Gliding gently in an invisible bliss,
I kneel in an open-mouthed awe
The greenish lawns of glorious eternity
The sweetish harp-notes off angel fingers
The chord of creation blown loud,
The almighty light, the source of life
Sweet existence woven with intricacy,
I stroke the colored fabric of existence
Rivers of desire dried by salvation,
Oceans of truth filled by redemption
The mighty infinite void of space,
Lit up by the bright light of creation
Sparked by a being, divine beyond measure
Cradling me in His blissful arms
I am eternal, I am beautiful,
Image of a light beyond the stars
I am peace, I am love,
I am all that I was forged to be
In this garden of infinity,
This garden of eternity,
This perpetual river of joy,
This great heaven that is love
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Thousand Pages Of Poetry
Sweet reality, so close yet far,
Your distant presence comforts me
At the dawn of a great new life,
Revolving around the rock of gratitude
My eyes perceive a blend of color,
That floats and twirls so realistic
My ego is tied and burnt alive,
As I enter the heavens of humility
After all I have seen, all I have felt,
I still find only few words to explain
Life is like a thousand pages of poetry,
……………………….. And more!
The chains of irony rest on my feet,
Sense spinning on a great big wheel
Violence carried of on a grand carriage,
Never to return, to the heart of man
The sun is splendorous, I cannot tell,
The floating clouds, how marvelous,
Great old artist in the heaven above,
My love and praise is yours to savor
The world is one great big jungle,
Mysterious but pretty, dangerous but safe
Life is like a thousand pages of poetry,
…………………….. And more!
Love the king of all emotion,
How wondrous must be your great creator?
Though never admitted, the universe knows,
Man is dearest to the heart of God
Colors fascinate, emotions procrastinate,
How I wish to be eternally free
Free from the hands of responsibility,
Free to fly wingless and high
Words tell only half of a tale,
Music can do a little deal better
But for now your heart is mine to love,
My words are for you, to relish and remember
Life is like a thousand pages of poetry,
………………………… And more!
Your distant presence comforts me
At the dawn of a great new life,
Revolving around the rock of gratitude
My eyes perceive a blend of color,
That floats and twirls so realistic
My ego is tied and burnt alive,
As I enter the heavens of humility
After all I have seen, all I have felt,
I still find only few words to explain
Life is like a thousand pages of poetry,
……………………….. And more!
The chains of irony rest on my feet,
Sense spinning on a great big wheel
Violence carried of on a grand carriage,
Never to return, to the heart of man
The sun is splendorous, I cannot tell,
The floating clouds, how marvelous,
Great old artist in the heaven above,
My love and praise is yours to savor
The world is one great big jungle,
Mysterious but pretty, dangerous but safe
Life is like a thousand pages of poetry,
…………………….. And more!
Love the king of all emotion,
How wondrous must be your great creator?
Though never admitted, the universe knows,
Man is dearest to the heart of God
Colors fascinate, emotions procrastinate,
How I wish to be eternally free
Free from the hands of responsibility,
Free to fly wingless and high
Words tell only half of a tale,
Music can do a little deal better
But for now your heart is mine to love,
My words are for you, to relish and remember
Life is like a thousand pages of poetry,
………………………… And more!
Monday, July 12, 2010
There's More
Red old rose, your eloquent petals,
Bright yellow sun, a glory beyond,
Human progress, nature’s benevolence,
The numerous fish in a salty pond
Traveling particles in a perfect circle,
An energy undefined, right in the middle
The factual is always inevitably explicit,
But I know, I know, there’s more, there’s more!
Shout out your words, your twisted words,
That can define an object in ways a plenty
Discovering truths a million years existent
Finding treasures unworthy their value
Submit to the same old violent illusion,
That steals the soul of more than many
Bleed out the blood that is not just red,
Unaware of the bliss, there’s more, there’s more!
Still believe in the word of lies,
That swims out the mouth of hell’s enchantress
Dance to the lyre of the whitish devil,
The young strawberry lipped lady
Still cherishing the treasures of the deceitful princess,
Who portrayed to the world her pretension of virginity!
