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The White House on Friday postponed a meeting with an estimated 140 college leaders that had been scheduled for this week, according to notices administration officials distributed to invited participants. The event was slated to be a discussion of strategies to better serve lower-income students. In order to get in the door the group of college presidents, state and local government officials and other invitees were asked to set a specific goal for improvement in areas such as remediation or enrollment numbers of Pell Grant recipients.
The meeting was bumped, however, because of a trip President Obama and Michelle Obama are taking to South Africa this week to attend a memorial for Nelson Mandela. In emails to invitees, White House officials said they remained "100 percent" committed to holding the meeting on higher education, probably in January. In the meantime they encouraged participants to continue to work with the administration to further develop their student-success pledges.
Four more institutions will participate in the University of Wisconsin System's competency-based education program, which is dubbed the UW Flexible Option. System officials said the new offerings will be certificate programs aimed at adult and nontraditional students. They will include certificates in sales, geographic information systems and alcohol and drug abuse counseling, among others. Some will be non-credit programs, while others may soon be linked to "stackable" bachelor's degree tracks.
Our conference-going gourmands check out the culinary treats of the City of Brotherly Love.
The Lumina Foundation on Wednesday announced the first 20 cities that it will team with on localized college completion strategies. In January Lumina announced a shift in its approach, with a plan to spend $300 million over the next four years on rethinking financial aid, new delivery models of higher education and mobilizing key constituencies to boost completion rates. The foundation also said it would team up with cities, with this group being the first batch. Each local area will receive up to $200,000 from Lumina, and foundation officials said more cities would be selected to participate in the next year.
A central tenet of the student learning outcomes "movement" is that higher education institutions must articulate a specific set of skills, traits and/or dispositions that all of its students will learn before graduation. Then, through legitimate means of measurement, institutions must assess and publicize the degree to which its students make gains on each of these outcomes.
Although many institutions have yet to implement this concept fully (especially regarding the thorough assessment of institutional outcomes), this idea is more than just a suggestion. Each of the regional accrediting bodies now requires institutions to identify specific learning outcomes and demonstrate evidence of outcomes assessment as a standard of practice.
This approach to educational design seems at the very least reasonable. All students, regardless of major, need a certain set of skills and aptitudes (things like critical thinking, collaborative leadership, intercultural competence) to succeed in life as they take on additional professional responsibilities, embark (by choice or by circumstance) on a new career, or address a daunting civic or personal challenge. In light of the educational mission our institutions espouse, committing ourselves to a set of learning outcomes for all students seems like what we should have been doing all along.
Yet too often the outcomes that institutions select to represent the full scope of their educational mission, and the way that those institutions choose to assess gains on those outcomes, unwittingly limit their ability to fulfill the mission they espouse. For when institutions narrow their educational vision to a discrete set of skills and dispositions that can be presented, performed or produced at the end of an undergraduate assembly line, they often do so at the expense of their own broader vision that would cultivate in students a self-sustaining approach to learning. What we measure dictates the focus of our efforts to improve.
As such, it's easy to imagine a scenario in which the educational structure that currently produces majors and minors in content areas is simply replaced by one that produces majors and minors in some newly chosen learning outcomes. Instead of redesigning the college learning experience to alter the lifetime trajectory of an individual, we allow the whole to be nothing more than the sum of the parts -- because all we have done is swap one collection of parts for another. Although there may be value in establishing and implementing a threshold of competence for a bachelor's degree (for which a major serves a legitimate purpose), limiting ourselves to this framework fails to account for the deeply held belief that a college experience should approach learning as a process -- one that is cumulative, iterative, multidimensional and, most importantly, self-sustaining long beyond graduation.
The disconnect between our conception of a college education as a process and our tendency to track learning as a finite set of productions (outcomes) is particularly apparent in the way that we assess our students' development as lifelong learners. Typically, we measure this construct with a pre-test and a post-test that tracks learning gains between the years of 18 and 22 -- hardly a lifetime (the fact that a few institutions gather data from alumni 5 and 10 years after graduation doesn't invalidate the larger point).
Under these conditions, trying to claim empirically that (1) an individual has developed and maintained a perpetual interest in learning throughout their life, and that (2) this lifelong approach is directly attributable to one's undergraduate education probably borders on the delusional. The complexity of life even under the most mundane of circumstances makes such a hypothesis deeply suspect. Yet we all know of students that experienced college as a process through which they found a direction that excited them and a momentum that carried them down a purposeful path that extended far beyond commencement.
I am by no means suggesting that institutions should abandon assessing learning gains on a given set of outcomes. On the contrary, we should expect no less of ourselves than substantial growth in all of our students as a result of our efforts. Designed appropriately, a well-organized sequence of outcomes assessment snapshots can provide information vital to tracking student learning over time and potentially increasing institutional effectiveness. However, because the very act of learning occurs (as the seminal developmental psychologist Lev Vygotsky would describe it) in a state of perpetual social interaction, taking stock of the degree to which we foster a robust learning process is at least as important as taking snapshots of learning outcomes if we hope to gather information that helps us improve.
If you think that assessing learning outcomes effectively is difficult, then assessing the quality of the learning process ought to send chills down even the most skilled assessment coordinator's spine. Defining and measuring the nature of process requires a very different conception of assessment – and for that matter a substantially more complex understanding of learning outcomes.
Instead of merely measuring what is already in the rearview mirror (i.e., whatever has already been acquired), assessing the college experience as a process requires a look at the road ahead, emphasizing the connection between what has already occurred and what is yet to come. In other words, assessment of the learning that results from a given experience would include the degree to which a student is prepared or "primed" to make the most of a future learning experience (either one that is intentionally designed to follow immediately, or one that is likely to occur somewhere down the road). Ultimately, this approach would substantially improve our ability to determine the degree to which we are preparing students to approach life in a way that is thoughtful, pro-actively adaptable, and even nimble in the face of both unforeseen opportunity and sudden disappointment.
Of course, this idea runs counter to the way that we typically organize our students' postsecondary educational experience. For if we are going to track the degree to which a given experience "primes" students for subsequent experiences -- especially subsequent experiences that occur during college -- then the educational experience can't be so loosely constructed that the number of potential variations in the order of a student experiences virtually equals the number of students enrolled at our institution.
This doesn't mean that we return to the days in which every student took the same courses at the same time in the same order, but it does require an increased level of collective commitment to the intentional design of the student experience, a commitment to student-centered learning that will likely come at the expense of an individual instructor's or administrator's preference for which courses they teach or programs they lead and when they might be offered.
The other serious challenge is the act of operationalizing a concept of assessment that attempts to directly measure an individual's preparation to make the most of a subsequent educational experience. But if we want to demonstrate the degree to which a college experience is more than just a collection of gains on disparate outcomes – whether these outcomes are somehow connected or entirely independent of each other – then we have to expand our approach to include process as well as product.
Only then can we actually demonstrate that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts, that in fact the educational process is the glue that fuses those disparate parts into a greater -- and qualitatively distinct -- whole.
Mark Salisbury is director of institutional research and assessment at Augustana College, in Illinois. He blogs at Delicious Ambiguity.
A recent research paper published by the Wisconsin Center for the Advancement of Postsecondary Education and reported on by Inside Higher Ed criticized states' efforts to fund higher education based in part on outcomes, in addition to enrollment. The authors, David Tandberg and Nicholas Hillman, hoped to provide a "cautionary tale" for those looking to performance funding as a "quick fix."
While we agree that performance-based funding is not the only mechanism for driving change, what we certainly do not need are impulsive conclusions that ignore positive results and financial context. With serious problems plaguing American higher education, accompanied by equally serious efforts across the country to address them, it is disheartening to see a flawed piece of research mischaracterize the work on finance reform and potentially set back one important effort, among many, to improve student success in postsecondary education.
As two individuals who have studied performance funding in depth, we know that performance funding is a piece of the puzzle that can provide an intuitive, effective incentive for adopting best practices for student success and encourage others to do so. Our perspective is based on the logical belief that tying some funding dollars to results will provide an incentive to pursue those results. This approach should not be dismissed in one fell swoop.
We are dismayed that the authors were willing to assert an authoritative conclusion from such simplistic research. The study compares outcomes of states "where the policy was in force" to those where it was not -- as if "performance funding" is a monolithic policy everywhere it has been adopted.
The authors failed to differentiate among states in terms of when performance funding was implemented, how much money is at stake, whether performance funds are "add ins" or part of base funding formulas, the metrics used to define and measure "performance," and the extent to which "stop loss" provisions have limited actual change in allocations. These are critical design issues that vary widely and that have evolved dramatically over the 20-year period the authors used to decide if "the policy was in force" or not.
Treating this diverse array of unique approaches as one policy ignores the thoughtful work that educators and policy makers are currently engaged in to learn from past mistakes and to improve the design of performance funding systems. Even a well-designed study would probably fail to reveal positive impacts yet, as states are only now trying out new and better approaches -- certainly not the "rush" to adopting a "quick fix" that the authors assert. It could just as easily be argued that more traditional funding models actually harm institutions trying to make difficult and necessary changes in the best interest of students and their success (see here and here).
