Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"differentiates" poems
No legacy is as rich as honesty to leave behind No asset is as great as honesty that enriches mind No voice is as powerful as honesty,your heart to guide No word is as meaningful as honesty to swell with pride. One who adheres to principle and facts , is honest One who loves for-what-than-who-you are , is honest One who inspires to be fearless and upfront , is honest One who dares to raise voice against injustice, is honest In actions ,words and dealings -be clear and transparent Corruption,bribery,flattery and nepotism-be always against Greats endure pain to follow righteousness,however difficult On life’s tight walk ,do not crave to strike rich without sweat. Win over lies,deceit ,treachery with love,respect and fair play Honesty is a jewel that shines-shines brighter,rest fades away Honesty is a bitter pill to gulp,gulp you must to lead the way Quality than Quantity of life matters most,at the end of the day. A child should be taught to be honest at a very early age Set an example by emoting honesty at every step and stage Honesty instils compassion ,concern,credibility and courage It is a virtue that differentiates between a devil and a sage. Stakes may be high ,don’t ever compromise on values A Right can never ever be Wrong ,however one views Forever under HIS scanner,keep hands clean and heart true (HIS ...GOD) Give best to the humanity the best will come back to you. (C) Bhargavi Ravindra ...........B’lore Dated : 09/05/2019
0
Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 7:13 AM UTC
Honesty
“When people move-when they travel-they look at where 
they come from, not where they’re going.” -Martin Amis, *Time’s Arrow

* Let us now take this chance
 to praise those dancing demons 
of ambition, whose feigned clairvoyance 
of fortune and exactitudes of fame
 burn as the smell of smokey fallow 
to the new-retired mare.

 Travel, and all its takeoffs, 
all its energies in skidding towards
 an unopposed truth, makes its mince
 by outlining all we ever look for 
but leaving the chalkdust prints 
of what we fail, at first, to find.

 Yes, spaces contrary to the familiar exist Carnivore cities of grind and result
 cascaded above the floodwalls that save
 the vagrant’s midnight search.
 Coastal clearings of pacific civs,
 best kept secrets where trees are still planted
 and further kinds of nowhere that you never expected 
to simmer with all the prospects of bored and implacable youths 
who pine to efface the status quo, which ,after all, is quite the average, 
is quite like “HOME”

 Though I suppose, we eventually find 
whatever space can be considered our own
 when everyone grows up and stops 
pretending they read Burroughs, have a lot more going on, or are a lot less busy than they make out over infrequent coffee meetings (where it is also admitted
 that they brew their own hot beverages, or tell their own jokes)
 Somewhere in the near-space continuum where Travel has 
become for us what essentially differentiates the commonplace in nature from 
that most human of neuroses,
 the acceptance of a willing to improve the conditional.

 And so to Ambition, and its fiery fops who make us refute 
steadiness, accountability, the routine of the resolute
 Who let our ships of sanctimony attack 
implied with the luxury of steering back.
0
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 5:29 PM UTC
Of Exit Strategies and Their Ilk
“When people move-when they travel-they look at where 
they come from, not where they’re going.” -Martin Amis, *Time’s Arrow

* Let us now take this chance
 to praise those dancing demons 
of ambition, whose feigned clairvoyance 
of fortune and exactitudes of fame
 burn as the smell of smokey fallow 
to the new-retired mare.

 Travel, and all its takeoffs, 
all its energies in skidding towards
 an unopposed truth, makes its mince
 by outlining all we ever look for 
but leaving the chalkdust prints 
of what we fail, at first, to find.

 Yes, spaces contrary to the familiar exist Carnivore cities of grind and result
 cascaded above the floodwalls that save
 the vagrant’s midnight search.
 Coastal clearings of pacific civs,
 best kept secrets where trees are still planted
 and further kinds of nowhere that you never expected 
to simmer with all the prospects of bored and implacable youths 
who pine to efface the status quo, which ,after all, is quite the average, 
is quite like “HOME”

 Though I suppose, we eventually find 
whatever space can be considered our own
 when everyone grows up and stops 
pretending they read Burroughs, have a lot more going on, or are a lot less busy than they make out over infrequent coffee meetings (where it is also admitted
 that they brew their own hot beverages, or tell their own jokes)
 Somewhere in the near-space continuum where Travel has 
become for us what essentially differentiates the commonplace in nature from 
that most human of neuroses,
 the acceptance of a willing to improve the conditional.

