casi una experiencia religiosa
Contigo cada instante
en cada cosa
Besar la boca tuya merece
un aleluya
Es una experiencia religiosa
Y es casi un
experiencia religiosa
Sentir que resucito si me tocas
Subir al firmamento
prendido de tu cuerpo
Es un experiencia religiosa
[...] Read more
song performed by Enrique Iglesias
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Religious War
Religious war has been fought by rare person
person fighting for religion is ever winner
only the person took the help of weapons
are defeated, History is witness in weapon war
only the powerful weapons are winner, but
that can not be termed as Religious War
Weapon War is always blind but religious war
is always full of love and peace.
Weapon war is the matter of ego
Religious war is the matter of consciousness
Weapon war sheds blood but Religious War
It sheds love and affection
A person fighting for Religious War has to be
martyr some time but he becomes the reason
to be worshiped for ever
Weapon war spreads chaos and terrorism
Religious War spreads prosperity
Weapon war knows to split the society
Religious War knows to unite the society
Weapon war knows to enslave the human being
Religious War knows to make him free
from all kinds of slavery
Weapon war pushes us back to barbaric age
Religious war pulls us forward to civilized age.
Weapon war ends with destruction
Religious war ends with creation
Religion is the law of nature
which prevails all to be survived
poem by Ramesh Rai
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The Broad and The Narrow
When Christ started The Church He made things quite simple and clear,
However many are following Religious Leaders into ambiguity I fear.
Christ came to give us freedom through the Cross-of Salvation,
However many are following Religious Leaders on roads of damnation.
Christ told the early disciples of only one road in which to follow,
But today Religious Leaders try to make His words vain and hollow.
The only road is a narrow one, and you enter through a narrow gate,
This Truth is despised by Religious Leaders, who proclaim it is hate.
While very few find this road that leads to the only Resurrection,
A broader road is being paved by Religious Leaders to destruction.
It’s easy to get on this road through a wide gate and many are on it,
Being lead by Religious Leaders who Christ warned are false prophets.
They come to you in sheep’s clothing and appear to be pure and good,
But inwardly these Religious Leaders are darkened ferocious wolves.
In the end many will abandon the faith to follow hypocritical liars,
Lead by Religious Leaders with morals that were seared with an iron.
When you stand before The Lord, it’s only His words you will hear,
You can follow these Religious Leaders or The Lord with Holy Fear.
Will He say “Away from me” as you chose to be wicked and irreverent?
Or will you hear Him say, “Well done My fine and faithful servant”?
(Copyright © 07/2002)
poem by Bob Gotti
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Ode to Rae Wilson Esq.
A WANDERER, Wilson, from my native land,
Remote, O Rae, from godliness and thee,
Where rolls between us the eternal sea,
Besides some furlongs of a foreign sand,—
Beyond the broadest Scotch of London Wall;
Beyond the loudest Saint that has a call;
Across the wavy waste between us stretch'd,
A friendly missive warns me of a stricture,
Wherein my likeness you have darkly etch'd,
And though I have not seen the shadow sketch'd,
Thus I remark prophetic on the picture.
I guess the features:—in a line to paint
Their moral ugliness, I'm not a saint.
Not one of those self-constituted saints,
Quacks—not physicians—in the cure of souls,
Censors who sniff out mortal taints,
And call the devil over his own coals—
Those pseudo Privy Councillors of God,
Who write down judgments with a pen hard-nibb'd;
Ushers of Beelzebub's Black Rod,
Commending sinners, not to ice thick-ribb'd,
But endless flames, to scorch them up like flax—
Yet sure of heav'n themselves, as if they'd cribb'd
Th' impression of St. Peter's keys in wax!
Of such a character no single trace
Exists, I know, in my fictitious face;
There wants a certain cast about the eye;
A certain lifting of the nose's tip;
A certain curling of the nether lip,
In scorn of all that is, beneath the sky;
In brief it is an aspect deleterious,
A face decidedly not serious,
A face profane, that would not do at all
To make a face at Exeter Hall,—
That Hall where bigots rant, and cant, and pray,
And laud each other face to face,
Till ev'ry farthing-candle ray
Conceives itself a great gas-light of grace.
Well!—be the graceless lineaments confest!
