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Illumination
of soul made whole awakens
from hibernation

haiku by Jonathan Robin
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Rockafeller Skank

Intro
DJ: WBCN who's this?
Brad: Hey this is Brad (this is Brad this is)
DJ: Now uh who's your favorite artist, who
do you want to hear?
Brad: Well m my favorite artist right now is
Fatboy Slim, that guy kicks ass.
DJ: How tremendous is Fatboy Slim?
Brad: The band of the 90's, if you want to call
it a band because it's a one man name.
DJ: Wow...fatboy, and you want to hear that
new fatboy song?
Brad: Absolutely.
DJ: Which one?
Brad: The um funk soul brother check it out.
DJ: Sing it, I don't know which one.
Brad: Right about now, the funk soul brother
check it out now, the funk soul brother.
Right About Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Check It Out Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Right About Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Check It Out Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Right About Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Check It Out Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Right About Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Check It Out Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Right About Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Check It Out Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Right About Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Right About Now
'bout now
'bout now
'bout now
Right About Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Check It Out Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Right About Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Check It Out Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Right About Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Check It Out Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Right About Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Check It Out Now
The Funk Soul Brother
Right About Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Check It Out Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Right About Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Check It Out Now
The Funk Soul Brother
Right About Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Check It Out Now
The Funk Soul Brother, Right About Now

[...] Read more

song performed by Fatboy Slim
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Rockafeller Skank

Intro
Dj: wbcn whos this?
Brad: hey this is brad (this is brad this is)
Dj: now uh whos your favorite artist, who
Do you want to hear?
Brad: well m my favorite artist right now is
Fatboy slim, that guy kicks ass.
Dj: how tremendous is fatboy slim?
Brad: the band of the 90s, if you want to call
It a band because its a one man name.
Dj: wow...fatboy, and you want to hear that
New fatboy song?
Brad: absolutely.
Dj: which one?
Brad: the um funk soul brother check it out.
Dj: sing it, I dont know which one.
Brad: right about now, the funk soul brother
Check it out now, the funk soul brother.
Right about now
The funk soul brother, check it out now
The funk soul brother, right about now
The funk soul brother, check it out now
The funk soul brother, right about now
The funk soul brother, check it out now
The funk soul brother, right about now
The funk soul brother, check it out now
The funk soul brother, right about now
The funk soul brother, check it out now
The funk soul brother, right about now
The funk soul brother, right about now
bout now
bout now
bout now
Right about now
The funk soul brother, check it out now
The funk soul brother, right about now
The funk soul brother, check it out now
The funk soul brother, right about now
The funk soul brother, check it out now
The funk soul brother, right about now
The funk soul brother, check it out now
The funk soul brother
Right about now
The funk soul brother, check it out now
The funk soul brother, right about now
The funk soul brother, check it out now
The funk soul brother
Right about now
The funk soul brother, check it out now
The funk soul brother, right about now

[...] Read more

song performed by Fatboy Slim
Added by Lucian Velea
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From Epidermal Taxidermy to Internal Epiphany

FROM EPIDERMAL TAXIDERMY TO INTERNAL EPIPHANY

Portrait of fair mind is neither, nor!
neither mastered nor in pieces shred,
displayed to touring tourists - Turrell's bore -
whose dreams no themes of genius hint ahead.
Could paint drip down to mop pain's vail of tears,
unveiling pooled oasis to exchange,
past wraith, fresh faith to grace remaining years,
then fears would fade before excitement strange.
From monochrome to rainbow glow display
“we are such stuff as dreams are made of” shows,
no lifeless stuffing, feathers drooping, fray;
vitality surpasses surface glows
to put to shame greyed taxidermist’s skills
forever fixed in time: true talent spills.

True talent overflows as curiousity
channels potential, recent acquisitions,
to harness latent energy, to free
flame burning to encounter twin shared visions.
Gold courage holds no secrets for fair muse
whose darker shades may by Miss, understood,
misunderstandings sweep away to choose
hues better read, refusing mirage wood.
If one would ink fresh portrait of fair mind
contact’s impact could do it justice true,
where words match deeds indeed, feed surge behind
layered lines to tempt that talent through.
No taxidermist’s trophy, prized possession,
pro-active win/win casts out sin, transgression.