Still living for the whims of the ignorant world?
Unaware of the hidden bliss, there’s more, there’s more!
Merely an accusation, but more of concern,
These words wish to stretch out to your heart
For they are not mine, but those of the wind,
I am but a mere messenger of the beyond!
The chord that was lost is cursed never to be found,
So cease to search, but begin to feel
The blessing that lies in the temple within
Learn the lessons that remain untold,
And accept deep in your heart, there’s more, there’s more!
A soul that knows no dance, no song,
Has lost its greatest purpose of existence
A soul sold to the curse of creation,
Is a blemish that credit’s a pain beyond hell!
The eyes that melt at the sight of stones,
And the heart that dances to the trance of desire,
Will delight in the waters of a stagnant river,
Gradually disappearing to the necessities of moss
And then in the heart of all the ancient metaphorical,
Shall the men of today come to realize, there’s more, there’s more!
Bright yellow sun, a glory beyond,
Human progress, nature’s benevolence,
The numerous fish in a salty pond
Traveling particles in a perfect circle,
An energy undefined, right in the middle
The factual is always inevitably explicit,
But I know, I know, there’s more, there’s more!
Shout out your words, your twisted words,
That can define an object in ways a plenty
Discovering truths a million years existent
Finding treasures unworthy their value
Submit to the same old violent illusion,
That steals the soul of more than many
Bleed out the blood that is not just red,
Unaware of the bliss, there’s more, there’s more!
Still believe in the word of lies,
That swims out the mouth of hell’s enchantress
Dance to the lyre of the whitish devil,
The young strawberry lipped lady
Still cherishing the treasures of the deceitful princess,
Who portrayed to the world her pretension of virginity!
Still living for the whims of the ignorant world?
Unaware of the hidden bliss, there’s more, there’s more!
Merely an accusation, but more of concern,
These words wish to stretch out to your heart
For they are not mine, but those of the wind,
I am but a mere messenger of the beyond!
The chord that was lost is cursed never to be found,
So cease to search, but begin to feel
The blessing that lies in the temple within
Learn the lessons that remain untold,
And accept deep in your heart, there’s more, there’s more!
A soul that knows no dance, no song,
Has lost its greatest purpose of existence
A soul sold to the curse of creation,
Is a blemish that credit’s a pain beyond hell!
The eyes that melt at the sight of stones,
And the heart that dances to the trance of desire,
Will delight in the waters of a stagnant river,
Gradually disappearing to the necessities of moss
And then in the heart of all the ancient metaphorical,
Shall the men of today come to realize, there’s more, there’s more!
Hopes And Tears
Funny game football! How amazing its ability to bring tears to a million and smiles to a million at the same time! You place your heart in the legs of eleven men, allow them to tackle with your beliefs, your faith, your hope for a whole ninety minutes and often more.
You don’t care, till that heartbreaking last whistle that blows out of the referee’s lips you’re willing to beg, to plead, to shed tears before God asking him for just one minute of freedom, one moment of victory, one goal! Your heart rests in the unreliable propinquity of your mouth, but you are unaware, your eyes are glued, spelled to remain focused on the twenty nine inch TV screen, just one goal, please! But as the clock ticks on you feel the belief slowly drain out of your system, the hurtful sensation of arriving loss. Your heart beats faster, the fluids in your body become wild, looking for refuge but finding none. The clock is still ticking, it’s surely over now, you can feel the sorrow and hurt flushing into your veins, and dreams of drowning in an ocean of whiskey slowly taking form in your disturbed mind. And then it rings in your ear, like the bells of Armageddon! It’s over, and you feel the emotions running up your spine hitting your brain like a hammer perfectly timed on a nail! The tears flush out, you could not hold them longer, and those invisible tears that torment you for days and days to come!
The coward will sit down and mumble his excuses, the courageous will remain silent, he knows, victory was never deserved! The coward will avoid his tears, the courageous will let them flow, will accept them, will face them. Tears of misery, tears of defeat, tears for a great belief being destroyed. No one, I tell you no one can understand such a sorrow, it is woven of a complex fabric that is unperceivable. The eleven heroes, turned villain in the matter of an hour. The mistakes you forgave but did not forget come to steal your dignity, to cause the urge to excuse in you! But no, they are to be denied, defeat was inevitable. So what do you do now? Scream to create an outlet for the emotion? Or remain silent and feel it burn at the skin of your heart, feel it drilling holes in your head leaving an eternal mark on your soul that you will never forget!
