All U Need is Love...

All U Need is Love...

For decades,

l thought love was on the outside.

l would give love ...

Then one day,

l wondered why it wasnt working...

Ding!

l had it the wrong way around.

BIRD FEEDER.

I bought a bird feeder. I hung it on my back porch and filled it with seed. Within a week we had hundreds of birds taking advantage of the continuous flow of free and easily accessible food. But then the birds started building nests in the boards of the patio, above the table, and next to the barbecue. Then came the poop. It was everywhere: on the patio tile, the chairs, the table...everywhere. Then some of the birds turned mean: They would dive bomb me and try to peck me even though I had fed them out of my own pocket. Others birds were boisterous and loud. They sat on the feeder and squawked and screamed at all hours of the day and night and demanded that I fill it when it got low on food. After a while, I couldn't even sit on my own back porch anymore. I took down the bird feeder and in three days the birds were gone. I cleaned up their mess and took down the many nests they had built all over the patio. Soon, the back yard was like it used to be...quiet, serene and no one demanding their rights to a free meal. Now lets see...our government gives out free food, subsidized housing, free medical care, free education and allows anyone born here to be an automatic citizen. Then the illegals came by the tens of thousands. Suddenly our taxes went up to pay for free services; small apartments are housing 5 families: you have to wait 6 hours to be seen by an emergency room doctor: your child's 2nd grade class is behind other schools because over half the class doesn't speak English: Corn Flakes now come in a bilingual box; I have to press "one" to hear my bank talk to me in English, and people waving flags other than "Old Glory" are squawking and screaming in the streets, demanding more rights and free liberties. Maybe it's time for the government to take down the bird feeder.

Mother.

MOTHER
This is a truly BEAUTIFUL piece. Please
Read this at a slow pace, digesting every word and in
Leisure...do not hurry... This is a treasure...

For those lucky to still be blessed with your Mom,
This is beautiful. For those of us who aren't, this is
Even more beautiful. For those who are moms, you'll love this.


The young mother set her foot on the path of life. 'Is
This the long way?' she asked. And the guide said: 'Yes, and the way is hard.
And you will be old before you reach the end of it... But
The end will be better than the beginning.'


But the young mother was happy, and she would not
Believe that anything could be better than these years. So she
Played with her children, and gathered flowers for
Them along the way, and bathed them in the clear streams; and
The sun shone on them, and the young Mother cried,
'Nothing will ever be lovelier than this.'



Then the night came, and the storm, and the path was
Dark, and the children shook with fear and cold, and the mother
Drew them close and covered them with her mantle, and the children said,
'Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm can come.'


And the morning came, and there was a hill ahead, and
The children climbed and grew weary, and the mother was weary.
But at all times she said to the children,' A little patience and we are there.'
So the children climbed, and when they reached the top
They said, 'Mother, we would not have done it without you.'




And the mother, when she lay down at night looked up
At the stars and said, 'This is a better day than the last, for my
Children have learned fortitude in the face of hardness. Yesterday I gave them courage.
Today, I 've given them strength.'


And the next day came strange clouds which darkened
The earth, clouds of war and hate and evil, and the children groped
And stumbled, and the mother said: 'Look up. Lift your eyes to the light.
' And the children looked and saw above the clouds
An everlasting glory, and it guided them beyond the
Darkness. And that night the Mother said,
'This is the best day of all, for
I have shown my children God.'

And the days went on, and the weeks and the months and
The years, and the mother grew old and she was little and bent.
But her children were tall and strong, and walked with
Courage. And when the way was rough, they lifted her,
For she was as light as a feather; and at last they came to a hill,
And beyond they could see a shining road and golden gates flung wide. And
Mother said, 'I have reached the end of my journey. And now I know the end
Is better than the beginning, for my children can
Walk alone, and their children after them.'