 And so to Ambition, and its fiery fops who make us refute 
steadiness, accountability, the routine of the resolute
 Who let our ships of sanctimony attack 
implied with the luxury of steering back.
Continue reading...
40
Instructions for Life-Lesson 1 How to be Awesome daily. Step 1: Wake up each morning and say “I’m Awesome!” Step 2: Go to closest mirror and visually confirm Awesomeness. (It’s there-trust me) Step 3: Continue on with the rest of your day…being totally Awesome! If followed regularly, these simple steps can change the one thing that differentiates the Awesome from the Non-Awesome, and that is belief in self. Now get out there and have an Awesome day!
0
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 12:57 AM UTC
The Rulebook of Sean (Chapter 1-Page 1)
I am just so near to losing my mind whenever I hear the statement "So, who wears the pants here?" Wow! It gets me speechless. I got love for all the brothers out there, but what makes you think that what you wear on the outside really portrays who you are on the inside? "No she doesn't tell me what to do!" is what you beat your chest on whenever you are in conversation with your "boys". "No I can't carry the baby outside the grocery store, Instead I'll go park the car"... "No I can't clean the dishes, what will she be doing?"... "No I will not pick up her call now, am the one wearing pants, I do it at my time"... "I can get home whatever time I want, after all she just a woman, am above her!!!!???"... Honesty, its sad that to this day, this mentality holds. Well, if I am talking 'bout you here, Let me give you  THE reality check! You ain't No better. You need a woman. She came out of your rib yes, but ain't you the one who asked for her in the 1st place? Ain't she the reason why from 8th grade you have added 30 pounds? Otherwise wouldn't you malnutrition yourself with noodles and coffee night, after night? Ain't she the reason why you get so cosy and warm after tens of ******* on a cold night? For some, the car you drive, the very job you got, ain't she the one that worked out connections for you to get there? Ain't she the reason why there is a baby somewhere that calls you "Daddy?" that you brag to the society about...makes you feel like a "MAN" ey? She had a choice of denying you the child, say its not yours... But in your selfish Grown up ego you want to show the world "YOU ARE THE ONE WEARING PANTS????" Would it hurt to show appreciation? My point, that is what differentiates a man and a boy. So next time, before you ask her "Who wears the pants?" Think twice.! You know why, "SHE WEARS THE DRESS, SOMETHING, YOU, CAN NEVER DO!!!" © The Unspoken
0
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 6:58 AM UTC
So... "WHO WEARS THE PANTS??""
I am just so near to losing my mind whenever I hear the statement "So, who wears the pants here?" Wow! It gets me speechless. I got love for all the brothers out there, but what makes you think that what you wear on the outside really portrays who you are on the inside? "No she doesn't tell me what to do!" is what you beat your chest on whenever you are in conversation with your "boys". "No I can't carry the baby outside the grocery store, Instead I'll go park the car"... "No I can't clean the dishes, what will she be doing?"... "No I will not pick up her call now, am the one wearing pants, I do it at my time"... "I can get home whatever time I want, after all she just a woman, am above her!!!!???"... Honesty, its sad that to this day, this mentality holds. Well, if I am talking 'bout you here, Let me give you  THE reality check! You ain't No better. You need a woman. She came out of your rib yes, but ain't you the one who asked for her in the 1st place? Ain't she the reason why from 8th grade you have added 30 pounds? Otherwise wouldn't you malnutrition yourself with noodles and coffee night, after night? Ain't she the reason why you get so cosy and warm after tens of ******* on a cold night? For some, the car you drive, the very job you got, ain't she the one that worked out connections for you to get there? Ain't she the reason why there is a baby somewhere that calls you "Daddy?" that you brag to the society about...makes you feel like a "MAN" ey? She had a choice of denying you the child, say its not yours... But in your selfish Grown up ego you want to show the world "YOU ARE THE ONE WEARING PANTS????" Would it hurt to show appreciation? My point, that is what differentiates a man and a boy. So next time, before you ask her "Who wears the pants?" Think twice.! You know why, "SHE WEARS THE DRESS, SOMETHING, YOU, CAN NEVER DO!!!" © The Unspoken
Continue reading...
