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I have been impressed with the urgency of doing. Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Being willing is not enough; we must do.

quote by Leonardo da Vinci
Added by Lucian Velea
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I've Been Watching You

Sweet confetti out looking for a saviour
Finding it hard to break the change
Nothing ventured nothing gained
Ice cream beauty acting on her best behaviour
Finding it hard to bite her tongue
Feeling so old as the night is young
Six foot leaning on a lizard chest
Two red dragons ironed on his vest
All that money you deserve the best
I'm impressed
I'm impressed
I'm impressed
What you've got isn't all that you've been given
Changing your body like you change your jeans
Nothing is ever as it seems
Something tells me it's a marriage made in heaven
Stealing your look from a magazine
Playing the part from a movie scene
Six foot leaning on a lizard chest
Two red dragons ironed on his vest
All that money you deserve the best
I'm impressed
I'm impressed
I'm impressed
Everyday is like your birthday
But the candles burning out, Don't you see, Don't you see
Six foot leaning on a lizard chest
Two red dragons ironed on his vest
All that money you deserve the best
I'm impressed
I'm impressed
I'm impressed

song performed by Natalie Imbruglia
Added by Lucian Velea
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Alley

Apply, apply
no reply.

I do not know
how to apply
what to apply
I do not know
whether I am
eligible to apply
I do not know
whether there is
age limit to apply
I do not know
what is the
last date to apply.

Apply, apply
no reply.

And you find a fly
in this alley.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Where's The Urgency?

Shouldn't we have a true urgency, about this thing we call eternity?
While we are in this temporal time, to help change a thinking mind;
Shouldn't those in the Body of Christ, have an urgency in this life?
Urgency for family and friend, knowing that Grace could soon end!

Shouldn't Scripture move our heart, within this Age to do our part?
In leading more souls to the Faith, while it is still the Age of Grace;
Shouldn't we speak in a bolder way, of what Scripture has to say?
About the end, that faces all, peoples everywhere, great and small.

Shouldn't Scriptures in our heart, burden us with a desire to impart,
The Truths we find in God's Word, which so many, have not heard?
Truths that we're not only to read, but, Truths that we all must heed,
Truths that we all must embrace, moved by God's unmerited Grace.

Where is the urgency of our call, from Christ our Lord, to reach all?
With God's only Truth that saves, any soul from the coming waves,
Of Christ's soon Righteous Judgment; this is why we've been sent,
To reach all the spiritually lost, with God's saving Truth at any cost.

When we're rapture to God's Son, this Age of Grace shall be done,
With The Restrainer out of the way, God's Judgment, will not delay,
With strong delusion from on high, all men shall believe Satan's lie,
Not embracing God's Saving Truth, all shall see His strong reproof!

God's Judgment will be their end, whether they are family or friend,
For their refusing The Truth of Christ, they will never see eternal life,
So an urgency must fill our heart, before from this earth, we depart,
So that others can enter into eternity, as members of God's Family.

(Copyright ©05/2012)

poem by Bob Gotti
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Tricks Are For Kicks

There is an emergency,
That has an urgency.
But few can come to see,
Or agree upon a need...
To dismiss those old tricks,
That have not yet to fix...
And economy that bleeds,
From kaput hypocrisies.

It must be faced quick,
How foolish the risks...
Of wishing to succeed,
With kaput hypocrisies.

There is an emergency,
That has an urgency.
But few can come to see,
Or agree upon a need...
To dismiss those old tricks,
That have not yet to fix...
An economy that bleeds,
From kaput hypocrisies.

Tricks are for kicks,
To amuse a purpose!
But a magic to achieve,
Attracts a jeopardy.

Tricks are for kicks,
To amuse a purpose!
But a magic to achieve...
Attracts a jeopardy,
In reach!

There is an emergency,
That has an urgency.

Tricks are for kicks,
To amuse a purpose!
But a magic to achieve,
Attracts a jeopardy.