The simplistic approach is exacerbated by two other design problems. First, we find errors in the map indicating the status of performance funding. Texas, for example, has only recently implemented (passed in spring 2013) a performance funding model for its community colleges; it has yet to affect any budget allocations. The recommended four-year model was not passed. Washington has a small performance funding program for its two-year colleges but none for its universities. Yet the map shows both states with performance funding operational for both two-year and four-year sectors.
Second, the only outcome examined by the authors was degree completions as it "is the only measure that is common among all states currently using performance funding." While that may be convenient for running a regression analysis, it ignores current thinking about appropriate metrics that honor different institutional missions and provide useful information to drive institutional improvement. The authors make passing reference to different measures at the end of the article but made no effort to incorporate any realism or complexities into their statistical model.
On an apparent mission to discredit performance funding, the authors showed a surprising lack of curiosity about their own findings. They found eight states where performance funding had a positive, significant effect on degree production but rather than examine why that might be, they found apparent comfort in the finding that there were "far more examples" of performance funding failing the significance tests.
"While it may be worthwhile to examine the program features of those states where performance funding had a positive impact on degree completions," they write, "the overall story of our state results serves as a cautionary tale." Mission accomplished.
In their conclusion they assert that performance funding lacks "a compelling theory of action" to explain how and why it might change institutional behaviors.
We strongly disagree. The theory of action behind performance funding is simple: financial incentives shape behaviors. Anyone doubting the conceptual soundness of performance funding is, in effect, doubting that people respond to fiscal incentives. The indisputable evidence that incentives matter in higher education is the overwhelming priority and attention that postsecondary faculty and staff have placed, over the years, on increasing enrollments and meeting enrollment targets, with enrollment-driven budgets.
The logic of performance funding is simply that adding incentives for specified outcomes would encourage individuals to redirect a portion of that priority and attention to achieving those outcomes. Accepting this logic is to affirm the potential of performance funding to change institutional behaviors and student outcomes. It is not to defend any and all versions of performance funding that have been implemented, many of which have been poorly done. And it is not to criticize the daily efforts of faculty and staff, who are committed to student success but cannot be faulted for doing what matters to maintain budgets.
Surely there are other means -- and more powerful means -- to achieve state and national goals of improving student success, as the authors assert. But just as surely it makes sense to align state investments with the student success outcomes that we all seek.
Nancy Shulock is executive director of the Institute for Higher Education Leadership & Policy at California State University at Sacramento, and Martha Snyder is senior associate at HCM Strategists.
Education Department staff members have recommended that the Accrediting Commission for Community and Junior Colleges -- which evaluates community colleges in California -- be permitted to operate for another year, while it works on fixing problems that the department has identified. The recommendation may be accepted or rejected next week at a meeting of the National Advisory Committee on Institutional Quality and Integrity, which advises the education secretary on which accreditors to recognize. (Such recognition is crucial as students are eligible for federal student aid only if they enroll at institutions accredited by recognized accreditors.) The department notified the accreditor in August that it was out of compliance with many rules -- and that action cheered advocates for the City College of San Francisco. In July, the accreditor said that it would strip the college of its accreditation -- a decision that has led to intense scrutiny of the accreditor's review, which has been blasted by faculty unions and others as seriously flawed.
The Education Department's staff report says that there has been enough progress at fixing problems at the accreditation agency to give it another 12 months to improve, but it outlines areas of continued lack of compliance as well. Many of the remaining issues are broad and serious. Among them: "the agency must demonstrate wide acceptance of the agency's standards, policies, procedures, and decisions to grant or deny accreditation by educators" and "the agency must demonstrate that academic personnel, as generally defined by the accrediting agency and wider higher education community, are represented on its evaluation teams" and "the agency must demonstrate that it evaluates the appropriateness of the measures of student achievement chosen by its institutions." While these issues extend beyond the controversy over the City College of San Francisco, they relate to criticisms made of the accreditor's handling of that case.
Two senators join the increasingly crowded Washington bandwagon for alternative forms of higher education to have access to federal funding. They also want college aid tied to institutional performance.
Studies at meeting of higher education researchers suggest that state policies that link funds to outcomes don't increase degree completion.
Google on Wednesday announced a $3.2 million grant that four organizations will share to produce data-based research on how student veterans are faring in college. The Institute for Veterans and Military Families, Student Veterans of America, Posse Foundation and Veterans of Foreign Wars will study which colleges are the most successful at supporting student veterans, which campus programs have the biggest impact and how veterans' majors of study match up with employment opportunities. The resulting report will be made public, Google officials said, and the company will fund the expansion of programs that are found to be the most effective.


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About Us - North Carolina Bar Association
NCBA Sections
Our members focus on their respective practice areas by joining and participating in one or more of 30 NCBA Sections.
NCBA Sections
North Carolina Bar Association
The North Carolina Bar Association is a voluntary statewide organization composed of more than 19,500 lawyers, paralegals and law students. The NCBA was founded 1899 and is based at the N.C. Bar Center, located at 8000 Weston Parkway in Cary. Volunteer service and leadership permeates virtually every aspect of the organization, from four divisions devoted to young lawyers, senior lawyers, paralegals and law students, to 30 practice specialty sections, to the various committees, commissions and task forces of the NCBA.
Leadership is provided by the NCBA Board of Governors under the direction of a president who is elected to a one-year term. Individuals comprising membership in the Board of Governors also serve on the Board of Directors for the NCBA's closely held foundation, the NCBA Foundation, Inc. The NCBA is a 501(c)(6) trade organization; the NCBA Foundation is a 501(c)(3) charitable organization. The NCBA Foundation was established in 1960. Allan Head serves as executive director of the NCBA.
The NCBA Diversity Statement: The North Carolina Bar Association is an inclusive organization committed to recognizing, respecting, promoting and encouraging diversity among its leadership, its membership and the entire legal community.


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Perham residents running water could get money back
Perham residents who are running their water to prevent frozen service lines could receive up to $55 back on their April and May bills.
Due to continuous extreme cold weather this winter, the frost table is lower than previous years, which the city has warned may result in frozen water service lines in some places.
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You will need your subscription account number and phone number. Not sure if you have an account? Email us at firstname.lastname@example.com and we can help you.


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These Introspection Tribute poems are examples of Introspection poems about Tribute. These are the best examples of Introspection Tribute poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.
I'm sure this hill is where it stood. Amazing shapes of stuccoed wood. A glass-brick, neon stream-lined place. As if it flew from outer space, A swing band auditorium, An Art Deco emporium, When romance, innocent in pace, From dancing to a teasing chase. The town grew west in modern haste And down it came, without a trace. The war and culture's change in taste, Predestined doom, the past erased. The future sighs, with solemn face The wrecking ball, the glittered waste No plaque to read "Historic Sight". The swirling dust, a dance goodnight. Gene Bourne 08-01-14 .
Strange shadows on these coral walls stay hidden from the setting sun, yet creeping through the shafts of amber light drag behind them to the high parapet a cloak of utter darkness. Fierce defended, now are none: no frightened men to urge the heavy cannon round no shrill alarm or battle cries; the end of this, as every other day has sealed a silence now complete. Once we held here, on this foreign shore, the fortress of our childhood dreams and all the world's assaults seemed nothing then; an ocean breeze would cool the hurt of falling and bring sweet scents to pick us up again. Across the bay the dhows set sail upon a rising tide their canvass spread against the purple sky. We watched their leaving long ago but you are gone away now, gone to sleep and no injured soul so left alone can wait to watch them home again. Yet I will stand, a little or a while, and will not fear cold shadows rising nor while breathing yield the fort to them; in every breach I meet your laughing eyes and feel the warming of remembered suns.
Crackling Hearts Swoosh, whoosh a salty sea soars, splish-splash colossal waves a roar. Drip-drop, a leaky faucet spent, trickle, streaming tears repent. Pounding heart sore, you adore, beating, loving pumps no more. Thump of regret, of love in debt, thrashing together you forget. Fluttering beats on retreat, sloshing a scent so very sweet. Shattering bond, broken beyond, a bellowing future now so fond. Grimacing glares, hatred a flares, spawning an odium of stares. Soured smiles, trekking every mile, whispering woes all the while. Crackling hearts, burned apart, smoldering pain from the start. Hissing highs, kissing goodbye, a burning love affair denied. *An Onomatopoeia Poem people, but no place to choose that category! Thanks for taking the time to view my work, my fellow poet and poetess friends!
