Limprick: Just A Bird Singing

My argument may seem strong
And it may impress the throng
But if you really did prong
You may find out I am totally wrong
You need to know
I am just a bird with his song

Of Lost Wisdom

Perpetual progress is a fable of lore
To see our markets soar
And shelves full in the megastore
We treated the earth like a whore
We sired progeny galore
We depleted her ore
For oil everywhere we bore
Lakes and aqueducts we wore
We abused her fauna and her flore
And most fish in the oceans no more
With our sole sustainer we lost rapport
Friends, remember the dinosaur
Unless we bring back the commerce of yore
And respect her mountain and her shore
She will shake us to the core
She who can smite a giant oak with a spore
Will afflict us with pestilence and war
With hell fire the garden of eden restore

Goodbye

With a heart heavy as stone
I have decided to quit the zone
My leaving I can't postpone
You will find me chasing a cyclone
Or wrestling bears in Yukon
May be taming tigers in Ceylon
Always looking for the unturned stone
And treading paths unknown
Surely not mowing a lawn
Nor singing the usual tone
I say goodbye to all, for I am gone

Limprick: Of Kisses and Blisses

The miss started to hiss
And seemed she was about to diss
Til I bridged the infinite abyss
With a most passionate kiss
Now she likes me
And it is all ruby fields of bliss

Limprick: Of Furry Trouts and Such

You can say you live in Manhattan
You can wear suits made of satin
You can sprinkle your prose with latin
And do it with the accent of a Britton
But none can save you
if you are a cretin

Limprick: About Madness

The priest and the prince weren’t glad
When He promised the kingdom to a lad
For Him jotting things down was bad
Words for essence on a pad
Become certainties
And certainties are what turn people mad

About Myth

They could bask in rose gardens
But they would rather wallow in cesspools
God gave his prophets visions
But they landed on the ears of fools
And the distilled wisdom of ages
From their mouths witless drools
Brother, those aren’t grail for life direction
But mere guiding tools

Gaia in Love

Why did she cradle the ivory stranger
and his exuberance with her energies prime?
She spiced his endeavors
with cinnamon and thyme
Even when she knew the outcome
will be misery and grime
Yes, she fell for him totally
and forsook those she used to call mine
She poured her affections on her abuser
and abandoned lovers who worshipped her in rhyme
Should we blame her
for this unspeakable crime
Because she, also, fell in love
with the productions of time
Who will heal our mother
and who will restore Gaia to her shrine

Humor : Cause and Effect

Xamanic

Spirits live in this quatrain
Not in attire of glorious train
Nor gods in drops of humble rain
But in words, root of hidden pain

Heard in a Dream

Hem goma gohe
Noma zoa nohe
Dria queta pa badum
Akta pe halko sedum
Za wa atal habtakta
La we tole maktakta
Damo nade eco hanemde
Hamo nade eco hasemde
Heya pe pada heyye
Heya ne nada peyye
Opa lah bala tun
Lopa sem isa katun

Perspectives in Truth

Listen to this fascinating interview with Jon Biloon, a sustainable farmer in Hawaii. You will hear tremendous insights into the current state of sustainable agriculture and how modern intensive agricultural technologies may be contraproductive.
-> Press Here for Playlist (11 Clips, 1 hr 50 min)

Humor

It was asked of a painter why, since he made such beautiful figures,
which were but dead things, his children were so ugly; to which the
painter replied that he made his pictures by day, and his children
by night.
- From Leonardo Da Vinci's Notebooks

The Couscous Song (French) Lyrics by Mike Soussan Music by Giuseppe Verdi , “La Donna E Mobile” From the Opera Rigoletto

J’ai invité mon amie Celine Pour un bon plat de tagine Avec du poulet et aubergines Des amondes et patatines Et bien sure le couscous Avec canelle et prune douces Et pour dessert Chocolat a la mousse A sucer sa pouce [Chorus] Elle me dis, Tu sais mon avis Ces bonnes choses de la vie Qui te portent au paradis Je lui repond je suis ravis Après ça des bisous avancés Et en passion elancés Je vous dis mes amis Le tagine ça dance Et le couscous ça romance [Chorus]

