metro african ligkaribe

MARTIAL ARTS MOMENTS

2007-03-12T02:45:00.000+02:00

Stupid Martial Arts Accidents/Embarrassing Moments
This section taken from the responses on the rec.martial-arts newsgroup. No posts have been changed other than to make them anonymous. Oh, there are soooo many.... But this time I'll just go with the time that I split my gi in front of the class. I tried to keep on doing the form so the tear just propagated... Mercifully the instructor allowed me to stop once the parents started smirking.
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When I was about 12 I threw a guy in judo randori and his pants came right off as he when over my shoulder.. I went right into matwork and couldn't figure out why everyone was laughing. Until I looked up, or down, or I guess it was sideways. I gave a little yelp which brought the house down. I was about twice as embarassed as he was.
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Ah, so many to choose from. Here's one that was not only embarrassing, but quite frightening as it happened. . .
A friend and I assisted our Sensei with several demonstrations, and we had worked out a choreographed "fight" between Bo and Tonfa. I had the Bo. For a demonstration at a public school, my Sensei gave me his special competition Bo (I forget why). Shortly after we began the demo, my friend struck a particularly strong blow with the Tonfa, and snapped my Bo in half.
Uh-oh.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Sensei: he did *not* look happy. The other demonstrators stood there with their mouths hanging open. This was the frightening part, in case you're wondering. The kids watching the demo loved it, of course.
My friend and I had practised this routine endlessly, and managed to continue, making it look like this was *meant* to happen. I had to improvise a bit, of course, but it was working out great. Until I blocked another strike that snapped the end off one of my mini-Bo's and sent it flying across the gymnasium. It bounced off the wall beside Sensei.
Uuuh-oh.
We pressed on. A few moments later . . . another piece of Bo flew across the room. Yep, it was from the other half. Luckily, we were near the end of the routine, so I took my friend to the floor and finished him off by pummeling him with my remaining pieces of firewood.
I'm so glad that I study a traditional Japanese karate. By bowing really, really low, I didn't have to look Sensei in the eye as I passed him the sorry remains of his lovely former-Bo. . .
And then there's the other demonstration in a public shopping mall, when I hooked my friend's tonfa out of his hand and sent it sailing across the Food Court and straight towards the glass case of coffee beans in The Second Cup . . . but that's another story.
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Ever been in a demonstration? Most of my bad moments happened in demonstrations. Early in my training we were doing a demo for a cub scout group. We were only part of the evening's entertainment (I hate demos). We came on after the magician and before the "Boom-Bah" band. For those who do not live in Pennsylvania, a "Boom-Bah" is a kind of rhythm instrument invented by a demented musician on PCP as revenge against the uncaring music industry. It is a stick with tambourines, bells, and cymbols mounted on it, and it is played (mostly) by banging it against the ground. It is every bit as silly as it sounds. We were seated on the floor, and there were about 30 of these monstrosities leaning against the wall behind us. (You are there already, aren't you?)Right. I demonstrated a form, (nicely, I might add), bowed to the crowd, returned to my seat, and in sitting down I lost my balance, knocking over all of the Boom-Bahs. I believe that the noise registered on seismographs all around the world. Truly one of my very best days.
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Doing a staff form in a Chinatown demo several years ago, I slammed the staff down and watched half of it sail up and over my head and clatter to the ground somewhere behind me. Flustered and adrenalized, I reached out and took another staff from a student, whacking him in the face with the staff as I turned back to the audience. I was so psyched, I didn't notice as he retreated behind the curtain to find out if his nose was broken.
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I was demonstrating kendo kata for a chinese cultural association a few years ago. We were using steel swords. My partner moved into waki-gamae, which is the position with the sword held low and behind you. We were in very tight quarters, so as a result he stuck the point of the sword into the wall behind him. There was this slightly puzzled look on his face, then a visible effort as he yanked the sword out of the wall to continue the kata.
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When I tested for sankyu. I was asked to demonstrate hani-goshi, and executed a perfect throw tossing my uke right into the center of the aluminum table being used by the judges and completely demolishing it.
