Showing posts with label Wisdom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wisdom. Show all posts

Saturday, January 26, 2013

Pity

Celebrity - scarlett johansson Wallpaper

Oh do not Pity me because I gave
My heart, when lovely April with a gust,
Swept down the singing lanes with a cool wave;
And do not pity me because I thrust
Aside your love that once burned as a flame.
I was as thirsty as a windy flower
That bares its bosom to the summer shower
And to the unremembered winds that came.

Pity me most, for moments yet to be,
In the far years, when some day I shall turn
Toward this strong path up to our little door
And find it barred to all my ecstasy.
No sound of your warm voice the winds have borne-
Only the crying sea upon the shore.

(By Harold Vinal)

Photo: Scarlett Johansson
Unknown Photographer

Photo Via: French Toast Sunday

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

The Future Says:



Dear mortals;
I know you are busy with your colourful lives;
I have no wish to waste the little time that remains
On arguments and heated debates;
But before I can appear
Please, close your eyes, sit still
And listen carefully
To what I am about to say;
I haven't happened yet, but I will.
I can't pretend it's going to be
Business as usual.
Things are going to change.
I'm going to be unrecognisable.
Please, don't open your eyes, not yet.
I'm not trying to frighten you.
All I ask is that you think of me
Not as a wish or a nightmare, but as a story
You have to tell yourselves -
Not with an ending
In which everyone lives happily ever after,
Or a B-movie apocalypse,
But maybe starting with the line
'To be continued...'
And see what happens next.
Remember this; I am not
Written in stone
But in time - 
So please don't shrug and say
What can we do?
It's too late, etc, etc, etc.
Dear mortals,
You are such strange creatures
With your greed and your kindness,
And your hearts like broken toys;
You carry fear with you everywhere
Like a tiny god
In its box of shadows.
You love festivals and music
And good food.
You lie to yourselves
Because you're afraid of the dark.
But the truth is: you are in my hands
And I am in yours.
We are in this together,
Face to face and eye to eye;
We're made for each other.
Now those of you who are still here;
Open your eyes and tell me what you see.” 

Poem by Nick Drake

Art Name: No-Ticia
By Delacruz-Art
Via: Deviant Art

The Numbers Game



Artist: Thievery Corporation 



I'm talking people about the same old game

Their running them numbers and the winners never change
The dice is loaded, the deck is stacked
The game itself will hold you back


Don't be in the dark all by yourself

Don't play the hand that the dealer has dealt
We're cashing out 'cause it's time to sell
Taking back the power, gonna share that wealth
Come on now


I'm talking people about respect

Baby you can't win when you place that bet, come on now
The dice is loaded, the deck is stacked
The game itself will surely hold you back


Check out your mind and don't be blind

To the numbers game
Check out your mind and don't be blind
To the numbers game

Friday, January 11, 2013

The Violet



Down in a green and shady bed,
   A modest violet grew,
Its stalk was bent, it hung its head,
   As if to hide from view.

And yet it was a lovely flower,
   Its colours bright and fair;
It might have graced a rosy bower,
   Instead of hiding there,

Yet there it was content to bloom,
   In modest tints arrayed;
And there diffused its sweet perfume,
   Within the silent shade.

Then let me to the valley go,
   This pretty flower to see;
That I may also learn to grow
   In sweet humility.

(By Jane Taylor)

Friday, December 14, 2012

“I Have Not Lived In Vain”

GoldenpathMsOne-1.jpg Golden path
 © MsOne


I have not lived in vain, if one of men, 
Who trod the earth and breathed the air with me, 
Have felt the touch of man's divinity 
From God through me, and learned to hope again. 
And yet once more, I have not lived in vain 
If, barren here, I have gathered into me 
Seed that shall ripen in eternity. 
Fruit to mature, and buds to blossom, then. 
Therefore I pray that God would fill my soul 
Full of the might and splendour of His grace. 
That I may journey toward Him not alone. 
But that full many another of His own 
May travel with me, and at last the whole 
Of all mankind may see revealed His face.

Poem by: Alec de Candole


Photo's Name: Golden Path
By MsOne
Via: 1x

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

The Means To Attain Happy Life



MARTIAL, the things that do attain  
  The happy life be these, I find:—  
The richesse left, not got with pain;  
  The fruitful ground, the quiet mind;  
 
The equal friend; no grudge, no strife;
  No charge of rule, nor governance;  
Without disease, the healthful life;  
  The household of continuance;  
 
The mean diet, no delicate fare;  
  True wisdom join’d with simpleness;
The night dischargèd of all care,  
  Where wine the wit may not oppress.  
 
The faithful wife, without debate;  
  Such sleeps as may beguile the night:  
Contented with thine own estate
  Ne wish for death, ne fear his might.  