Des Mots Maudits (French)

Plus complex est notre prose
Plus aigue est notre psychose
On apprend mieux par osmose
Mieux encore par l’hypnose
Si on est un genie ou virtuose
Ce ne sont pas nos virtues, mais nos demons qui s’exposent
Si on est continuellement morose
C’est souvent parce qu’on presuppose
Ce n’est pas le boir qui nous donne la cirrhose
Ni le fumer à nos poumons la necrose
C’est plutôt l’angoisse du temps qui nous predispose
Quand on se sent mal et notre vie n'est plus en rose
Ce n'est pas le docteur ni la pilule à guérir notre chose
C'est l'amour notre baume, en surdose

Short Stories : A Puta De Copacabana (Portuguese)

Quando penso na minha vida
Momentos de felicidade foram poucos
Un pai que sumiu quando eu tinha seis anos
Uma mae sempre bebida
Eu fui gravida muito cedo
Minha personalidade foi grelhada no fogo da pena e da pobreza
Sonhei con tantas coisas bonitas
Mas minhas esperanças foram furadas da persistência malefica do tempo
A realidade, meu amigo, e onde as ilusoes van a morrer
Agora eu son simplemente
Uma comerciante do amor
Uma agente da lei da oferta e da procura
Eu procuro uma valvula da fuga pra a sociedade
Que para comencar já é frustrada e violenta
Eu som uma fazedora de paz
Todos nós temos direito à paz e felicidade, não acha?
Tanto ricos como pobres
Estamos atolados no marasmo da moralidade hipócrita
Se defende uma idea agora
Y depois, vende-la a quem oferecer o preco mais alto
Eu nao creio em uma sociedade di paz total, antiseptica
Mas esto é demasiado
Todos parecem ocupados em atingir o topo da escada
Com uma escada rolante pra chegar la mais depressa
Mas esquecem que o mais alto chegan mais dolorosa a queda
Nós vivemos em um mundo com os nervos sempre em franja
Com o dedo sempre sobre a gatilho
Eu sempre tenho medo de morrer baleada na rua como um cão
Eu dou graças a Deus por este aire cheno de cheiro da maconha
Mesmo que se dá breve alívio
As veias desta cidade não podem sangrar para sempre
Você sabe? antem, a menina se pulo da janella
Do decimo andar do edificio
Uma situação trágica, uma outra morte inútil
Olha, eu son uma persoa esturadinha
Mas muito leai a meus amigos,
A minha comunidade
Mas eu temo que son um exército de uma mulher sóa
Lutando por um mundo mais justo
Que no final não vale a pena
Eu acredito en Deus
Mas acredito que ele gosta de risco
Eu imagino Deus como um homem embriagado
Saindo de um bar à procura de brigas
E seu punho raivoso terminando
No rosto da humanidade pobre e impotente
Todo fica mal neste mundo
Todo fica mal na minha vida
Estou cansada desta rotina
Muito estranho, mas neste momento eu sinto saudades
Pode ser, é porque estou ficando velha
Ainda lembro os susurros da minha pequena aldeia
Onde a vida é simples ea única preocupação da gente
é o de encontrar um novo dia
Eu abomino o barulho incesante das ruas do Rio
Uma cidade que nunca dorme nunca sonha
Uma citadade que nunca sonha passa seus pesadelos
Nas ruas escuras do seus bairros
E verdade, estou ficando velha
Esto a começar a esquecer caminhos trilhados mil vezes
Você percebe que é chegada a hora de aposentar-me?
Basta com este buraco do inferno
Basta, basta, basta.

Humor

A small tribute to a great comedian, George Carlin, a true voice of sanity in this country. He died today June 23, 2008 in Santa Monica, California at age 71.