And the children said, 'You will always walk with us,
Mother, even when you have gone through the gates.'
And they stood and watched her as she went on alone, and the gates
Closed after her. And they said: 'We cannot see her
But she is with us still. A Mother like ours is more than a memory. She
Is a living presence.... ...'



Your Mother is always with you... She's the whisper
Of the leaves as you walk down the street; she's the smell of bleach
In your freshly laundered socks; she's the cool hand
On your brow when you're not well. Your Mother lives
Inside your laughter. And she's crystallized in every tear drop.
She's the place you came from, your first home; and
she's the map you follow with every step you take. She's your first love
And your first heartbreak, and nothing on earth can
Separate you.

Not time, not space... Not even death!

PASS THIS ON TO ALL THE MOTHERS &CHILDREN YOU KNOW.
MAY WE NEVER TAKE OUR MOTHERS FOR GRANTED...

Khalil Gibran.

HE WAS BOTH A GREAT WRITER AND HIS ART WELL SEE FOR YOURSELF
Kahlil Gibran (1883-1931) - Gibran / Jibran - Khalil or Kahlil, Arabic name Jubrãn Khalil Jubrãn

Lebanese-American philosophical essayist, novelist, mystical poet, and artist. In the 1960s Gibran's works influenced especially American popular culture; his most famous book, THE PROPHET (1923), has been a bestseller from the 1920s. Gibran believed that if a sensible way of living and thinking could be found, people would have mastery over their lives.

"The human heart cries out for help; the human soul implores us for deliverance; but we do not heed their cries, for we neither hear nor understand. But the man who hears and understands we call mad, and flee from him."

Khalil Gibran was born in Bechari (Bsharri), Lebanon, a mountain village of Maronite Christians. A talented child, he was modelling, drawing, and writing at an early age. Gibran's mother, Kamila, took her children to the United States; their father, Khalil, who owned a walnut grove, remained in Lebanon. The family settled first in Boston, where she earned living by selling laces and linen. Within a year she managed to save enough money to help her son Peter to open a small dry goods store.

Gibran returned to Lebanon in 1897 for two years to study Arabic literature in Beirut at al-Hikma College. Gibran's artistic talents was recognized and he was introduced to F. Holland Day, a photographer, who tutored him in art and literature. Through Day Gibran was given entrée to Boston society, where he acquired valuable contacts. Gibran's mother died of cancer when he was 20. His sister Marianna supported him while he established himself as a writer and painter. Gibran's most ardent benefactress was Mary Haskell, the headmistress of a progressive girl's school in Cambridge. She supported her protégé financially for most of his career and edited his English-language books.

In 1904 Gibran had his first art exhibition in Boston. His first book, AL-MUSIQA (1905) was about music. It was followed by two collections of short stories and a novelette in 1912. From 1908 to 1910 he studied art in Paris with August Rodin. In 1912 he settled in New York, where he devoted himself to writing and painting. Though concerned with the transcendental in his books, the basic subject in Gibran's art was naked human bodies, tenderly intertwined .

Gibran's first works were written in Arabic and are considered central to the development of modern Arabic literature. Gibran also wrote for journals published by the Lebanese and Arab communities in the U.S. From 1918 he wrote mostly in English and managed to revolutionize the language of poetry in the 1920s and 1930s. His first book for the publishing company Alfred Knopf was THE MADMAN (1918), a slim volume of aphorisms and parables written in biblical cadence somewhere between poetry and prose.

Usually Gibran used prophetic tone to condemn the evils that torment his homeland or threaten the humankind. His style, a combination of beauty and spirituality, became known as 'Gibranism'. "I am a stranger to myself. I hear my tongue speak, but my ears find that voice strange. I may see my hidden self laughing, crying, defiant frightened, and thus does my being become enamored of my being and thus my soul begs my soul for explanation. But I remain unknown, hidden, shrouded in fog, veiled in silence." (from 'The Poet') In 1920 he founded a society for Arab writers called "Aribitah" (the pen bond), and supported the struggle to revolutionize the classically conservative Arabic literature. A very important channel for new ideas was Al Magar, the first New York Arabic newspaper, that Gibran wrote for. Other influential writers included Mikha'il Nu'aima (1889-1988), Iliya Abu Madi (1889-1957), Nasib Arida (1887-1946), Nadra Haddad (1881-1950), and Ilyas Abu Sabaka (1903-47). Especially Mikha'il Nu'aima's critical writings paved way to new freedom in poetic expression.

