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Poetry, Got something? ...Shtick it here..

lunk
post Sep 5 2007, 08:12 PM
Post #61



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I was sort of hungry when I thought I heard someone say,
"What, a pizza wrap!"
I thought about this and enthusiastically said,
"I want a pizza wrap, too!"
Then I clearly heard the same voice innocently ask,
"What's a pizza wrap?"
Followed by hysterical laughter...

I'm still a little hungry.

True story,
happened today.

lunk
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Devilsadvocate
post Sep 5 2007, 08:28 PM
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Incidently, your avatar looks a bit like a cross-section through a human stomach...
I had to look twice before recognising it for what it is.
Must be all that stuff about eating and food.
(Actually- i'm off now; all that has given me an appetite...tongue.gif)
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lunk
post Sep 5 2007, 09:20 PM
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I tried to change it,
yet, only made it rotate
enjoy, while it's warped.

haiku
by lunk

This post has been edited by lunk: Sep 5 2007, 09:26 PM
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Devilsadvocate
post Sep 5 2007, 09:26 PM
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laughing1.gif
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lunk
post Sep 6 2007, 11:04 PM
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I got my new avatar up.
It's a picture of a carpet
from South America.
It seems to have six birds
and a ufo on it. I have no
idea what it means.

thanks, lunk
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Sinewy
post Sep 12 2007, 11:04 PM
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The Universe

What if someone said to an embryo in the womb,
“Outside of your world of black nothing
is a miraculously ordered universe;
a vast Earth covered with tasty food;
mountains, oceans and plains,
fragrant orchards and fields full of crops;
a luminous sky beyond your reach,
with a sun, moonbeams, and uncountable stars;
and there are winds from south, north and west,
and gardens replete with sweet flowers
like a banquet at a wedding feast.

The wonders of this world are beyond description.
What are you doing living in a dark prison,
Drinking blood through that narrow tube?”
But the womb- world is all an embryo knows
And it would not be particularly impressed
By such amazing tales, saying dismissively:
“You’re crazy. That is all a deluded fantasy.”


One day you will look back and laugh at yourself.
You’ll say, “ I can’t believe I was so asleep!
How did I ever forget the truth?
How ridiculous to believe that sadness and sickness
Are anything other than bad dreams.”



- Rumi
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Sinewy
post Sep 12 2007, 11:11 PM
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I throw stones at my eyes
’cause for way too long they’ve been dry
Plus they see what they shouldn’t from oppressed babies to thighs
I throw stones at my tongue
’cause it should really keep its peace
I throw stones at my feet
’cause they stray and lead to defeat
A couple of big ones at my heart
’cause the thing is freezing cold
But my ego (soul) is still alive
and kicking unstoppable and on a roll
I throw bricks at the devil so I’ll be sure to hit him
But first at the man in the mirror
so I can chase out the venom


~anonymous~
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Sinewy
post Sep 12 2007, 11:12 PM
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Love makes bitter things sweet.
Love turns copper to gold.

With love dregs settle into clarity.
With love suffering ceases.

Love brings the dead back to life.
Love transforms the King into a slave.

Love is the consummation of Gnosis.
How could a fool sit on such a throne?

- Rumi
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Sinewy
post Sep 12 2007, 11:15 PM
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Rumi Poem and Dance:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=hqhNPY882kE&mode=related&search=
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Sinewy
post Sep 12 2007, 11:18 PM
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Here is a poem by Rabi Balkhi of whom wrote with her blood prior to dying inside a prison on the wall (her brother Haris put her in prison for falling in fall with a slave called Baktash):

I am caught in love's wed so deceitful
None of my endeavors turned frauitful,
I knew not when I rode the high-blooded steed.
The harder I pulled it's reins the less it would heed.
Love is an ocean with such a vast space.
A true lover should be faithful till the end.
A face life's reprobated trend.
When you see things hideous, fancy them neat,
Eat poison but taste sugar sweet.
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Devilsadvocate
post Sep 13 2007, 08:40 PM
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Those are great- thanks, Sinewy!
It's so easy to forget that without the very principle of love,
we can easily turn into our own worst nightmare-
or else into the very thing we are trying to resist...
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Devilsadvocate
post Sep 15 2007, 02:43 PM
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Lassie Lie Near Me
(Trad)
Lang hae we parted been, lassie my dearie
Noo we are met again lassie lie near me
Near me, near me, lassie my dearie
Lang hast thou lain thy lane - lassie lie near me