About True Wisdom

We have sought only happiness
When life is made of joy as well as sorrow

We have sought eternity
When our soul never understood tomorrow

Our intellect seems not to be enough
Neither wealth by the wheelbarrow

We are called to inquire of the old sage
And from nature its wisdom borrow

These truths are well known
Learn from the majestic tree and the wild sparrow

Poets Cry A Lot (French)

Je suis concerné
Et mon angoisse souligne

Je ne porte ni haine
Ni intentions malignes

Je demande des dieux
La seule faveur d’être digne

Je vous aime tous
Je ne vous delaisse pas ni je me resigne

Même si je ne suis qu’un pauvre poète
Perdu dans ses lignes

A Rainbow in The Night (Spanish)

Quando todo dios
Que en su olimpos desfavorece

Mandando relampagos y truenos
Y el viento que se enfurece

No rueges al santo
Con su rosario en el monte rece

Para quitar la bruma
Que en tus ojos oscurece

Que después viene el sol
Y con rayos de vida en arco iris reaparece

De nuevo vas a ver nuestro valle
Que con rosas blancas y rojas florece

Y no olvidez la ternura
Que en mi corazon crece

Te va a dar un amor
Que tanto se te merece

Colombina's Potion

To win her love
My whole I will stake
But how do I get her attention
Without seeming a flake
I went to see Colombina, the old witch
Down by the lake
I found the haggard crone leaning on a cauldron
With back bent as she ache'
I told her of my desire
And this potion she told me to make
Venom drawn before dusk
From a red and black snake
The skin of a blue toad
That I first need to bake
A hair from a bear
Before his spring wake
Oil of canapa
Laced in a cake
Theliana from the forest
Boiled with mandrake
Then put all in a flask
Then shake
The whole in sweet wine
And give to my love to partake
I was promised
That when this potion she will take
The first morning
When she is awake
Her heart for me
Will not only beat but quake

Build An Ark While They Bark

Better in love when most horny
Both the man and the deer

Can’t sweeten the brew
Without bitter hops in the beer

We express our joy sometimes with a smile
And others with a tear

And God chose prophets, sometimes a pauper
And others a wazeer

Mighty miracles are followed
By a crown of thorns and a spear

After great blessings often come
Sharp teethed bites on the rear

We have rewarded the profligate
And punished the austere

Truly, our food is irony wrapped in paradox
My lady and my sir

And this til the earth stops on a dime
Then switches gear

And we can feel the stirrings
Of the wind of time as it’s about to veer

And then and like before the flood
We should all have an ark ready and near

And like old Noah,
We’ll be saved, and all live a thousand year’

We Know Everything

As sure as after winter there is spring
Something in us knows everything
If you’re to be a pauper or a king
If you’re to be a hermit or freely swing
If you’re to be earthbound or on the wing
If the one before you is the right or the wrong fling
When you should run and not cling
When you should take as well as bring
When you should stop crying and instead sing
Something in us knows everything
You can even hear the bullet before its zing
And the bell before its ding
Then all death is suicide, a most unbelievable thing
Something in us knows beyond knowing
And could always save us from lethal sting
But still let us right into the hands of the savage ring

Humor : The Story of My Cousin Newt

This is the story of my cousin Newt
Slower witted than a coot
He roamed the streets barefoot
And was seen often frolicking in a pink suit
That is why many thought he was a fruit
One day he found a bag of money down a chute
It belonged to Ben, the village brute
He robbed a bank, that is where came the loot
After a short pursuit
Ben caught up with Newt
Give me the dough or I shoot
Ben threatened Newt
I don’t give a hoot
Retorted Newt
But before you shoot
Let me salute.
Thinking he was astute
Ben asked him what he was to salute
To which Newt replied, all men like you, of ill repute
Then raised his right hand and let out a really loud toot
And a quite smelly one to boot

At The Party

I had a fun time at the Douglasses
Modest but dreaming of higher classes
I met the strangest mix of bedazzled masses
Some heads were full of hot gasses
While other heads were in tight asses
Some indoors wearing sunglasses
Bald fat men after perennial lasses
Practicing many times rehearsed passes
“I will make sure this night no one surpasses”
We heard the host say as he sasses
Who are the baritones and who are the basses?
And all the painters, bring your canvasses
And everybody dance, both the skinny and the fatasses
After that came the silly toasts with flute glasses
But me and the other smartasses
Were outside by the pool, smoking grasses

Perspectives in Truth

One of the greatest minds of our time, Richard Feynman in the Last Journey Of A Genius (50 min)

Memorable Quotes

From Shakespeare's The Two Getlemen of Verona Act II Scene VII

JULIA: O, know'st thou not his looks are my soul's food?
Pity the dearth that I have pined in,
By longing for that food so long a time.
Didst thou but know the inly touch of love,
Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow
As seek to quench the fire of love with words.