There is an emergency,
That has an urgency.
And...
Tricks are for kicks,
To amuse a purpose!
But a magic to achieve,
Attracts a jeopardy.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One Step Closer

I'm 'round the corner from anything that's real
I'm across the road from hope
I'm under a bridge in a rip tide
That's taken everything I call my own
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
I'm on an island at a busy intersection
I can't go forward, I can't turn back
Can't see the future
It's getting away from me
I just watch the tail lights glowing
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
Knowing, knowing
I'm hanging out to dry
With my old clothes
Finger still red with the prick of an old rose
Well the heart that hurts
Is a heart that beats
Can you hear the drummer slowing?
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
One step closer to knowing
To knowing, to knowing, to knowing

song performed by U2
Added by Lucian Velea
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Knowing Me, Knowing You

No more carefree laughter
Silence ever after
Walking through an empty house, tears in my eyes
Here is where the story ends, this is goodbye
Knowing me, knowing you (ah-haa)
There is nothing we can do
Knowing me, knowing you (ah-haa)
We just have to face it, this time were through
(this time were through, this time were through
This time were through, were really through)
Breaking up is never easy, I know but I have to go
(I have to go this time
I have to go, this time I know)
Knowing me, knowing you
Its the best I can do
Memries (memries), good days (good days), bad days (bad days)
Theyll be (theyll be), with me (with me) always (always)
In these old familiar rooms children would play
Now theres only emptiness, nothing to say
Knowing me, knowing you (ah-haa)
There is nothing we can do
Knowing me, knowing you (ah-haa)
We just have to face it, this time were through
(this time were through, this time were through
This time were through, were really through)
Breaking up is never easy, I know but I have to go
(I have to go this time
I have to go, this time I know)
Knowing me, knowing you
Its the best I can do

song performed by ABBA
Added by Lucian Velea
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How Can You Sleep?

How can you sleep, knowing that the one who Really do Loves you Feels Bad He Let You Go?

How can you sleep, knowing that the one who Really Loves you cant sleep at night?

How can you sleep, knowing that the one who Really do Loves you cant Eat Because you are no longer there?

How Can you sleep, knowing that all he wants to do is hear your voice every night before he goes to sleep?

How can you sleep, knowing that everyday all he do is long for your touch and the warmth of your Lips?

How can you sleep, knowing that your on his mind everyday, Minute, Hour, Second?

How can you sleep, knowing your his one and only, even when your not together?

How can you sleep, telling him truth about him but not being true to yourself?

How can you sleep, not telling him what you know you want him to know?

How can you sleep, knowing he put his trust in you and you let him down?

How can you know so much yet so little?

How Would You Sleep Knowing That One Day Soon Will Be The Last Day You Ever See Him Again Knowing He Did You So Good And Yet One Day You Let Him Down?

poem by Nathaniel Hayes
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The Way That You Love Me

It ain't the clothes that you wear
It ain't the things that you buy
It ain't your house on the hill
It ain't the plane that you fly
It ain't your black limousine
It ain't your ninety-foot yacht
It ain't the things that you'll get
It ain't the things that you got
It ain't the money or the diamond rings
Honey i ain't impressed with your material things
It's the way that you love me
It's just the way that you love me
It's the way that you love me
It's just the way that you love me
It ain't your friends at the top
It ain't their fortune and fame
It ain't your heavy connections
It ain't the hollywood game
Ain't famous people or the parties they throw
Honey i ain't impressed with all the people you know
It's just the way that you love me
(in the heat of the night)
It's just the way that you love me
(baby)
It's just the way that you love me
(when you're loving me right)
It's just the way that you love me
(baby)
It's just the way that you love me
(and the things that you do)
It's just the way that you love me
(baby)
It's just the way that you love me
(make me crazy for you)
It's just the way that you love me
It ain't the money or the diamond rings
Honey i ain't impressed with those material things
It ain't the trips to brazil
It ain't the weekends in rome
It ain't the french riviera
You know i'd rather stay home
Ain't the bahamas
It ain't monaco
Honey i ain't impressed
With all the places we go
It's just the way that you love me
The way that you love me
The way that you love me
It's just the way that you love me
The way that you love me

[...] Read more

song performed by Paula Abdul
Added by Lucian Velea
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Yesterday

Today is lived.
And there they stay,
In heated debate.
About what took place,
Yesterday.
And who did what and when.
How they dressed!
And what impressed them.
With recalled expressions on their faces.

Another day is lived!
And there they stay,
In heated debate.
About what took place,
Yesterday.
And who did what and when.
How they dressed!
And what impressed them.
With recalled expressions on their faces.