Poem by: Henry Howard,
Earl Of Surrey
(1516-47)

Art: Breath Of Life
By MoonSongWolf
Via: Deviant Art

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

My Crown Is Called: Deceit



I twist the truth,
I rule the world,
My crown is called deceit
I am the emperor of lies,
You grovel at my feet
I rob you and I slaughter you,
Your downfall is my gain
And still you play the sycophant
And revel in my pain
And all my promises are lies,
All my love is hate
I am the politician,
And I decide your fate

Song: Orgasmatron
Band: MotorHead
Art by: Khannea SunTzu

Tuesday, October 02, 2012

I Miss You



"Darkness isn't the absence of light... It's the absence of you."

By Kokoszkaa
Image via: "Deviant Art"

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Weep No More



Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan,
Sorrow calls no time that 's gone:
Violets pluck'd, the sweetest rain
Makes not fresh nor grow again.
Trim thy locks, look cheerfully;
Fate's hid ends, eyes cannot see.
Joys as winged dreams fly fast,
Why should sadness longer last?
Grief is but a wound to woe;
Gentlest fair, mourn, mourn no more.


By John Fletcher
(1579-1625)

Thursday, September 27, 2012

When We Two Parted



When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow–
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o’er me–
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well: –
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met–
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.


(Lord Byron)

Image: Doomed Love
By ~BlackNight-DarkSky
Via: Deviant Art

Monday, September 17, 2012

You Learn



After a while you learn the subtle difference 
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts 
And presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats 
With your head up and your eyes open 
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today 
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans 
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn… 
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul, 
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure…
That you really are strong
And you really do have worth…
And you learn and learn…
With every good-bye you learn.

(Argentine poet Jorge Luis Borges, on love and loss)

Friday, September 14, 2012

Ophelia's Song



With rushes wrapped around thy head like nature’s crown,
Perchance to dream, perchance to drown
In waters of thine essence own,
Thy brother hath thy lips instead
Of he who holds thy spirit fast
With fragrant kisses now long past
And nothing lies between thy legs
To blossom.

As like from bed thou dost appear with fallen gown
Perchance to dream, perchance to drown
Beneath the weeping willow tree.
The soul doth shift from easy grace
When once devoted lovers part.
A floral dirge becomes thine art
For nothing lies within thy heart
To blossom.

(Poem by: Alexandra Lucas)

Photo’s Name: Ophelia
By Matthieu Soudet
Via: Pixoto

Monday, August 27, 2012

Evermore



I am tears withheld, and never cried,
A demon, ostensibly dignified,
A vessel for dreams that might have been,
Stifled as they slowly died.

I am poignant promises, unkept,
A dream of hope, killed as it slept,
A hushed scream in the cold, dead night,
A walking corpse for whom none have wept.

I’m the rotting shell of a broken man,
The longing flesh of an unheld hand,
The product of loving, too long alone,
An ocean of grief with nowhere to land.

I am all of these things, and more,
Unbearable sadness, unadored,
A grieving, penitent poet penning
His ever-silent score.


(By SecretedSins)