Football is an art that wins the hearts of billions. The art that God himself initiated!
Time helps you realize that though the men you believed in let you down, the flag of football still waves high, the beautiful game that tests the greatest of hearts, not to judge but only to strengthen, how beautiful a game is football?
The emotions portrayed by the beautiful game transcend even those ecstatic sensations of virgin romance and mystical experience! These are the emotions that connect man to his thirst to excel, his thirst to win, his natural instinct to compete, and football is the celebration of such emotion!
Tears are the building blocks of the game, the vital stepping stones and the ultimate teacher!
Victory is a great decoration, but defeat is being stripped of your ego. And a fact that the strongest of men fall at the feet of ego, not even they can hold back the tears of defeat!
How you wish you could rewind time, pray a little harder, believe a great deal more, but no, nature does not permit such comforts, these tears are inevitable!
The greatest sting of defeat is when it is unexpected! It comes like a thief to propagate its misery, its terrible emotion! The river of sorrow is mine to swim tonight.
Words are never worthy, but how beautiful a game is football?
You don’t care, till that heartbreaking last whistle that blows out of the referee’s lips you’re willing to beg, to plead, to shed tears before God asking him for just one minute of freedom, one moment of victory, one goal! Your heart rests in the unreliable propinquity of your mouth, but you are unaware, your eyes are glued, spelled to remain focused on the twenty nine inch TV screen, just one goal, please! But as the clock ticks on you feel the belief slowly drain out of your system, the hurtful sensation of arriving loss. Your heart beats faster, the fluids in your body become wild, looking for refuge but finding none. The clock is still ticking, it’s surely over now, you can feel the sorrow and hurt flushing into your veins, and dreams of drowning in an ocean of whiskey slowly taking form in your disturbed mind. And then it rings in your ear, like the bells of Armageddon! It’s over, and you feel the emotions running up your spine hitting your brain like a hammer perfectly timed on a nail! The tears flush out, you could not hold them longer, and those invisible tears that torment you for days and days to come!
The coward will sit down and mumble his excuses, the courageous will remain silent, he knows, victory was never deserved! The coward will avoid his tears, the courageous will let them flow, will accept them, will face them. Tears of misery, tears of defeat, tears for a great belief being destroyed. No one, I tell you no one can understand such a sorrow, it is woven of a complex fabric that is unperceivable. The eleven heroes, turned villain in the matter of an hour. The mistakes you forgave but did not forget come to steal your dignity, to cause the urge to excuse in you! But no, they are to be denied, defeat was inevitable. So what do you do now? Scream to create an outlet for the emotion? Or remain silent and feel it burn at the skin of your heart, feel it drilling holes in your head leaving an eternal mark on your soul that you will never forget!
Football is an art that wins the hearts of billions. The art that God himself initiated!
Time helps you realize that though the men you believed in let you down, the flag of football still waves high, the beautiful game that tests the greatest of hearts, not to judge but only to strengthen, how beautiful a game is football?
The emotions portrayed by the beautiful game transcend even those ecstatic sensations of virgin romance and mystical experience! These are the emotions that connect man to his thirst to excel, his thirst to win, his natural instinct to compete, and football is the celebration of such emotion!
Tears are the building blocks of the game, the vital stepping stones and the ultimate teacher!
Victory is a great decoration, but defeat is being stripped of your ego. And a fact that the strongest of men fall at the feet of ego, not even they can hold back the tears of defeat!
How you wish you could rewind time, pray a little harder, believe a great deal more, but no, nature does not permit such comforts, these tears are inevitable!
The greatest sting of defeat is when it is unexpected! It comes like a thief to propagate its misery, its terrible emotion! The river of sorrow is mine to swim tonight.
Words are never worthy, but how beautiful a game is football?
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