Their response: "Good technique. Poor control." :-)
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When I was practicing Kendo, we used to have fights at the end of the class. Being in the south of France in summer, you can imagine how much we were sweating under the Men (helmet in Kendo). I too was sweating pretty hard, and some was running down my nose. .. Of course, no way I could take the men off, wipe my face and put it back on... so I slipt my lil finger through the grid and started scratching my face as much as I could... boy, what a relieve... That's when the sensei called me to fight... Problem was, by then, my finger was stuck in the grid, so here I am, in the center of the mat, one hand holding the shinai in a desperate guard, shaking frenetically the other hand to get this finger unstuck.... The other guy did not show one ounce of patience and of course *charged*, I got wacked on the head a couple of time and trust me, I managed to get this damm finger out of the helmet really fast after that...almost broke it actually, and was really embarassed when the laughters in the dojo started to cover the sound of our Kiais...
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Working on elbow strikes on a heavy bag, I almost knocked myself out with the palm of my hand. The worst part wasn't the pain... it was explaining the busted lip to friends.
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I remember when I was sparing with a friend of mine I suddenly did a knife hand block right out of a form without even thinking. I was so pleased with my self (or suprised or something) that I just kind of stood there and grinned and then ate fist. I would have found it funnier at the time if it didn't hurt so much
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At one of my first tournaments I was really pumped about sparring. Got into the ring, head judge said to begin, I charged in with a beautiful side kick to the head. Unfortunately I put a little too much into it and instead lifted my entire body off of the ground, landing clean on my left hip and sliding into my opponent, knocking us both into the head judge and knocking him over as well. Needless to say I got a stern warning about fighting under control.
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Do they do "Cup Checks"? I had a few students who didn't wear a cup, thinking it was "cool". Needless to say, after scoop-kicking everyone in the class, they decided "cool" ranked somewhere below breathing normally.
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In one of my testings, a couple of my classmates were doing one-step sparring techniques. One of them accidently (I think) kicked the other soundly in the groin with a snap kick. The poor fellow just stood up, put his hand up, turned around, then COLLAPSED. It was the funniest thing I had ever seen because of the timing...
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About a year after receiving my Black belt, I was preparing to perform Kata in a tournament. When my name was called by the head judge, I turned around, adjusted my uniform, and ran across the gymnasium to stand and give my presentation of the kata. While running, I realized that I had not tied my gi pants tight enough and as I neared the judges, they began to slowly work their way down my hips. By the time I reached the head judge, I was forced to request a moment for adjustment of my uniform as the pants had fallen down to about mid-thigh. Thankfully, a fellow Black Belt came out to hold my top up while I retied the pants. I didn't score too well on the kata due to the judges' eyes being shut while stifling their laughter. I did redeem myself later in the day, however, by winning the Kumite Grand Championship.
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This happened about a month ago - we had a class which consisted solely of three black belts and the Instructor. We were lined up so that we took turns wheel-kicking a pad held by the Instructor. I was at the back of the line, and the guy in front of me was doing a half-speed low wheel-kick in the line to try to perfect his technique before he kicked the pad. He was concentrating so hard that he didn't see where his foot was headed, and kicked the (female) student in front of him squarely in the butt. I was laughing so hard, I had to pretend to turn around and adjust my uniform - fortunately when I turned back, the Instructor (and the other two students) were cracking up too; he said it was a really good thing there were no yellow belts there that day to witness it.
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About after a week at the school I train at now, I did some light sparring with another student, a beginner as well though he'd been there longer than I. We're going along fine, doing basic techniques. I see him chamber a rear-leg roundhouse...and for some strange reason, I think he's going for my head, not realizing he doesn't have the flexibility. So, I ducked...right into the kick, effectively blocking it with my face. Luckily it was light sparring, and all I did was get my lips busted. Dopey me.
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In a pattern competition, ~2 years ago, I mannaged to punch myself 5 cm abowe my right eye. How this happened - well It's not always easy to do a upward elbow strike- when your focused on something completly different :) Well, I managed to finish ..... Last!
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I had two brothers (8 and 9 years old) sparring in class, with everyone else sitting around the ring. The younger one threw a roundhouse kick to the groin, and we all heard this incredibly loud POP! that echoed in the room. Broke his own brothers cup. My eyes still water thinking about it.
[Ed. note: OW!]

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A few years ago my instructor was demonstrating some hanbo (short staff) techniques with a fukaro (sp?) shinai. For those of you that don't know, this type of shinai is very flexible. Anyway, he was showing us a techniques that involved shifting to one side to avoid a knife strike while making an upwards strike to the groin. Needless to say, the shinai flexed a little more than he thought it would, catching his uke square in the gonads. Everyone laughs about it now, including the gentleman that got nailed, but I can still remember the surprised look on his face..
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I remember once in practice a particularily lanky fellow managed to kick himself in the groin. I still haven't figureed out what happened, I was looked away for a second and then he was on the floor. I imagine that he threw a knee and his heel went a little high. I think he was more embarassed than anything else.