23
A most liturgical darkness pains the spidery veil of prey and prayed upon star. Hardwon quietude differentiates obsolete centers to contrive an offing. Timeless hands go up in deflection, as to abort the scene whose spelling could not boast a mouth synchronous with them. The growth spurt of insult to injury topples the bucket of well water down the throat. Alas, at morning...alert me to my stable, that I may act in accordance.
0
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 11:10 AM UTC
Alert Me to My Stable
When you become a father this is what happens in maths; she multiplies your ***** differentiates the situation, substitutes your friends, makes herself the subject of the formulae, simplifies your finance and factorizes your priorities.
0
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC
1+1 equals 3
she the one made of fume and ice brought the soul of the fish as big as human holding up in her arms under full moon to the beach of the ocean her transparent ****** broadened the dark waters to balance the embodiment as she stood ageless-straight to bless and be blessed by her gift as flesh and blood the wind made of her long hair blew cosmic desire awakened across ahead above ripple glitter an angel made of of light hung above up o the roughened as if twilight o the moonlight reflected the she made of or illusions or of myths same way with a fish in her arms they exchanged the yet not-materialized in emotionless boldness for a moment that differentiates upon acceptance questionless synchronous for the grounding of being as for her it was not possible to deliver and leave she was made of her gift as much as she was she as much as fish was her creation she came to the sea she stays as she stands towards eternity if not right let rendered solemn lithify   and salute the exploit of its rhetoric if right let the deed be its myth for the generations unborn she made of wisdom of her gift she made of moon particle started flowing towards the reshaping rocks to coral coral to light in bits and pieces moment by moment as wavelengths of the angelic faded like the fading diamonds along the fins and scales of blue orange green the flesh the immaterial but real rose the sea smell for a joyous jump a big salty splash created by a rush of life glitter recouped at dawn with a rising sun
0
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 7:32 PM UTC
Cosmic Fish
she the one made of fume and ice brought the soul of the fish as big as human holding up in her arms under full moon to the beach of the ocean her transparent ****** broadened the dark waters to balance the embodiment as she stood ageless-straight to bless and be blessed by her gift as flesh and blood the wind made of her long hair blew cosmic desire awakened across ahead above ripple glitter an angel made of of light hung above up o the roughened as if twilight o the moonlight reflected the she made of or illusions or of myths same way with a fish in her arms they exchanged the yet not-materialized in emotionless boldness for a moment that differentiates upon acceptance questionless synchronous for the grounding of being as for her it was not possible to deliver and leave she was made of her gift as much as she was she as much as fish was her creation she came to the sea she stays as she stands towards eternity if not right let rendered solemn lithify   and salute the exploit of its rhetoric if right let the deed be its myth for the generations unborn she made of wisdom of her gift she made of moon particle started flowing towards the reshaping rocks to coral coral to light in bits and pieces moment by moment as wavelengths of the angelic faded like the fading diamonds along the fins and scales of blue orange green the flesh the immaterial but real rose the sea smell for a joyous jump a big salty splash created by a rush of life glitter recouped at dawn with a rising sun
Continue reading...
92
It seems what differentiates the mad and the musician are the bow in which they strum with.
0
Dec 19, 2019
Dec 19, 2019 at 11:02 PM UTC
Madness.
There is only a few Whom you can call Faithful and true; Beyond borders and time, Beyond distance, Your words and mine, Beyond our actions, What differentiates us, And what unites us, All walks of life narrow down To one single point, Having you in my life. It is often said That nothing lasts, The unimaginable happens And the unbreakable can fall apart. But when I look at us, Recurrently get the chance To become so overwhelmed By the power of love, trust and friendship I know - Into eternity, I glance.