And yet another day to them comes.
And there they stay,
In heated debate.
About what took place,
Yesterday.
And who did what and when.
How they dressed!
And what impressed them.
With recalled expressions on their faces.

Few if any live in the 'now'.
Or have their eyes on tomorrow.
Because...
There they stay,
In heated debate.
About what took place,
Yesterday.
And who did what and when.
How they dressed!
And what impressed them.
With recalled expressions on their faces.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Visionary Boy

Oh! lend that lute, sweet Archimage, to me!
Enough of care and heaviness
The weary lids of life depress,
And doubly blest that gentle heart shall be,
That wooes of poesy the visions bland,
And strays forgetful o'er enchanted land!
Oh! lend that lute, sweet Archimage, to me!
So spoke, with ardent look, yet eyebrow sad,
When he had passed o'er many a mountain rude,
And many a wild and weary solitude,
'Mid a green vale, a wandering minstrel-lad.
With eyes that shone in softened flame,
With wings and wand, young Fancy came;
And as she touched a trembling lute,
The lone enthusiast stood entranced and mute.
It was a sound that made his soul forego
All thoughts of sadness in a world of woe.
Oh, lend that lute! he cried: Hope, Pity, Love,
Shall listen; and each valley, rock, and grove,
Shall witness, as with deep delight,
From orient morn to dewy-stealing night.
My spirit, rapt in trance of sweetness high,
Shall drink the heartfelt sound with tears of ecstasy!
As thus he spoke, soft voices seemed to say,
Come away, come away;
Where shall the heart-sick minstrel stray,
But (viewing all things like a dream)
By haunted wood, or wizard stream?
That, like a hermit weeping,
Amid the gray stones creeping;
With voice distinct, yet faint,
Calls on Repose herself to hear its soothing plaint.
For him, romantic Solitude
Shall pile sublime her mountains rude;
For him, with shades more soft impressed,
The lucid lake's transparent breast
Shall show the banks, the woods, the hill,
More clear, more beautiful, more still.
For him more musical shall wave
The pines o'er Echo's moonlit cave;
While sounds as of a fairy lyre
Amid the shadowy cliffs expire!
This valley where the raptured minstrel stood
Was shaded with a circling slope of wood,
And rich in beauty, with that valley vied,
Thessalian Tempe, crowned with verdant bay,
Where smooth and clear Peneus winds his way;
And Ossa and Olympus, on each side,
Rise dark with woods; or that Sicilian plain
Which Arethusa's clearest waters lave,

[...] Read more

poem by William Lisle Bowles
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Warm, Balmy And Gentle Breezes

Warm breezes glide across an open space,
with such invisible grace,
as if they were off on a chase,
wafting softly against my face,
with urgency to win an endless race.

Balmy breezes flow between large dense trees,
with such a veritable ease,
and one can tell, they do as they please,
tickling the feet, the legs and knees,
with urgency there’s a longing to tease.

Gentle breezes pass smoothly on their way,
with such a persistence, they play,
for to them it’s just another day,
they cannot stop and cannot stay,
with urgency they ruffle the rosebay.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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To Be Alive Here

To be alive here
is to suffer the godspear of light
that enflames your breath with life
through the heart, the night
of its knapped shale
embedded in every part
like a mystic jewel in a wound that never heals
or a hidden nightbird in the far fields
when only the stars are listening.
To be alive here is to know
your only here and now
is to be alive.
Born into the lifeboat,
who needs to be rescued?
Is the fish afraid of drowning,
does a bird implore the sky;
is there not enough room in your eyes for stars?
Images, thought, symbols, feelings, words,
we live behind billboards illuminated
by artificial daffodils of light,
and walk our own midways alone
from tent to tent of sensation,
from mutant perversity to mystic elation,
blind in the blazing: come in, come in,
to the darkness under a flap of your skin.
How much has not changed for how long
inside the cocoon that diapers your reluctance
not to hump out of yourself with wings,
not to jewel the maggot with stars,
not to let the swamp hold up its waterlily,
not in overcoming or advancement,
not a white diploma of moonlit skin,
but a symbol and a celebration of what became of you
elaborating the world generation after generation
until, not enough just to see it,
your eyes immersed in the sea like rain
that has known the roots of the flowers
and opened the golden mouths of the grain
and washed the stars out of the hair of the fool,
and rinsed the age like a bloodstain off the stage,
you can finally be it.
You are empty.
Blood unspools like a thread
drawn out like a river unravelling the oceans of you
that used to lap these flesh bound shores
and flaunt this palace of bone on loan
from an absentee owner.
There is no face under your name
that isn't looking away from itself
like light from the sun.