Although Gibran was not a great poet in verse, and most of his writings in prose should not be regarded as "poetry", he opened doors to a new kind of creativity. He also illustrated a number of his books with his own drawings. Salma Khadra Jayyusi wrote in 1987 that Gibran's rhythm "fell on ears like magic, intoxicating in its frequent use of interrogations, repetitions, and the vocative; by a language which was at once modern, elegant, and original; and by an imagery that was evocative and imbued with a healthy measure of emotion. His vision of a world made sterile by dead mores and conventions but redeemable through love, good will, and constructive action deepened his readers' insights en enlightened their views of life and man."

Gibran died of liver disease, possibly accelerated by alcoholism, in New York on April 10, 1931. Upon his death, his body was shipped back to his hometown in Lebanon, where alongside his tomb The Gibran Museum was later established. In his will Gibran left all the royalties of his books to his native village.

"When the souls rise in the
light of their joy, my soul ascends glorified by the
dark of grief.
I am like you, Night! And when my morn comes, then
my time will end."

Gibran's best-known work is THE PROPHET, a partly autobiographical book of 26 poetic essays, which has been translated into over 20 languages. The Prophet, who has lived in a foreign city 12 years, is about to board a ship that will take him home. He is stopped by a group of people, whom he teaches the mysteries of life. The resulting 26 sermons are meant to emancipate the listeners. In the 1960s The Prophet became a counterculture guide and in the 1980s the message of spiritualism overcoming material success was adopted by Yuppies. Critics have not treated the book well. Its mystical poetry is frequently read at weddings even today. Gibran's other popular books include THE EARTH GODS (1931), a dialogue in free verse between three titans on the human destiny.

Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.

Sing and dance together and be joyous,
but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone
though they quiver with the same music.
(from The Prophet: Marriage)
HE STUDIED ART IN PARIS UNDER RODIN AND WE CAN SEE THE INFLUENCE

Glorious Morning Light...

The glorious morning light,
behind curtains red and green, some light can be seen.

From sleep and darkness,
l open them, to a wonderful morning.

The air is nice, and not too hot,
l look at the sky, blue with cloud dots.

All is serene,
Good weather to clean.

So happy within myself,
started dusting all my shelves.

Breakfast, toast and homemade plum jam,
and oolong tea, for the energy.
~
lsnt it always the way,
you get motivated,

and something stands in your way,
and you have to wait.

patience, patience.
l used this small energy l acquired for constructiveness,
and cleaned my front entrance to my home.

the weather had heated up,
sweat pouring from my brow.

inside my home,
order is starting,

and all are in line
ready to be done.

l have boiled water,
after reading about the drugs in all our water taps,
its ready for dehy...
~
far too hot to stand at the washing line,
leave it for later or some other time.

made sure my tummy was full
so l had the energy to do all inside.

made some sage bread,
made my sketi,
fan on full.
~
the day is passing
hope later l can finish what l started.

Night Walking - a poem -...

Quietly she walks
Silence all around
Street lights glare
Blue, and Orange tinge
All so still.

Tis the evening walk
After a sensible feast
Walking shoes on
Head held high
Breathing corrected.

A slight hum
From traffic afar
A russel in a tree
A movement in a bush
Life going on as it should.

l walk for a mile
l turn back homeward
No sore parts
No aches and pains
A sensible walk is my gain.

Orgasm. a poem...

The warm air on my face.
Rushing through fine hairs.
Moisture in the air touches your lips.