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Que Sera, Sera



Que Sera, Sera
I asked the Great Unknown
What will we be.
Will we ever grow to be good and gracious souls?
And this is what was said,
Que sera, sera
Whatever will be will be
When you, my child are awed by the sight of a beautiful butterfly.
When the sound of a bird chirping gives your heart flight.
When you embrace a newborn baby and the whole world seems right.
Perhaps then will you be grown.
When the magnificence of the human potential gives you cause to marvel.
When you are stunned by the horrors perpetrated upon humankind by mankind.
And you worry for the generations that will follow.
Perhaps then will you be grown.
When you shake the notion that you are not where you thought you'd be at this time in your life.
When you wish things would have turned out differently.
When you ask yourself, 'are you still a dreamer'?
When you question if you are still passionate about your passions.
Perhaps then will you be grown.
I asked the Great Unknown
What will we be
Will we ever grow to be smart and truly generous of spirit?
And this is what was said,
Que sera, sera
Whatever will be will be
When you face yourself and see yourself for all that you are.
When you ask yourself if you are idealistic.
When you look deep inside and question if the naivete' of your youth has been obliterated by the realities you've witnessed.
When you ask yourself if you could do it all over again, would you do it the same way?
Or if your heart weighs heavily for the sadness in the world around you.
When you are truly concerned about those less fortunate than you.
When being concerned is not enough anymore.
Perhaps then will you be grown.
When you decide that there is no excuse for hunger and homelessness, or apathy and disgust and a lack of justice.
When watching the evening news and feeling sad doesn't change a thing.
When you take your frustration, your anger, your sense of right and actually do something of worth for the betterment of others.
When you face that we have become what we detest and positively turn it around.
When you no longer ask yourself, "What are we to do," but instead do something.
When man's inhumanity to man is intolerable and you face it and change it.
Perhaps then will you be grown.
When instead of fearing our children will inherit the ills of the world, you make certain they won't.
When you become the best you can be instead of wondering if you are the best you can be.
When you become responsible for your actions and stop using Proverbs to make excuses for you.
When you realize it is not the meek that will inherit the world but those who work to make the world a better place for all of humankind.
When you toss in the trash the foolish notion that might over right is what we sought.
Perhaps then will you be grown.
I asked the Great Unknown
What will we be
Will we ever grow to be kind and deserving?
And this is what was said,
Que sera, sera
Whatever will be will be
When you, my young one will no longer be destined to repeat the mistakes of our past.
When you feel no longer helpless to change that which we despise.
When instead of asking how do we teach our children to be better people, more patient individuals, more inclined to listen, to be thinking, kind persons, we show them by example.
When we stop asking what became of civility and actually become more civil.
Perhaps then will you be grown.
When we start listening to each other again.
Not just polite inattentive listening, but truly interested, honestly conversing and sharing the experience listening.
When we stop bickering and finding fault with one another.
When we support each other again.
When we become tolerant of others, their beliefs, their concepts, and
their faiths.
When we stop being so self-righteous, so above every one else.
Perhaps then will you be grown.
When we respect each other and protect one another.
When we no longer turn and walk away when there's a scuffle in the street, a spouse doing harm to the other, or even worse, a parent to a child.
When we realize we're all in this together.
When we begin to talk to one another again.
When we realize someone else's opinion does count.
When we understand that we are no better than anyone else?
Perhaps then will you be grown.
When we realize our laws of our land aren't the laws of the world.
When we understand that there is more than one religion.and for some, more than one God.
When we grasp that our ethic is not the only ethic that matters and that others don't hate us because we love freedom, but perhaps because we're just belligerent.
When we exhibit a willingness to learn and study the truth for ourselves.
When we refuse to be led as sheep allowing ourselves to believe the unbelievable, the incomprehensible.
When we learn to question.
Perhaps then will you be grown.
I asked the Great Unknown
What will we be
Will we ever grow to be intellectually wise and truly loving?
And this is what was said,
Que sera, sera
Whatever will be will be
When you realize we are not destined to become what we've detested.
When you comprehend that you can control your destiny.
When you know you are not helpless to defend the defensible.
And that we are not expendable extras on the world stage -
That we're not just along for the ride.
Perhaps then will you be grown.
Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be

By Norma Sherry
Monday, Sep 20, 2004


Tuesday, August 07, 2012

Call It Democracy





Padded with power here they come
International loan sharks backed by the guns
Of market hungry military profiteers
Whose word is a swamp and whose brow is smeared
With the blood of the poor
Who rob life of its quality
Who render rage a necessity
By turning countries into labour camps
Modern slavers in drag as champions of freedom
Sinister cynical instrument
Who makes the gun into a sacrament --
The only response to the deification
Of tyranny by so-called "developed" nations'
Idolatry of ideology
North, south, east, west
Kill the best and buy the rest
It's just spend a buck to make a buck
You don't really give a flying fuck
About the people in misery
IMF dirty MF
Takes away everything it can get
Always making certain that there's one thing left
Keep them on the hook with insupportable debt
See the paid-off local bottom feeders
Passing themselves off as leaders
Kiss the ladies shake hands with the fellows
Open for business like a cheap bordello
And they call it democracy
And they call it democracy
And they call it democracy
And they call it democracy
See the loaded eyes of the children too
Trying to make the best of it the way kids do
One day you're going to rise from your habitual feast
To find yourself staring down the throat of the beast
They call the revolution
IMF dirty MF
Takes away everything it can get
Always making certain that there's one thing left
Keep them on the hook with insupportable debt

By Bruce Cockburn

Monday, July 23, 2012

Beauty



Beauty is borne in much more than one form.
Outside convention, to which features conform,
Lies beauty that light waves never weave —
That absent the mind, no eye might perceive.


Beauty may rest in a hot, heaving chest,
In the rise and fall of pendulous breasts,
In a tangled mane of sweat-matted hair,
A blood-soaked infant’s first breath of air.


Beauty may hide beneath teary eyes,
‘Neath sob-skewed features that can’t disguise
Pain eons’ passing might never allay,
In the depth of love that such grief displays.


Beauty may be bred of self-sacrifice,
Of a cause so great, one lays down his life
Thinking only of those his death may save,
In the hope sowed ‘round a hero’s grave.


Beauty may rise from the direst of needs,
The greatest wrongs, the blackest of deeds,
For adversity’s the seed of new starts
By which hope and strength take root in a heart.


Beauty’s variety is vast, untold,
If we can but be aware to behold —
True beauty, so rare for eyes to see,
Is common to a mind that perceives.

(By SecretedSins)