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By candle light, neither women nor cloth.

Sicilian proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Loves of the Angels

'Twas when the world was in its prime,
When the fresh stars had just begun
Their race of glory and young Time
Told his first birth-days by the sun;
When in the light of Nature's dawn
Rejoicing, men and angels met
On the high hill and sunny lawn,-
Ere sorrow came or Sin had drawn
'Twixt man and heaven her curtain yet!
When earth lay nearer to the skies
Than in these days of crime and woe,
And mortals saw without surprise
In the mid-air angelic eyes
Gazing upon this world below.

Alas! that Passion should profane
Even then the morning of the earth!
That, sadder still, the fatal stain
Should fall on hearts of heavenly birth-
And that from Woman's love should fall
So dark a stain, most sad of all!

One evening, in that primal hour,
On a hill's side where hung the ray
Of sunset brightening rill and bower,
Three noble youths conversing lay;
And, as they lookt from time to time
To the far sky where Daylight furled
His radiant wing, their brows sublime
Bespoke them of that distant world-
Spirits who once in brotherhood
Of faith and bliss near ALLA stood,
And o'er whose cheeks full oft had blown
The wind that breathes from ALLA'S throne,
Creatures of light such as still play,
Like motes in sunshine, round the Lord,
And thro' their infinite array
Transmit each moment, night and day,
The echo of His luminous word!

Of Heaven they spoke and, still more oft,
Of the bright eyes that charmed them thence;
Till yielding gradual to the soft
And balmy evening's influence-
The silent breathing of the flowers-
The melting light that beamed above,
As on their first, fond, erring hours,-
Each told the story of his love,
The history of that hour unblest,
When like a bird from its high nest

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Moore
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Women

Women behind bars, women in fast cars, women in distress, women with no dress
Women in airplanes, women who play games
Women in uniform, see that woman with her clothes gone
Women who satisfy, women you cant buy
Like women in magazines, and women in a limousine
Women who sip champagne, women who feel no pain
Women in a disco, and women who dont wanna know, no no
Oh, women wanting sympathy, women feeling extacy
Women who live in fantasies, bringing man to his knees
Women who boil to love, women who need a shove
Women who cant be beat, get that woman in the back seat, yeah yeah
Women in the usa, those women steal your heart away
Women into rock n roll, women who steal the show, go go go
Women that you write songs about, women that turn around and kick you out
Women you dream about all your life
Women that stab you in the back with a switchblade knife
Oh women, oohoo, talking bout women, all round the world
Yeah women, all the naughty girls, talking bout women, come on baby

song performed by Foreigner
Added by Lucian Velea
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Women IV. a prise poem for women

Life without life it's not life
Almost every one will remember
Day and night is cycle of life
Life on its own is not matured
I reiterate well spoken words
Hence its admiral, the day i recognize the significant role of women

Some women can bless the day indeed
with their smiles
with their Assimilate of culture admiral
with high concentration of moral fiber

These are the women of integrity
I talk nothing else but
Women like Nthabiseng Mthethwa
Women like Mapaseka Dlamini
Women like Sebolelo Mokoena
Women like Elsie Moganedi
Look around they are there
To reconstitute norms and Values.

I call them women of integrity

As Harley barley, there are honorable women
Full of high concentration of moral fiber
They adhere to walk the walks
And talk the talks; they are extraordinary in every aspect
Women like Delsile Hlophe
Women like Nonhlanhla Ndlovu
Women like Ellah Ngomane
Women like Whitey Mahlangu
Chronically they remain transparent

I call them honorable women of integrity

Fair remain fair as long as it's fair
There are extraordinary women
They are living in their time
And they are in time with their integrity
They deserve honor as they live it
Perfectionism is not enough
They remain constant and consistent
Women like Mapule Tshabalala
Women like Sara Mahlangu
Women like Selina Madihlaba
They are extraordinary women they deserve their Honor
I fore one applaud them for inherent of their heredity

There are women who are making difference
Printing their footprints

[...] Read more

poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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Tamar

I
A night the half-moon was like a dancing-girl,
No, like a drunkard's last half-dollar
Shoved on the polished bar of the eastern hill-range,
Young Cauldwell rode his pony along the sea-cliff;
When she stopped, spurred; when she trembled, drove
The teeth of the little jagged wheels so deep
They tasted blood; the mare with four slim hooves
On a foot of ground pivoted like a top,
Jumped from the crumble of sod, went down, caught, slipped;
Then, the quick frenzy finished, stiffening herself
Slid with her drunken rider down the ledges,
Shot from sheer rock and broke
Her life out on the rounded tidal boulders.