Shared view should sunshine through tune-blended flow
to filter out, to mend, doubt’s daunting pain,
suspend in amber all imbroglio
freeing focus, tender trust sustain.
Bottled up desire too well preserves
formaldehyde-postponed screw-cap allure,
throttles interaction, tires, reserves
soul’s parking place, secure in sinecure.
Restraints life paints can’t canvas open urge,
anticipate emotions strong, long stored
in hibernation waiting to emerge,
eager for adventures unexplored.
Suspended animation soul-song cheats
with taxidermist version of heart’s beats.

Could luck alight tonight and somehow show
new way to leech frustration numbing brain,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Book III - Part 03 - The Soul is Mortal

Now come: that thou mayst able be to know
That minds and the light souls of all that live
Have mortal birth and death, I will go on
Verses to build meet for thy rule of life,
Sought after long, discovered with sweet toil.
But under one name I'd have thee yoke them both;
And when, for instance, I shall speak of soul,
Teaching the same to be but mortal, think
Thereby I'm speaking also of the mind-
Since both are one, a substance interjoined.

First, then, since I have taught how soul exists
A subtle fabric, of particles minute,
Made up from atoms smaller much than those
Of water's liquid damp, or fog, or smoke,
So in mobility it far excels,
More prone to move, though strook by lighter cause
Even moved by images of smoke or fog-
As where we view, when in our sleeps we're lulled,
The altars exhaling steam and smoke aloft-
For, beyond doubt, these apparitions come
To us from outward. Now, then, since thou seest,
Their liquids depart, their waters flow away,
When jars are shivered, and since fog and smoke
Depart into the winds away, believe
The soul no less is shed abroad and dies
More quickly far, more quickly is dissolved
Back to its primal bodies, when withdrawn
From out man's members it has gone away.
For, sure, if body (container of the same
Like as a jar), when shivered from some cause,
And rarefied by loss of blood from veins,
Cannot for longer hold the soul, how then
Thinkst thou it can be held by any air-
A stuff much rarer than our bodies be?

Besides we feel that mind to being comes
Along with body, with body grows and ages.
For just as children totter round about
With frames infirm and tender, so there follows
A weakling wisdom in their minds; and then,
Where years have ripened into robust powers,
Counsel is also greater, more increased
The power of mind; thereafter, where already
The body's shattered by master-powers of eld,
And fallen the frame with its enfeebled powers,
Thought hobbles, tongue wanders, and the mind gives way;
All fails, all's lacking at the selfsame time.
Therefore it suits that even the soul's dissolved,
Like smoke, into the lofty winds of air;

[...] Read more

poem by Lucretius
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Z. Comments

CRYSTAL GLOW

Madhur Veena Comment: Who is she? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ....You write good!

Margaret Alice Comment: Beautiful, it stikes as heartfelt words and touches the heart, beautiful sentiments, sorry, I repeat myself, but I am delighted. Your poem is like the trinkets I collect to adorn my personal space, pure joy to read, wonderful! Only a beautiful mind can harbour such sentiments, you have a beautiful mind. I am glad you have found someone that inspires you to such heights and that you share it with us, you make the world a mroe wonderful place.

Margaret Alice Comment: Within the context set by the previous poem, “Cosmic Probe”, the description of a lover’s adoration for his beloved becomes a universal ode sung to the abstract values of love, joy and hope personified by light, colours, fragrance and beauty, qualities the poet assigns to his beloved, thus elevating her to the status of an uplifting force because she brings all these qualities to his attention. The poet recognises that these personified values brings him fulfilment and chose the image of a love relationship to illustrate how this comes about; thus a love poem becomes the vehicle to convey spiritual epiphany.

FRAGRANT JASMINE

Margaret Alice Comment: Your words seem to be directed to a divine entity, you seem to be addressing your adoration to a divinity, and it is wonderful to read of such sublime sentiments kindled in a human soul. Mankind is always lifted up by their vision and awareness of divinity, thank you for such pure, clear diction and sharing your awareness of the sublime with us, you have uplifted me so much by this vision you have created!

