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DividedQuantum
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Registered: 12/06/13
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Re: Post a poem you like [Re: pineninja] 1
#26106560 - 07/13/19 06:51 PM (4 years, 6 months ago) |
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lol...yeah
-------------------- Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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DividedQuantum
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Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,818
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Someone who goes with half a loaf of bread to a small place that fits like a nest around him, someone who wants no more, who's not himself longed for by anyone else,
He is a letter to everyone. You open it. It says, Live.
***
The mystery does not get clearer by repeating the question, nor is it bought with going to amazing places.
Until you've kept your eyes and your wanting still for fifty years, you don't begin to cross over from confusion.
***
What is form in the presence of reality? Very feeble. Reality keeps the sky turned over like a cup above us, revolving. Who turns the sky wheel? The universal intelligence.
And the motion of the body comes from the spirit like a waterwheel that's held in a stream.
Rumi
-------------------- Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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pineninja
Dream Weaver



Registered: 08/17/14
Posts: 12,468
Loc: South
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Oh my name it ain't nothin' My age it means less The country I come from Is called the Midwest I was taught and brought up there The laws to abide And that land that I live in Has God on its side
Oh, the history books tell it They tell it so well The cavalries charged The Indians fell The cavalries charged The Indians died Oh, the country was young With God on its side
The Spanish-American War had its day And the Civil War, too Was soon laid away And the names of the heroes I was made to memorize With guns in their hands And God on their side
The First World War, boys It came and it went The reason for fighting I never did get But I learned to accept it Accept it with pride For you don't count the dead When God's on your side
The Second World War Came to an end We forgave the Germans And then we were friends Though they murdered six million In the ovens they fried The Germans now, too Have God on their side
I've learned to hate the Russians All through my whole life If another war comes It's them we must fight To hate them and fear them To run and to hide And accept it all bravely With God on my side
But now we got weapons Of chemical dust If fire them, we're forced to Then fire, them we must One push of the button And a shot the world wide And you never ask questions When God's on your side
Through many a dark hour I've been thinkin' about this That Jesus Christ was Betrayed by a kiss But I can't think for you You'll have to decide Whether Judas Iscariot Had God on his side.
So now as I'm leavin' I'm weary as Hell The confusion I'm feelin' Ain't no tongue can tell The words fill my head And fall to the floor That if God's on our side He'll stop the next war
B.Dylan.
-------------------- Just a fool on the hill.
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broshammy
Just a dancer



Registered: 07/19/19
Posts: 53
Last seen: 1 year, 7 months
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Jackson Browne - For A Dancer
don't know what happens when people die Can't seem to grasp it as hard as I try It's like a song I can hear playing right in my ear That I can't sing I can't help listening And I can't help feeling stupid standing 'round Crying as they ease you down 'Cause I know that you'd rather we were dancing Dancing our sorrow away (Right on dancing) No matter what fate chooses to play (There's nothing you can do about it anyway)
Just do the steps that you've been shown By everyone you've ever known Until the dance becomes your very own No matter how close to yours Another's steps have grown In the end there is one dance you'll do alone
-------------------- "Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word ‘happy’ would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness." - Carl Jung
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head


Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,818
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Re: Post a poem you like [Re: broshammy] 3
#26145367 - 08/20/19 08:02 PM (4 years, 5 months ago) |
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as the poems go
by Charles Bukowski
as the poems increase into the thousands you realize that you've created very little.
it all comes down to rain, the sunlight, the traffic, the nights and the days of the years, the faces.
leaving this will be easier than living it.
typing one more line now as a man plays a piano through the radio.
the best writers have said very little and the worst, far too much.
-------------------- Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head


Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,818
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The hands move, the lips move-- Ideas gush from his words, And his eyes devour! He is an island of Selfdom.
--from "A Manual of Muad'Dib," Dune
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head


Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,818
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A wise old owl sat on an oak; The more he saw the less he spoke, The less he spoke the more he heard -- Why aren't we like that wise old bird? (unknown)
-------------------- Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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DividedQuantum
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Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,818
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…The wise in heart Mourn not for those that live, nor those that die. Nor I, nor thou, nor any one of these, Ever was not, nor ever will not be, For ever and for ever afterwards. All, that doth live, lives always! That which is Can never cease to be; that which is not Will not exist.
***
I am not known To evil-doers, nor to foolish ones, Nor to the base and churlish; nor to those Whose mind is cheated by the show of things, Nor those that take the way of Asuras.* Four sorts of mortals know me: he who weeps, Arjuna! and the man who yearns to know; And he who toils to help; and he who sits Certain of me, enlightened. Of these four, O Prince of India! highest, nearest, best That last is, the devout soul, wise, intent Upon "The One." Dear, above all, am I To him; and he is dearest unto me! All four are good, and seek me; but mine own, The true of heart, the faithful--stayed on me, Taking me as their utmost blessedness, They are not "mine," but I--even I myself! At end of many births to Me they come! Yet hard the wise Mahatma is to find, That man who sayeth, "All is Vasudev!"**
* Beings of low and devilish nature. ** Krishna.
selections from the Bhagavadgita, trans. by Sir Edwin Arnold
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head


Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,818
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To See a World... (Fragments from "Auguries of Innocence")
by William Blake
To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour.
A Robin Redbreast in a Cage Puts all Heaven in a Rage. A dove house fill’d with doves and pigeons Shudders Hell thro’ all its regions. A Dog starv’d at his Master’s Gate Predicts the ruin of the State. A Horse misus’d upon the Road Calls to Heaven for Human blood. Each outcry of the hunted Hare A fiber from the Brain does tear.
He who shall train the Horse to War Shall never pass the Polar Bar. The Beggar’s Dog and Widow’s Cat, Feed them and thou wilt grow fat. The Gnat that sings his Summer song Poison gets from Slander’s tongue. The poison of the Snake and Newt Is the sweat of Envy’s Foot.
A truth that’s told with bad intent Beats all the Lies you can invent. It is right it should be so; Man was made for Joy and Woe; And when this we rightly know Thro’ the World we safely go.
Every Night and every Morn Some to Misery are Born. Every Morn and every Night Some are Born to sweet delight. Some are Born to sweet delight, Some are Born to Endless Night.
-------------------- Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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clock_of_omens
razzle them dazzle them


Registered: 04/10/14
Posts: 4,097
Last seen: 1 year, 1 month
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Love Songs in Age by Philip Larkin
She kept her songs, they kept so little space, The covers pleased her: One bleached from lying in a sunny place, One marked in circles by a vase of water, One mended, when a tidy fit had seized her, And coloured, by her daughter- So they had waited, till, in widowhood She found them, looking for something else, and stood
Relearning how each frank submissive chord Had ushered in Word after sprawling hyphenated word, And the unfailing sense of being young Spread out like a spring-woken tree, wherein That hidden freshness sung, That certainty of time laid up in store As when she played them first. But, even more,
The glare of that much-mentioned brilliance, love, Broke out, to show Its bright incipience sailing above, Still promising to solve, and satisfy, And set unchangeably in order. So To pile them back, to cry, Was hard, without lamely admitting how It had not done so then, and could not now.
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NewAccount
Stranger



Registered: 10/05/17
Posts: 138
Loc: N.I. U.K
Last seen: 1 year, 4 months
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I know it's not a poem, rather a short story but have never found an opportunity to share this. It defies summation. R. H Blyth included it in his 'Zen in English Literature and oriental classics' as an illustration of a man living by zen, constantly yelling at his Mind / oddity, 'Lie thee down, oddity!' It may have resonated more with me having read it in context of Blyth's explanation, but would love to read it for the first time again, the ending is somewhat unusual and unexpected but beautiful and brought me to a spiritual LOL. Like the sort of chuckle when caught in awe before a majestic landscape.
"Lie Thee Down, Oddity" by T.F. Powys
http://tonymusings.blogspot.com/2007/01/lie-thee-down-oddity.html
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seraphnz
default