generic minds listen to generic music have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive watch generic things talk about generic things gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease better get your flu shot thats what they said to me a suicidal vaccine a subliminal killing spree its contagious and the outrageous thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye that they didn't even know they had it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians inside the looking glass with nightmares of being free without a key to their mind for it is trapped in the frequency in the illusion of time bathed in our universe killing all that refuse to see those that admit to hypocracy or see the message in hip hop how cant you see the message in the lyrics that bring adolescents to their knees from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh contradicting that they're the best but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest that they dont wanna go home that they should ride alone with the gat as their only companion and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain they realize that the music itself is ashamed so whats to look up to when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious so when youre screaming oh please close your eyes and bring your mind to life open your eyes for the first time and never wonder why since the answer this entire time has been inside and you better find it before you die you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others a buncha brothers missing their mothers but only seeing strangers only feeling the haters wishing they would have used their minds when they had them and now its too late, now it's time for another new born fate to grab them
Elegy to Child Lost Passion's love oft tempts despair Casts a prideful cosmic dare-- Like Prizing Joy's most intimate caress Babe snug beneath a mother's breast Senses at this time are keen There's no secret kept between Loving mother, wriggling babe-- Wanted , dreamed of, much delayed But entwined twin was also loved-- Some say Nature's method proves That one twin may give all to mate--- But this fatal sacrifice must decimate. Only mother's eyes would feel babe's smiles-- or sense those legs that wandered miles And daring feet that danced in tunes while Arms swam in gentle Celtic croons. When babe vanished--not a sound. Mother 's grief was not allowed. Tempted so to trail behind Escaping shattered troubled mind. Squelching sorrow's hungry arms She Tried erase babe's fluttering charms Never spoke of-- never mourned. By her husband she was warned Was best forget a child so early lost-- Funerals, gravestones--such a cost-- But the years have called babe near, Mother's journal writ in tears: 'Please forgive my selfish heart. Repressed from all --this tragic part I felt your sacrificial act-- You left your cherished twin intact'. There is no law of random acts Doctors examine data facts It may be --that in the womb When both spring flowers cannot bloom One bold twin refrains to eat Compels the other to complete Hardy growth that life requires--- Sparks survival's crucial hours. Not an accident 'tis sure-- Boldest spirits blossom pure. Victoria Anderson-Throop ©
Loyalty One self Virtuous Eternity
My Fetish. I adore you. Wedges. Pumps. Stilettoes. Brown. Baby Blue. Black. Red. Pink are all so beautiful. You make me feel like a lady. Nikes. Timberlands. A pair of killer boots. Match with a fedora or a fresh to death leather coat. Uggs, Steven DSW, oh my how I am grateful for you. Loafers. Buckles. Straps. Peek a boo toes. Strapbacks. ON SALE. Played dress up with my mom's and the love affair began. Leopard. Bows. Fashion. Class. With leggings. Jeans. Skirts. Suits. Bikini underwear with a special Boo. Bags the same color, high heels assists with what some say is my sex appeal. Pretty details draw attention from all ages and genders. A little girl's obssession grown into a woman. Closet packed sparkling eyes, legs dancing, carrying me into the next life lesson. I give you tribute and pay homage to you. I love you shoes.
Let's praise the Lord! All you people of the land! Let's praise him with every Instrument we have on hand! Let's shout praises to his wonderful name! A message of rejoicing, we need to proclaim! Let's come before him, with love from our hearts! This is where a victorious life really starts! Let's bring him our thanks and appreciation! And sing of his tender mercy and wondrous salvation! Let's bring him a heart filled With hope and cheer! The coming of the lord, is so very near! We bless the father, the spirit and son! Through the blood of Jesus, we have overcome! By Jim Pemberton
Land of the free Home of the slaves The blood, sweat and tears of my ancestors resonate Amongst the soil where they were slain I'm hearing their struggle I'm feeling their pain I can't imagine being forced to part from my family All for massa's gain So I pay homage to those who promoted change People like every slave who tried to escape Nat Turner, Ms Carlotta, Harriet Tubman And the safe houses who were in accord And peg leg Joe with his song Follow the drinking gourd. People like, the disregarded - those thrown overboard And who was dismissed and defamed The ones who were stripped of their soul, their pride, their names The list could go on The full will never be told So I pay homage to others who were bold Like John Brown, The Freedom Riders, Sojourner Truth Ida B Wells, Phyllis Wheatley, Maya Angelou, Langston Hughes and Charles Drew George Washington Carver, Ruby Bridges Booker T Washington and Mary McCleod Bethune Charles Houston, Ralph Bunche, Fredrick Douglass WEB Dubois, Paul Robeson, Ralph Abernathy Benjamin Banneker, Marcus Garvey and Crispus Attucks Who's death by the way Symbolized the American lie You cant declare the rights of all men While the people of African decent rights get denied But still we rise Thanks to Dr Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, The Black Panthers, the Buffalo Soldiers and Tuskegee Airmen None who were showed any love Yeah it's an uphill battle, But obviously greatness can be done. We can rise above this stigma That blacks are lazy and daunting That our worth is null and void And in essence minus nothing And of all the names mentioned And the greatness of their successes No one has been able to erase the evil transgressions of a racist mind And once you have experienced just a taste of it It changes your perception of time The oppression beats like the drum on the chariot Of when it was finally time to escape to freedom It's mine
And the storm calls to me in ways you'll never understand A gentle call that urges my soul forth The lighting guiding a path for my feet to walk Between the stones and ash of all that once was I stand in the echoing silence of the rain It drops down upon my skin like the blessing waters of heaven Soothing me, lifting the weight from my body I feel at once as if I am home Standing amid two dimensions Caught between two skies - here and there The night wraping around me in warmth The gentle wind lifting me off my feet Drops from the clouded moon washing away my body and I am left just a soul, an essence The storm calls me forth from beneath my roof Beckoning me into its depth I stand among the reeds in the basin They dance and sway as if welcoming me And I sway with them back Caught up in the power that charges the air That threatens to sweep me away If the ground will just loosen its hold The thunder rumbles a low welcoming growl And I get pleasently lost within it I am so small compared to its vastness I close my eyes and succumb to the skies wishes Rising higher until my feet no longer touch the ground My fingertips touch the liquid color of the stars A sigh drifts from my lips There is no need of thought to stay afloat There is no demand to breathe in air No crushing weight upon my chest As my lungs struggle to survive There are no struggles here I make my bed on blackened clouds And give in to the call The storm has claimed me as its own It was such a struggle to stay upon the ground When the storm would call me home
Green bark a prism creates, Feel the pull of earth, you must. Rotates, a slime of endless hates, Can hold me not, this world's crust. Friendship's ties, isolation Deflates, Succumbs, my spaceship, to bitter rust. Mist, my soul forever permeates, Lift-off, booms the rocket's thrust. My spirit when light returns, elates, Swamps swell, swallowed hope's swirling dust. Trapped, I am, until student from fate Arrives to learn; Cloud City or bust.
Verlena S. Walker Vivacious being Earthly skin tone Reality of the world Living for the moment Entertained by her imagination Never lost in thought All aspects of life are focal points. (S.) ensual sensitivity endeavoring triangle (E) verlasting is her stride. (X) is the answer mark (T) ogether with those that are important. (O) nly a spirit embodied (N) either way is preferred. Willing to enrapture emergence As is derives innovation Lively and invigorating Keeper of the Shrine of God Enshrined by faith and religion Rich is the soul that embellishes the mind. ______________________________________________________________________| Penned on January 04, 2015!
Judas betrayed Jesus's whereabouts End, was near Son of God, knew this Universe of the Son of the Divine Father, restored Sins of man forgiven, Prince of our Universal domain, alive in the hearts of his children
The Women (for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla) Pregnant, your husband on the run, your daughter, a child, a few years old, they hauled you in, these brutish men, into the bowels of Apartheid's racist hell. They wanted information, you gave them nothing, these savage men, who skin happened to be lighter, and white was right in South Africa back then, but, you did not cower, you stood resolute, you, my mother, faced them down, their power, their 'racial superiority', their taunts, their threats. You, my mother, would not, could not break, You stood firm, you stood tall. You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall. You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles, the scraping for scraps, the desolation of separation from your beloved Tasneem and your beloved Azad, my elder sister and brother, whom I could not grow up with, your beloved children separated by time, by place, by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men, whose skin just happened to be lighter. You told me many things, as I grew older, of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder. You were a fighter, for a just cause, like countless other South African women, you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs, of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow, you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow. Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still, a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life, all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill. I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers, the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land, who fought, sacrificing it all for taking a moral stand. I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed, your body interred in your beloved South African soil, you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder, of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil. I salute you! (for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours, who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)
She's the little girl with pigtails, who sits quietly at her desk. Whose eyes lift to meet no one, whose clothing is always a mess. He's the little boy on the playground, whose strays alone without a friend. Whose countless cuts and bruises, are too deep for those to mend. She's the little girl in the lunch line, who stares at classmates having fun. Her mouth never forms a smile, her long sleeves cover what's been done. He's the little boy, who lashes out in anger, as his classmates stop and stare, in wonder at the skeptical, of a little boy who seldom had a word to share. She's the little girl who recites excuses, for every injury her tiny body may bear. A rehearsed story told so perfectly, no one notices the blankness within her stare. He's the little boy who startles so easily, and jumps at the loudest sound. A little boy covered in shades of blue, inflicted by an abuser his fate is bound. She's the little girl with pigtails, she sits alone, without a friend to tend, a black tinted heart of abusiveness, hidden injuries never to mend. They were the little boy and girl in the classroom, who sat quietly alone, concealing the crime, of living a life-time at the hands of an abuser, who raised their hands of abuse one last time.