Frae dread Culloden's field bloody and dreary
Mourning my country's fate lanely and weary
Weary, weary, lanely and weary
Become a sad banished wight far frae my dearie

Loud, loud the wind did roar, stormy and eerie
Far frae my native shore dangers stood near me
Near me, near me, dangers stood near me
Noo I've escaped them a', lassie lie near me

A' that I hae endured, lassie my dearie
Here in thine arms is cured, lassie lie near me
Near me, near me, lassie lie near me
Lang hast thou lain thy lane, lassie lie near me

http://www.mysongbook.de/msb/songs/l/lassieli.html

Nice version of that song found here:

http://cdbaby.com/cd/dgaughan2?cdbaby=d4db...57e5bb7d8e596d4

(Bonus-track at the bottom of the samples)
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Devilsadvocate
post Sep 18 2007, 02:54 PM
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I have added this story in order to provide the means to step back, and look at the dark side of "the American Dream" for a moment.
The idea for posting this came from this thread:

http://pilotsfor911truth.org/forum...opic=9128&st=15

We all must learn to love ourselves- as individuals and as nations.
Otherwise we will never be able to love anyone outside ourselves-
and the ultimate consequence of that could be dire.
"Loving ourselves" is not the same as "Being in love with ourselves"-
a subtle distinction, but we all fall for that on occasion:
That reflection in the mirror is there so that we can check ourselves-
not so we can think "...rrr- Handsome devil..."
It's a question of stepping back and accepting who we are- lumps and bumps and all. Forget plastic surgery- you can deal with the lumps and bumps on your skin, but all that means is that they are still there- on the inside...
And nations tend to amass a fair amount of lumps and bumps, just like any individual. They get born, they grow up, they grow old- they even die.
America has been an victim of precosity...



From versions of this story told by Dick Fool Bull at Rosebud Indian reservation, South Dakota, 1967 and 1968:

The Ghost-Dance at Wounded Knee

"This is a true story. I wish it weren't.
When it happened I was a small boy, only about six or seven. To tell the truth, I'm not sure how old I am...I was born before the census takes came in, so there's no record.
When i was a young boy, I liked to stick around my old uncle, because he always had stories to tell.
Once he said "There's something new coming, travelling on the wind...
A new dance. A new prayer..."
He was talking about Wanagi-Wachipi, the ghost-dance.
"Short Bull and Kicking Bear travelled far," my uncle told me. "They went to see a holy man from another tribe far in the south, the Piute-tribe. They had heard that this holy man could bring dead people back to life again, and that he could bring the buffalo back."
My uncle said it was very important, and that I must listen closely.
Old Unc said:
This holy man let Short Bull and Kicking Bear look into his hat. There they saw their dead relatives walking about. The holy man told them, I'll give you something to eat that will kill you, but don't be afraid. I'll bring you back to life again."
They believed him. They ate something and died, then found themselves walking in a new, beautiful land. They spoke with their parents and grandparents, and with friends that the white soldiers had killed.
Their friends were well, and this new world was like the old one, the one the white man had destroyed. It was full of game, full of antelope and buffalo. The grass was green and high, and though long dead people from other tribes also lived in this new land, there was peace. All the Indian nations formed one tribe and could understand each other.
Kicking Bear and Short Bull walked around and saw everything, and they were happy.
Then the holy man from the Piutes brought them back to life again.
"You have seen it", he told them, "the new Land I'm bringing. The earth will roll up like a blanket with all that bad white man's stuff, the fences and railroads and mines and telegraphpoles; and underneath will be our old-young Indian earth with all our relatives come to life again."
Then the holy man taught them a new dance, a new song, a new prayer.
He gave them sacred red paint. He evn made the sun die: It was all covered with black and dissappeared. Then he brought the sun back to life again.
Short Bull and Kicking Bear came back bringing us the good news. Now everywhere we are dancing this new dance to roll up the earth, to bring back the dead. A new world is coming...