The night you know accepted with no show of emotion the little
accident; grave Orion
Moved northwest from the naked shore, the moon moved to
meridian, the slow pulse of the ocean
Beat, the slow tide came in across the slippery stones; it drowned
the dead mare's muzzle and sluggishly
Felt for the rider; Cauldwell’s sleepy soul came back from the
blind course curious to know
What sea-cold fingers tapped the walls of its deserted ruin.
Pain, pain and faintness, crushing
Weights, and a vain desire to vomit, and soon again
die icy fingers, they had crept over the loose hand and lay in the
hair now. He rolled sidewise
Against mountains of weight and for another half-hour lay still.
With a gush of liquid noises
The wave covered him head and all, his body
Crawled without consciousness and like a creature with no bones,
a seaworm, lifted its face
Above the sea-wrack of a stone; then a white twilight grew about
the moon, and above
The ancient water, the everlasting repetition of the dawn. You
shipwrecked horseman
So many and still so many and now for you the last. But when it
grew daylight
He grew quite conscious; broken ends of bone ground on each
other among the working fibers
While by half-inches he was drawing himself out of the seawrack
up to sandy granite,
Out of the tide's path. Where the thin ledge tailed into flat cliff
he fell asleep. . . .
Far seaward
The daylight moon hung like a slip of cloud against the horizon.
The tide was ebbing
From the dead horse and the black belt of sea-growth. Cauldwell
seemed to have felt her crying beside him,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Women Are Smarter

Let us put men and women together
See which one is smarter
Some say men, but I say no
Women run the men like a puppet show
It ain't me
It's the people that say
Men are leading the women astray
But I say, it's the women today
Smarter than the man in every way
Chorus:
That's right
The women are smarter
That's right
The women are smarter
That's right
The women are smarter
The women are smarter
That's right
Little boy sit on the corner and cry
Big man come and he asked him why
He said, "I can't do what the big boys do"
The man sat down and he cried too
It ain't me
It's the people that say
Men are leading the women astray
But I say, it's the women today
Smarter than the man in every way
Chorus:
That's right
The women are smarter
That's right
The women are smarter
That's right
The women are smarter
The women are smarter
That's right, that's right
Ever since the world began
Women been banned from the ways of man
Listen boy cuz I've got a plan
Give it up, don't try and understand
It ain't me
It's the people that say
Men are leading the women astray
But I say, it's the women today
Smarter than the man in every way
Chorus:
That's right
The women are smarter
That's right
The women are smarter

[...] Read more

song performed by Grateful Dead
Added by Lucian Velea
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Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)

Introduction

In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.

Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.

Prologue

The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain

mixed with French Huguenots
who left their homes and belongings,
with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
Associate this then with the fact

that these people fought formidable
for seven generations
against every onslaught that they got
from savages en wild animals

becoming marksmen, riding
and taming wild horses
with one bullet per day
to hunt a wild antelope,

who migrated right across the country
over hills in mass protest
and then you have
the most formidable adversary
and then let them fight

in a natural wilderness
where the hunter,
the sniper and horseman excels
and any enemy is at a lost.

Let them then also be patriotic
into their souls,
believe in and read
out of the word of God

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Adrienne Vittadini

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[...] Read more

poem by Caasder Fronds
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Light

Light that can be kind. Light that can smell sweet. Light that can be soft.
Light that can be porcelain. Light that can be silent. Light that can speak.
Light that can hold many colors. Light that can be romantic. Light that can be harsh.
Light that can be cold. Light that can be warm. Light that can be dry.
Light that can be loud. Light that can be love. Light that can be faith.
Light that can be full of strength. Light that can be pure. Light that can be dark.
Light that can be fragile. Light that can be crazy. Light that can be weird.
Light that can be old. Light that can be new. Light that can be inbetween.
Light that can be swift. Light that can be sharp. Light that can wonder.
Light that can be insane. Light that can be smooth. Light that can dream.
Light that can be free. Light that can be everlasting. Light that can be wild.
Light that is the lord. Light that is Jesus. Light that is holy.
Light that is the trinity. Light that can belong. Light that can be fast.
Light that can sing. Light that is the holy ghost. Light that is the Bible.
Light that can be a mith. Light that can be still. Light that can be different.
Light that can be hole. Light that can be true. Light that can be whimsical.
Light that can be bright. Light that can be formed. Light that is blessed.
Light that can be full of presence. Light that can tell a story. Light that can be intelligent.
Light that is like no other!