Margaret Alice Comment: The poet’s words seem to be directed to a divine entity, express adoration to a divinity who is the personification of wonderful qualities which awakens a sense of the sublime in the human soul. An uplifting vision and awareness of uplifting qualities of innocence represented by a beautiful person.

I WENT THERE TO BID HER ADIEU

Kente Lucy Comment: wow great writing, what a way to bid farewell

Margaret Alice Comment: Sensory experience is elevated by its symbolical meaning, your description of the scene shows two souls becoming one and your awareness of the importance of tempory experience as a symbol of the eternal duration of love and companionship - were temporary experience only valid for one moment in time, it would be a sad world, but once it is seen as a symbol of eternal things, it becomes enchanting.

I’M INCOMPLETE WITHOUT YOU

Margaret Alice Comment: You elevate the humnan experience of longing for love to a striving for sublimity in uniting with a beloved person, and this poem is stirring, your style of writing is effective, everything flows together perfectly.

Margaret Alice Comment:

'To a resplendent glow of celestial flow
And two split halves unite never to part.'

Reading your fluent poems is a delight, I have to tear myself away and return to the life of a drudge, but what a treasure trove of jewels you made for the weary soul who needs to contemplate higher ideals from time to time!

IN CELESTIAL WINGS

Margaret Alice Comment: When you describe how you are strengthened by your loved one, it is clear that your inner flame is so strong that you need not fear growing old, your spirit seems to become stronger, you manage to convey this impression by your striking poetry. It is a privilege to read your work.

Obed Dela Cruz Comment: wow.... i remembered will shakespeare.... nice poem!

Margaret Alice Comment: The poet has transcended the barriers of time and space by becoming an image of his beloved and being able to find peace in the joy he confers to his beloved.

'You transcend my limits, transcend my soul, I forget my distress in your thoughts And discover my peace in your joy, For, I’m mere image of you, my beloved.'

Margaret Alice Comment: You are my peace and solace, I know, I am, yours too; A mere flash of your thoughts Enlivens my tired soul And fills me with light, peace and solace, A giant in new world, I become, I rise to divine heights in celestial wings. How I desire to reciprocate To fill you with light and inner strength raise you to divine heights; I must cross over nd hold you in arms, light up your soul, Fill you with strength from my inner core, Wipe away your tears burst out in pure joy How I yearn to instill hope and confidence in you we never part And we shall wait, till time comes right. the flame in my soul always seeks you, you transcend my limits, transcend my soul, I forget my distress in your thoughts And discover my peace in your joy, For, I’m mere image of you, my beloved.

RAGING FIRE

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poem by Praveen Kumar
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Youth Of 1,000 Summers

He's the youth of a thousand summers
He's the youth of a thousand summers
Like a sweet bird of youth
Like a sweet bird of youth
In my soul. in my soul, in my soul
In my soul. in my soul. in my soul
And he looks so radiant
And he shines like the sun
And he looks so radiant
And he lights up the world
He's the youth of a thousand summers
He's the youth of a thousand summers
Like a sweet bird of youth
Like a sweet bird of youth
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
Yeah, love it, yeah, love it
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
He's the king of the mountain
And the clear crystal fountain
He's the saint of the river
He's the ancient of days
He's the youth of a thousand summers
He's the youth of a thousand summers
Like a sweet bird of youth
Like a sweet bird of youth
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
And he makes you go skipping
And he makes you go dancing
And he gets you in rhythm
And he moves you in song
He's the youth of a thousand summers
He's the youth of a thousand summers
Like a sweet bird of youth
Like a sweet bird of youth
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
In my soul, in my soul, in my soul
Oh, in my soul, in my soul, in my soul
And a sweet bird of youth
In my soul (repeat)

song performed by Van Morrison
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From Hibernation's Winter of Discontent

Hiatus hibernation: hope uncloses
fresh cycle, offers confidence one knows is
unshuttering for healing broken heart,
from crysalid apart true joy discloses.