[...] Read more

poem by Patrick White
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Knowing you

Exhausted and tired, I met you,
All the right reasons I saw,
Asked for a hand you gave me both,
Called for care I received love,
Knowing you knowing love

Shivering without any hope,
I asked for warmth i got heat,
In your tender arms i rested,
Darling give me more
Knowing you is knowing love

You took me by the hand,
Whispered in my ear,
You called me to your side,
You loved so dearly,
Take my hand you will see,
Love is becoming us,
Knowing you is knowing love

Tell me you love me,
With words im healed,
With the gentle touch im in ecstacy,
Knowing you was a fortune,
Like a beggar finding gold,
Knowing you was knowing love

poem by Gaylord Munemo
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It Makes More Sense

It makes more sense,
Stopping something not to start.
Yes it makes more sense,
Not to tear things all apart.
Or bring up filthy garbage,
Knowing it is just a farce.

It makes more sense,
To walk away than to be petty.
And it makes more sense,
To prevent a thumping headache.
And it makes more sense,
Not to argue with a fool.
Knowing this is something done,
Many fools love to do.

And it makes more sense,
Stopping something not to start.
Yes it makes more sense,
Not to tear things all apart.
Or bring up filthy garbage,
Knowing it is just a farce.
And it makes more sense,
Not to argue with a fool.
Knowing this is something done,
Fools love to do.

And it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To chase all bitterness away.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.

And it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To chase all bitterness away.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.

Yes it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.
Yes it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Knowing

There is a danger of knowing too much

knowing too much danger

Crossing a road without looking

Taking a risk with your cooking

A danger in knowing

There is a danger in knowing too much

Having digitalised lives

synched to computer

GOOGLED

There is a danger

Is there a danger in knowing?

Too much danger?

Too much knowing?

Too much?

we have/are becoming

More like a shopping mall

Packed full of brands

And gadgets

our apps additives

There is a danger of losing your child

In a shopping mall

Losing your self

In the underground

A danger in knowing

A danger in looking

[...] Read more

poem by Yvette Smith
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Rhythm Section Want Ad

In a world we call our home theres lots of room to roam
Plenty of time to turn mistakes into rhyme
Theres a place for those who love their poetry
Its just across from the sign that says, pros only
So if you like a band with a chick singer,
Say your cup of tea is a wall of trombones
If you dig menudo, or mdc we salute you the way we know
For every one with dollar signs in his eyes
There must be hundreds who look at you as if youre some kind of
Rhythm section want ad
No others need apply to the rhythm section want ad
Ill tell you why
Hats off to the new age hairstyle made of bones
Hats off to the use of hats as megaphones
Speak softly, drive a sherman tank
Laugh hard, its a long way to the bank
Do you sing like olive oyl on purpose
You guys must be into the eurythmics
For every one with dollar signs in his eyes
There must be hundreds who look at you as if youre some kind of
Rhythm section want ad
No others need apply to the rhythm section want ad
And heres the reason why
Hats off to the new age hairstyle made of bones
Hats off to the use of hats as megaphones
Speak softly, drive a sherman tank
Laugh hard, its a long way to the bank
Do you sing like olive oyl on purpose
You guys must be into the eurythmics
For every one with dollar signs in his eyes
There must be hundreds who look at you as if youre some kind of
Rhythm section want ad
No others need apply to the rhythm section want ad
And heres the reason why
Rhythm section want ad
No others need apply to the rhythm section want ad
And heres the reason why
Why
Why

song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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Life a school, learning the living

Life, a school
With no class rooms
With no black boards
With no one standing before you and teaching
With no tests
With no exams
With no marks, ranks and promotions
With no books
Life, a school
And you are in the same standard or class life through