poem by Shania K. Younce
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Meditations Upon A Candle

Man's like a candle in a candlestick,
Made up of tallow and a little wick;
And as the candle when it is not lighted,
So is he who is in his sins benighted.
Nor can a man his soul with grace inspire,
More than can candles set themselves on fire.
Candles receive their light from what they are not;
Men grace from Him for whom at first they care not.
We manage candles when they take the fire;
God men, when he with grace doth them inspire.
And biggest candles give the better light,
As grace on biggest sinners shines most bright.
The candle shines to make another see,
A saint unto his neighbour light should be.
The blinking candle we do much despise,
Saints dim of light are high in no man's eyes.
Again, though it may seem to some a riddle,
We use to light our candles at the middle.
True light doth at the candle's end appear,
And grace the heart first reaches by the ear.
But 'tis the wick the fire doth kindle on,
As 'tis the heart that grace first works upon.
Thus both do fasten upon what's the main,
And so their life and vigour do maintain.
The tallow makes the wick yield to the fire,
And sinful flesh doth make the soul desire
That grace may kindle on it, in it burn;
So evil makes the soul from evil turn.
But candles in the wind are apt to flare,
And Christians, in a tempest, to despair.
The flame also with smoke attended is,
And in our holy lives there's much amiss.
Sometimes a thief will candle-light annoy,
And lusts do seek our graces to destroy.
What brackish is will make a candle sputter;
'Twixt sin and grace there's oft' a heavy clutter.
Sometimes the light burns dim, 'cause of the snuff,
Sometimes it is blown quite out with a puff;
But watchfulness preventeth both these evils,
Keeps candles light, and grace in spite of devils.
Nor let not snuffs nor puffs make us to doubt,
Our candles may be lighted, though puffed out.
The candle in the night doth all excel,
Nor sun, nor moon, nor stars, then shine so well.
So is the Christian in our hemisphere,
Whose light shows others how their course to steer.
When candles are put out, all's in confusion;
Where Christians are not, devils make intrusion.
Then happy are they who such candles have,
All others dwell in darkness and the grave.

[...] Read more

poem by John Bunyan
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Peace

Peace (it's what I prayer for)
Peace (oh my)
Peace
Peace (all around the world)
Peace (it's what I pray for)
Peace (oh my)
Peace
Peace (hurry)
Come on in this house children
The war has started
Light the candles right now
It's about to be darkness, oh yeah
There's no telling when the sun will shine again, no
When it's over there's a question asked
Who wins? Who wins?
Spirit (ooh)
Through the land (ooh)
Spirit of peace (ooh)
Oh yeah (ooh)
Spirit move (ooh)
Oh move (ooh)
Oh yeah (ooh)
Heaven send down (ooh)
Peace (it's what I prayer for)
Peace (oh my)
Peace
Peace (all around the world)
Peace (it's what I pray for)
Peace (oh my)
Peace
Peace (hurry)
Turn your head, close your eyes
There's people out there dying, oh
With so much wealth in the land
Why is this thing staving? Oh
As I look over this place
There's so much hatred
If I could I'd pack my bags
And hitch hike to heaven, yeah
Spirit move (ooh)
Oh move (ooh)
Spirit move (ooh)
All through the land (ooh)
Won't you move (ooh)
Oh move, oh move, oh move (ooh)
Oh move, yeah (ooh)
This is what I prayer for (ooh)
Peace (for peace)
Peace (all around the world)
Peace (whoa)

[...] Read more

song performed by R. Kelly
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Western Paper

Women throughout history have been generally looked upon as being the weaker sex, and to be the lesser of the two. The Old Testament and the New Testament gives two different views on how women were viewed in each of their times. Throughout these two, changes to christianity occured, and that is the justification behind the differences.

The Old Testament of the bible gives a description of how women were viewed during that time. It depicts what would now be considered obsurd practices of treating women. For example, women that were not married were not allowed to leave their fathers house, women were viewed mainly for child bearing, and that they were not allowed to appear in public venues. Specific references in the book of Genesis show that women were objectified and often used as sexual objects. After doing some research, the book of Exodus reveals that women were considered property of her father untill she became married, where then, ownership would transfer and she would become property of her new husband. Women were treated unjustly and unfairly during this time, and were regarded as being 'dirty' for being a woman.