LUCETTA: I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire,
But qualify the fire's extreme rage,
Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.

JULIA: The more thou damm'st it up, the more it burns.
The current that with gentle murmur glides,
Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage;
But when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet music with the enamell'ed stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage,
And so by many winding nooks he strays
With willing sport to the wild ocean.
Then let me go and hinder not my course
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream
And make a pastime of each weary step,
Till the last step have brought me to my love;
And there I'll rest, as after much turmoil
A blessed soul doth in Elysium.

Perspectives in Truth

Ladies and Gentlemen, I introduce you UG Krishnamurti, A terrorist of the spirit. For UG mind is a myth, the search for enlightenment is futile, and "there is nothing there, anywhere".

Humor : Animal Dreams

I was the fish
That discovered water

I was the dog
That never lost a buried bone

I was the cat
That didn’t mind a bath

I was the ant
That strayed and found a better stash of grain

I was the horse
That was lead to water and did drink

I was the sheep
That didn’t follow

I was the rooster
That snoozed

I was the elephant
That forgot

I was the cow
That never came home

I was the pig
That you saw flying

I was the mule
That you never had to ask twice

I was the ass
Just like you, for reading this nonsense

The Story of Amy the Tomboy

I wanted to go fish some bass
It was Sunday so my mom told me no,
“You need to go to mass”
“It is time that you meet a good boy,
May be, this time, one with class”
What about Tom, suggested my mom
He has class
Who, Tom, I retorted, the one with a limp
And one eye of glass
What about Dick then, asked my mom
He has class
Who, Dick, I said, he speaks with a hiss
And to my taste a little bit crass
And what about Harry, she asked again
He has class
Who, Harry, he snores in church
And heared him, loudly, passing gas.
After that I had to stop her:
Mom, due the available choices
I would like to pass
And please mom
Quit being so brass
You can tell me about nice boys all day
And til my ass is grass
Instead of marrying any Tom, Dick or Harry
I rather be for ever a lass

The Story of Ira Malone

This is the story of Ira Malone
He was loaded and mean to the bone
Tired of being alone
Even if from his groin was hanging only one stone
He wanted a queen for his throne
That is when he met a girl named Joan
Stunning, a Merlyn Monroe clone
Blonde hair and a rack made of silicone
Finally, Ira found someone to love and rely upon
They had fun and to many wonderful places they have flown
At their mansion many parties they have thrown
They were the talk of the town, their star everywhere shone
Til one day, he found her in bed with his best friend Shawn
How could she -he moaned- that bitch, that crone?
Handsome he isn’t and he rarely showers nor uses cologne
Right there, he could have mowed the bloody drone
His brains he could have blown
But because he lost a fortune at the casino in Bayonne
that murder he had to postpone
For he needed Shawn for a loan

Thus Spoke the Sphinx

Have you ever been called a goof?
Lacking only tail and a hoof
May be called aloof
Of true manhood a spoof

Then let me make your mood bright
And save you from logic so tight
You can never be sure of what is wrong or what is right
What is boon or what is blight

You can’t always care what everybody thinks
Nor mind the doctors and the shrinks
Who promise to straighten your kinks
But harken now to the wisdom of the sphinx…

You see more
When you aren’t watching
You hear more
When you aren’t listening
You convey more
When you aren’t talking
You know more
When you aren’t thinking
You love more
When you aren’t wanting
You feel more
When you aren’t touching
You find more
When you aren’t seeking
You win more
When you aren’t striving
You get more
When you aren’t reaching
You help more
When you aren't trying ...