This Old Unc told me.
Then I saw it myself: the dancing. People were holding each other by the hand, singing, whirling around, looking at the sun. They had a little spruce-tree in the middle of the dance circle. They wore special shirts painted with the sun, the moon, the stars and magpies. They whirled around; they didn't stop dancing.
Some of the dancers fell down in a swoon, as if they were dead. The medicine men fanned sweet-smelling cedar smoke and they came back to life again.
They told the people, "We were dead. We went to the moon and the morning star. We found our dead fathers and mothers there, and talked to them."
When they woke up, these people held in their hands star rocks, moon rocks, different kinds of rocks from those we have here on earth. They clutched strange meats from star and moon animals.
The dance leader told them not to be afraid of the white men who forbade them to dance the Wanagi-Wachipi. They told them that the ghost-shirts they wore would not let any white man's bullets through.
So they danced; I saw it.
The earth never rolled up. The buffalo never came back, and the dead relatives never came to life again.
It was the soldiers who came; why- nobody knew.
The dance was a peaceful one, harming nobody, but I guess the white people thought it was a war-dance.
Many people were afraid of what the soldiers would do. We had no guns anymore, and hardly any horses left. We depended on the white man for everything, yet the whites were afraid of us, just as we were afraid of them.
Then the news spread that Tatanka Iyotake (Sitting Bull) had been killed at Standing Rock for being with the ghost-dancers, and the people were really scared.
Some of the old people said: "Let's go to Pine Ridge and give ourselves up, because the soldiers won't shoot us if we do. Old Red Cloud will protect us. Also, they're handing out rations up there."
So my father and mother and Old Unc got the buggy and their old horse and drove with us children toward Pine Ridge. It was cold and snowing. It wasn't a happy ride; all the grown-ups were worried. Then the soldiers stopped us. They had big fur coats on, bear coats. They were warm and we were freezing, and I remember wishing I had such a coat.
They told us to go no further, to stop and make a camp right there. They told the same to everybody who came, by foot, or horse, or buggy.
So there was a camp, but little to eat and little firewood, and the soldiers made a ring around us and let nobody leave.
Then suddenly there was a strange noise, maybe four, five miles away, like the tearing of a blanket- the biggest blanket in the world.
As soon as he heard it, Old Unc burst out in tears. My old Ma started to keen as for the dead, and people were running around, weeping and acting crazy.
I asked Old Unc: "Why is everyone crying?"
He said, "They are killing them- they are killing our people over there!"
My father said, "That noise- that's not the ordinary soldier-guns. These are the big wagon-guns which tear people to bits- into little pieces!"
I could not understand it, but everybody was weeping, and I wept too.
Then a day later- or was it two...?
No, I think it was the next day, we passed there.
Old Unc said: "You children might as well see it; look and remember..."

There were dead people all over, mostly women and children, in a ravine near a stream called Chankpe-opi Wakpala, 'Wounded Knee Creek'.
The people were frozen, lying there in all sorts of postures their motion frozen too.
The soldiers, who were stacking up bodies like firewood, did not like us passing by.
They told us to leave there, double-quick or else...
Old Unc said: "We'd better do what they say right now, or we'll lie here too."
So we went on toward Pine Ridge; but I had seen...
I had seen a dead mother with her dead baby sucking at her breast.
The little baby had on a tiny beaded cap with the design of the American flag.

This post has been edited by Devilsadvocate: Sep 18 2007, 03:36 PM
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painter
post Sep 18 2007, 03:38 PM
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QUOTE (Devilsadvocate @ Sep 18 2007, 10:54 AM)
From versions of this story told by Dick Fool Bull at Rosebud Indian reservation, South Dakota, 1967 and 1968:

The Ghost-Dance at Wounded Knee
<s>

This very thing is happening right now, today, in Iraq and Afghanistan (and probably other places in the world as well). Perhaps the details are different -- but it is the same mentality, the same absence of genuine conscience, the inability to feel what we do or to identify with "the other" as actual extensions of one's self.

