Lifedance
Lifedance
Bukowski, Charles.
The area dividing the brain and the soul
Is affected in many ways by experience --
Some lose all mind and become soul:
insane.
Some lose all soul and become mind:
intellectual.
Some lose both and become:
accepted.
Coffee At Noon
My new friend, At the coffee house
Green eyes, the angels desire
Pink lips, the roses blush.
Smile, the essence of a child
A suprise call, An invitation
Rearranged my noon for this friend
Not another moment I would wait
To see the person I read everynight.
A wonderful delight, Meeting her
Forgetting the world around me
Time stops not for her or I
Leave with a hope to see her again
Humor and Rumor
I'm just a Rumor spread by Humor .
Knowing Humor is all that will remain.
Our Own Creation
Our success or failure, happiness or misery, depends upon what we seek and what we choose. We are nothing more and nothing else than the figment of our own creation.
Your Arms In Mine
Held her tight on the couch,
Took a long look into her eyes.
A smile running up her lips,
How much she wanted to cuddle.
The thoughts in her head,
All empty and a lot scary.
Her eyes strayed and rested on mine,
Never felt closer to a man.
I took her arm in mine,
Held her closer sending down a shiver.
Her eyes rolled back and then shut
Her lips inching closer to mine
She held on tight, with all her might.
Lest her grip may fail.
She smiled and let it say all.
Together we held love within.
Tomorrow and Today
Life is today, what it may not be tomorrow,
But what is tomorrow is upto you.
For every action that reflects today,
There is a thought that reflects tomorrow.
Bring closer your tomorrow,
For a better today.
What is love?
What is love?
Tell me baby now!
When you claim it's love
That you have for me!
Your palms sweat, your heart racing,
It isn't love, its affection.
You can't keep your eyes or hands off of me,
It isn't love, its lust.
You want me because you know I'll be there,
It isn't love, its loneliness.
You tell me every day they I am the only one,
It isn't love, its a lie.
You say you will give up everything for me,
It isn't love, its charity.
Love quotes it all
Learnt from love
For have loved and lost
But kept love intact
What is love?
You know now!
When you claim that its love
Look to the ones who have loved
I , You, You and Me
I make You feel young again,
You make Me trust love again,
I make You feel love agian,
You make Me believe agian.
Riddles and Rhymes
Riddles and Rhymes
In our heads
Riddles and Rhymes
In our hearts
To tell more I desire
Words sheilded by a mind
Slave to the Unknown
Wandering for truth
Peace I find in your arms
A smile to brighten a day
A kiss to brighten a soul
The devil keeps good away
Riddles and Rhymes
In our heads
Riddles and Rhymes
In our hearts
To show more I desire
Feelings sheilded by thoughts
Slave to the heart
Wandering for love
A Surprise Meeting
This is a strange feeling .
Do you feel this way too?
We find ourselves telling each other,
The deepest details of our lives.
Things we don't even share with our friends.
So who are you? and who am I?
A confidant? A lover? A shoulder to cry on?
A ear to listen? A heart to feel?
I can be all of these and even more.
No matter where we met, no matter how long ,
You have become a part of my life .
You have walked a while with me.
You have talked your heart out to me.
Did you wish to hold on to me?
I'm happy with how its turned out so far.
I am scared to take it any far,
Are you scared as I am?
Friday The 13th
Today
Another year
Another friday
Another 13th
Ah yes again
Finally
The day I hold
The day that brings fear
The day I conquer
Ah yes again
Kingdom
Rise again
Two worlds unite
I take the throne
Ah yes again
Dancing With The Gods
Dance not to the steps of fate,
Let not hate play ,
Its favoured flute.
Sing out from the mind,
Rule out the odds,
Roam the distance.
Dance not to the tune of fear,
let out all here,
Rise above the stars.
You are there ,
Near to where belongs,
The gods by your side.
Reversed and Wicked, Twisted
Twisted:
Our games
Our lives
Our goals
Wicked:
Our views
Our desires
Our questions
Reversed:
Our domains
Our skills
Our tasks
A Caution To Everybody - Ogden Nash
A Caution To Everybody
Ogden Nash
Consider the auk;
Becoming extinct because he forgot how to fly, and could only walk.