0
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 3:51 AM UTC
Beyond
it weaves in and out of your preoccupied consciousness then the towers crumble into that sweet sweet sanity and the flowers all bloom with the intelligence it weaves in and out through the pores of your fingertips where lavender oil is spilled over a mountain it weaves in and out through the crevices of your solitary mind your last breath becomes of it your last chance to redeem your father’s stance it weaves in and out of your arteries pumping like roses your legs separate from your talents your passions become something extraterrestrial it weaves through your education and leaves your nail polish sticky it differentiates the grass from the moon constantly spilling, pouring from your mouth your heartaches become minute and simplified but are constantly ****** into your very frontmost vision it weaves in and out of your preoccupied consciousness then flowers into separate entities similar futures it’s always on your head and in your soul what you’ve become
0
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 4:34 PM UTC
intertwining, endlessly
Seed... ...placed , watered in the soil With the hope, of Turing into 'Tree' Seed... ...Forming cotyl ... That eventually differentiates In epicotyl & hypocotyl To turn into a leafy stem, And a fibrous root to be... Stem... Growing, developing ...Into a bigger one indeed! Gradually, happily forming leaves! Bifurcating into two and many branches to be.... Roots...Helping the stem Stem... Helping roots growing in water & sunny heat. Stems...Now branches Branches...Now leafy branches Happily exhibiting their grape green leaves! The leaves, being a proud elements Of the latter tree to be, Working, dedicating, All their energy To fulfill their needs. But oh! These leaves, These generous ones indeed, Are unaware , so unaware Busy working days and nights, Devoid of greed. They rejoice at  the tree yielding its fruits, They rejoice when the tree ripens it's fruits, they rejoice, when these see birds and beasts, Relishing how yummiliciously sweet it is. It all passes, Never worrying them about grosses. The young leaves come, And greener it becomes. And the old grow pale, Time for the fall. The tree grows big, So happy in its veil Carefree about the leaves, Who toiled night & day Growing pale & pale Pale enough To even Carbon dioxide's  inhale. Seeing the tree who no more cares, Fruits & seeds, busy pampered & care d, They get one thing, We all should sing, Nature gives what It one day takes, We came from it Will one day be it's waste. What is so ours, Isnt really ours, Time rules, And nature mocks! Oh humans, Oh birds, Oh women, Oh men, Listen, listen, As I won't repeat it again, Hope, hope as much as you can, But never expect as you always can! As Hope takes high, But Expectations drain. For nature gives, For nature takes. It makes you young, To work most of what  you can! It makes you old, To live your last lost plans. Enjoy this life, As much as you can, Enjoy what comes, Regregreting not  your  pasts 'I cans'. Care for you as much as you can, Know, know that somebodydy else will But nobody forever can! I'm now but a growing leaf, At my deathbeds highest peak, Teaching you as much I can. Life your life, as you always would. Be proud of what you can and could. I was a leaf, I am a leaf, An now a jaded, old pale, trashed one. I came from soil, As a part of seed, The seed that yielded a bigger tree. The tree is happy, With its flowers and fruits The fruits yield now, Many, many seedy fruits. But oh, this tree this busy one indeed, Knows not thay it's but the leaves make it! Today that it has many, It misses not me, But oh, I feel pity, But heart sobs much in misery, Remembering, reminiscing That first parent seed For it was the seed, That loved & blessed , Blessed enough to be a tall Tall, yet a 'selfish' tree.
0
Oct 4, 2017
Oct 4, 2017 at 2:53 PM UTC
A Leaf's Cry..
Seed... ...placed , watered in the soil With the hope, of Turing into 'Tree' Seed... ...Forming cotyl ... That eventually differentiates In epicotyl & hypocotyl To turn into a leafy stem, And a fibrous root to be... Stem... Growing, developing ...Into a bigger one indeed! Gradually, happily forming leaves! Bifurcating into two and many branches to be.... Roots...Helping the stem Stem... Helping roots growing in water & sunny heat. Stems...Now branches Branches...Now leafy branches Happily exhibiting their grape green leaves! The leaves, being a proud elements Of the latter tree to be, Working, dedicating, All their energy To fulfill their needs. But oh! These leaves, These generous ones indeed, Are unaware , so unaware Busy working days and nights, Devoid of greed. They rejoice at  the tree yielding its fruits, They rejoice when the tree ripens it's fruits, they rejoice, when these see birds and beasts, Relishing how yummiliciously sweet it is. It all passes, Never worrying them about grosses. The young leaves come, And greener it becomes. And the old grow pale, Time for the fall. The tree grows big, So happy in its veil Carefree about the leaves, Who toiled night & day Growing pale & pale Pale enough To even Carbon dioxide's  inhale. Seeing the tree who no more cares, Fruits & seeds, busy pampered & care d, They get one thing, We all should sing, Nature gives what It one day takes, We came from it Will one day be it's waste. What is so ours, Isnt really ours, Time rules, And nature mocks! Oh humans, Oh birds, Oh women, Oh men, Listen, listen, As I won't repeat it again, Hope, hope as much as you can, But never expect as you always can! As Hope takes high, But Expectations drain. For nature gives, For nature takes. It makes you young, To work most of what  you can! It makes you old, To live your last lost plans. Enjoy this life, As much as you can, Enjoy what comes, Regregreting not  your  pasts 'I cans'. Care for you as much as you can, Know, know that somebodydy else will But nobody forever can! I'm now but a growing leaf, At my deathbeds highest peak, Teaching you as much I can. Life your life, as you always would. Be proud of what you can and could. I was a leaf, I am a leaf, An now a jaded, old pale, trashed one. I came from soil, As a part of seed, The seed that yielded a bigger tree. The tree is happy, With its flowers and fruits The fruits yield now, Many, many seedy fruits. But oh, this tree this busy one indeed, Knows not thay it's but the leaves make it! Today that it has many, It misses not me, But oh, I feel pity, But heart sobs much in misery, Remembering, reminiscing That first parent seed For it was the seed, That loved & blessed , Blessed enough to be a tall Tall, yet a 'selfish' tree.