And if the human race doesn't stop them soon enough those of us not vaporized in the initial fire balls will be irradiated corpses, frozen for all eternity in that 'last moment'.
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Devilsadvocate
post Sep 18 2007, 03:59 PM
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Yes- I fear so.
As I said- as long as there is but one person in this world who still knows the difference between truth and lie, it can be undone.
So- we've got to make sure that there is always at least one person left...
Even in the event of the very worst possible scenario- a global, thermo-nuclear war- there would be survivors. Most of them would be too busy trying to survive physically. But all it would take would be just one- who knows how to pass on the ability to distinguish between truth and lie, reality and illusion- that which "is", and that which "is not".
A living time-capsule, so to speak.
The ancient Egyptians made sure their writings can not be lost- by placing a copy of the "Pert-em-Heru", the 'Book of the dead', into the tomb of anyone wealthy enough to afford one- there must be millions of copies still buried.
We have to make sure that there are millions of living time-capsules...
That way, there always will be at least one.
Good thing this website exists, no??? laugh.gif

PS: Living time-capsules need teachers, Painter... wink.gif

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maturin42
post Sep 19 2007, 06:06 PM
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Petraeus Reports to Congress!

Decider, decider, how goes the surge?
The month is September, your countrymen urge
You to tell of the war and when it will cease
So tell us, you promised the surge would bring peace.

“Don’t think for a minute that I am the boss.”
“Petraeus commands there, I’m at a loss
To influence these matters, it’s all up to him.
He’ll report to Congress, regardless how grim.”

Petraeus, Petraeus, enlighten us please,
Is victory near? We remain ill at ease.
“I have a new plan, that’ll carry the day
The surge is a marvel, the course I will stay."

"We “surged” thirty thousand of stalwart young men
In June, we’ll begin to remove them again."
That’s it? Are you kidding? You’re making a joke!
That’s only rotation, our Army is broke!

The Iraq war continues, and others will die,
The shame of America, built on a lie.
Anybody know why?
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Devilsadvocate
post Sep 19 2007, 07:09 PM
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...TOPS!!!

handsdown.gif




cheers.gif


Fear

When fear taps on your shoulder, man-
don't turn around, because it can
and will get straight into your heart
to take you for a ride. The part
it's mostly interested in (your will)
it wants to grab and squeeze and chill-
to stop you in your tracks, my friend,
and while you're standing at the bend
unable for to move aside
your fear will take you for a ride
to places full of ghosts and such
were it can haunt you and do much
to sap away your soul and reap
what you have planted, while the heap
it leaves you in is worthless. Man-
just leave the bugger while you can...

(W. J. B.)

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Devilsadvocate
post Sep 21 2007, 08:27 PM
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Die Gedanken sind frei:


Die Gedanken sind frei, wer kann sie erraten,
sie fliegen vorbei wie nächtliche Schatten.
Kein Mensch kann sie wissen, kein Jäger erschießen
mit Pulver und Blei: Die Gedanken sind frei!

Ich denke was ich will und was mich beglücket,
doch alles in der Still', und wie es sich schicket.
Mein Wunsch, mein Begehren kann niemand verwehren,
es bleibet dabei: Die Gedanken sind frei!

Und sperrt man mich ein im finsteren Kerker,
das alles sind rein vergebliche Werke.
Denn meine Gedanken zerreißen die Schranken
und Mauern entzwei, die Gedanken sind frei!

Drum will ich auf immer den Sorgen entsagen
und will mich auch nimmer mit Willen verklagen.
Man kann ja im Herzen stets lachen und scherzen
und denken dabei: Die Gedanken sind frei!

Ich liebe den Wein, mein Mädchen vor allen,
sie tut mir allein am besten gefallen.
Ich bin nicht alleine bei meinem Glas Weine,
mein Mädchen dabei: Die Gedanken sind frei!


Translation:

(The thoughts are free, who can ever guess them?
They just fly by like nocturnal shadows.
No man can know them, no hunter can shoot them,
with powder and lead: The thoughts are free!

I think what I want, and what makes me happy,
but always discretely, and as it is suitable.
My wish and desire, no one can deny me
and so it will always be: The thoughts are free!