Who is teaching, but
Everyone you come across and
Everything nearby
From just born to the one waiting to depart
The leaf dancing to the tunes of the wind
The car that is speeding by your side
The plane flying up in the sky
The water flowing gently in the stream
The stars twinkling in the dark sky
The colourful horizon at the other end
The mist, cloud, smoke and emission
The small ant busy carrying a much-bigger-to-its-size dry leaf
The butterfly jumping from flower to flower
All have potentials to teach,
If you have the desire to learn

What do they teach
To remain happy ever
To help others improve their status of happiness
To keep yourself balanced in all situations
To go ahead with your work emotion free
To stay healthy and be kicking
To be special of your own
To be social and sociable
To lead and to be an active part in team
Not to lose time in dreams and wasteful thinking
Not to be lazy and lost
Not to feel unwanted
And quite a number of other things for lively living
And to apply what all you learnt
And just not remeber and pour it out for scoring marks

Who assesses performance?
You and you only
As you only know what was taught
And you only know what was learnt
The more you apply what you learnt
The better is your performance
Know your performace from

[...] Read more

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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A Hill

A hill is in the sky much too high,
Offering us a new scene too beautiful,
But when is the strength to apply?

We must shift and learn and amplify,
Leaving too much time that is abnormal,
A hill is in the sky much too high.

Kill the souls of the fathers that are by,
Watch for the elements of risks considerable,
But when is the strength to apply?

I shun from single mothers who fight and buy
A lesser man who burns the clothes all horrible,
A hill is in the sky much too high.

You must change your job like water, or die,
For to die is greater than to be immortal,
But when is the strength to apply?

Jostle in the sand for a gun or a plan to dissatisfy,
Finding one job is too plain and immoral,
But when is the strength to apply?
A hill is in the sky much too high.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Nevada Mental Institute

Is this really a mental hospital?
It didn't look that way to me
a man in his wheel chair
kept saying this to himself
'O I wish I was never born!
O I wish I was never born! '
Some gaunt apparitions
here and there
minding their own businesses
howling at me
'Stay away! '
Seeing the blood stains
on the carpet floor
I shivered with fear and fright
that they might
devour me and my body
drinking my blood
dripping on the floor
which caused me to refuse
to take any medications
Was nice they didn't impose them on me
simply a shot or two
once in a while
Gosh!
Let me get some sleep
can you stop these women
screaming at nights
in room where I was assigned
to stay and sleep?
Madness drove me to all the way
to that place
though I tried to escape
the hands who put me there
after a long ride to San Francisco
to see the one I wanted to see
but failed to find the person's number
on phone book
for his wife's name was
on the registered
Couldn't keep these followers
from my back
in fear of being murdered
I decided to kill myself
but not with enough money to buy
the twenty-five dolor silver knife
from the shop I visited
during the break of the bus stop
I ran for help
to the law enforcement man
who took me to the hospital

[...] Read more

poem by Sangnam Nam
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Essay on Psychiatrists

I. Invocation

It‘s crazy to think one could describe them—
Calling on reason, fantasy, memory, eves and ears—
As though they were all alike any more

Than sweeps, opticians, poets or masseurs.
Moreover, they are for more than one reason
Difficult to speak of seriously and freely,

And I have never (even this is difficult to say
Plainly, without foolishness or irony)
Consulted one for professional help, though it happens

Many or most of my friends have—and that,
Perhaps, is why it seems urgent to try to speak
Sensibly about them, about the psychiatrists.

II. Some Terms

“Shrink” is a misnomer. The religious
Analogy is all wrong, too, and the old,
Half-forgotten jokes about Viennese accents

And beards hardly apply to the good-looking woman
In boots and a knit dress, or the man
Seen buying the Sunday Times in mutton-chop

Whiskers and expensive running shoes.
In a way I suspect that even the terms “doctor”
And “therapist” are misnomers; the patient

Is not necessarily “sick.” And one assumes
That no small part of the psychiatrist’s
Role is just that: to point out misnomers.

III. Proposition

These are the first citizens of contingency.
Far from the doctrinaire past of the old ones,
They think in their prudent meditations

Not about ecstasy (the soul leaving the body)
Nor enthusiasm (the god entering one’s person)
Nor even about sanity (which means

Health, an impossible perfection)
But ponder instead relative truth and the warm

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Pinsky
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