I do enjoy this bounteous beauteous earth;
And dote upon a jest
'Within the limits of becoming mirth';—
No solemn sanctimonious face I pull,
Nor think I'm pious when I'm only bilious—
Nor study in my sanctum supercilious
To frame a Sabbath Bill or forge a Bull.
I pray for grace—repent each sinful act—
[...] Read more
poem by Thomas Hood
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Nothing Fails
I'm in love with you
You silly thing
Anyone can see
What is it with you
You silly thing
Just take it from me
It was not a chance meeting
Feel my heart beating
You're the One
You could take all this
Take it away
And I'd still have it all
Cause I've found the Tree of Life
And that is why
No longer scared if I fall
When I get lost in space
I can return to this place
Cause you're the one
(Chorus)
Nothing Fails
No more fears
Nothing Fails
You washed away my tears
Nothing Fails
No more fears
Nothing Fails
Nothing Fails
I'm not religious
But I feel so moved
Makes me wanna pray
Pray you'll always be here
I'm not religious
But I feel such love
Makes me wanna pray
When I get lost in space
I can return to this place
Cause you're the one
I'm not religious
But I feel so moved
Mmmm
I'm not religious
Makes me wanna pray
I'm not religious
But I feel so moved
Makes me wanna pray
Pray you'll always be here
I'm not religious
But I feel such love
Makes me wanna pray
(Repeat Chorus 2 x's)
[...] Read more
song performed by Madonna
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Let Us All Prayfor Peace and Malala's Relief
Malala still in teen
Turned out to be a queen
With her strong desire and keen
To make a religious fanaticism clean
Her movement for education
Of women of a particular formation
Made the world think of reformation
But stood helpless with confrontation
At a tender age of eleven
She made her presence felt even in heaven
By her blog on education for women
Her thoughtfulness did many hearten
Effortlessly she won accolades for peace
Dreaming a world with no one to pierce
The coexistence of human beings on religious base
And help them live and love each other in one piece
She did meet most powerful men of the world
To further her cause for a release from religious fold
She was assured by all as she is mentally strong and bold
She succeeded in getting back her school and household
However, religious fanaticism is strong and stout
That managed to get her twice shot
And she is struggling to survive in an intensive care slot
Hopefully to come back to fight this dreadful fanatic plot
Let us all pray for her life
Let us all pray for a world with no religious strife
Let us all pray for wisdom among those who strike on religious belief
Let us all pray all gods we all know for peace and Malala's relief
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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An Atheist believes that a hospital should be built instead of a church. An atheist believes that deed must be done instead of prayer said. An atheist strives for involvement in life and not escape into death. He wants disease conquered, poverty vanished, war eliminated.
quote by Madalyn Murray O'Hair
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God
One says there is ‘NO’ God
One shows the skies
And says ‘YES’
And jokes one clever modern
“I WISH He is there”
As one who’s neither a Leftist
Nor a Rightist
Nor even a go-in-between
I visualize
In every YES, NO, WISH and CONFUSION
His visage with glowing beams
(GOD AND EXPLANATION
This poem ‘God’ is based on age-old Hindu philosophy, enshrined in ‘Upanishads’ and ‘Bhagavat Geeta’
When one says ’Yes’ about God, it means that he knows that there is that ‘OTHER’. This ‘Other’ is often referred to as ‘PARA’ in Sanskrit, i.e., there is ONE who is not himself. When one says ‘No’ about God
It means the God is no where else but in him, the cardinal principle of ‘ADVAITHA’. Whether the Atheist realised or not, his ‘No’ means that the ‘Soul’ and the ‘Divine Soul’ (Atman and Paramathma) are one and the same. So what an atheist is saying unknowingly to him is true. Yes, there is no other (Para) than himself. This is the ultimate stage of Realization, which is at a rudimentary stage in an atheist. Again in a WISH, the subject is becoming a seeker, even mockingly. He realizes that there is a need to have a GOD. He also means that without GOD, it is not possible to correct and administer this world. That also means that God alone can administer this Universe. Regarding ‘CONFUSION: Confusion is the manifestation of MAYA. Maya itself is the manifestation of God. So even in confusion, there is God.)
