my first post on this forum

hello to everyone on this forum which I found today. looking forward to chatting and getting all different views on everything. going to start with a very sad poem that has no winners as the world has now lost one beautiful and kind man - r.i.p George.


fadi fawaz - white light 09.03.17


　


welcome to the club


its exclusive and full of drama


offering a poem and no snub


my continued support is highgate tropicana.


helpless has been fadi


only now is a breakthru ray


my hope is you are stronger then tom hardy


i'm reg and pleased to meet you ron kray.


there will be flack and criticism


even some calling me a forge


barring in mind connected is hedonism


it don't take away our heart failure for george.


last christmas was agony


every waking has given no nice aroma


headlines included drugs sex and monogyny


very few visited fardi in his coma.


you now can recover


highgate village on your behalf i fight


you are not going to be my inspirational brother


but this fardi is you coming through your white light.

Mistah Kurtz—he dead.

A penny for the Old Guy

I
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us—if at all—not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

II
Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death's dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind's singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death's dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer—

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

III
This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man's hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death's other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

IV
The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death's twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

V
Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o'clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

__________________

Timothy Leary's dead

No...he's outside looking in.

Timothy Leary's dead.
No...he's outside looking in.

He'll fly his astral plane,
Takes you trips around the bay,
Brings you back the same day,

Timothy Leary. Timothy Leary.

Along the coast you'll hear them boast
About a light they say that shines so clear.
So raise your glass, we'll drink a toast
To the little man who sells you thrills along the pier.

He'll take you up, he'll bring you down,
He'll plant your feet back firmly on the ground.
He flies so high, he swoops so low,
He knows exactly which way he's gonna go.

Timothy Leary. Timothy Leary.

He'll fly his astral plane.
He'll take you trips around the bay.
He'll bring you back the same day.

Timothy Leary. Timothy Leary.

The Star

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.

When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, through the night.

Then the traveller in the dark
Thanks you for your tiny spark;
He could not see where to go,
If you did not twinkle so.

In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye
Till the sun is in the sky.

As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveller in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

That's is good

__________________
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__________________
Health is the greatest gift, contentment the greatest wealth, faithfulness the best relationship.
Buddha

Hello there, welcome aboard
The topics of discussions are really quite broad
Glad that you're here, and that you bring rhyme
But are you going to post like this, all of the time?

__________________
"I don't want to be a product of my environment, I want my environment to be a product of me" (Frank Costello)

-- No more rhymes now, I mean it!
-- Anybody want a peanut?


No, but how about an orange?

__________________
"You seem a decent fellow. I hate to kill you."
"You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die."