Continue reading...
110
The eyes are an unusual creation One's viewpoint on what is seen and what isn't differentiates Sometimes, they play tricks on you Other times, things are seen which shouldn't be Often, they dance when taking sight of something beautiful Or are cast downward when in pain Deep in thought, they stare into space Fill with tears when experiencing hurt The eyes conceal the innermost secrets Said to be the windows to the soul When people stare into them... What do you think they see? Eyes seem to have a world of their own
0
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 9:22 PM UTC
The World of Eyes
You make me happy. Really happy. The kind of happiness I can feel in the center of my chest, a warmth that just sits there and grows whenever you call me baby or say that you love me. I always want to be with you, even when I'm on my period and don't even want to leave my house. There is nothing I enjoy more than just laying around with you and simply being with you. your smile makes me smile. I could listen to your laugh all day. I like everything that differentiates you from me. I like that you play video games and soccer and that you watch all these shows and movies on Netflix. I like that you listen to 90s alternative rock because I've never heard of 95% of the songs and artists you've introduced me to. With differences, there are similarities and I like them just as much. I like that our sense of humor is so alike. It's like we're always in an inside joke and no one else knows what the hell we're laughing at. I like that you say cheeky things at ten at night and seven in the morning and two in the afternoon. God, I just... I like you. I might love you. I'm falling for you and **** I hope you catch me.
0
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 12:21 AM UTC
Words I Should've Said Then
A liturgical darkness pains the wriggling web of a praying star. Hardwon quietude differentiates obsolete centers to contrive the offing. Timeless hands go up in deflection, as to abort the scene. Whose spelling could not boast a mouth synchronous with them. The growth spurt of insult to injury topples a bucket of well water down the throat. Alas, at morning...alert me to my stable, that I may act in accordance.
0
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 12:39 PM UTC
Alert Me to My Stable
if; all that glitters is not gold, how come my mind and brain deceive me? what differentiates between reality, and fantasty? what if because it glitters, i wish for it to be gold? who decides that gold is valuable, and glitter belongs to the depraved? Me? You? Society? Me. words are arbitrary, each and everyone of us assigns our own meaning to everything we encounter. so why follow the definitions that others set? two roads may diverge in a yellow wood, but that doesn't mean you need to take either path. you were given two hands to pave your own way.
0
Dec 13, 2019
Dec 13, 2019 at 3:37 AM UTC
definitions
I vehemently try to trace the lost pieces of my heart The ones shambled and hidden behind all the exterior One's not accepted in the eyes of our society These pieces, that awoke my soul and once made me who i am Now insignificantly veiled, as if they were garbage I try to find my insignia One that differentiates me from the rest My ambiguities, my hopelessness might as well be the root of all this lurking Putting an end to my peace And the constant rage n war that i so got caught up in This could be my way to cope through this ghastly phase All this vandalism and all these changes must stop For i am the maker of my persona and i am the destructor of myself I must rise, for its my time to ignite and shine To once again show the world my true colors I must embrace it all Be it deadly, be it ugly Yet, that's who I am, me!