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Re: Post a poem you like [Re: NewAccount] 3
#26221524 - 10/01/19 12:25 AM (4 years, 3 months ago) |
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Arthur Rimbaud - After the Deluge
As soon as the idea of the Deluge had subsided, A hare stopped in the clover and swaying flowerbells, and said a prayer to the rainbow, through the spider's web.
Oh! the precious stones that began to hide,-- and the flowers that already looked around. In the dirty main street, stalls were set up and boats were hauled toward the sea, high tiered as in old prints.
Blood flowed at Blue Beard's,-- through slaughterhouses, in circuses, where the windows were blanched by God's seal. Blood and milk flowed. Beavers built.
'Mazagrans' smoked in the little bars. In the big glass house, still dripping, children in mourning looked at the marvelous pictures.
A door banged; and in the village square the little boy waved his arms, understood by weather vanes and cocks on steeples everywhere, in the bursting shower.
Madame *** installed a piano in the Alps. Mass and first communions were celebrated at the hundred thousand altars of the cathedral. Caravans set out. And Hotel Splendid was built in the chaos of ice and of the polar night.
Ever after the moon heard jackals howling across the deserts of thyme, and eclogues in wooden shoes growling in the orchard. Then in the violet and budding forest, Eucharis told me it was spring.
Gush, pond,-- Foam, roll on the bridge and over the woods;-- black palls and organs, lightening and thunder, rise and roll;-- waters and sorrows rise and launch the Floods again. For since they have been dissipated-- oh! the precious stones being buried and the opened flowers!-- it's unbearable! and the Queen, the Witch who lights her fire in the earthen pot will never tell us what she knows, and what we do not know.
-------------------- A casual stroll through your local lunatic asylum will show that faith proves nothing. - Nietzsche
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head


Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,818
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Re: Post a poem you like [Re: seraphnz] 3
#26227395 - 10/03/19 01:08 PM (4 years, 3 months ago) |
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Aztec poetry by Nezahualcoyotl (1402-72), polymath philosopher and ruler of the city of Texcoco
My friends, stand up! The princes have become destitute, I am Nezahualcoyotl, I am a Singer, head of macaw. Grasp your flowers and your fan. With them go out to dance! You are my child, you are Yoyontzin.* Take your chocolate, flower of the cacao tree, may you drink all of it! Do the dance, do the song! Not here is our house, not here do we live, you also will have to go away.
*[daffodil]
-------------------- Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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pineninja
Dream Weaver



Registered: 08/17/14
Posts: 12,468
Loc: South
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He makes the Eagles and Ocelots dance with him! Come to see the Huexotzinca:
On the dais of the Eagle he shouts out, Loudly cries the Mexica.
The battlefield is the place: where one toasts the divine liquor in war, where are stained red the divine eagles, where the tigers howl, where all kinds of precious stones rain from ornaments, where wave headdresses rich with fine plumes, where princes are smashed to bits.
There is nothing like death in war, nothing like the flowery death so precious to Him who gives life: far off I see it: my heart yearns for it!
And they called it Teotihulcan because it was the place where the lords were buried. Thus they said:
'When we die, truly we die not, because we will live, we will rise, we will continue living, we will awaken This will make us happy.'
Thus the dead one was directed, when he died:
'Awaken, already the sky is rosy, already dawn has come, already sing the flame-coloured guans, the fire-coloured swallows, already the butterflies fly.'
Thus the old ones said that who has died has become a god, they said: 'He has been made a god there, meaning 'He has died.'
Even jade is shattered, Even gold is crushed, Even quetzal plume are torn . . . One does not live forever on this earth: We endure only for an instant!
Will flowers be carried to the Kingdom of Death: Is it true that we are going, we are going? Where are we going, ay, where are we going? Will we be dead there or will we live yet? Does one exist again?
Perhaps we will live a second time? Thy heart knows: Just once do we live!. Like a quetzal plume, a fragrant flower, friendship sparkles: like heron plumes, it weaves itself into finery.
Our song is a bird calling out like a jingle: how beautiful you make it sound! Here, among flowers that enclose us, among flowery boughs you are singing.
the earth is a grave and nothing escapes it, nothing is so perfect that it does not descend to its tomb. Rivers, rivulets, fountains and waters flow, but never return to their joyful beginnings; anxiously they hasten on the vast realms of the rain god. As they widen their banks, they also fashion the sad urn of their burial.
Filled are the bowels of the earth with pestilential dust once flesh and bone, once animate bodies of man who sat upon thrones, decided cases, presided in council, commanded armies, conquered provinces, possessed treasure, destroyed temples, exulted in their pride, majesty, fortune, praise and power. Vanished are these glories, just as the fearful smoke vanishes that belches forth from the infernal fires of Popocatepetl. Nothing recalls them but the written page.
by Nezahualcoyotl
-------------------- Just a fool on the hill.
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pineninja
Dream Weaver