Earths people, it is time to wake up, the 'Prince' is alive! Ascension available, access through your heart Seek and you shall find! Time is short, personally unite, connect as one Eternity given Rise to the occasion, celebrate the gift of life, bond, with 'our lord Jesus' and 'our Universal Father in heaven, building a bridge, experiencing kinship, between human and spirit ***Happy Easter Everyone***
mint a green thumb the green-eyed monster as sure as God's green apples they gave my plan a green light green around the gills a green back jade teal village green golf course - putting green the hanging of Christmas greens a sergeant wears his dress greens why does brass turn green? turnip greens lime moss green bananas greenhorns are naive greenware has not yet been fired what is the greenhouse effect? he lost his green card greengrocers pine
The Archer of laughter [Sagittarius] He needs to know; not trivia But all those deeper things Needs a higher education He wants his life to bring All the answers big and vast He wants to travel too Cause he has heaps of energy He loves to do things new. He cannot handle boredom He must be on the go If not in the physical Then he will have to know Everything about anything He's a philosopher, this too He loves to have his high ideals And he'll always say what's true. But most of all he loves to laugh To him life be a game He doesn't do traditional And he don't like things the same He can be over bearing But you'll like him anyway Though he will really pee you off When he has too much to say. 1 August 2013 @ 0727hrs.
The Nameless Slipping through the sieve of history, the nameless rest. Not for the nameless are roads renamed, nor monuments built. Not for the nameless are songs sung, nor ink spilled. The nameless rest. Their silent sacrifice, quiet ordeal, muted trauma, remain interred, amongst their remains. The nameless rest. Not for the nameless are doctorates conferred, nor eulogies recited. Not for the nameless are honours bestowed, nor homages directed. The nameless rest. They rest within us, they walk with us, in every step that we tread. They rest within us, they walk with us, for their spirit is not dead. "Your name is unknown, your deed is immortal" - inscription at The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier WWII in Moscow Special thanks to my dearest elder sister Tasneem Nobandla Moolla, whose conversations with me about life as a non-white person growing up in pre and post-Apartheid South Africa prompted me to write this dedication to the countless, nameless South Africans of every colour, whose sacrifices and dedication in the struggle against Apartheid tyranny must never be forgotten. My sister's middle name 'Nobandla' which is an isiXhosa name and means "she who is of the people" was given by her godfather, Nelson Mandela, my father's 'best-man who could not be, as Nelson Mandela was unable to-make it to my parent's wedding as he was in jail at the time in the old Johannesburg Fort. This was the 31st December 1961.
He wipes the tables clean Picks up the dirty wears Take out the garbage Stock the fridge with beers Cleans the bath room And mops the floors Sweep outside on the sidewalks Before he the doors Sounds like a lot of work But he enjoys it everyday It's the cotton club With great jazz music every day In this boarded up building On 142nd street and Lenox Avenue In the central of Harlem His dreams has come true In a sense it was segregated White folks patron the establishment And the black performers The will provide the entertainment And he heard the best musicians The likes of Duke Ellington, cab Callaway Nat king Cole, Ella Fitzgerald, count Basie Josephine baker, mea west, Billie holiday Some of the great performers he seen Many comes from all over everyday The cotton club is renowned worldwide It's where the best black musicians play He thinks he is truly bless And in his heart it's what he felt For just a poor Harlem boy The music is the soul of his wealth He remember it like yesterday But it was 5o years ago As he passes by the cotton club He can still hear the music inside the door He sits in the park watching his grandkids As they play in a yellow plastic sub And his mind wonders back as a kid In the Harlem cotton club
VIETNAM VET SOLDIER'S NIGHTMARE Another dream – I could not wake – Escape from what would follow-- Grasping for a secret word, the letters stark and hollow-- I was trapped entangled there, Just beyond the reach Of men that could release me Or a hill that could be breached Gunfire was a backdrop Soft and pungent was its sound Fell on me like raindrops--strangely harmless on the ground Smoky gray encased me like a piece of sleeping net Tunnel faces hidden —easy killing, no regret-- Felt terror and the aching for the friends around me cold Standup guys with stalwart hearts--just did what they were told Then my cell phone beeped a beep--- A message had come in .... Now awake I saw your name--- My new day would begin. Victoria Anderson-Throop November 25, 2012 waking from a nightmare contest
Tomorrow is Ours. Suffocating beneath the weight of historical fear, asphyxiated by the legacy of traumatised yesteryear, the festering wounds of enslavement still remain, juggling euphemisms in a crisp sound-bitten refrain, spewing out neo-liberal economic charades, doling out charity in strips of plastic band-aids, but, tomorrow shall be ours, casting away subservient mind-sets that shackle, no longer the weakened prey of the insatiable jackal, tomorrow shall be ours, we shall reclaim our plundered mindspaces, we shall shed our chains, leaving behind the traces, of past injustice, of the hurt and pain of our ancestors' sorrows, we are here, now, alive with hope, we shall rightfully claim our own tomorrows.
Tonight, the full moon blooms And foils the looming gloom. The remnant doom from noon Has lost it's bullish tune. And embraces dusk's eerie cool. The village square it illuminates Arena of moonlight tales of late The little ones gather and wait While the elderly engage in debates And the goats noisily ruminates The bright night, lights sparks Of bliss and joy in trees' barks The tall iroko whistle in parks Where young lovers end their tracks And skimpy skirts lose their tacks The son of perdition frets unsure The thief in the night fears exposure The pirate sailor steers from ashore The night fisherman denied action For the kind light bathes the ocean Tonight, the full moon beams proud As the town crier makes his round Belting forth a piercing sound. While the town's chorus echoes loud The stage is set for the yearning crowd
Goats They're everywhere These pretty little creatures On the serpent road to Exmouth They be some of the features Along with Emus, Kangaroos And handsome birds of prey These little goats be bountiful They're all along the way. They be domestic goats Who've gone back to the wilds Where they have bred one million fold. As one moves along the miles These little goats be seen so much In their many shades and hues Don't know where they got their water It be tough country too. The weather here be hot and dry As the sun bakes everything And mostly here no rain does fall To drinking water bring. And yet these goats look healthy as Such nimble little beasts You'd see some dead there in the road As the crows do have their feast. That be the price of progress That poor beasts have to die That be the curse of human beings Sometimes it makes me cry Yet still they be so plentiful These handsome little guys Another little part of nature That make love in me rise.
The Petty Posh-Wahzee - Liberation & Ostentation The Not-So Distant Past: The fallen fighters for freedom, are unable to turn in their graves, their battered, fragmented bones, mixed with a handful of torn rags, are all that remain, a mute reminder of their selfless valiant sacrifice. They endured brutal Apartheid harassment, detentions without trial, torture in the cells, and mental anguish when loved ones disappeared, they left their homeland, to continue the struggle against racial bigotry, while countless others fought the scourge of white-minority rule at home. Nelson Mandela and many, many others, spent their lives imprisoned, on islands of stone, and on islands of the cruellest torture, yet they stood, never bowing, never scraping, they stood, firm for ideals for which they were prepared to die, and many, many comrades did die, at the hands of the callous oppressor, and many, many comrades perished in distant lands, torn from their homes, while the struggle continued, for decades, soaked in blood, in tears, in pain. The Present: 19 years have passed, since freedom was secured at the highest of prices, delivering unto us, this present, a gift of emancipation from servitude, a freedom to walk this land, head held high, no longer second-class citizens, in the land of our ancestors, whose voices we hear and need to heed today. I do not care much for fashion, Lewis-Fit-On and Sleeves unSt.-Moron, yet the ostentation that I witness baffles even my unsophisticated palate, our ancestors' plaintive whispers are being dismissed, left unheeded, as we browse the aisles for more and more, always for more and yet more. Asphyxiated by the excess of the Petty Posh-Wahzee, we find ourselves, perched precariously on the edge, of a dissolution of all that is humane, babies go hungry, wives are battered, our elders left in hospitals for hours, I cringe as I scribble these words, perhaps too sanctimonious and preachy, yet I know, deep in the marrow of my brittle bones, I know, I know, I know, this tree of freedom planted by the nameless daughters and sons of Africa, needs to be shielded, nurtured, protected from our very own baser impulses, so that the precious tree of freedom, may bear the fruit that may feed us all, for if not, then we are doomed, to tip over, and into the yawning abyss, we shall fall.
I cannot get into heaven God I have tried! Suicide is a double edge sword Especially when you survive! Walking the streets at night Dazed and confused Longing to be loved Wondering... When is Mum, coming for me? "Does she still love me?" "Does she still care?" "Does she still think of me?" "Does she wonder, where I am?" I want her to come find me I want her to say she 'loves me' I want her to comfort me I want her to take me home And keep me safe And not forget hat I exist Like the way she treats me now I wish God Could make my Mum Magically appear Making this hellish nightmare On the street Disappear! "Send my Mum please!" So, all this can end! Before this last ray of hope Diminishes for good! I don't want to become The walking dead Forever forgotten as if I was never born! For this is the cruel, harsh reality Of living life, feeling unloved Uncared for, abandoned, Left to fend for my own A dangerous killer inside me Eating away, at my soul Something, no one can see As I suffer in silence My insides crippling! Lost, alone and frightened Weeping on a dirty Graffiti park bench Dirty tears Rolling down my cheeks Stuffing newspapers under my jumper To keep myself warm "What am I going to do?" "Will I make it through the night?" "Will I get raped and beaten?" "Will I be left for dead?" "Will I survive To see another day? "Is my life worth living?" Please God, I beg of you Have mercy now Please show me the way!