The New Testament has somewhat of a mixed view on the equality of women to men, but it certainly gives more credit and justification to women being equal. There are still references in the New Testament to how women are considered unequal to men, but there are also new thoughts and ideas of equality of both sexes. Most blatently put, the book of John states that 'All people, men and women, have the opportunity to become children of god' implying that it was all inclusive, meaning both genders, all races, and all sexual orientations. In the same relation, the book of Galatians quotes 'There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus'.

The bible as a whole has mixed opinions on alot of things, and the standing of women is one of the indescrepencies that is shown. In the Old Testament more than the New Testament, women were objectified and looked down upon. They were viewed as property and as sexual objects. Men were quoted talking about having sex with a women against their will, and it also stated strict restrictions on how a woman should live her life. The New Testament began to shed a little bit more light on the subject, and started giving a little bit more credit and respect to women. Women, as far back as biblical times, have always been thought of as the lesser of the sexes. The contrast is prevalent between the standards of women in the Old and New Testament of the bible.

The arguement arises as to how sexist the bible is. Although I do not agree with the statement that the bible is sexist, I do believe that the way that the bible portrays women is unfair and that it is wrong to objectify women, but the bible ultimately says that God created men and women equal, and that Jesus Christ, the son of God, died for the sins of all people, not just for men.

Over the course of nature, and all the time of human existance on earth, women have be subjected to unfair treatment. The Old Testament gives a more harsh aspect to it, and the New Testament shows a litle bit more respect for women and their place in society. I think that christianity has become corrupt, but in the sense that people are caught up in the congregation aspect rather than the religious aspect of christianity, and are begining to miss the point, to fail to see what the main message in the bible really is.

poem by Zach Hupp
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Three Women

My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.

Young is her cheek and her throat;
Her eyes have the smile o' May.
And love is the word for each note
In the song of my life to-day.

Her eyes have the smile o' May;
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
And the song of my life to-day
Is love, beautiful love.

Her heart is the heart of a dove,
Ah, would it but fly to my breast
Where love, beautiful love,
Has made it a downy nest.

Ah, would she but fly to my breast,
My love who is young, so young;
I have made her a downy nest
And life is a song to be sung.

1
I.
A dull little station, a man with the eye
Of a dreamer; a bevy of girls moving by;
A swift moving train and a hot Summer sun,
The curtain goes up, and our play is begun.
The drama of passion, of sorrow, of strife,
Which always is billed for the theatre Life.
It runs on forever, from year unto year,
With scarcely a change when new actors appear.
It is old as the world is-far older in truth,
For the world is a crude little planet of youth.
And back in the eras before it was formed,
The passions of hearts through the Universe stormed.

Maurice Somerville passed the cluster of girls
Who twisted their ribbons and fluttered their curls
In vain to attract him; his mind it was plain
Was wholly intent on the incoming train.
That great one eyed monster puffed out its black breath,
Shrieked, snorted and hissed, like a thing bent on death,

[...] Read more

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Two Sided Love

Two Sided Love
By Lori Triggs
Copyrighted 24 2009

Women think with their hearts,
men think with their Johnson.

Women think with their heads,
men think with the wrong head, they have two heads.

Women give love with men,
men give screwing with women.

Women want to touch men,
men want to get abusive to women.

Women want be emotional with men,
men want to be unemotional with women.

Women want have physical attraction with men,
men want to give the abusive apart to women.

Women want sex with men,
men want to give rape to women.

Women wants to talk to men,
men want watch TV and screw women.

Women want to eat out with men,
men want a free ride from the women.

Women want to go to movies with men,
men want play games on computer.

Women want children with the men,
men are children.

Women are independent,
men are dependent.

Women achieve goals,
men half the time never finish their goals.

Women are unselfish even caring to men,
men are selfish besides uncaring to women.

Women give true love to men,
men give infatuation to woman.

poem by Lori Triggs
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The Idols

An Ode
Luce intellettual, piena d' amore

Prelude
Lo, the spirit of a pulsing star within a stone
Born of earth, sprung from night!
Prisoned with the profound fires of the light
That lives like all the tongues of eloquence
Locked in a speech unknown!
The crystal, cold and hard as innocence,
Immures the flame; and yet as if it knew
Raptures or pangs it could not but betray,
As if the light could feel changes of blood and breath
And all--but--human quiverings of the sense,
Throbs of a sudden rose, a frosty blue,
Shoot thrilling in its ray,
Like the far longings of the intellect
Restless in clouding clay.