And mocking grins
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Theist and atheist: the fight between them is as to whether God shall be called God or shall have some other name.
quote by Samuel Butler
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Theists and Atheists
It will happen; such a thing has
Happened,
A theist believes.
It needn’t happen; such a thing
happened though,
An atheist thinks.
20.09.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Saadi
Trees in groves,
Kine in droves,
In ocean sport the scaly herds,
Wedge-like cleave the air the birds,
To northern lakes fly wind-borne ducks,
Browse the mountain sheep in flocks,
Men consort in camp and town,
But the poet dwells alone.
God who gave to him the lyre,
Of all mortals the desire,
For all breathing men's behoof,
Straitly charged him, "Sit aloof;"
Annexed a warning, poets say,
To the bright premium,—
Ever when twain together play,
Shall the harp be dumb.
Many may come,
But one shall sing;
Two touch the string,
The harp is dumb.
Though there come a million
Wise Saadi dwells alone.
Yet Saadi loved the race of men,—
No churl immured in cave or den,—
In bower and hall
He wants them all,
Nor can dispense
With Persia for his audience;
They must give ear,
Grow red with joy, and white with fear,
Yet he has no companion,
Come ten, or come a million,
Good Saadi dwells alone.
Be thou ware where Saadi dwells.
Gladly round that golden lamp
Sylvan deities encamp,
And simple maids and noble youth
Are welcome to the man of truth.
Most welcome they who need him most,
They feed the spring which they exhaust:
For greater need
Draws better deed:
But, critic, spare thy vanity,
Nor show thy pompous parts,
To vex with odious subtlety
The cheerer of men's hearts.
[...] Read more
poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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God As Opium Of The People
one of the greatest misunderstood
quotations in all of human history
derived from an attempt
to examine religion from
a purely objective focus a
new scientific perspective
so what is the new yardstick?
this new analysis and critique
class religion; quoted by theist
and atheist to impress masses
The true origin of famous quotation
religion is the “opium of the masses”
is as we shall see; far more complex;
than generally commonly portrayed! ! !
Marx defined religion by only
two primary criteria; divisible
as materialism related analysis;
an expression as either material
realities or as economic injustice
Marx claims problems in religion
are ultimately problems in society;
a medically examined; probing test
reference would be; ‘religion is not
the disease, but merely a symptom’
Marx’s criticism of religion; was
it is exploited; by the oppressors
to make the people pliable accept
distressing; experiences; endured;
due to poverty; social exploitation! ! !
funny how when men achieve great deeds;
they claim all credit; while resultant action
consequences of all errors; of induced greed;
is all political propaganda blamed on Creator
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Shakuntala Act 1
King Dushyant in a chariot, pursuing an antelope, with a bow and quiver, attended by his Charioteer.
Suta (Charioteer). [Looking at the antelope, and then at the king]
When I cast my eye on that black antelope, and on thee, O king, with thy braced bow, I see before me, as it were, the God Mahésa chasing a hart (male deer), with his bow, named Pináca, braced in his left hand.
King Dushyant: The fleet animal has given us a long chase. Oh! there he runs, with his neck bent gracefully, looking back, from time to time, at the car (chariot) which follows him. Now, through fear of a descending shaft, he contracts his forehand, and extends his flexible haunches; and now, through fatigue, he pauses to nibble the grass in his path with his mouth half opened. See how he springs and bounds with long steps, lightly skimming the ground, and rising high in the air! And now so rapid is his flight, that he is scarce discernible!
Suta: The ground was uneven, and the horses were checked in their course. He has taken advantage of our delay. It is level now, and we may easily overtake him.
King Dushyant: Loosen the reins.
Suta: As the king commands. – [He drives the car first at full speed, and then gently.] – He could not escape. The horses were not even touched by the clouds of dust which they raised; they tossed their manes, erected their ears, and rather glided than galloped over the smooth plain.
King Dushyant: They soon outran the swift antelope. –Objects which, from their distance, appeared minute, presently became larger: what was really divided, seemed united, as we passed; and what was in truth bent, seemed straight. So swift was the motion of the wheels, that nothing, for many moments, was either distant or near. [He fixes an arrow in his bowstring.]
[Behind the scenes.] He must not be slain. This antelope, O king, has an asylum in our forest: he must not be slain.