Slowly all senses awaken.
You're in another place.
Another world.

You're alone.
Allowed to feel .

You close your eyes.
Sore over high mountains and valleys.
Purple.

Out to the desert far away.
Back to green.

lf u love something, set it free...

There was once a lonely girl who longed desperately for love. One day while she was walking in the woods she found two starving song birds. She took them home and put them in a small gilded cage. She nurtured them with love and the birds grew strong. Every morning they greeted her with a marvelous song. The girl felt great love for the birds. She wanted their singing to last forever.


One day the girl left the door to the cage open. The larger and stronger of the two birds flew from the cage. The girl watched anxiously as he circled high above her. She was so frightened that he would fly away and she would never see him again that as he flew close, she grasped at him wildly. She caught him in her fist. She clutched him tightly within her hand. Her heart gladdened at her success in capturing him. Suddenly she felt the bird go limp. She opened her hand stared in horror at the dead bird. Her desperate clutching love had killed him.

She noticed the other bird teetering on the edge of the cage. She could feel his great need for freedom. His need to soar into the clear, blue sky. She lifted him from the cage and tossed him softly into the air. The bird circled once, twice, three times. The girl watched delighted at the bird's enjoyment. Her heart was no longer concerned with her loss.

She wanted the bird to be happy. Suddenly the bird flew closer and landed softly on her shoulder. It sang the sweetest melody, she had ever heard.

The fastest way to lose love is to hold on too tight, the best way to keep love is to give it -- WINGS!

Compassion...

Sending love and compassion from my heart.
life for some, is so very hard.
We have enemies we dont even know;
and they, like us are just normal people.
l feel we are all too close together,
almost living in each others space.
l may look at you,
and not give u face,
but behind my blues eyes,
love is pouring out.
l shield myself with many walls.
afraid of people coming far too close,
l am an lsland,
yet l send u compassion and love
straight from my heart.
Sometimes we /l forget that others
lives are not easy also...
and to sit and think about people we
dont like and realise they have it bad
at times too.
So,,
OM MANI PADMA HUNG.

A DREAM...

SHE HAD BEEN ASLEEP.
SHE WOKE TO MEN PUTTING UP BLINDS ON HER WEST AND EAST WINDOWS AND SHE WAS EXCITED.
NEXT MIN SHE WAS IN ANOTHER ROOM , AND HER FRONT DOOR WAS OPEN, AND ALL HER CLOTHES ON A RACK AT THE FRONT DOOR.
SHE COVERED HER LEGS FOR SHE WAS ONLY IN TEE SHIRT FROM SLEEP.
SHE LOOKED OUT , A MAN TALKED TO HER, THE STREET WAS BUSY WITH PPL WALKING UP AND DOWN, VERY BUSY,THE MAN TOLD HER WHERE SHE WAS AFTER SHE SAID SHE WAS IN CARLTON.
SHE WENT BACK INSIDE AND PUT ON HER GREEN OVER SHIRT .
THE DETECTIVES WERE THERE AND SHE DIDNT KNOW WHY.BUT THEY LAUGHED AT HER.THEY HAD A KEY TO THIS PLACE.
SHE TOOK A LONG WALK AFTER DRESSING, AND BACK AGAIN.THE WALLS WERE SCREAMING AT HER, AND SHE THREW ENERGY FROM HER HANDS AND YELLED SHUT UP,THE DETECTIVES JUST LOOKED AT HER.
HER THEN THREE NIPPLED MAN COULDNT BE THERE ANY LONGER AND RAN OUT FOR SPACE,.SOMEONE CAME AND LOOKED AT HER AND SILENTLY WHISPERED, HES KILLED A MAN.THE VOICES SHOWED THEMSELVES AND LAUGHED AND POKED AT HER .
SHE RAN WITH THE MAN, AND WAS TAKEN INTO A SEEDY PLACE NOT FAR AWAY, SHE MET THE MR BIG, AND THE SLEAZEBALLS OF THE CITY. AND THEN WAS TAKEN TO HER MAN,HE LAY THERE SHAKING AND ROLLING AND CONVORTING IN FEAR.
SHE IMMEDIATELY JUMPED ON HIM, AND BROUGHT HIM BACK TO NORMALITY.AFTER HE HAD RELAXED, SHE SAID SHOW HER THE DEAD MAN.
THEY WENT DOWN A DIRTY WOODEN HALLWAY, SHE HAD TO SIDESTEP WHATEVER THAT WAS ON THE FLOOR, GROSS.
THE FELLOW WHO WAS SHOWING HER, BROUGHT HER TO THE PLACE, AND POINTED DOWN.
THERE LAY A BODY WITH THE LIVER STICKING OUT OF THE BODY.
SHE POINTED TO THE MAN BETWEEN HIS EYES AND SAID, WHAT EVER U SEE IS BETWEEN U AND I.HIS FACE CHANGED AS HE COULD FEEL HER ENERGY, AND HE OBEYED.
NEXT MIN SHE IS SAYING GET HIM OFF ME , THE MAN WHO GOT THE FINGER, LOOKED IN AMAZEMENT, AND WAS SHOCKED AT WHAT SHE WAS CAPABLE OF, AND COULDNT MOVE FROM SHOCK.
SHE THEN RAN BACK TO HER MAN, AND THEY RAN BACK TO THE PLACE IN CARLTON.AND SHUT THE DOOR.STILL THE DETECTIVES KEPT COMING IN AND OUT.
SHE AND HE SAT QUIETLY, THINKING OF WHAT TO DO NEXT..
THEN I WOKE UP................................