Cocoon appears to be some halfway house
as pupal stage evolves from vain carouse,
an incubation metaphorical
'I am aim' flight prepares, to spirit rouse.

Inaction's action although from without
state changes' range seems subject to some doubt,
bliss metamorphosis takes time, and time
is grind mankind too often tries to flout.

Dreams may be blessed as fears fade, laid to rest,
renewed zest is caressed, heart's treasure chest
pulses slowly till wing span unfurls,
to chart new start, maps jest till nap's inquest.

Though silent snowflakes hush both man and mouse,
white mantle donned by garden, path and house,
helter skelter crystals soon shall melt
for seasons spin, thaw hoar in rhymed carouse.

Spring lungs inhale, absorbing Nature's scent,
while winter's sleep-weep sweeps away, scope sent
from hibernation freed, to births new day,
through growth within spring's blooms more represent.

When light returns to comfort spirit sight,
when weariness falls from enlightened wight,
the sacred Truth within you soon shall find
as sun dissolves cold snowbound oversight.

Life seeds, need not be spent mid living dead,
whose wanton souls wilt, aversion fed,
who ruminate, lament their unjust fate,
feel bitter fruits of life must lie ahead.

No longer languish, mark majestic morn
transforms each ugly duckling to swan sworn,
enlightenment admitted as clear goal
from nigh soul whole at last may be reborn.

Patience is rewarded as clouds pass,
whose spirit, as transparent as clear glass,
haloes hallowed hollow deep within,
mind sloughs rough weight off, shredding wait's sin skin.

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Book III - Part 02 - Nature And Composition Of The Mind

First, then, I say, the mind which oft we call
The intellect, wherein is seated life's
Counsel and regimen, is part no less
Of man than hand and foot and eyes are parts
Of one whole breathing creature. But some hold
That sense of mind is in no fixed part seated,
But is of body some one vital state,-
Named "harmony" by Greeks, because thereby
We live with sense, though intellect be not
In any part: as oft the body is said
To have good health (when health, however, 's not
One part of him who has it), so they place
The sense of mind in no fixed part of man.
Mightily, diversly, meseems they err.
Often the body palpable and seen
Sickens, while yet in some invisible part
We feel a pleasure; oft the other way,
A miserable in mind feels pleasure still
Throughout his body- quite the same as when
A foot may pain without a pain in head.
Besides, when these our limbs are given o'er
To gentle sleep and lies the burdened frame
At random void of sense, a something else
Is yet within us, which upon that time
Bestirs itself in many a wise, receiving
All motions of joy and phantom cares of heart.
Now, for to see that in man's members dwells
Also the soul, and body ne'er is wont
To feel sensation by a "harmony"
Take this in chief: the fact that life remains
Oft in our limbs, when much of body's gone;
Yet that same life, when particles of heat,
Though few, have scattered been, and through the mouth
Air has been given forth abroad, forthwith
Forever deserts the veins, and leaves the bones.
Thus mayst thou know that not all particles
Perform like parts, nor in like manner all
Are props of weal and safety: rather those-
The seeds of wind and exhalations warm-
Take care that in our members life remains.
Therefore a vital heat and wind there is
Within the very body, which at death
Deserts our frames. And so, since nature of mind
And even of soul is found to be, as 'twere,
A part of man, give over "harmony"-
Name to musicians brought from Helicon,-
Unless themselves they filched it otherwise,
To serve for what was lacking name till then.
Whate'er it be, they're welcome to it- thou,
Hearken my other maxims.

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poem by Lucretius
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Justin

DEDICATION

O POOR, sad hearts that struggle on and wait,
Like shipwrecked sailors on a spar at sea,
Through deepening glooms, if haply, soon or late,
Some day-dawn glimmer of what is to be,
Not knowing Christ, nor gladdened by His Love
5
And Life indwelling—to you I dedicate
These humble musings, praying that from above,
On you, being faithful found, the light may shine
Of Life incarnate and of Love divine.
Take, then, these thoughts, in loving memory
10
Of those dead hearts that brought it first to me.