Fate or coincidence as if we have a choice constantly at odd with those who share a difference in their voice as if we could change the world so pretentious for us to concieve as if only a single soul still in me would believe Fake or conciousness a notion to betrothed as if you betterment was for me to love and loathe everything in place the explanation was there was a grand design for that or just a repetition of certain circumstances and leave no chance to reason Break the code or break the mode broken cycles, growing old fading voices go being unknown but my choice is mine alone take the hand of a higher power or take a thermo nuclear shower submit or be done with tossed out like the waste just a tiny hint of power leaves a certain taste corruption is only almost certain free will still relates to the points so poignant they are pinpointed mistakes not yet made Premeditated, so there goes destiny as if a higher power has the power to contain me as if a higher consious is out there for me to have thats the only certainty I know almost for sure why I push back the unknown is out there driving all so called life for you so call everything must come easy for you like butter to the knife and you wonder why your drowning and cannot break the surface look deep inside your mirror into the fate you may be worthless, coincidentally
Termite Country We're heading north to Exmouth, Carnarvon we've just passed. We be driving up a serpent road, As the country seems so vast. It's hot outside, but in this van, The air cons on and all, As all along the road we pass, Little goats, so beautiful…. And everywhere, most endlessly, There's a billion termite mounds. Like baked brown little mountains, They're everywhere around. We stopped near one, I marveled, That a tiny beast, and blind! Could build these blessed monuments, It nearly blew my mind. I took me then some photographs Of these engineering feats, As I let the awe and wonder, Into my dull mind seep. In such a vast, still country, In the silence of the way, Those mounds stood out so powerful, In the heat of a sunburned day. 2003
Newton and Leibniz, both creative geniuses, birth the Calculus!
In a cold dark damp jungle on a line he now calls home, Sits the Forward Observer, waiting for orders, observing the enemy all alone. Enemy trying to find his position; to terminate his view. He'll sit in silence for hours, to guide the direction for a military move. No sleep, no fire, COLD; bitter cold Korean jungle. Slow moves; that command approves. Watchful eyes; always looking for the sniper's The sniper always trying to end your day, your life; your way, back to your family. Slither like a snake they said during training to do this job. Slow and calculated because every move could be your last. seconds into minutes; minutes into hours; hours into days and still no replacement, to take this chill away. Silence becomes your friend. Time becomes a loss, Cold damp surroundings, become your only boss. F.O. they call me; both sides abhor me! because I'm the one that rains down fire, on the line as only I can see it. Some call me God, others call me satin, it all mixes in the middle as a Forward Observer station.
I keep my dreams and aspirations, stored away neatly in this box. Tied off with a pretty pink ribbon, secured tightly with key and lock. And every time I feel like a failure, I open it, so I can again feel alive. Arms of dreams tightly surround me, giving me strength I need to survive. I've hidden this box in a secret place, where I'm the only who can see. A beautiful box of hopes and dreams, finely sewn with love at the seams. This box is opened quite frequently, especially when we're apart – this rhetorical box of memories, in perfect synch with each beat of my heart
If one is compelled to stay longer, If one's senses are assailed, If one is driven to suppose its motivation, If one is urged to seek detail, If the palette makes its statements, If each stroke helps one define, If the subject can be seen anew, If one seeks to know the artist's mind, If one sees therein a beauty, If one somehow identifies, If one feels their heart is touched, If one is thankful for their eyes, If one is moved to remember, If one can see it in one's mind, If one is pushed to revisit, If one seeks out more in kind, If the painting is acclaimed or If it's "art" to only one; Then it's a perfect painting, And its work is done.
If you were a penny, I'd keep you in my front pocket every day. I'd shine and cleanse you daily, washing all troubles and woes away. If you were a diamond ring, on my finger is where you'd stay. I'd shine the stone feverishly, parting all frets and worries astray. If you were a novel, I'd place you at the very front of the shelf, I'd tear out the pages of misery, and swallow the depression myself. If you were as free as a butterfly, I'd cup you within my hands. I'd whisper all my secrets, then release you from all commands. If you were a painting, I'd pose you directly over so all could see, I'd dust away the tears and guilt, inhaling the particles inside of me. If you were a bronze statue, I would polish you until you shined. I'd scour away the torment, and any melancholy I should find. If you were a flower, I'd pluck the petals of bane from your life, I'd water and feed you frequently, nourishing the roots of strife. If you were an eagle, I'd admire your rare beauty from above, I'd watch you slowly soar into the horizon, taking with you, my heart, my soul and love.
An earthly existence A universe beyond my minds, comprehension I die I rise Life lessons reviewed Homeward bound I am not lost, after all! I am a willing participant Serving, the Father, of all creation His son combined, 'producing life' as we know it Representing them, in everything I do I am nothing, without Love! My heart full of faith, loyal service I give Learning how to unconditionally serve, as the Father unconditionally, loves me Worshipping our Divine Creator's existence Choosing to live, moment to moment Being as one with 'Our Universal Father' No physical permanency My physicality, disappearing My mortality existence, I let go of Death temporary My spirit alive! Relief, Peace 'I am only passing through!' A unique, experience of mortality A gift, I am blessed to experience, to live!
I let you die for my name As you reached for my hands Out of waters of drowning What a hypocrite this writer is The Hatred of Solitude Letting an orphan dream Then destroy him with knowledge Of what you have done He opened up to you In new ways But in nostalgic guises The springwinds whisper blithe yore But the winterwinds, much stronger Caress you with the dreams of your funeral sky "It was you… it was your fault… Letting the one who was so open to you Be the laugh… the piece in the game…"
My friend, you will be in my heart forever/ you proved to be a great man and this is not simple in this blue rounded ship headed to nowhere, so my friend, cosmic dust we may mean to the whole universe but a whole universe we mean to our loved ones. Your hands helped to shape our souls, bringing artistic comfort to our suffered eyes. Life would be just impossible without art so thank you, thank you. Your hands protected your gates, they also sailed different seas where I bet you cried. Your hands called your dogs and they smiled. The other day I read the sun may die in four or five billion years so what is the purpose of life ? Art and moments perhaps. That we will not know so easy but rest in piece and assured that your hands will never be forgotten ! Carpe diem.
Don't weep for the loss I've merely swept across Know that I am here Always will I be near In the way you walk And the way you talk Thru your words of strife To guide you thru this life In your beautiful stare All the elements in the air Running thru your veins And whatever shall remain Presenting thru your smile And every lonesome mile With every beat of your heart You'll feel we're not apart With every warming breeze And the swaying of the trees Thru your precious laughter And every moment thereafter In those mesmerizing eyes Your mother is still alive In each and every thought Enacting what I've taught Thru the precious moments And every single torment Thru every scent you intake And each and every mistake Your mother has not died In your hearts where I reside
We are all the colors a Patriot depicts, the red's the blues and whites a mix. We honor the soldier's creed till death, protecting our nation with every breath. Quitting is not an option you'll see, for a soldier's pride and honor succeeds. A soldier's mission will always come first, hungering for freedom with a thriving thirst. The American Soldier, our warrior of choice, will serve their people will a victorious voice. They are comrades in arms, till the very end, no one left behind, fellow man they'll tend. The American Soldier doesn't accept defeat, heroically they'll fight, in the cold and the heat. They are the guardians of freedom we forget, the American Soldier does not identify regret. Our way of life is because of their strength, for decades they've served at every length. The American Solder conveys honor and pride; for fallen soldiers, many tears they have cried. Honor our troops, for freedom is not free – it's the American Soldier whose provided liberty. Take a moment to praise the dedication and pride, of the American Soldier that never dies…….
I beg your forgiveness for I am not long for this world. Happenstance has led me down this path so crooked and forlorn. Misery has preceded my path and darkened my senses all but torn. Mistakes have illuminated my way though their light be a fallacy; an illusion to comfort a tortured mind, riddled with confusion and false fancy. 'Tis only just to forgive me sisters, I am not long for this world. An image wreaks havoc with my memory. A picture so horrendous the effects of its trauma echo through the hallways of time. The sight that for all my life I was so grateful to possess, leads me now to curse what gods may be that granted it me. For surely had I never seen the sight of him, cold and lifeless, I would have eventually endeavoured to be healed in my spirit. The fault is mine; it was never him but I that had the capacity to change. 'Tis only right to forgive me father, I am not long for this world. My middle name should rather have been disappointment. That is all I have ever delivered to her who brought me into the world and nurtured an infant into a lady. I call her Gaia, that is her spirit name. My existence has put lines on her face prematurely and caused her to despair time and time again. The audacity of me now to leave this earth without ever having produced for her a grandchild. The insolence of leaving only words to counter the preponderance of condolences from rejoicing enemies that shall now assail and abuse her. My soul is repentant, twas never the intent to hurt your heart dear Gaia. ; Tis only compassionate to forgive me mother, I am not long for this world. As for the empty future that awaits me. No children to carry on the memory of me. No great achievements to render my life the content of legend. No great works to immortalise me in poem and prose. No others to mourn the passing of a life most unremarkable. Nothing but things, regrettable decisions, words left unsaid and the cold sound of silence to mark that most auspicious event. Death finds me waiting and unafraid with only the last words to pass from these lips; 'tis only fair to forgive me self, for we are not long for this world.
How faithfully I gave you priority I even built you a Queenly home As the centerpiece of my Life. How reverent I was to your desires I even built you a sacred temple Where like a star your interests shone, As I looked at you; Bowed - with glittering eyes. How every thought I would dedicate to you Reserving you a special table - In the Galla where Life's events are held I even made a status-bearing label And hung it on your thronely chair. It simply read 'Honorary Human', But around it I inhaled its majestic air Oh How I did my best to serve you; Oh how I always served you first. How eagerly I took your orders How promptly I'd respond. But oh how I failed you self How I served you But did not serve you well. Self serving was my great expense; My intention was to give to you. Yet nothing was all I bought For selfishness is worth naught.