Who has confined the Light? Who has held it a slave,
Sold and bought, bought and sold?
Who has made of it a mystery to be doled,
Or trophy, to awe with legendary fire,
Where regal banners wave?
And still into the dark it sends Desire.
In the heart's darkness it sows cruelties.
The bright jewel becomes a beacon to the vile,
A lodestar to corruption, envy's own:
Soiled with blood, fought for, clutched at; this world's prize,
Captive Authority. Oh, the star is stone
To all that outward sight,
Yet still, like truth that none has ever used,
Lives lost in its own light.

Troubled I fly. O let me wander again at will
(Far from cries, far from these
Hard blindnesses and frozen certainties!)
Where life proceeds in vastness unaware
And stirs profound and still:
Where leafing thoughts at shy touch of the air
Tremble, and gleams come seeking to be mine,
Or dart, like suddenly remembered youth,
Like the ache of love, a light, lost, found, and lost again.
Surely in the dusk some messenger was there!
But, haunted in the heart, I thirst, I pine.--
Oh, how can truth be truth
Except I taste it close and sweet and sharp
As an apple to the tooth?

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Laurence Binyon
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Orlando Furioso Canto 20

ARGUMENT
Guido and his from that foul haunt retire,
While all Astolpho chases with his horn,
Who to all quarters of the town sets fire,
Then roving singly round the world is borne.
Marphisa, for Gabrina's cause, in ire
Puts upon young Zerbino scathe and scorn,
And makes him guardian of Gabrina fell,
From whom he first learns news of Isabel.

I
Great fears the women of antiquity
In arms and hallowed arts as well have done,
And of their worthy works the memory
And lustre through this ample world has shone.
Praised is Camilla, with Harpalice,
For the fair course which they in battle run.
Corinna and Sappho, famous for their lore,
Shine two illustrious light, to set no more.

II
Women have reached the pinnacle of glory,
In every art by them professed, well seen;
And whosoever turns the leaf of story,
Finds record of them, neither dim nor mean.
The evil influence will be transitory,
If long deprived of such the world had been;
And envious men, and those that never knew
Their worth, have haply hid their honours due.

III
To me it plainly seems, in this our age
Of women such is the celebrity,
That it may furnish matter to the page,
Whence this dispersed to future years shall be;
And you, ye evil tongues which foully rage,
Be tied to your eternal infamy,
And women's praises so resplendent show,
They shall, by much, Marphisa's worth outgo.

IV
To her returning yet again; the dame
To him who showed to her such courteous lore,
Refused not to disclose her martial name,
Since he agreed to tell the style be bore.
She quickly satisfied the warrior's claim;
To learn his title she desired so sore.
'I am Marphisa,' the virago cried:
All else was known, as bruited far and wide.

[...] Read more

poem by Ludovico Ariosto
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Gareth And Lynette

The last tall son of Lot and Bellicent,
And tallest, Gareth, in a showerful spring
Stared at the spate. A slender-shafted Pine
Lost footing, fell, and so was whirled away.
'How he went down,' said Gareth, 'as a false knight
Or evil king before my lance if lance
Were mine to use--O senseless cataract,
Bearing all down in thy precipitancy--
And yet thou art but swollen with cold snows
And mine is living blood: thou dost His will,
The Maker's, and not knowest, and I that know,
Have strength and wit, in my good mother's hall
Linger with vacillating obedience,
Prisoned, and kept and coaxed and whistled to--
Since the good mother holds me still a child!
Good mother is bad mother unto me!
A worse were better; yet no worse would I.
Heaven yield her for it, but in me put force
To weary her ears with one continuous prayer,
Until she let me fly discaged to sweep
In ever-highering eagle-circles up
To the great Sun of Glory, and thence swoop
Down upon all things base, and dash them dead,
A knight of Arthur, working out his will,
To cleanse the world. Why, Gawain, when he came
With Modred hither in the summertime,
Asked me to tilt with him, the proven knight.
Modred for want of worthier was the judge.
Then I so shook him in the saddle, he said,
"Thou hast half prevailed against me," said so--he--
Though Modred biting his thin lips was mute,
For he is alway sullen: what care I?'