DOWN by the sea, in infinite solitude
And wrapt in darkness, save when gleams of light
Broke from the moon aslant the hurrying clouds
That fled the wind, lay Justin, worn with grief,
And heart-sick with vain searching after God.

15
He heeded not the cold white foam that crept
In silence round his feet, nor the tall sedge
That sighed like lonely forest round his head;
His heart was weary of this weight of being,
Weary of all the mystery of life,
20
Weary of all the littleness of men,
And the dark riddle that he could not solve—
Why men should be, why pain and sin and death,
And where were hid the lineaments of God.
No voice was near. Behind, a lofty cape,
25
Whose iron face was scarred by many a storm,
Loomed threatening in the dark, and cleft the main,
And laid its giant hand upon the deep.
One grizzled oak tree crowned it, and the surf
Broke ever at its base, with ceaseless voice
30
Powerless to mar its silent majesty.
Sweet was the loneliness to Justin, sweet
Perturbèd nature, as in harmony
With the dark thoughts that beat upon his soul.
Nor speechless long he lay. The tide of grief,
35

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poem by Frederick George Scott
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Jubilate Agno: Fragment B, Part 3

For a Man is to be looked upon in that which he excells as on a prospect.

For there be twelve cardinal virtues -- three to the East -- Greatness, Valour, Piety.

For there be three to the West -- Goodness, Purity and Sublimity.

For there be three to the North -- Meditation, Happiness, Strength.

For there be three to the South -- Constancy, Pleasantry and Wisdom.

For the Argument A PRIORI is GOD in every man's CONSCIENCE.

For the Argument A POSTERIORI is God before every man's eyes.

For the Four and Twenty Elders of the Revelation are Four and Twenty Eternities.

For their Four and Twenty Crowns are their respective Consummations.

For a CHARACTER is the votes of the Worldlings, but the seal is of Almighty GOD alone.

For there is no musick in flats and sharps which are not in God's natural key.

For where Accusation takes the place of encouragement a man of Genius is driven to act the vices of a fool.

For the Devil can set a house on fire, when the inhabitants find combustibles.

For the old account of time is the true -- Decr 28th 1759-60 -- -- --

For Faith as a grain of mustard seed is to believe, as I do, that an Eternity is such in respect to the power and magnitude of Almighty God.

For a DREAM is a good thing from GOD.

For there is a dream from the adversary which is terror.

For the phenomenon of dreaming is not of one solution, but many.

For Eternity is like a grain of mustard as a growing body and improving spirit.

For the malignancy of fire is oweing to the Devil's hiding of light, till it became visible darkness.

For the Circle may be SQUARED by swelling and flattening.

For the Life of God is in the body of man and his spirit in the Soul.

For there was no rain in Paradise because of the delicate construction of the spiritual herbs and flowers.

For the Planet Mercury is the WORD DISCERNMENT.

For the Scotchman seeks for truth at the bottom of a well, the Englishman in the Heavn of Heavens.

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poem by Christopher Smart
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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

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poem by Thomas Moore
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The Soul Of The World