The Archer

Like Apollo, in one hand a bow dire
And in the other a gentle lyre
Shaken to my marrow
And feathered rhymes in my arrow
I launch at your heart
My passion will carry the dart
Will transform in flower offerings
And songs like water drawn from forbidden springs
In one tune to capture heaven and earth
The promise of joy and eternal mirth

Books In A Poem : Don Quijote By Cervantes

One day I got off my bed
Left farm and shed
I mounted Rocinante, who I can’t call a thoroughbred
I brought Sancho who cares for nothing but bread
And this mighty army to adventure I led
And sweet Dulcinea to wed
But on my way I found nothing but rascal and dullhead
To them I lost my mind, so much I have read
I was but a fool rushing where angels fear to tread
But I am not like them, filled with dread
Even if my plans to smithereens they shred
And my tender hopes were all but dead
I will find my giants
And watch them get windmills instead

Books In A Poem : St Francis of Assisi By GK Chesterton

This is a story
That happened to me once

It was during the war
I was in the battlefield, heavy with guns

Suddenly, I was smitten with a flash
Brighter than a thousand suns

My mind dissolved in a blaze
And I fell on my buns

I was terrified and thought
This is the end of my earthly runs

Should I praise or should I curse
God as he duns

I heard a voice, then singing
As in a trance

A compelling tune
My feet couldn’t help but dance

My mouth opened
With words in savage puns

I felt an unspeakable peace and …love
An all other-worldly stance

You may think I am mad
And you may look at me askance

But I am leaving this world and its strife
And joining the monks and the nuns

Humor : I Feel Like A Horse

When I was young
I was handsome and strong, I was smok’n
I could dance all night
I was rock’n
I was the boss, no one could say nay
Once I have spok’n
Now that I am old
My joints ache, I am brok’n
And can’t stand
My guts constant croak’n
I can’t stop farting
I am chok’n
And I feel like a horse
I can walk and shit, by the same tok’n

Romance Blows

This is the story, as it goes
I was on the pollen path, very close
To meet the most beautiful comely rose
But on the way something happened and I went comatose
When she saw my most unflattering pose
She reached for the hose
What can you do, romance sometimes blows
And the deep workings of women no one knows
And as you can see, with them, there is no end to my woes

The Song Giver

Come, come, come
And bring your buddy along

Smile, smile, smile
You can never be wrong

Play, play, play
The lyre and the gong

Dance, dance, dance
Show the earth you belong

Pray, pray, pray
Til God gives you a song

Free At Last

It is true, I was in a world nether
Around my neck you had a tether
I always wished for better weather
And less water on my leather
But now that we are not together
My heart is lighter than a feather

The Searcher

Seduced by lore
To the depth of the earth I bore
Searching for ore
Then with hands sore
And finding but spore
I looked for the oceans to pour
But I forgot I was but a salt doll
As soon as I touched the shore
I melted and was no more

The Resting Place

If fear and pain
Extol a heavy toll
Buried beneath my clay
Lies your soul
Embrace me
I will make diamonds off your coal
Bask in my sun
And I will make you whole

The Stranger

I didn’t come to intrude in your feast
Neither your favors enlist
Nor use your mill for my grist
I am not a beast
I come to you as a sea of virtue
Concealed in a mist

Perspectives in Truth

I believe this guy gets it. Read this MarketWatch article by Paul Farrell on what makes a megabubble and how we are about to experience the hungover of a debt binge that lasted more than 60 years. Press Here For Article

Graham Hancock and the Plant Teachers - Part 1 of 12 (Not everyone will have the pre-required mental structure for this one but don't get turned off but the psychedelic talk and try to search for and watch all 12 parts)

Graham Hancock on Egyptian and Mayan Astronomy

Humor : Today’s Menu at My House

Para comenzar
Una ensalada caótica de palabras

De primer plato
Calamares en crema de falsos cuentos

Después servimos
Carne asada a la perfección en el fuego de los celos
Y viene con
Patatas al horno con ajo y salsa de ironía
Y pimientos rellenos de insultos

Y por ultimo, un delicioso postre
Buñuelos bañados in mala leche

Disfruten

The Crimes of My Rhymes

It appears my poetry grimes
I was told it is sour as limes
That it is not up with the times
That I should be tried for word crimes
That it is not worth a pair of dimes
I can hear the critic as his cannon primes
And the fool as his gong chimes
Only God can save my rhymes