NO, NOT I...

Silently, silently; l go about my business; watching people rushing by, faces of stone and worry, cant help them, no not l.
l wonder about their dear old hearts, and how they pump with rush and anxieties; l cant help them, no, not l.
late, when all is quietening, l look out onto the street, and see so many so tired, and dead on their feet.
And for what reason l may ask, ...
..
ln a few days time, it will all be still, and getting up and around will take a lot of your tired will.
For what reason did u rush, then sit exhausted when all is hush.
...
My gift for you is my silent compassion mantra, your suffering l understand and feel, yet l cannot help, oh no not I.
l wish for all to see a silent christmas, not one of rush; one of hush, a thought for what it means, or, dont do it at all.
Hypocrits youll become, if you dont do and be true, to you alone.
Gifts of material, o so wrong, gifts of the heart always sing a song...

RESTLESS..

Gooday...

this morning whilst trying to wake from a deep sedated sleep; l looked out of my front door at the green hedge in my sight.something in me yelled change.change ...u need it...lve spent many yrs slowing down on my last adventure which involved late nights, and some drugs dope.l hadnt realised until now how delusion they had made me be.now that lm clear ,lm becoming restless...............


after spending some time in the 360 and reading and making breakfast of egg sandwiches,l blogged this after reading a blogger called pet.................


Old old habits.

A yes person,

that was me. and prolly still is. we do, ' cos we really do want to help, so that others will feel better. we exhaust ourselves to oblivia, and then wish we hadnt done it, but would have felt guilty if we hadnt. someone once said to me, to be emotionally selfish, l thought, oh that sounds really bad. but its not. l bet u haven't been in touch with you for a long time,and youve been doing for others so long, that u dont know who u r. l thought, well maybe this person is right. sometimes we have to look after us instead of others all the time, they can look after themselves, and believe it or not, they do just fine most of them without u. so sit back, and have some you time. cos if u feel good, then when ppl really need you, you will be happier, healthier, and do a better job, 'cos youre not so emotionally tired. l myself only do for ppl now, if my heart is honest, then they get the truth, and not some tired old person who feels obligated..............