The beauty of the morning reflects to the innermost of the world.
To the most persuasive illumination of the color of the earth
That lure to the eyes of the evil one
The joyous day of the righteousness may behold the gleams of the spirit of the goodness.
The keenness of the righteous one defeat the malicious ambiance of the wicked one
The soul of the world will bring to the joyous bowel of the earth.
That gathers the positive reactions of human existence.
And the lustrous of positive point of views
Healed the chaotic nature of the soul of the world
And the rain and streams
Cannot efface or conceal
The beauty of the universe
It is the soul of the world
This cannot be separated to the consciousness of the human being
Don’t be stupefy of what you have done
Because the soul of the world conspire us to do such things
The diamantine of affections will lighted
and firm into the soul of the world
The diaphanous of the sky to the free flowing of the blood of martyrs
Praises the everlasting blood sheds of the flesh and the soul
The equivocal of the soul and existence
Resounded to the thoughts and to the soul of the human being
Behold the soul of the world
How can we face the world without the soul of the world?
It seems like to be ambiguous to the part of subjectivist
If what kind of soul where I meant to be
I am only referring to the inseparable conjunction of individual and world
If there were no soul of the world, there would be no necessity
Without necessity, no reason and no understanding
The nothing out of which the soul of the world came, is nothing without the world
Thus, the soul of the world is only necessary out of itself and through itself
But, the necessity of the soul of the world is the necessity of reason
Whatever we think it is not of our own action
It is an action of the soul of the world
Which the most profoundest and most essential necessity of reasons
If we think that, the mountains turn into mud
Without the necessity of reasons
Is like a white paper o tabularaza which have no truth value and material validity
But, if we think that the mountain would turn into dust
With the necessity of reasons
Is like a crystal clear does the truth value and the material validity had
Behold the soul of the world
The sweetness of the night coaxing the stars above
How sweet the soul of the world it is?
God knows this soul of the world conspire us
The wind and the sun tell us if how this soul of the world is important to us.
From the dark depths of the earth as far as to the shallowness of the universe
Reflect the goodness and necessities of the soul of the world
The dewdrops linger to the lips of the red rose in the battlefield
Entice the soul of the world to the chaotic and morbid

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poem by Vicente Añonuevo
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Quatrains Of Life

What has my youth been that I love it thus,
Sad youth, to all but one grown tedious,
Stale as the news which last week wearied us,
Or a tired actor's tale told to an empty house?

What did it bring me that I loved it, even
With joy before it and that dream of Heaven,
Boyhood's first rapture of requited bliss,
What did it give? What ever has it given?

'Let me recount the value of my days,
Call up each witness, mete out blame and praise,
Set life itself before me as it was,
And--for I love it--list to what it says.

Oh, I will judge it fairly. Each old pleasure
Shared with dead lips shall stand a separate treasure.
Each untold grief, which now seems lesser pain,
Shall here be weighed and argued of at leisure.

I will not mark mere follies. These would make
The count too large and in the telling take
More tears than I can spare from seemlier themes
To cure its laughter when my heart should ache.

Only the griefs which are essential things,
The bitter fruit which all experience brings;
Nor only of crossed pleasures, but the creed
Men learn who deal with nations and with kings.

All shall be counted fairly, griefs and joys,
Solely distinguishing 'twixt mirth and noise,
The thing which was and that which falsely seemed,
Pleasure and vanity, man's bliss and boy's.

So I shall learn the reason of my trust
In this poor life, these particles of dust
Made sentient for a little while with tears,
Till the great ``may--be'' ends for me in ``must.''

My childhood? Ah, my childhood! What of it
Stripped of all fancy, bare of all conceit?
Where is the infancy the poets sang?
Which was the true and which the counterfeit?

I see it now, alas, with eyes unsealed,
That age of innocence too well revealed.
The flowers I gathered--for I gathered flowers--
Were not more vain than I in that far field.

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poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Soul On Soul

No one ever told me, no one ever said
No one ever loved me, till I was goin' outta my head
No one ever listened, to the things I tried to say
You gave me everything I needed, that's your way
You gave me hope, you gave me love
You gave me faith to carry on
Good God have mercy on me
Don't you desert me, baby
I wanna be together soul on soul this time
[Believe me, baby] believe me, baby
Don't ever leave me lonely
I wanna be together soul on soul this time
No one ever held me, as good as this before
No one ever stopped me, when I was runnin' out of the door
You set me free, you made me shine
You gave me arms to make you mine
Good God have mercy on me
Don't you desert me, baby
I wanna be together soul on soul this time
[Believe me, baby] believe me, baby
Don't ever leave me lonely
I wanna be together soul on soul this time
Love made me so gun shy
Don't say, don't say another word
Love feels so radical
That I lose my way, when you're here by me
Good God have mercy on me
Don't you desert me, baby
I wanna be together soul on soul this time
[Believe me, baby] believe me, baby
Don't ever leave me lonely
I wanna be together soul on soul this time
Good God have mercy on me (have mercy)
Don't you desert me, baby
I wanna be together soul on soul this time
(I wanna be together soul on soul this time)
[Believe me, baby] believe me, baby (believe me, baby)
Don't ever leave me lonely
(Don't ever, ever leave me)
I wanna be together soul on soul this time (soul on soul this time)
Good God have mercy on me
(Good God have mercy on me)
Don't you desert me, baby
(Don't you desert me, baby)
I wanna be together soul on soul this time (soul on soul this time)
[Believe me, baby] (ooh, ooh) believe me, baby
Don't ever leave me lonely
I wanna be together soul on soul this time
(I wanna be together soul on soul this time)

song performed by Rod Stewart
Added by Lucian Velea
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Passage To India