0
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 7:06 AM UTC
Untitled
We all have that one thing we're destined to do, It leaves our sanity something to cling to. Its the feeling of passion that takes our soul, It differentiates the empty from the whole. This is what we have all be told, But when we are different, we fold. We don't stand tall in success, Because we're all scared of originalities stress. We would rather prosper as copies Than leave behind our insecurities. We would rather follow someone else's bricked way, Before wondering into the jungle with fears to stray . We have been forced, scared into a cage of indiversity, But the bars are invisible to my curiosity. Your minds have been set to a specific channel. One of balanced fear and comfort with no light at the end of the tunnel. - E.A.F
0
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
Indiversity
Whatever ails you, aids you Even though you are born in The teeth of poverty; Work and wait Even though the world Applaud or jeers, Work and wait. Neither heaven nor earth Reserve a place for laziness For in life door it is written, 'Push' Perhaps, don't feel helpless Like an unhorsed knight without armour Work and wait. Get it right, You cannot do everything, But you can do something. Work and wait: That, differentiates the artist from artisan. Falling on your face should not be a worry. Work and wait. Do this for opportunity comes Dressed in work clothes
0
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 7:11 PM UTC
WORK
Ever wondered why everyone who speaks a lot, speaks not anything at a state, where they could just speak a lot? Well, that's a condition, when the mind tells us something else, the soul reflects something else, and in between all these loud voice, the 'heart' merely throbs, and whispers things,that one themselves can't understand and figure out! And it is then, one becomes, 'Silent'. Silence, is a very pious condition, a being can be in.It is this silence, that connects us, to ourselves, to our surroundings, to nature, and the creator.It is because of this fact, that one who is depressed, or is suffering from anxiety isues, often wish to be in solitude. Silence heals, silence helps one perceive the unperceivable things, silence helps one figure out the situation, and silence, shows us the   'right way' because we involve God's consent in whatever we do then. Silence again, is a virtue not possessed by many! While there will be some, who are hardly quiet, there also are people who hardly talk.To know exactly when and till when should one be quiet, and when should one never be quiet is an art.And that's exactly what differentiates people from other people. The wiser ones are the most quiet ones often.They don't exaggerate things, and Exactly opposite to them are the fools.Ever seen a bird complaining about the bad weather or the grains she didn't bget from your house? Obviously not!Even birds complain not, and fight not, for what they didn't get.They stay quiet, and find some other way to get what they need. Maybe this is why there's such peace, such seerinity in our holy places, no matter how much of a crowd gathers there! Ever seen a priest getting agitated by the noises crowds make? No, they respect people, and they have patience to deal with the crowd, because they know, people's habit can't be changed, as each habit takes months and years to be foemwd.everyone is different, and so are they.and most of all, we all are the children if God. Anything that holds knowledge is mostly quiet, and patient.Whether it's the sun, the moon, the winds, the sea, the breeze, the daylight, the dark, and Most importantly Our 'Creator'. It is because they are quiet, we respect them.The day  nature, and the Gods start speaking, they'll speak stuffs that we'll not want to hear again.For it is human nature, to respect people and things, only till the time, they don't harm and react.The day, it happens, we'll leave and lose respect for such people and things, forever . It is therefore very important to speak less, listen more., For they who listen much are much listened and respected.Value Silence, Value Yourself!
0
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 3:08 PM UTC
Silence Speaks It All...
Ever wondered why everyone who speaks a lot, speaks not anything at a state, where they could just speak a lot? Well, that's a condition, when the mind tells us something else, the soul reflects something else, and in between all these loud voice, the 'heart' merely throbs, and whispers things,that one themselves can't understand and figure out! And it is then, one becomes, 'Silent'. Silence, is a very pious condition, a being can be in.It is this silence, that connects us, to ourselves, to our surroundings, to nature, and the creator.It is because of this fact, that one who is depressed, or is suffering from anxiety isues, often wish to be in solitude. Silence heals, silence helps one perceive the unperceivable things, silence helps one figure out the situation, and silence, shows us the   'right way' because we involve God's consent in whatever we do then. Silence again, is a virtue not possessed by many! While there will be some, who are hardly quiet, there also are people who hardly talk.To know exactly when and till when should one be quiet, and when should one never be quiet is an art.And that's exactly what differentiates people from other people. The wiser ones are the most quiet ones often.They don't exaggerate things, and Exactly opposite to them are the fools.Ever seen a bird complaining about the bad weather or the grains she didn't bget from your house? Obviously not!Even birds complain not, and fight not, for what they didn't get.They stay quiet, and find some other way to get what they need. Maybe this is why there's such peace, such seerinity in our holy places, no matter how much of a crowd gathers there! Ever seen a priest getting agitated by the noises crowds make? No, they respect people, and they have patience to deal with the crowd, because they know, people's habit can't be changed, as each habit takes months and years to be foemwd.everyone is different, and so are they.and most of all, we all are the children if God. Anything that holds knowledge is mostly quiet, and patient.Whether it's the sun, the moon, the winds, the sea, the breeze, the daylight, the dark, and Most importantly Our 'Creator'. It is because they are quiet, we respect them.The day  nature, and the Gods start speaking, they'll speak stuffs that we'll not want to hear again.For it is human nature, to respect people and things, only till the time, they don't harm and react.The day, it happens, we'll leave and lose respect for such people and things, forever . It is therefore very important to speak less, listen more., For they who listen much are much listened and respected.Value Silence, Value Yourself!