Writers Block Challenge#26 ( Lady Diz. )

T'was a windy day in December,and poor Lady found herself being blown from limb to limb,and leaf to leaf, swirled and twirled until she was dizzy!Lady Diz was the rebellious bug in her family, and even though she had been told not to go out today, she disobeyed her family.Now she was lost, she couldnt see anything that resembled home,and couldnt hear her familys voices, she was scared and now hungry.She was a bit of an overeater at home, and had put on heaps of weight.Her brothers and sisters would all laugh at her trying to get off the leaf lol....they kept on calling her Bumblebee,Jumbo bee.Well, she was sick of being picked on, and thought she needed to go and find a place where no one would pick on her.Unfortunately she chose a windy day.She would never return...shes lost.The wind threw her everywhere, and then it died down a bit, and she parachuted onto seeded dandelion flower,her fate was set,this flower would breakaway on touch, and she would then be dropped to the ground.lt was only a matter of time before she fell, and there was no family there to pick her up and take her home.She sat clinging for her life, for what seemed like an eternity...

Poem - She Sleeps...

here l go; down;down;down; into the bowels of darkness;through tunnels and bends,;down, down,down.light fading, green stench mold and slime,slippery.so so fast, my energies blown from my mind and body to be lost in the dark winding tunnels, to be found on the way back to the light.no thoughts, just falling...no mind. too tired to think.have been here several times before, its a waiting game.time just basic time.lts getting dark now.l cannot see.l cannot think.l cannot feel.l am a ragdoll,useless to myself.l must ride this roller coaster, and just go with it.
l cannot summon the host.she is asleep.she's here but down there, we have to wait.she has to wait.she sleeps.
life on the outside seems so far far away...almost non-existant.she reaches, but her arms are too weak.she falls limp.she sleeps.

Death...

Death.

All youre feeling is grief

l didnt really know what life really was until my friend died...

l thought about it for a while

Looked at the sky

Thought

she will never see that again

l will

She will never feel water again

Or the sun

Or sounds

Smells

l will

She died so l could live..
.
Her dying changed my life.

Made me realise how wonderful it really is

Its a miracle

lm still here

That's the Positive l found in the Negative.
...

No-one's coming...written by myself -1994...

NO ONE'S COMING...[ written '94 ]

Here l sit alone and frightened.
Frightened,
Knowing there's no-one coming.
Have to be strong for me.
Gotta be hard on myself.
There aint no-one else to crack the whip.

Eyes open.
God, another day.
Have to get things done.
Sometimes l think l should have stayed Stoned and useless.
Each day is different.
Straight one day.
Bent the next.
lt's push pull all the time.
One foot in front of the other.

Get my thoughts in order.
Eating makes me sick.
Men make me sick.
l have to pass them everyday.

l'm empty inside.
Have to concentrate and find things to do.
No future ahead for me and you.
False hope.
Still, l try to hold onto hope.

Here l sit frightened.

No-one's coming.

Lonely Street...written by myself -1994...

written march 94...On Lonely Street.

There's lots of folks On lonely street.
Lots of Shops and Music and things;
On lonely street.
The morning breaks,The birds sing,The town comes alive,Everyone starting their day.lt's busy,On lonely street.

Faces you know,Smile, and say 'hello'-and walk on by,
Never stopping to talk.
On lonely street.

Beautiful days,Trees and Grass so green.
They're my company it seems.
When l walk down Lonely Street.

Nobody to talk with,
No-one to share life with,
No headspace to match mine,
Small talk all around,
lt's still;
On Lonely Street.

Spring Sleepy Head. written by myself -1989...

Poem-'89..
SPRING SLEEPY HEAD.
Come on sleepy head
Unwind from the night before
lt's a great day ahead of you, now that spring is here.
We can step out of the grey days of winter
And glide into the warmth and pleasure of the sun.

People, Personalities,glow with each step
Dogs wag their tails
Cats lounge around all day
Flowers line the streets in array of pastels and bright colours.
Canarys sing their spring songs loudly.