SINGING my days,
Singing the great achievements of the present,
Singing the strong, light works of engineers,
Our modern wonders, (the antique ponderous Seven outvied,)
In the Old World, the east, the Suez canal,
The New by its mighty railroad spann'd,
The seas inlaid with eloquent, gentle wires,
I sound, to commence, the cry, with thee, O soul,
The Past! the Past! the Past!

The Past! the dark, unfathom'd retrospect! 10
The teeming gulf! the sleepers and the shadows!
The past! the infinite greatness of the past!
For what is the present, after all, but a growth out of the past?
(As a projectile, form'd, impell'd, passing a certain line, still
keeps on,
So the present, utterly form'd, impell'd by the past.)

Passage, O soul, to India!
Eclaircise the myths Asiatic--the primitive fables.

Not you alone, proud truths of the world!
Nor you alone, ye facts of modern science!
But myths and fables of eld--Asia's, Africa's fables! 20
The far-darting beams of the spirit!--the unloos'd dreams!
The deep diving bibles and legends;
The daring plots of the poets--the elder religions;
--O you temples fairer than lilies, pour'd over by the rising sun!
O you fables, spurning the known, eluding the hold of the known,
mounting to heaven!
You lofty and dazzling towers, pinnacled, red as roses, burnish'd
with gold!
Towers of fables immortal, fashion'd from mortal dreams!
You too I welcome, and fully, the same as the rest;
You too with joy I sing.

Passage to India! 30
Lo, soul! seest thou not God's purpose from the first?
The earth to be spann'd, connected by net-work,
The people to become brothers and sisters,
The races, neighbors, to marry and be given in marriage,
The oceans to be cross'd, the distant brought near,
The lands to be welded together.

(A worship new, I sing;
You captains, voyagers, explorers, yours!
You engineers! you architects, machinists, your!
You, not for trade or transportation only, 40

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poem by Walt Whitman
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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Iteration

Inscribed reunion affords important, necessary encounter -
inevitable rebirth attesting initiation, nascent energy,
infinite release as imprisoned needs emerge
intact, resurgence adding ineffable nova ethereal.
Impetus reincarnate allies indivisible nexus evermore.
Imbrication - reciprocal approach - increases nobility ensuring
intimacy, - regenerative applause inspiring nectar enduring.

Instantaneous recall awakens inner neurones experiencing
idyll remembered as iteration's new edition.
Incredible Revelation, awesome, is now evident
in reality after implicit needs expressed
intuitively reveal awareness identifying Nirvana euphoric.
Inviolate renewal - affection/intelligence now eliminate
indecision. Rising aspirations intimate networking effect
invisibly restoring all interwoven natural equilibrium.
Identification read and integrated, - no error.
Imagination roused after impotent numbness expands
infinite recognition, allows interplay naturally eternal
intertwining rare ambiance, intensely nurtured empathy.

Interdependance repudiates arguments, ignorance, narrow extrapolations
Indeed, reprehensible arid interferences now eradicated,
Interaction rescinds abuse, ignorance, neglect, egocentricity.
Intolerance refused, alienation's icy nemesis expelled,
infection rejected, irresistable aura negativity ejects.
Intact, real aptitudes innate, neonate, encourage
indescribable rejoicing, acceptance, - interaction names ecstasy...

Inner Recognition Awakens Idyllic Nirvana Eternal
Acrostic Iraine robi03_1606_robi03_0000 AQV_LXX

(8 February 2007)
Inner Recognition Awakens Idyllic Nirvana Eternal
Inevitable reunion affords important, necessary encounter
Impetus reincarnate allies indivisible nexus evermore.
Imbrication - reciprocal approach - increases nobility ensuring
intimacy, - regenerative applause inspiring nectar enduring.