And if I am thrown into the darkest dungeon,
all this would be effortless work,
because my thoughts tear all gates
and walls apart. The thoughts are free!

So I will renounce my sorrows forever,
and never again feel guilty for my will.
In one's heart, one can always laugh and joke
and think at the same time: The thoughts are free!

I love the wine, and my girl even more,
Only I like her best of all.
I'm not alone with my glass of wine,
my girl is with me: The thoughts are free! )


This is a German folk-song, dating to the 1840's;
banned on more than one occasion,
it has also served people as a reminder to one of
the most fundamental principles in existance-
on more than one occasion:
No one can ever forbid you to think for yourself...

"Reserve your right to think- for even if your thoughts are erroneous,
it is better to make mistakes then not to think at all"

(Hypathia of Alexandria- one of the last keepers at the great library
of Alexandria, 4th. century CE)
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Devilsadvocate
post Sep 22 2007, 10:51 PM
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Questionmark:

There once was a man who was full of despair-
his heart had been broken. He sat on his chair
and kept thinking 'Dear god- does it have to be me?
I have done nothing wrong- what's the point-don't you see?'

The question kept flying around in his head
until he did wish he was already dead;
When that didn't work, he went upstairs to sleep,
he kept tossing and turning and tried to count sheep.

Next morning, the question had not dissappeared-
still there, and much stronger than ever he feared:
He looked at his hands and woke up. "What is that?"-
for right there, in his hands, was a thing- round and flat.

It looked like a sickle- a handle, a blade;
the man was not sure of what stuff it was made.
He got out of bed, left the house, and went on
to talk to the priest at the church of St. John.

The priest told him all he did know about god,
and about mortal sin, and the devil: Of fraud
and deception, of angels and Saints and of such-
but non of that helped him along very much.

So he left the church, and went on down the road,
'til he came to the government-palace. He thought
"Maybe they know a little bit more about this".
So he asked "Could I speak to the President, please?"

The President talked of political things-
of communists, fascists and Dominos. Rings
which held down the nation like shackles and such-
but non of that helped him along very much.

Another bit further, he took a right turn,
'til he got to a building which looked like an urn
which people keep ashes in. Outside, it said
on a sign: "Department of fear"- in blood-red.

Inside was a General, who told him of threats:
Of scary things: Enemies- fascists and reds;
of people who want to invade and of such;
but non of that helped him along very much.

And finally, he did arrive at the park;
He strolled down a path, while the song of a lark
did accompany him. He was tired of all
and just wanted to sit on a bench, near the wall.

He sat and did notice a woman: Right there;
She seemed lost in thought, he did notice. Her hair
did cover her eyes, so that she could not see
that he sat beside her. He thought "Who is she?"

And then he did notice that in her right hand
she held a familiar object: The land-
and the whole world seemed to dance round in a twirl
'til she noticed him. "Are you alright?", said the girl.

He silently held up his own question-mark;
then she held up hers. The song of the lark
it was still in the air- as they took the two things
and held them together. They looked just like wings...


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Devilsadvocate
post Sep 26 2007, 12:26 AM
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THE RAMBLING ROVER


(Refrain)
Oh there's sober men and plenty,
and drunkards barely twenty.
There are men of over ninety,
that have never yet kissed a girl.
But give me a rambling Rover,
frae Orkney doon to Dover.
We will roam the country over,
And together we'll face the world.

There's many that seek enjoyment,
From merciless employment.
Their ambition was this deployment,
From the minute they left the school.
And they save and scrape and ponder,
While the rest go out and squander.
See the world and rove and wander,
And they're happier as a rule.

I have roamed through all the nations,
And delight in all creations.
I enjoyed a wee sensation,
Where the company did prove kind.
And when parting was no pleasure,
I've drunk another measure,
Tae the good friends that we treasure,
For they always are in our mind.

If you're bent with "arthuritis",
and your bowels have got colitis,
you've got galloping bollockitis,
and you're thinking, it's time you died!
If you've been a man of action,
and you're lying there in traction,
you will gain some satisfaction,
thinking - Jesus, at least I tried!


(Scottish Trad.)

Hehe...Just couldn't resist this... laugh.gif
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