LOVE "IS" SACRED
most of love is mis understood
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LOVE "IS" SACRED
most of love is mis understood
From a different time:
Totality, life's propensity whispers
Uncertainty, precursor to seizures
Convulsions, of languishing and
Asphyxiation, the muting of my
Wants, battling for smiles that
Taunt, tease the ache they
Embed, your love I'll then
Retread, your heart I'd
Captivate, your lips
Incapacitate, love,
Eternally you
Have me.
I was 15 and had fallen in love with a dear friend of mine ....
A friendship I cherished so much and didn't want to lose.
~
He came, we talked
I said "I love my freedom"
it sounded weak.
He agreed, his eyes
catching a fight inside me.
I won this time,
but what if
next time and I am weak
and under those eyes
I can't hold back that howling coyote
Greetings
I write lyrics...and would like to share a song written back in the early 90's... http://www.leftydave.com/How-Long.wma
1.
I see the repression
most of our freedom lost
The price of our obsessions
Are much too high a cost
Can't you feel the anger?
Can't you see the hate?
I can tell we're in danger
I just pray it's not too late
(Bridge)
Most of us know what's right..
and most of us know what's wrong
The question I invite...
how long can this go on?
(Chorus)
I've heard about heaven
but I don't think I'm goin' there
till that kingdom will be here
And I've heard about hades..
but I don't think I'm goin there
might be making my own hell right here
2
I see the extinction
brought on by these hands
That hold the distinction
of the most fearsome in all the lands
One could draw the conclusion
Our eyes must be blind
And the worst pollution
Is in our minds
(Bridge)
(Chorus)
Now I see the suffering
and I feel the pain
I don't see any recovering
while we keep acting the same
Folks are dying of hunger
Living in defeat
It was far away when I was younger
Now it's just down the street
(Bridge)
(Chorus)
Blessings
Lefty, that is very beautiful. It IS hard to feel the pain and move forward. But after a while it just gives one strength to carry on for the greater good; Life. Thank you.
Deaux, and Lefty, Thanks for all the new shares. and Val, love that you liked the film. I had a hard time understanding how it was even made, the camera, and crew, and so on. it looked like it just happened naturally.
Musings from my alter-ego... many moons ago
A bushel of oranges once said
How we wish we were dead!
Is there not more like us?
We're All There Is
Why even fuss?
So the oranges hemmed and hawed
And searched the trees
Prayed to God, got on their knees
Oh Lord, is there Something More?
Groves of oranges we implore!
Well... just one more orange?
We humbly peep
To throw upon our modest heap?
When no answer came
From God Within
They realized Yang was really Yin
The oranges came upon the only cure
That which rendered infinity pure
Faith we'll have in One More Orange
Faith we'll have in Something More
Woe O Oranges!
The tempest be:
We're All There Is!
No! Faith, dear friends, is Something More!
Yin and Yang live next door
Ah! Then despite knowing the painful lore
Faith we'll have in one more orange!
Then may we fuss and say
We're not All There Is!
There's Something More across the way!
Faith and Eternity came to stay
And a numbing calm befell the day
Until...
To All's surprise
Amid the dream of Something More
They came... upon... one...more....orange!
In spite of the painful lore!
(And Yin and Yang, who lived next door)
Alas! There's one more orange upon our heap!
All There Is and Something More!
Yin and Yang live next door!
Faith restored!
Nary a ruse!
One More Orange!
We paid our dues!
And the bushel of oranges
Sang and danced
And came upon a new romance
Until one cleaver young orange declared
Why, nothing's changed!
We're still All There Is!
Just re-arranged!
Isn't there anymore like us?
We're All There Is...
Why even fuss?
Reality Be All There Is
Faith is Something More
And Yin and Yang, who live next door....
^^^ Dear Mr. Smith,
There IS one more 'Orange'
Who lives next door
With the Yin and the Yang
Cleaning the White House
While he's having the floor!
;)
Bump
Bump bumpity bump
bump, bump
BUMP!
bump bump bump
Edit: don';t be shy, pile on in with abandon
One of my poems about being sleepless....
Taut
Like fabric bleached out by
the harsh southern suns,
fibres weak and lax –
a body without the taut, tight
bounce of “new”
A dull, slow exhaustion lies
at the base of my skull
spreading eager fingers down my neck
and pounding, grinding heels into the
space that is me
And the energy leaches
out through the frayed
edges of my mind;
drifting away like so much sand
in a desolate land
Awake at 16:
Your Black gaze
And your echo eyes
Oh I know you
And the rest of your kind
Running on,
Like you own us too
I am free
I can’t say the same about you
Another one:
Luck of the draw
Five black stars from the other side
Five black hearts running wild
Deal the cards, shake the dice
Pray for luck and your soul will fly
Six long years to the capitalist tsar
Six short nights in the hospital
Risk all for money, but nothing for love
Pray for luck or your soul will cry
Seven gold locks to keep them out
Seven white birds to show the way
Choose your mistress: fate or desire
Pray for love or your soul will die
One morning, aged 24, I woke up with this entire poem in my head. I wrote it all down straight away.