Scanting, ranting, seething persona provides – the confinement and hatred inside you hide. Screaming, steaming, aggressive overtones – provide a key witness of a relationship unknown. Shivering, quivering, the innocent will crumble, to a raving lunatic with a malicious mad stumble. Convicted, addicted, to the same vindictive game, this romance conceived within lies and shame. Silently, violently, cursing the call of creation, vowing to avenge this marital bond castration. Pawing, gnawing, at an open bloody wound, strumming, and humming life's unforgiving tune.
In a room filled with a solitary red hue The bourgeois spins a wheel With no destination, nor need She will spin until her brittle Hands bleed Just to satisfy her ennui and artifice But she does not see - the rien I see The monster approaching her empty dreams Spinning still - she does not know The insomniac rose will begin to grow The thorn of clandestine and ebony Ostracized for he began to realize What lies in nonsense is decadence Which sparks interest Who's lover is a dadaist But his story is over now As Seth lead the way A poet dies in dismay The thorn as she spun penetrated A distraction and a lack of action She knew the temptation for she so loved the sensation Of crass, rebellious - ways The thought laid it's seed In her Gaulish mind it breeds She has no other need and no regrets So she proceeds and the smile lets With full intention and desire Caring none of her fate that will transpire She presses her finger on the thorn So now she bleeds knowingly she did not recede
Christ Stepped Down From His Heavenly Throne! Christ stepped down, from his heavenly throne. He came to earth… For 33 years, he called it his home! His mission had one purpose and desire in mind! He was to one day, be a sacrifice for mankind! He taught and gave us his words, powerfully spoken! He knew that one day, his body would be broken! He desired that all, would one day, come to know him! Because of his resurrection, all can receive him! He's alive today! And reigns from heaven above! And desires to touch us, with his endless love! Won't you humbly come, and accept what he's given? And experience the power, of being forgiven! This can be your moment! This can be YOUR day! He loves you much more, than words can say! All honor and praise, to Christ Jesus, our king! You are our righteousness! Our everything! By Jim Pemberton
TRIBUTE TO AN EMPASSIONED READER to Harry Horsman WINNER ACROSTIC When I write the challenge is to shake your mind If i succeed there is a satisfaction in my style Never mind if flashy glory's left behind Not a moments wasted if a phrase has found your smile Eventually there's a tiny spark of me that you may find Relentless words are bound to entangle and beguile Victoria Anderson-Throop 2013
Just A Little Talk With Jesus… Why not talk to Jesus? And spend some time alone? Won't you ask him to be the Lord of your heart and home? Just a little talk with Jesus can make your day so bright. He can heal your troubles and make everything "alright!" Just a few moments with him can make all of the difference! His love can give you hope and a joyous experience! Feel free to share with him your every need and concern! Won't you allow him to guide you at life's every turn? Won't you allow his cleansing power to take your sins away? He can make you a new person! And can do it TODAY! The time you can spend with him, is time you won't regret! HE will never fail you! And hasn't let go of anyone yet! Just a little talk with Jesus will bring sweetness to your soul! The words of Christ can completely make you whole! Please remember a promise from the beginning of time. When God created the world... He had all of us in mind! Spending time with Jesus will be the best thing you did! Won't you accept his love and willingness to forgive? Just think about the opportunity with Christ you can share! You can have time with him! And can meet him anywhere! Behold the glory of our Lord! He reigns from heaven above! You can enjoy his presence! And the power of HIS LOVE! By Jim Pemberton
My Madness, Me... Confined by this straight-jacket, strapped in, numb and dumbed, a washed-out, has-been, also-ran, body, eyes, the equilibrium of mind, rattling like stones in an old tin-can. Still, I am, I am, and I am unchained, my dreams taking flight, soaring, above these claustrophobic walls, of synapses, and dungeons of stone, swooping through green valleys, taking a detour to savour the joys, soaked in torrential, evergreen memories, of a younger man, with passion in his bone. I am. My wings unclipped, unshackled, free, I am, and though I am unable to see, I am. At long last, me...
if poop could be named anything what would you name it? id name it bob and id make him sit on a log in a bog and say get out of here you hog that looks like fog from a bog thats near a log with bob sitting on it who attacked the wacking wackers with all his heart and shattered, he fell to the floor. dont name your poop bob because then youll have tears in your heart.
within the whole script God has given everything matter's of return
TIME ANEW (When we celebrate the coming of the New Year, we have to keep in mind...) Time, My best friend, My worst enemy, To my child you gave birth and My parents you took away, Happiness is your gift Suffering is your doing You took the bride to church and To cemetery you led the widow Love with you it grew in me So did her sister, hate To spirit you brought ecstasy and To the heart abhorrence Success came with you Failure likewise You made me proud to feel and Also to feel ashamed BUT Each time you come ANEW Jubilantly I celebrate For unconditionally I LOVE YOU Because I am your CHILD! ©Demetrios Trifiatis 01 January 2013
Compassionate personable lady, Easy-going creative escapist, Adaptable to new situations, Spiritual with a sensitive nature, Intelligence including intuition, Absolute alluring woman.
You whispered in my ear, a breathy secret, hushed. "I love you", you murmured. I said nothing, lost, in your arms, I found a home. At last. "I love you", you said, I said nothing, lost in my thoughts, I found peace. At last. "I love you", you said, words failed me then. They still do.
jan2012 (Resolutions is a series of 6 poems . These are a tribute to Mr.Abhay Keni a technocrat, genius, philosopher and guide...above all a humble human being. All 6 volumes are a tribute to his simplicity and his way of life.) This brand new year, A voice inside me keeps whispering without any fear, "You need to mend yourself now and here" So please listen to me your inner voice and to transgress the path ahead be aptly clear. Live such that the fear of death does not enter your heart, Do deeds such that dear ones and friends from you never do part. Live such that in the name of religion you hurt no one, Respects other's and demand yours be respected by everyone. Live such as to love your life and perfect your life, And always make attempts to beautify as many things as possible in this life. Live such as to make your life long, In the service of humanity, and also to correct many wrongs. Live such so as to give a word or a salute when meeting a friend with grace, Or passing a stranger in a lonely place. Live such as to be able to respect everyone, And try to grovel at none. Live such as to arise at morn , To be able to give thanks for the joys of life, food ,health and for a human to be born. Live such so as to abuse no one ,as it turns a wise into a fool And robs the spirit of it's vision and that really cruel. Live such that when the time comes to die, Don't be like the people with hearts of fear and cry But the one who will sing their own death songs, And in them will give a message to all as to how in their life their joys prolong.
Through The Trials And Valleys… I've been through trials and difficult situations. Many times it happens with no explanations! Whatever I've had or have taken with me. I've been there when everyone has left me! The uncertainties I've had and struggles I face. Have brought me to my knees in a "quiet" place. The journeys I've traveled and the storms ahead. Have brought worry and stress in the words I said. Whatever trials I've faced... To Jesus I cried! A comfort and strength . He did provide! I know a truth that is important and most certain. Jesus can take away any hardship or burden! If there were no trials... How could I trust him? Because of what he's done How I love him! If I had no hardships or trials, I'd probably "forget him." Giving him my whole life? I don't think I'd let him! But he's proven to me just how much he loves me! He reached down from heaven and touched me! He's my comfort and joy and enduring friend! He'll be there with me… Till the very end! This Jesus I know. I recommend him to you! He is God! Our provider! This is so true! Won't you give him a chance in your life today! He can bring hope and take all of the dark clouds away! By Jim Pemberton
Still In Love With My Wife... My son came to me with a question on his mind. I said; "Not now son— I just don't have the time." He said, "Daddy—are you still in love with Mommy?" "Do you love her like you did when I was in her tummy?" My eyes choked with tears; "Yes son I really do!" "I'm in love with her... and I appreciate you." "Daddy—will you always love me like you do mom?" "Yes my son—my love for you will always belong." I looked down and much to my surprise. There were tears running down my son's eyes. He came running to me with arms wide open. "Thank you daddy" were his words spoken. I picked him up and gave him a great big hug. As I let him down, on my shirt I felt a tug. His little arm reached up to grab my hand. I knew that what I said, he began to understand. I love his mom so much—my wonderful wife. She's been such a blessing- a great part of my life! By Jim Pemberton
By works can man be made right? In the law will he find sight? What does God say? The law reveals mankind's plight and spurs belief in God's might. Man needs but pray. By choice man learns to unite with Jesus who grants the light to guide and stay. When the bills you cannot pay, when your health has found decay, is God your force? When your spouse has walked away, When your job has caused dismay, is God your course? When your friendships meet foul play, When the fear you can't allay, is God your source? Worry and doubt, in due course take faith for granted, perforce. We feel God's wrath. When willful sin we divorce our pride must admit remorse and self meets death. God is sovereign, we endorse His wisdom as our recourse. God is the path. David Williams contest: Virelai 5th place. 8/7/12
I had a dream of you again tonight...that makes it about 3years strong....i wonder what the real thing will feel like...to hold you...to see you smile for the first time...the first time you cry...as i put my finger in your hand and you squeeze i wonder what joy will course through my veins...to say your name...to watch you sleep...to watch you as you try to figure out the world...will i miss your first words...or when you crawl...the first time you try to walk will i be there to catch you when you fall...your first birthday...will i be the dad you need me to be....will i fail...all these questions and the worst one i havnt even said....i hate to think it but it has came into my mind every once in a while...what if i never get to meet you...never have the chance to fail or succeed...to never watch you grow..to never have a chance to love you..to never be a father...what if my dreams never become reality....