Suta: [Listening and Looking.] Just as the animal presents a fair mark for our arrow, two hermits are advancing to interrupt your aim
King Dushyant: Then stop the car.
Suta: The king is obeyed. [He draws in the reins.]
Enter a Hermit and his Pupil.
Hermit: [Raising his hands.] Slay not, O mighty sovereign, slay not a poor fawn, who has found a place of refuge. No, surely, no; he must not be hurt. An arrow in the delicate body of a deer would be like fire in bale of cotton. Compared with thy keen shafts, how weak must be the tender hide of a young antelope! Replace quickly, oh! replace the arrow which thou hast aimed. The weapons of you kings and warriors are destined for the relief of the oppressed, not for the destruction of the guiltless.
King Dushyant: [Saluting them.] It is replaced.
[He places the arrow in his quiver.]
Hermit: [With joy] Worthy is that act of thee, most illustrious; of monarchs; worthy, indeed, of a prince descended from Puru. Mayst thou have a son adorned with virtues, a sovereign of the world!
Pupil: [Elevating both his hands.] Oh! by all means, may thy son be adorned with every virtue, a sovereign of the world!
King Dushyant: [Bowing to them.] My head bears with reverence the order of a Bráhmin
Hermit: Great king, we came hither to collect wood for a solemn sacrifice; and this forest, and the banks of the Malini, affords an asylum to the wild animals protected by Shakuntala, (Shakuntala) whom our holy preceptor Kanva has received as a sacred deposit. If you have no other avocation, enter yon grove, and let the rights of hospitality be duly performed. Having seen with your own eyes the virtuous behaviour of those whose only wealth is their piety, but whose worldly cares are now at an end, you will then exclaim, 'How many good subjects are defended by this arm, which the bowstring has made callous!'
King Dushyant: Is the master of your family at home?
Hermit: Our preceptor is gone to Sómatirt'ha, in hopes of deprecating some calamity, with which destiny threatens the irreproachable Shakuntala, and he has charged her, in his absence, to receive all guests with due honour.
King Dushyant: Holy man, I will attend her; and she, having observed my devotion, will report it favourably to the venerable sage.
Both: Be it so; and we depart on our own business. [The Hermit and his Pupil go out.]
King Dushyant: Drive on Suta. By visiting the abode of holiness, we shall purify our souls.
Suta: As the king (may his life be long!) commands. [He drives on.]
[...] Read more
poem by Kalidasa
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I Am Not Religious
My friend, religious I am not, when by you I’m put on the spot,
My belief is found in only one; God’s Only Risen, Eternal Son.
This isn’t a belief found in men, but, in one who died for them,
And Christ, who died, rose again, to offer New Life to all men.
Religion’s a man’s institution; a fallen man’s religious solution,
Devised upon this earthly sod, in man’s attempt to reach God,
Embracing indeed a broad array, of beliefs in our present day,
Beliefs men embrace religiously, so other men around can see.
Our salvation is all of God’s Idea, to regain for us life eternally,
That’s why I cling only to Christ, the very Author of Eternal Life.
Religion calls The Author a liar, as it sets its belief much higher,
Than the True Sovereign Lord, leaving many Truths unexplored.
Religious is a common phrase, used by men in different ways,
And many can be religious friend, not knowing God in the end.
The religion that I speak of, compromise God’s Truth and Love,
Having a form of godliness, as it lacks Christ’s Righteousness.
Friend religious I may have been, back before I was Born Again,
But now religion plays no part, with Jesus living within my heart.
Now all my life I live for Him, Christ, who saved me from my sin,
Not to live the present religiously, but to live with Christ eternally.
(Copyright ©05/2008)
poem by Bob Gotti
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Religious
Religious friend is when you see, no change in one’s activity,
As their life still continues on, from the evening into the dawn.
While continuing through their day, living on that broader way,
Living their life, as in the night, with The Lord God not in sight.
Christ is not the spiritual head, as they lean on religion instead,
Religious icons and man’s ways, denying Christ His due praise,
Recognizing God to some extent, but not in ways Heaven sent,
As they are not Born Again, following ways prescribed by men.
Religion my friend has no part, when Christ truly has your heart,
As God’s Holy Spirit, dwells inside, in Christ’s ways, you abide,
Refraining from religious views, as you spread The Good News,
Truth right from God’s Throne, that you’re saved by Christ alone.
