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It does not matter,
how much you eat,
Scolded the poor,
and beaten the weak.

So what in life,
often you lie.
Always talk non-sense,
without a shy.

It also not matter,
you cheated them all.
Who trusted you high,
You made them to fall.

He knows all of,
desires your deed.
That on the ground,
you grow only ****.

But such his heart,
and such is his ways,
With  pity in eyes,
The *** always says.

What matters O' dear,
whenever you seek,
*** always is there,
But you never meet.

The Jesus is there,
and Buddha in you,
But you have to say,
the Evil bid adieu.


AJAY AMITABH SUMAN:ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
When a man keeps on committing sins, then he develops this idea that godhood is not meant for him. But truth is contrary. Whatever crime a man has committed, howsoever grave his crime is, there is always possibility of a man to evolve spiritually and unite with ***. ANGULIMALA was a Dakoit and killed 999 persons. Still, in company of Lord Buddha, he attained nirvana. This poem is based on the idea of possibility of a man to get enlightened, irrespective of his indulgence in sin and crime. The door of *** is open for all, even for criminals.
Matthew Roe Sep 26
Feed the pure,
As they come to your door.
You feel the need,
To sow the seeds,
To see golden corn sprout from bald heads.
They turn to you, with silent open hands,
Offering you nothing in return but the purity you have longed for forever,
You will wash their robes and days old socks.
Homemade meals in a lunch box,
Pasta to microwave for you still don’t trust them, not to live off junk under cosy rags.
On trains, back to the houses of wisdom.
That use your gold to uphold their roofs.
For Marx and ideals that exist just as dreams, they burn with sin when such tongues leave the gate.
You look on, because you think it’s too late.
For all the parents working hard to get their kids through Uni (or college if your American), feeding the knowledge of those trying to get ‘enlightened’
Matthew Sep 10
A moment of his peace
Is greater than
An eternity of suffering
Jon Thenes Jul 17
right hand - cack hand
misinfected
an inebriant
a heat of intoxicants
'Recover Your Presence Of Mind'
i don't even have my mattress raised
from upon the floor
spilled drinks
moulds
and pages soaked to the boarding
snoring in spores
infested with messages
in nest with it all
best to withdraw
the artist
the 'madder than'
the inebriant
right ?
can one practice as a sober ?
I've never wanted to create more or been this capable before...or are the results missing something ?
something splayed
askew
scatty
splattered
hellish even ?
is it the reader ?
will we not be pleased with the results without some evidence of a soul in suffering
bewilderment
and numbing isolation?
Look
I take out
The spectacles

Now
I will see
How the world looks like
Through your eyes

I want to see
What you see
Near and Far
Even broader

Where faith lies
Genre: Spiritual Inspirational
Theme: Close Eyes Of Buddha
Dustin Dean Jun 9
It was stepping into the Afterlife
With extraterrestrial angels
Singing the chorus of My Sweet Lord
In otherworldly harmonic unison
As George Harrison embraced me
Open arms, his face transforming
Between his and Jesus Christ's
And mind you, not the one you know
But the true Middle Easterner
Most Christians tend to forget

It was a segue into a golden palace
Where Krishna showered me
With korma flavored karma
For all deeds gone unnoticed
In a life of ego and suffering
It was a most revealing of times

It was a feeling of fearful dread
When Muhammad appeared
Before he gently let me know
Misrepresentation by extremism
Had plagued his holy message
And to just live for your neighbor

It was inside a bamboo house
That was set on a tropical land
I went in to simply find peace
And saw a golden glowing man
Meditate a couple feet in the air
With one eye open, he said
"I could **** you with one thought
Conversely, you could too
However, we sit in peace
And there is great power in that"

It was all the same
I sought the flower’s smile,
it told me the Buddha’s tale;
beyond the mind’s pale!
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