During this time known as Thanksgiving Day. I hope you'll give thanks and pray. A prayer of thanks for everything God has given. He has blessed us in the way we've been livin'! Our country is blessed like no other. God has supplied our "bread and butter." He's given us the freedom, we've all enjoyed. Be thankful for your food, home and being employed. For those who've endured hardship... Thank God too! It's no secret how much he loves YOU! We find in the Bible... God clearly said; "I've never seen the righteous forsaken, Nor their children begging for bread." Thanks be to Jesus, for his love, mercy and grace. And for making my heart, "his special place." I am blessed and thankful to Jesus indeed. He's given me salvation and supplies my every need. I thank God for this special day in November. Thanksgiving is a day... I will always remember! By Jim Pemberton
Consequences, consequences punishments and lost friendships even with they seem so endless they're gone before the dawn Then when the dawn is here again we are revived, new life begin and the sin was washed away don't have to pray when he talks to me Your weakness makes us stronger, longer if we are quiet, we're quite somber slipping slowly into the water excuses are what hold us under We hold ourselves there until we're ready to take hold of the wheel with enough direction to have control we all can get there, but who ever knows until hope and fear are recognized we'll change the world, not afraid to try.
If I do, I hope that I Exit in the presence of Jesus Christ we go far back do he and I for his greater mercy once saved my life Five long lost years have past since then I gave my all so he forgave my sins a weary soul, crucified I hope he's holding me the day I die I tried my damndest to find the light and when I found it kept it in sight it's never left me I know I'm right come try and take it I'll end your night I look up fondly to the sky an understanding between he and I one time I asked him lend me his eyes and I saw a world left cold and dry In conversation we talk, no words he understands me when I'm most unheard think I'm absurd what are you? a higher being? still much confused You think the answer lies in your ways I think the Devil must be repaid he'll collect heavy your wasted time as you spend eternity at his side I see a servant for wickedness try to distract me one more dismissed I keep on walking through the night as I keep his spirit so well alive I wear your pride inside my skin as you race to the finish I just begin to be a soldier alone with the night nothing to warm me but his light in sight.
I confess I rarely take the time To thank the past for Yesterday And that I rarely miss a chance To mumble some complaint: How fast you went, How little of your time I spent, How much I've lost to you, How much of you I regret! But though you took with you Todays I wished to keep I've not forgotten The many Todays That Yesterday got me through. To Yesterdays I raise my glass A toast to faithful friends of past Too often overlooked and Not too often thanked. So here's to Yesterday - For never forgetting to take away The burdens of Today.
A sweetly-scented, earthy rain-storm, she came to me, thunderously raging with raw emotion, she came to me, drenched in the essence of truth, she came to me, she touched a chord deep inside, she strummed away all emptiness, she came to me, once... she comes to me, still... a gentle presence filling my life, she comes to me, still, a healing spirit soothing all inner strife.
for gary moore... ...ain't nothing but the blues talkin' sweltering licks screaming through flaming hues reaching deep, deep into that wandering soul of devilish chords on those walkways of paris strutting and strumming, never taking a mere stroll so though your time here and now may be up and though your moments here and now may be through forgive me for borrowing your words again cos' we still got the blues for you...
Homing in on Stuben Roo.. Stuben Roo, the man who knew, That spinned the tales of Abennew, The place that dawned before the night, The place that spawned the Abbenite, Colors, sounds and happenstance, Led Stuben Roo, this place by chance, Will he belong forevermore? Take out the key and lock the door? Or break the chains that held him there, By crimson stains, and heart laid bare. If your trying to figure this out dont bother, it's a sensless tounge triage, in the flavor of Dr. suess
Mido Macia 1986 - 2013 Mido Macia was a 27 year old Mozambican man, working in Daveyton near Johannesburg as a taxi-driver, who was found dead in a police cell, after police savagely dragged Mr. Macia whom they had tied to their police van. The brutal incident of Mr. Macia being dragged was caught on camera and has shocked South Africa. The 8 police officers involved are facing charges of murder, and have been suspended from the South African Police Service (SAPS). This poem is an angry poem that I felt had to be written, because as a society, we need to ask ourselves and each other the hardest questions about xenophobia and intolerance and violence. Mido Macia 1986 - 2013 Death came to Mido Macia, a savage, brutal, hellish death came to Mido Macia. Death came to Mido Macia, death dressed-up in the colours of authority, as callous, vile, sadistic policemen murdered Mido Macia. The video-footage is blood-curdling, Mido Macia being dragged, his hands tied behind him, to a police van. But death came later to Mido Macia, death cheered, clapped, and tore into Mido Macia. Death came to Mido Macia, in the cells where they murdered Mido Macia. Death came to Mido Macia, a fuelled, cheered-on, instigated death came to Mido Macia. We are all culpable, every one of us is culpable, from racist 'jokes' emailed and texted, to self-righteous comments about the 'foreigners', from casual dinner-table conversations, 'they take our jobs', 'they are crooks' the 'they marry our women' kind of lunch-time chats, racist, xenophobic, hate-filled talk, to beating a human-being to death in a police cell, or on the streets of Cape Town, Johannesburg , and in Daveyton, where death came to Mido Macia. Mido Macia 1986 - 2013
Gods of my Birthwaters I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my soul) I am never without it (anywhere I go you go with me) and whatever are my thoughts (you are in the thoughts) Gods of my Birthplace I have no life (you are my life) I have no future (for you are my future) and I have no dream of my own (for you are in every dream) where can I go without you (can the tiger deny itself the spots in its skin) I carry the birthmark of the tiger but here is the deepest sorrow the darkness I carry in my waywardness stranded at crossroads away from Home (and this is the root of the problem) I'm in love with macaroni-n-cheese (and I'm told that's civilization away from yam puddings we knew at Home) and we are forced to drink stinging grief and smile calmly I have taken a new name (and it wrung my hands and killed my memory of Home) and turn my soul to a stone and under the dark veil (I have to learn to live again) it's the he-goat that learns something when it loses an ear on the long running highways of blues how can I forget to pay my debts to ancestral Birthwaters when many stones are thrown at my last smile and the pit has become my solitary mast at the bay of the Master Termite it is the herring that said homebound is the last resort of the maimed goat maybe, when the northern breeze comes I'll take the deep dive Homeward to where the broods eat grains of sorghum from scuffed pages of the mother's palm and the sun's last rays bring joy to dying lips walking this long dark road dancing to nowhere to call Home your tattoos on my soul shatter my dreams and here I sit holding to an albatross searching through echoes of yesterdays for a bright eye to see through footprints of frozen tears in this twilight zone I gather in the silence the will to sail on before the sun is gone from silence and the lighthouse eaten by the storm
dismissively lined as "dented and painted" protesting violence and raping of women those self-appointed, oh holy and sainted can we turn another cheek and forgive them? to relate to another with an iron-bar to relate to another with utter disdain to relate to another without human care is this the civility we wish to attain? you who are better, more worthy than other you who are truer, in eyes of your god you with blood bluer than natural mother might discern that it's you, who is flawed sticks, or bars, or clenched fists attest that you're no better than the rest with casting of glances from eyes that detest superimposed superiority is but a myth want and ignorance are alive and strong in all nations, so in all the world today actually, it's been that way - all along if we wish to civilize we must go all the way and speak for every individual that spins on this ball of rock that we call our home to evolve higher form we must be, in the end and remember, what is reaped, is what is sown © Goode Guy 2012-12-29 http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2012/12/28/168224273/victim-of-brutal-rape-in-india-dies-in-singapore-hospital?ft=1&f=1001 http://www.npr.org/2012/12/28/168185857/india-gang-rape-update http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2012/12/22/167879878/unprecedented-public-rage-over-gang-rape-in-india
1. A path leads, to where wild grass grows, sashaying in the summer breeze. 2. Along the path, lightness settles within, feeling the grass, swooning, tickling ankles, swaying to the lilting bird-song, in a dance of intimate abandon, brushing the remnants of pain away. 3. Melodies float across fields of green, delicately caressing my heart, teasing emptiness to flee, comforting the mind, to silently be. 4. Walking on, savouring the peace, a momentary respite, from the burdens of the now, all is quiet, a stillness cradling fractured emotions, the grass in the fields sway, dusk descends, shadows lengthen, nudging dimming light to take leave, of the day
Christ' Voice Made A Difference! Christ' voice made a difference in my life today! He spoke peace and love! And took my sins away! His voice made the difference, when nothing else could. All of my problems and failures, he understood! His voice made the difference, with words of healing and hope! He picked me up, when my life was on a "slippery slope!" His voice made the difference, in my moment of desperation! It brought peace to my heart and sweet inspiration! His voice made the difference when everything else failed me! I listen to his voice! it brings love all around me! His voice can make the difference for you! Won't you listen? You'll never know "what in the world," you're missin! His voice speaks peace to all fears! And life's raging storms! His love will "glue together," a life that's "wrecked and torn." His voice is all you need! It brings assurance His gift of eternal life is 100% "life insurance!" His voice beckons... Our lord calls our name! I'm glad I listened! I'm very glad he came! His voice is what's important! And very much needed! It's only through Christ, that our life is completed! By Jim Pemberton
It still awes me everyday how You loved me anyway, even showed me constant grace when I strayed and turned from you my face. You kept watching over me even spared my very breath show mercy that would not relent, or allow the sting of death to remain a wall between us, breaking down its very hold. Turned my heart of stone to flesh, rekindled a flame turned cold. You reminded me forgiveness was given before I asked so all doubt is vanity, now I put my faith to task knowing I am free indeed, Jesus Christ has purchased me Always standing at the door with new life to embrace me. Not to me alone, but ALL You have granted such a chance to sit and to feast with You, to rejoice in sing and dance for the victory is ours those who call You shall be saved! No longer enslaved to darkness Jesus has overcome the grave!
