The perfect man for me will not mind that I sometimes snort when I laugh. He will love the way I sneeze in threes and think I am beautiful when I cry into my shirtsleeve. He will love me for the naive way I think all people are good and he will pick me up when I realize they aren't. He will laugh at my stupid jokes, watch terrible movies with me, and always kiss me like it is the last time we'll touch. In the middle of the night, when only the pale yellow moon can see us, he will hold me close to his chest like I am going to disappear in his arms. When we make love, I will be able to feel the passion on his skin and the world will slow to a near stop. The perfect man for me will tell me when I am wrong and admit when I am right, he will love how I wear my heart on my sleeve and will not be intimidated by the passion I live my life with. He will look beyond my past and embrace a future with me. He will kiss the bruises others have left and admire the way I refuse to accept defeat. Most of all, he will love me in the same way I have been willing to love my whole life.

"For the brain the observer is the observed."

~ Krishnamurti


"You've got to start with consciousness."
"Without ego there is no creativity."
" Through Memory and Perception...consciousness becomes embodied."
"It's a mystery how consciousness becomes embodied."
"The universe has a Purpose: to manifest the highest Ideals !"

**~ Dr. Amit Goswami

Swords that clash and clang with might,
Blood is spilled but still they fight,
For honor, glory, money, land,
Or little child with helpless hand?

They fight to save those who are weak,
Those who think themselves too meek,
They fight for those who fell before,
And of course those they adore.

Defenders of what they think right,
Neither wrong, just filled with fright.
The Other's thoughts are strange and new,
And change is something they won't do.

Neither wants to fight this war.
No-one likes the blood and gore.
But they will fight till Other falls,
To keep them from each other's walls.

A difference is a war-like shout,
That causes fights and fearsome doubt.
But difference is a coloured sky,
and beauty to the naked eye.

Difference- while the start of war,
Is splendor, charm, and so much more.
It is grandeur to behold,
And worth much more than precious gold.

The structural spine
of every mesmerizing art,
Is to ***** what they say
and follow your heart!!

Country's condition that time being
                                               egregious
Same time nation got some pearls
                                               precious
Those elite, scholars and interpids
Being tyro of revolution done great
                                                  deeds
Tho­se martinets, enthusiatics and
                                            knighters
Fought till last breath of being mother land
                                            fighters
Having high characters had the power
                                           to placate
Gathering all brought strength to open
                                         victory gate

late in the night
when your mind isn't occupied
and
it's roaming free
brewing and simmering
starting to boil
before you know it
it's overflowing
spilling out,turning into ideals
memories and things
you never thought would happen
filling you like warm tea or
cocoa fills others up in the cold winter
what comes to mind ?
what brings tears to your eyes ?
or simply
fills you with joy ?

Absolutely essential, for saved people,
is the true concept of Christian ideals.
For they serve as inspirational guidelines,
in the development of holy, inner steel.

These ideals motivate Christians to action,
on behalf of the Christ, within His Will.
In addition, one strives to humbly live,
without the trappings of religious frills.

These principles affect one’s attitude,
in doing what aught to be done in service.
They provide vision with sacred direction,
whereby one is unashamed and not nervous.

Ultimately, when one is truly Spirit-led,
Christian ideals enables one to focus
on the important missions of the Kingdom,
thus achieving… success of divine purpose.
.
.
.

Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
1 King 8:18

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2014, All rights reserved.

the disease has already spread to your eyes
where its innocent twinkles have now been replaced
by a blazing fire of passion.
   it has reached your hands and feet
and has caused them to be horrified of inactivity.
   it has gotten so worse that the disease has also spread to your
lungs, where every breath
heart, where every beat and
mind, where every neuron is
for your dream and
by the hope that you have.
  
   i think that the virus is highly contagious
because now
i too am infected.
    it consumed my body
and has caused me to be
so sick
of the selfish and superficial
life that i once was living.
  
we are diagnosed with the dreamers disease and
no dosage of discouragement can cure us.
it has conquered our lives and together
we will start a pandemic
and conquer society.

We seek perfection,
our souls to be pure.
We fear God,
of not being good enough.
We fear hell,
of being in eternal torment.
But what really torments us
is the weight of these expectations,
for an idea made up in our minds.

We are running a race
so far lost
that before we are born,
we are a product of sin.

We are so enchanted
by this light; the eternal flame.
But the light is artificial.
An ideal constructed by humanity.
The phosphlorescent bulb
that lights our night,
and guides our way in the dark.

It ensnares us.
We blindly pursue the light,
like moths to a flame,
we fool ourselves
with desire.

We can never touch
this light. It is
the sun, the moon
and the stars.

But even the stars
we see in the sky
are dead,
when we see them shine
so bright.

Even the stars die,
wishing to be pure
bringing us beauty,
even so.

Sins are unavoidable;
unless you live a life
of mere content.
Instead we choose
a tormented soul
and are killed slowly
with the tantilising desire
of the unattainable.