Christ separated from religion, displaying to men some derision,
Painting for all, a clear picture, for all who dare malign Scripture,
Those who follow their own desire, ignoring God throned higher,
Christ the Head of His Church, not bodies where many do perch.
Our Lord Himself, did condemn, the religious body built by men,
And Christ shall never change, which brings religion much shame,
Religious ritual is an abomination, to Him who provides salvation,
In and through The Savior, Christ, God’s Only Way to Eternal Life.
(Copyright ©06/2011)
poem by Bob Gotti
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If There Is A God 'Twould Seem To Me
If there is a God 'twould seem to me that God would not have a creed
Or would not favour any religious belief such divisive influences a supreme being would not need
Amongst his or her Earthly followers the real God would rule for everyone
A real God would act as a real God should when all is said and done.
Amongst his flock for even an atheist the real God would find a place
And a real God would not differentiate between Nationality and Race
Those who say the God they believe in is the one true God they do have it all wrong
If there is a God surely that God to everyone does belong.
A real God is for her and him as well as you and me
A real God is for everyone though you do not agree
Only in the God of your religion the true God you do see
Suppose as some are known to say we all look at things differently.
If there is a God it does seem to me that God is of human kind
And every good person he or she the real God lives in their mind
And whether you live as an atheist or to a God you do pray
As long as you are a good person with me that is okay.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 12
WHEN Turnus saw the Latins leave the field,
Their armies broken, and their courage quell’d,
Himself become the mark of public spite,
His honor question’d for the promis’d fight;
The more he was with vulgar hate oppress’d, 5
The more his fury boil’d within his breast:
He rous’d his vigor for the last debate,
And rais’d his haughty soul to meet his fate.
As, when the swains the Libyan lion chase,
He makes a sour retreat, nor mends his pace; 10
But, if the pointed jav’lin pierce his side,
The lordly beast returns with double pride:
He wrenches out the steel, he roars for pain;
His sides he lashes, and erects his mane:
So Turnus fares; his eyeballs flash with fire, 15
Thro’ his wide nostrils clouds of smoke expire.
Trembling with rage, around the court he ran,
At length approach’d the king, and thus began:
“No more excuses or delays: I stand
In arms prepar’d to combat, hand to hand, 20
This base deserter of his native land.
The Trojan, by his word, is bound to take
The same conditions which himself did make.
Renew the truce; the solemn rites prepare,
And to my single virtue trust the war. 25
The Latians unconcern’d shall see the fight;
This arm unaided shall assert your right:
Then, if my prostrate body press the plain,
To him the crown and beauteous bride remain.”
To whom the king sedately thus replied: 30
“Brave youth, the more your valor has been tried,
The more becomes it us, with due respect,
To weigh the chance of war, which you neglect.
You want not wealth, or a successive throne,
Or cities which your arms have made your own: 35
My towns and treasures are at your command,
And stor’d with blooming beauties is my land;
Laurentum more than one Lavinia sees,
Unmarried, fair, of noble families.
Now let me speak, and you with patience hear, 40
Things which perhaps may grate a lover’s ear,
But sound advice, proceeding from a heart
Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art.
The gods, by signs, have manifestly shown,
No prince Italian born should heir my throne: 45
Oft have our augurs, in prediction skill’d,
And oft our priests, a foreign son reveal’d.
Yet, won by worth that cannot be withstood,
Brib’d by my kindness to my kindred blood,
Urg’d by my wife, who would not be denied, 50
[...] Read more
poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Proud Music Of The Storm
PROUD music of the storm!
Blast that careers so free, whistling across the prairies!
Strong hum of forest tree-tops! Wind of the mountains!
Personified dim shapes! you hidden orchestras!
You serenades of phantoms, with instruments alert,
Blending, with Nature's rhythmus, all the tongues of nations;
You chords left us by vast composers! you choruses!
You formless, free, religious dances! you from the Orient!
You undertone of rivers, roar of pouring cataracts;
You sounds from distant guns, with galloping cavalry! 10
Echoes of camps, with all the different bugle-calls!
Trooping tumultuous, filling the midnight late, bending me powerless,
Entering my lonesome slumber-chamber--Why have you seiz'd me?