Continue reading...
11
Love 02/14/2022 An uncontrollable emotion, differentiates not the age Strikes with such lethality, leaving the mind bemused Alas! those under loves spell, a heartfelt valentine
0
Feb 14, 2022
Feb 14, 2022 at 9:20 AM UTC
Love
*perhaps they'd like these linguistic albinos, but there is a greater allegiance to the tongue, than to the flesh, to the flag, to the geography... there's a transcendental allegiance to the soul... i hold my allegiance to the tongue, even if it's imported and a parasitically gloating bud akin to cancer... i still hold my allegiance to the tongue, but not, to the people that imbue it materialistically as flag & flesh first... i have an allegiance beyond the diadem of the crown... i will speak the natives tongue, but i will not bleach myself in order to sink to their level of despair... hence i kept a dual allegiance to another tongue... nation does not come before tongue... and tongue is what is inserted to animate the soul; forget your roots, forget whether there was ever you in the first place; ******* can't bleach me into being their circus ******* that constantly tend to invent slang!* how often i find myself wishing to speak a third language, other than english, **** it: even german! but i sometimes come around thankful that there's a cushion for the ear to recline on...           a song in finnish, in french, norwegian, faroese...          russian...            and i'm suddenly satiated... they might have forced out the tongue of the africans... but then again the skin colour disparity, and sure, the africans managed to climb over their loss of tongue... problem is... they're white, i'm white...                 my tongue is the only thing that differentiates me from them... i can't forget that,        i simply can't accept the Islam of the english language... given that it has mutated in america and is hardly represented by the authentic natives... if we're going to be so, ******* blunt;    there has to be a middle...   you even know how intimidating it is to be visiting paris, and not knowing an ounce of french? you get to play a deaf person... unless you find an Italian or a Canadian girl to be your tour guide in a hostel... otherwise?       cut my tongue out and start calling me Pierre, the village idiot.
0
Dec 8, 2017
Dec 8, 2017 at 8:52 PM UTC
a tourist in Paris
*perhaps they'd like these linguistic albinos, but there is a greater allegiance to the tongue, than to the flesh, to the flag, to the geography... there's a transcendental allegiance to the soul... i hold my allegiance to the tongue, even if it's imported and a parasitically gloating bud akin to cancer... i still hold my allegiance to the tongue, but not, to the people that imbue it materialistically as flag & flesh first... i have an allegiance beyond the diadem of the crown... i will speak the natives tongue, but i will not bleach myself in order to sink to their level of despair... hence i kept a dual allegiance to another tongue... nation does not come before tongue... and tongue is what is inserted to animate the soul; forget your roots, forget whether there was ever you in the first place; ******* can't bleach me into being their circus ******* that constantly tend to invent slang!* how often i find myself wishing to speak a third language, other than english, **** it: even german! but i sometimes come around thankful that there's a cushion for the ear to recline on...           a song in finnish, in french, norwegian, faroese...          russian...            and i'm suddenly satiated... they might have forced out the tongue of the africans... but then again the skin colour disparity, and sure, the africans managed to climb over their loss of tongue... problem is... they're white, i'm white...                 my tongue is the only thing that differentiates me from them... i can't forget that,        i simply can't accept the Islam of the english language... given that it has mutated in america and is hardly represented by the authentic natives... if we're going to be so, ******* blunt;    there has to be a middle...   you even know how intimidating it is to be visiting paris, and not knowing an ounce of french? you get to play a deaf person... unless you find an Italian or a Canadian girl to be your tour guide in a hostel... otherwise?       cut my tongue out and start calling me Pierre, the village idiot.
Continue reading...
38