Registered: 08/17/14
Posts: 12,468
Loc: South
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Do you have a link that I can check out for him? I'm finding bits and Bobs.
-------------------- Just a fool on the hill.
Edited by pineninja (10/03/19 08:14 PM)
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head


Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,818
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Re: Post a poem you like [Re: pineninja] 2
#26228399 - 10/03/19 08:47 PM (4 years, 3 months ago) |
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Nah, I found that in some random news article about Aztec philosophy pertaining to routes to happiness. Wish I knew more. The poem just above is sweet.
-------------------- Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head


Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,818
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The Tree
by Ezra Pound
I stood still and was a tree amid the wood, Knowing the truth of things unseen before; Of Daphne and the laurel bough And that god-feasting couple old That grew elm-oak amid the wold. 'Twas not until the gods had been Kindly entreated, and been brought within Unto the hearth of their heart's home That they might do this wonder thing; Nathless I have been a tree amid the wood And many a new thing understood That was rank folly to my head before.
-------------------- Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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DividedQuantum
Outer Head


Registered: 12/06/13
Posts: 9,818
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There was a faith-healer of Deal, Who said, "Although pain is not real, When the point of a pin Goes into my skin, I dislike what I fancy I feel."
(unknown)
-------------------- Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici
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pineninja
Dream Weaver



Registered: 08/17/14
Posts: 12,468
Loc: South
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-------------------- Just a fool on the hill.
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seraphnz
default


Registered: 05/07/09
Posts: 290
Loc: vally of the real
Last seen: 1 month, 28 days
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Re: Post a poem you like [Re: pineninja] 2
#26250999 - 10/14/19 01:48 AM (4 years, 3 months ago) |
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Charles Bukowski - Traffic Signals
the old folks play a game in the park over looking the sea shoving markers across cement with wooden sticks. four play, two on each side and 18 or 20 others sit in the sun and watch. I notice this as I move towards the public facility as my car is being repaired.
an old cannon sits in the park rusted and useless. six or seven sail boats ride the sea below.
I finish my duty come out and they are still playing.
One of the woman is heavily rogued wearing flash eyelashes and smoking a cigarette. The men are very thin very pale wear wrist watches that hurt their wrists.
The other woman is very fat and giggles each time a score is made.
Some of them are my age.
They disgust me the way they wait for death with as much passion as a traffic signal.
these are the people who believe advertisments theres are the people who buy dentures on credit these are the people who celebrate holidays these are the people who have grandchildren these are the people who vote these are the people who have funerals
These are the dead the smog the stink in the air the Lepers.
seagulls are better seaweed is better dirty sand is better
If I could turn that on cannon on them and make it work I would.
They disgust me.
Edited by seraphnz (11/01/19 12:42 AM)
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