Come forward, O my Soul, and let the rest retire;
Listen--lose not--it is toward thee they tend;
Parting the midnight, entering my slumber-chamber,
For thee they sing and dance, O Soul.
A festival song!
The duet of the bridegroom and the bride--a marriage-march,
With lips of love, and hearts of lovers, fill'd to the brim with
love; 20
The red-flush'd cheeks, and perfumes--the cortege swarming, full of
friendly faces, young and old,
To flutes' clear notes, and sounding harps' cantabile.
Now loud approaching drums!
Victoria! see'st thou in powder-smoke the banners torn but flying?
the rout of the baffled?
Hearest those shouts of a conquering army?
(Ah, Soul, the sobs of women--the wounded groaning in agony,
The hiss and crackle of flames--the blacken'd ruins--the embers of
cities,
The dirge and desolation of mankind.)
Now airs antique and medieval fill me!
I see and hear old harpers with their harps, at Welsh festivals: 30
I hear the minnesingers, singing their lays of love,
I hear the minstrels, gleemen, troubadours, of the feudal ages.
Now the great organ sounds,
Tremulous--while underneath, (as the hid footholds of the earth,
On which arising, rest, and leaping forth, depend,
All shapes of beauty, grace and strength--all hues we know,
[...] Read more
poem by Walt Whitman
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Kahlo-Christ Conjunctions - Sacrificed Flesh, Broken Bread, Emmaus Vision
[The curious or, better, interested reader may view the images alluded to in this essay at this website: http: //falconwarren.blogspot.com/2011/01/kahlo-christ- conjunctions-sacrificed.html]
Kahlo Strophes
As with love, also the bellows.
Calavera*, the Future stands
hand to mouth, fingers to forehead
unfolding before still instatic shapes.
Hold desperately to frames before
these quaking perceptions.
She could not stop there,
had to flare out, dry paint,
and the dryer flesh peel down
to bone, a sexless esqueleto**,
skull no longer mustached,
a calavera, nothing more,
curved calcium reliant forever
upon canvas, what is congealed
there to fan and burn,
a 'cauda pavonis'***.
- the author, from the text below
*Skull
**Skeleton
***Peacock's Tail (an image in alchemy) .
'Poetry such as this attempts not just a new syntax of the word. Its revolution is aimed at the syntax of the mind itself. Its structuring of experience is purposive, not dreamlike. We are dealing with a self-induced, or naturally or mysteriously come by, creative state from which two of the most fundamental human activities diverge, the aesthetic and the mystic act. The creative matrix is the same in both, and it is that state of being that is most peculiarly and characteristically human, as the resulting aesthetic and mystic experience is the purist form of human act. There is a great deal of overlapping, today especially, when art is all the religion most people have and when they demand of it experiences that few people of the past demanded of religion....A visionary poem is not a vision. The religious experience is necessitated and ultimate.' - Kenneth Rexroth, World Outside the Window, the Selected Essays of Kenneth Rexroth, pg.255-256
Rexroth's words are pertinent to the images used in this essay, Kahlo's painting above is visionary, Grunewald's are religious, and several photos are both, and all are 'aimed at the syntax of the mind itself.. Its restructuring of experience is purposive, not dreamlike.' The images included in this essay, which is more a prose poem than regular prose, are meant to convey equally or more, at least as as much as, the words in their incantatory formations which may induce entrance into 'imaginal' spaces where word and image meet in a practical magic, inspire a felt understanding and perhaps gain a view or actual entrance into what ecstatic poet, Rainer Maria Rilke, calls 'the Greater Relation.'
I've decided to publish this piece-in-progress as it unwinds in spirals 'aimed at the syntax of the mind itself...its restructuring of experience' with the understanding that it may later appear in greatly altered form. In a real sense this writing writes itself; I try to heed, copy, then hone to the bone what might be wanting to be sung, for what is below, and often what I write, is more akin to music, a vocal/verbal lilt beyond a particular solid tilt of view of a world absolute, static logos.
Heraclitus noted thousands of years ago, 'All is flux.'
To this I would only add, and perhaps this is what all of my writing amounts to,
'All is reflux.'
Selah. WF
NYC,1/31/11
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poem by Warren Falcon
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