And Gareth went, and hovering round her chair
Asked, 'Mother, though ye count me still the child,
Sweet mother, do ye love the child?' She laughed,
'Thou art but a wild-goose to question it.'
'Then, mother, an ye love the child,' he said,
'Being a goose and rather tame than wild,
Hear the child's story.' 'Yea, my well-beloved,
An 'twere but of the goose and golden eggs.'

And Gareth answered her with kindling eyes,
'Nay, nay, good mother, but this egg of mine
Was finer gold than any goose can lay;
For this an Eagle, a royal Eagle, laid
Almost beyond eye-reach, on such a palm
As glitters gilded in thy Book of Hours.
And there was ever haunting round the palm
A lusty youth, but poor, who often saw

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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The Shadow

Paul Jannes was working very late,
For this watch must be done by eight
To-morrow or the Cardinal
Would certainly be vexed. Of all
His customers the old prelate
Was the most important, for his state
Descended to his watches and rings,
And he gave his mistresses many things
To make them forget his age and smile
When he paid visits, and they could while
The time away with a diamond locket
Exceedingly well. So they picked his pocket,
And he paid in jewels for his slobbering kisses.
This watch was made to buy him blisses
From an Austrian countess on her way
Home, and she meant to start next day.

Paul worked by the pointed, tulip-flame
Of a tallow candle, and became
So absorbed, that his old clock made him wince
Striking the hour a moment since.
Its echo, only half apprehended,
Lingered about the room. He ended
Screwing the little rubies in,
Setting the wheels to lock and spin,
Curling the infinitesimal springs,
Fixing the filigree hands. Chippings
Of precious stones lay strewn about.
The table before him was a rout
Of splashes and sparks of coloured light.
There was yellow gold in sheets, and quite
A heap of emeralds, and steel.
Here was a gem, there was a wheel.
And glasses lay like limpid lakes
Shining and still, and there were flakes
Of silver, and shavings of pearl,
And little wires all awhirl
With the light of the candle. He took the watch
And wound its hands about to match
The time, then glanced up to take the hour
From the hanging clock.
Good, Merciful Power!
How came that shadow on the wall,
No woman was in the room! His tall
Chiffonier stood gaunt behind
His chair. His old cloak, rabbit-lined,
Hung from a peg. The door was closed.
Just for a moment he must have dozed.
He looked again, and saw it plain.

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poem by Amy Lowell
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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.

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poem by Anonymous Americas
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A White Architect Of Light

8.8.88: She came back from the land of democrative destiny and dissolved
into the chaotic void.
Fighting for the freedom of reality
Building the light house in the darkest hours of life
Fixing up the spiritual essence through the existential nothingness
in the valueless zone

Layers by layers, realities of life theatre are turned into distilled light
out of trapped reflections

Mother of modern Myanmar honoured by consciencious tree of life
Curving away all the unnecessary parts
Curving away all the necessary parts
Communication revolution of the 21 st century
Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light

Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light

Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light

Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light

Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light

Aung San Su Kyi, The White Architect Of Light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light
Light's shadow is light

poem by Nyein Way
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Trash Bag

1 bag cement mold
10 inch leather titleist golf bag
2006 kia rio side air bags
1900 s tapestry bag
1,000 face value silver bag buyers
100ft x 200ft plastic bag
16 flow-through infuser bags order e-mail
2001 accura air bags
1966 chevy pickup air bags
1st responder bag subdued
40 catchers equipment bag
10 dolars chanell bags for sale
$20,000 beanie bag
2 004 ben hogan golf bag
100 cotton childrens sleeping bags
2 mil designer bags
12 ounce bean bag
20 pound bag rabbit food
35 bag dirt james teen wendy
10 inch screen laptop bags
20 gallon garbage bags
30 gallon trash bags odor
17 leather laptop bag clearance
42 rolling duffle bag
2 section 17 roller cooler bag
40 long sportsequipment bag
2005 ford taurus air bag
06 toyota corolla air bag
3 x 8 cello bags
1 ball roller bowling bags
10020 garbage bags
250 liter bag
21 sensational patchwork bags
4 wheeler cargo bags
3 shelf laundry bag cart
2002 altima air bags
2003 crown victoria air bag recall
2 pc motorcycle tour bag
2 x3 zip lock bags
360121 bat bag
$1 tea bag holder
400 gauge thick poly bags
2005 jackie o gucci hand bag
1 bag cement mixers
1920s clutch bag
1.5 oz bag reg chips
1 bag popcorn serving size
2000 saturn sl air bag light
11 gallon garbage bags
306 leather tour sissy bag

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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