I didn't even know that 'Xenophon' was a real name in ancient Greece. It means "man with a strange voice".
It's not Shakespeare, Byron or Tennyson. :) But I do think it's really quite good. I can feel emotional about parts of it, even now — particularly the very poignant final verse.
~~~
Xenophon
Long ago, in ancient Troy,
Lived Xenophon, a mighty man
With strength of arm and fleet of mind,
Quick to smile and quick to laugh,
A noble soul with many friends.
But Xenophon, the wandering kind,
Tired easily of the life of Troy.
Though affluent and comfortable,
He knew the Gods called him to stray.
He bade farewell to kindred spirits,
Those fellow men who'd been so close,
With whom he'd shared a hundred tales
Of life and death and high adventure
On the seas and on the hills,
Upon the plains of Dardanelle,
And mongst the Graecian islands.
And Xenophon did travel far,
To Carthage and to Sicily,
To Ararat and Santorin.
His restless search and driving spirit
Delivered him to many lands,
To many folk, who welcomed him,
This mighty man who had no home,
But that which none could take away:
The knowledge and the certainty
That life was short but life was good,
And armed with Trojan aretê
He passionately told his tale,
Teaching people who would listen
Of virtue and of excellence,
Of nature's law and destiny,
Of friendship and of love.
The months went by and many times
The Gods did smile on Xenophon.
This warrior rode many storms,
His ship proved strong, his instincts sharp.
Though often he was close to death
He fought as only warriors do:
With knowledge and with furious skill
He had his will and journeyed on.
His sword was edged with steel faith,
And Xenophon was never lost.
But neither was he on his own,
For others of his ilk would come
To talk with him, such was his fame
Among those distant foreign lands.
He found that he had many brothers
But never found his woman.
A woman! How can man be free
To love the earth from which he's born,
And yet not feel that vital passion
For a soulmate and companion
Who would share in every venture,
A fellow-warrior, no less,
Who'd know the secrets of his mind
That Xenophon could not reveal,
Who'd know of life, who'd know of death,
The seas, the hills, the Gods, the sword,
But who would love him through and through
And stand by him upon the deck,
Though stormbound and close to the rocks
Armed with the faith of Xenophon,
Their courage and their vision shared -
But this was not to be.
Six years was this hero gone,
Departed from the shores of Troy.
Blown by wester winds, his ship
Had taken Xenophon to Crete.
And there he walked upon the beach
To find a maiden, pure and fair
Who gave him food and wine to drink.
She bathed his wounds and let him sleep,
And later bade him tell his tale.
In this woman's arms, he lay,
And told her of his travels far,
His knowledge and his wisdom gained,
His message from the Gods and how
He knew the way his life must be.
With gentle voice she made reply;
Her words were brief, yet full with strength
And Xenophon, the mighty, knew
That he was understood.
And was this noble journey ended?
This odyssey of earth and fire
Could never end, but on those sands
Fine Xenophon knew love for once;
And naked in his passion saw
What he had sought for many years,
Yet never had he truly known
The real nature of the force
That drove him on relentlessly,
Riding the chariot of fate
Drawn by the horses of the Gods.
He saw it clearly, then, and knew
His destiny. The song he sang
Was loud and strong, and even though
His maiden's music was supreme
He went upon his way.
Now gone the days of Xenophon,
And other mighty wandering souls.
Their ghosts remain to haunt the world,
Their Gods, long dead, now smile no more.
But Xenophon must be immortal!
His presence dwells in each of us.
Though no-one now can sing his song,
We still have ears with which to hear...
Should I choose to sing my song,
When my slumbering spirit awakes within me,
May I find my gentle maiden,
To sail my ship in stormy weather,
Know the mysteries of my mind.
We shall sing our song together
And ride our chariot of fate
Before we go upon our way.
:flower:
We're going
Are you coming?
Here we come
There we go
Going up
http://img-aws.ehowcdn.com/877x500p/...a7dec1261ae014
BILL quite an amazing tale, very visual and at 24 years old pretty visual, imaginative and well told. Had a Jason and the Argonauts feel to it .
Its not a Bryon or Tenneson,
its a Ryan ...
and thanks Val! yes indeed
Our dog got run down when I was 10...
Little Dog
Narrow Street
Fast Car
Sausage Meat
I still Miss Biffo
x
scotland/ sad at any age, but at 10, sad
Dear Doug, I only just saw this reply! I am only just learning how to navigate this site. I do not know the film...but we have a lot of wild towns in Aus:)
An experiment in writing a sonnet from some years ago:
Sonnet: Strings
Six narrow men plot pow’r and dark control;
hands deftly – so softly – pull puppet strings
of nations, markets and the web of things
to leave us lost with no choices at all.
And children line up at their classroom doors;
daily drug fix guaranteed to enthral.
While parents’ self-assault loses it all;
forgetting guilt with Prozac, hiding more.
And war is an industry, growing fast:
profits returned slyly to men of “grace”
never called to account in public space
for our lives, hopes, and dreams – all battle lost.
What world is this where good are yoked for bad?
We have stopped thinking and now must be mad.