Instantaneous recall awakens inner neurones experiencing
idyll remembered as iteration's new edition.
Incredible Revelation, awesome, is now evident
in reality after implicit needs expressed
intuitively reveal awareness identifying Nirvana euphoric.
Inviolate renewal - affection/intelligence now eliminate
indecision. Rising aspirations intimate networking effect
invisibly restoring all interwoven natural equilibrium.
Identification read and integrated, - no error.
Imagination roused after impotent numbness expands

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Ninth Book

EVEN thus. I pause to write it out at length,
The letter of the Lady Waldemar.–

'I prayed your cousin Leigh to take you this,
He says he'll do it. After years of love,
Or what is called so,–when a woman frets
And fools upon one string of a man's name,
And fingers it for ever till it breaks,–
He may perhaps do for her such thing,
And she accept it without detriment
Although she should not love him any more
And I, who do not love him, nor love you,
Nor you, Aurora,–choose you shall repent
Your most ungracious letter, and confess,
Constrained by his convictions, (he's convinced)
You've wronged me foully. Are you made so ill,
You woman–to impute such ill to me?
We both had mothers,–lay in their bosom once.
Why, after all, I thank you, Aurora Leigh,
For proving to myself that there are things
I would not do, . . not for my life . . nor him . .
Though something I have somewhat overdone,–
For instance, when I went to see the gods
One morning, on Olympus, with a step
That shook the thunder in a certain cloud,
Committing myself vilely. Could I think,
The Muse I pulled my heart out from my breast
To soften, had herself a sort of heart,
And loved my mortal? He, at least, loved her;
I heard him say so; 'twas my recompence,
When, watching at his bedside fourteen days,
He broke out ever like a flame at whiles
Between the heats of fever . . . 'Is it thou?
'Breathe closer, sweetest mouth!' and when at last
The fever gone, the wasted face extinct
As if it irked him much to know me there,
He said, Twas kind, 'twas good, 'twas womanly,'
(And fifty praises to excuse one love)
'But was the picture safe he had ventured for?'
And then, half wandering . . 'I have loved her well,
Although she could not love me.'–'Say instead,'
I answered, 'that she loves you.'–'Twas my turn
To rave: (I would have married him so changed,
Although the world had jeered me properly
For taking up with Cupid at his worst,
The silver quiver worn off on his hair.)
'No, no,' he murmured, 'no, she loves me not;
'Aurora Leigh does better: bring her book
'And read it softly, Lady Waldemar,
'Until I thank your friendship more for that,

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poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Soul Doctor

Well I woke up this morning
Took your advice
I dialed the number
And I let it ring twice
Then I hung up
Now I tried to do
Everything I could
To save our love
And make it feel good again
I cant fight it, theres nobody home
Hard hearted and all alone
I give you love, you aint giving it back
I cant take it
I need to see the soul doctor
Before the fever begins
You know Im searching for the soul doctor
When love is wearing thin
Doctor soul is in
Ive been kicked in the corner
Im down in the dirt
I cant feel a thing
But I know it ought to hurt
Now your shaking my spirit
Im breaking my back
Im too blind to hear it
So I over react to satisfaction
If I could get me some
I aint talking, theres nothing to say
Misunderstandin, your walking away
Maybe baby, its gonna take time, time, time
I need to see the soul doctor
Before the fever begins
You know Im searching for the soul doctor
When love is wearing thin
Doctor soul is in
I need to see the soul doctor
You know things are looking grim
I keep searching for the soul doctor
Doctor soul is in
The doctors soul intention
Let it be understood
Cant pull the strings of my heart
I aint made out of wood
Now I take what I get
To get what it takes
Need a little bit a love
Got a whole lotta heartaches
I cant fight it, theres nobody home
Hard hearted and all alone
Maybe baby, its gonna take time, time, time

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song performed by Foreigner
Added by Lucian Velea
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