If Gods favorite hero suddenly became cold, Lonely, disoriented, unhappy with sorrows untold, Would it be of interest in Heaven? Concerns of man, Would our saviors come to Earth to be born again? God would send out his best hands to hold, Would he set backwards time to where all heroes spirits were sold. If only our love could behold Lined with twine of silver wrapped in gold Gifts to to God to wash our sin Equipped pillars stories told Thoughts about God mirrors my pen
For Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. You had a dream of pastures of peace where children of all hues mingled like rainbows they silenced you, but your voice resounds now in those pastures not yet of peace and your dream is still a dream the dream you dreamt while others slept you said that you'd been to the mountain-top and they silenced your voice just then before your eyes saw that promised land of pastures of peace where children of all hues mingle like rainbows now your vision is glimpsed in some pastures not yet of peace and yes, they silenced your voice but your spirit their bullets could never tear apart your spirit, like your dream is mingled with the wind in all those pastures not yet of peace and until we give life to your dream those pasture of peace where children of all hues mingle like rainbows shall remain simply your dream so as we remember you today and pledge that those pastures of peace are nourished first in each of us for only then will your dream will take root and blossom into our shared dream and the view from the mountain-top, radiant and bright and full of hope shall seem where children of all hues mingle like rainbows
Closing my eyes Feeling the moment Listening No thoughts distracting me Surrendering Setting my heart free Reviewing, learning, growing Releasing the blame and guilt, I harbour Releasing the things, I once thought I could change Recognising good or bad Right or wrong A sinner I am not! My mistakes, my greatest blessings Living my life Being human
for Malala Yousafzai A mere demigod won't do to feel the fear that a young woman, a little girl can put into a righteous man Horrific are the thinly educated some holy book might have related if thought of by the deity beforehand blessed be children, who can't understand Our darkness, it is a fearsome place but we must stay - our people, our race enlightenment is but for the chosen few but damn the rest and put them through pain and suffering of relentless disdain that reign supreme in divinity's domain the best offense is to be offended then violence reigns all ways, never ended Does sharia demand the murder of daughters? might not an education have gone further? influencing to follow leadership that bought her a meaningful way of life by a faithful observer Terrorism comes in many forms - always has and the sword of fear drones too from skies whether strangers or family, makes no matter when defending murder of innocents in the guise of knowing the will of life for another saying a child must die to prove righteous point and how they bring purpose and meaning to a terrorized life, with innocent blood anointing Would god demand that Abraham carry through killing his innocent son to prove his fear of God is god so insecure in the top most place that murder is the mandate for the true believer Murder begets little I think, in a universal nature but the continuation of the circled violence mere words don't justify spiritual killing in any nomenclature to bring us to some pursuit of spiritual deliverance © Goode Guy 2012-10-09 http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2012/10/09/162573135/taliban-say-they-shot-14-year-old-pakistani-girl-who-exposed-their-cruelty?ft=1&f=1001 http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2012/oct/10/malala-yousafzai-young-pakistani-heroine
The mountains, so majestic, cannot speak out loud, The lions roar, to let you know that their growing pride is proud, The Dolphins jump and play,that,s their way, so that you can see, The insects, pollinate, at their own rate, busily buzzing, like a bee, The ocean waves, splashing hard, upon the vast beach shore, the volcanos spit out lava, from their fiery core, The Elephants noisily trumpet, to make us all aware, the eagle soars, on outstretched wings, way high up in the air, The peacock shows you,his colorful display, by his feathers bright, The owl hoots and hollers, under a crisp, full moonlight, The trees gently sway, showing you the way to a better day, The rooster too, with a cock-a-doodle doo, as he struts and sashays, All of these things, that Nature brings, just means it,s trying to say, We,re trying to infer, to take care of her and to all a Happy Earth Day!
It seems like my life is always lacking. Too many blurry faces passing. It's like living in a time when the world is gone, No one can agree because everyone is wrong. If we all could take time to appreciate our lives, And stop believing and telling these foolish lies, Maybe then we could live in harmony, In a world full of love like it was meant to be. I wish I could tell them all the way I feel, But no one will believe because it's so unreal. This idea that we all could be at peace, And we all could be each other's release. Maybe one day we could find some common ground Lying somewhere in the Lost & Found. But you know this is just the way it goes, When all this hatred just overflows. In a time when no one can just understand What it's like to walk with each other hand in hand. It all comes down to a change of mind, And to leave the stigmas and hate behind. Does it really make them feel good deep within, To hate another person based on the color of their skin? It's not what's on the outside that makes them who they are, It's what's inside them; It's what's in their heart. It doesn't matter what we look like externally, The only thing that matters is who we chose to be. We are strong, and have the power to agree, To love and cherish each other's company. And I know that we can all hold each other up and live free. This is my ode to humanity.


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Apple Television: What We Can Learn From Tim Cook's Recent Comments
Posted on Monday, September 15th, 2014 by Peter Sciretta
Following the Apple announcements last week, Apple head Tim Cook was interviewed by Charlie Rose. (The first hour aired last week and can be watched after the jump, the second part premieres tonight.) During the conversation, Rose brought up the often-talked about Apple television that has been in development at the Cupertino company for years. Tim Cook always knows how to phrase his answers so that they aren't too revealing, but his response to this question might tell us something about the direction Apple is taking in developing a television.


text: Private Lessons: Private lessons are the most effective way to learn how to dance. Either as an individual or as a couple, you will be given one on one attention by a professional instructor. Our instructors are able to customize a lesson plan to meet your needs. This includes tailoring a program to include the dances you are most interested in learning, progressing at a speed that best suits your ability, and accomplishing your goals as a dancer whether you want to be a comfortable social dancer or a competitive champion. Contact us today to schedule your first free private lesson! |


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Summary of G and PG MoviesBaptists at Our Barbecue
Description: Tartan, a 29-year-old single Mormon, accepts a forest services position in Longwinded, a small town Southwestern mountain town. Longwinded's population comprises 262 Mormons and 262 Baptists -- each group completely biased against the other. In an effort to ease the hostility between the two groups, Tartan talks the Mormons into inviting the Baptists to an "All Faiths" barbecue. Movie summaries and listings powered by Cinema-Source |
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Ok so my girlfriend wants to get a pistol. I am leaning towards a glock 26 because it's small enough for her hands and shoots 9mm so the recoil will be manageable.
She has shot pistols before and knows the rules of firearm safety already because I have hammered them into her head. She doesn't touch mine because she knows it's always loaded. She welcomes cc and likes that I am always carrying around her. So none of that is an issue.
Any suggestions other than the g26?
Edit: looking for suggestions for where to start... She's gonna shoot as many as I can get my hands on until we find what she likes. I just want some ideas for guns to try first.
Sent from that tappy talky thingamajig.....
G23, 1 reload, 1 knife, 1 mindset.


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NY Lawmakers Call for Better Evacuation Plan at Indian Point
As Indian Point Nuclear Power Plant seeks a 20-year license renewal, some New York lawmakers are calling for a better evacuation plan.
Listener Supported Public Media from Fordham University
As Indian Point Nuclear Power Plant seeks a 20-year license renewal, some New York lawmakers are calling for a better evacuation plan.
Included in the budget that passed on Friday were new regulations for New York's chain pharmacies.
Randall's Island will soon be home to a project showcasing clean energy innovation.
Disease ecologists say the risk for getting Lyme Disease this summer is greater than usual.
The scant snowfall this winter will continue to affect Northeast waterways this spring as the feeble snowpack melts away.
With an average temperature of 40.9 degrees, last month went into the record books as the warmest February in Central Park since record keeping began in 1870.
John Tran who is a high school art teacher in Brooklyn, has created the New York City School Calendar app. The app imports dates including school closings, staff development days and regents days directly onto iPhones.
A network of health clinics in the Bronx founded by embattled former state senate majority leader Pedro Espada, could be headed for shut down. Soundview HealthCare Network could reportedly lose millions in Medicaid funding as the state investigates its finances.
Mosquitoes are an unavoidable part of summer, but some New Yorkers say they've had enough.
A year has passed since New York City's Health Department began evaluating restaurants with letter grades—and Mayor Bloomberg said it has been great for businesses and patrons.
From interviews with newsmakers to features about local issues, the WFUV News team keeps listeners informed about the Tri-State area. Learn more.
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