Consider man, who may well become extinct
Because he forgot how to walk and learned how to fly before he thinked.
Summer Gloom
Is it that time of the year?
Or is it just in my head.
Everyone around me seems to in gloom,
Just smiling at me being all silly.
Everyone is rushing and stressing,
Am I missing someting?
Is it that time of the year?
Or is it just in my head.
Cost of Sleep
Sleep is a good deal like money.
The more we have of it,
The more we seem to want.
Truth In Lies
To create a favourable impression, it is not necessary that certain things should be true, just that they have to be said. The truth is always one thing, but in a way there is another, the lie, It shows what people's hearts crave.
Choice and Destiny
Destiny, she said is her name
Funny.
Choice , She said is her game
Funny.
Destiny , I said is the game.
No one Laugh.
Choice , I said is the name
No one Fear.
Your Love So Divine
You shine like the morning sun
Beautiful as the starlit sky
Your love for me unrivalled
Your touch unparalleled
You will always be mine
No matter where you reside
This cruel world will not let me unmask your face
For faith, I hide mine behind the two face
My dream girl my love
Hold me tight tonight
Death Stalks Poets ?
Verse Writers Die Younger Than Other Writers
By Daniel DeNoon
WebMD Medical News Reviewed By Charlotte Grayson, MD
on Thursday, December 11, 2003
All eager-lipped I kissed the mouth of Death.
-- U.S. poet Gwendolyn B. Bennett
Dec. 11, 2003 -- Death is drawn more to poetry than to other forms of writing, an intriguing study finds.
Poets die sooner than playwrights. Playwrights die sooner than novelists. And novelists die sooner than nonfiction writers, according to a study by James C. Kaufman, PhD, of California State University. The study appears in the November issue of Death Studies.
Kaufman combed through biographical references to come up with birth and death dates for writers in four different cultures: North America, China, Turkey, and Eastern Europe. The data spans millennia -- one Turkish writer was born in the year 390. Kaufman made an effort to control for the fact that life spans have increased over time and across cultures.
"Both male and female poets had the shortest life spans of all four types of writers, and poets had the shortest life spans in three of the four cultures," Kaufman says in a news release. "Only in Eastern Europe did poets squeak past playwrights by a few months, and that difference was not statistically significant."
Why might poets die sooner?
"Some of the reasons why poets have [been] found to be more likely to suffer from mental illness ... may also be applicable to why poets are more likely to die young," Kaufman writes. "Poetry may appeal to people who are more likely to be self-destructive."
But there's also a more prosaic explanation, Kaufman acknowledges. Poets tend to achieve fame earlier than other kinds of writers. That puts them in the history books at a younger age -- and gives them a better chance of being young when they die.
Kaufman, however, prefers the explanation that fiction writers die younger because fiction is lonely work. Playwrights interact with directors and actors; journalists must interview and interact with newsmakers. Fiction writers have only the blank page.
"This study may reinforce the idea of poets being surrounded by an aura of doom, even compared with others who may pick up a pen and paper for other purposes," Kaufman concluded. "It is hoped that the data presented here will help poets and mental health professionals find ways to lessen what appears to be a negative impact of writing poetry on mortality and health."
In Memory Of Love
Remember the time
When we departed,
The days were so long;
Silent night all along
Lonliness and love songs;
You know with whom it belong?
Remember the days
When I loved you
The first time I fell in love;
My heart had a reason to follow
Swearing heaven up above
That this heart beat is yours from now.
Remember the days
When we were together
I realised its your flair;
For making me aware
That how much you care
For me and the thoughts we share.
Remember the days
When I missed you
The meaning of love I could learn
When you'r absence made me concerned
And I was waiting for you to return
As I started loving you more than anyone.
Have you ever been this way?
Have you ever been this way?
Loving strangers more,
Than those near you.
Have you ever been this way?
Knowing right from wrong,
yet choosing wrong.
Have you ever been this way?
Being in full control,
Not knowing what you are doing.
Have you ever been this way?
Listening and watching,
Letting nothing go to your head.
Have you ever been this way?
Creative and artistic,
An empty canvas, waiting for you to paint.