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My sensei is 62 and just had both knees replaced 6 months ago. He's really like a new man, and he MOVES again, quickly for a big guy. So one day, (since I am the senior assistant he demonstrates techniques on me) he's showing a punch roll (don't ask, it can't be explained in text) that is followed by a shoulder bar and then a knee to the face. Well, he's not quite used to the new knees yet and thier actually very lightweight. So as I'm going down, I feel this WHAM on the right cheekbone that is LITERALLY like being hit with a hammer. Turns out, his new knees are titanium and some polymer plastic and HARD AS HELL. Almost knocked me out.
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once, as a mid-level kyu student in karate, i was holding a shinai hori- zontally for a brown belt to run and leap over. my grip was light, and as he crossed over, his toe caught the shinai, knocked it free, and as he began to land, it tumbled into a vertical orientation, whereupon he proceeded to impale himself in the jewels..:O..i never knew how deadly a shinai could be...i always hold with both hands now. he's okay, but he won't let me forget it..;)
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Well, I once did a side kick in sparring when I wasn't very experienced, so I sort of "hopped" round to twist my hips over, taking the weight off my feet. Instead of flexing the foot I was kicking with I flexed the foot I was landing on (now THAT's malcoordination for you) and sprained my ankle. I went down on the floor and the sifu started to reprimand my sparring partner (who was considerably senior to me). Then I had to explain what had happened. Their laughter haunts me still...
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A friend of mine went to a karate tournament and was watching a men's senior belt kata division. One of the competitors began his kata, which involved motions done with dynamic tension (I believe the kata was Nisei shi sho). About five moves into the kata, the competitor just passed out! He hadn't been breathing properly during his kata and just keeled over. He was fine after a couple of minutes.
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One time I was a bit late rushing to a training session. I ran out into the garden and quickly grabbed my karategi. I made the class ok...but I managed to train for 10-15 mins with a white plastic clothes peg attached to the top-half of my karategi! My sensei - who spotted it- thought it was hilarious - luckily!
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have one for you....During one class, Sensei called one of the senior students up to help demonstrate the next technique. Now this guy is know to be...shall we say miserly....so his gi was way past its prime and had shrunk until it was really too small for him. Sensei starts to demonstrate the technique which ended in a throw. I am so intent on the technique that at first I don't really notice anything except what Sensei is doing. But suddently, I realize that my husband who was sitting next to me is shaking so hard from laughter that he is about to fall over. I watched again and realized that the senior student's gi had slipped down on his hips so far that he was pretty much mooning us every time he was thrown. Pretty soon, the whole class was basically in tears from trying to hold in the laughing. I don't really know how Sensei kept a straight face! Anyway, needless to say, Sensei stongly recommended to him after class that he purchase a new gi.....
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in a bar fight I watched someone apply Ude-osai, god I'm mangling the spelling today, or your common wrist lock from a lapel grab. I guess the guys snapped it on good, because when the person droped to his knees to avoid the lock he actually bouced his head off the floor knocking himself out. Very neat technique.
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I had a student, nick-named himself "Freight Train" Frank. Well, as most of the younger students liked to do before class, he would do running kicks to our 200lbs punching bad. One day, as I sat with my instructor in the studio office, we watched him cross the room, and we figured what was about to happen. He ran full speed across the room, put his head down, and proceded to ram the bag with the top of his head. The bad swung, the frame it was attached to pulled itself from the floor, and the whole thing went through the wall into the beauty supply store next door. We got bigger bolts for the frame that night. Oh yeah, Frank was fine. Just stood there and almost soiled his Gi, with the damage he caused and all.
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A few eons back, we were practising the first kendo kata. The attacker cuts men (the top of the head) and the defender steps back, avoiding the cut, which swishes almost to the floor. I was defending, and I jumped back more than stepped. A certain sensitive part of my anatomy swung up as my opponent's sword came down. The downswing met the upswing, so to speak, and I was on the floor. Luckily, we were using shinai. This ties in to the underwear thread, because ever since then I've worn briefs under my hakama to prevent another painful incident.
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The stupidest accident I've had was when I was a red belt in Taekwondo. I had seen a 2nd dan black belt hold a pine board in his left hand and neat as you please, he broke it in half with a right hand shuto. One day while practicing alone I decided to see if I could do the same thing. I was completely successful, but the top half of the board came off and flew right up and smacked me between the eyes, opening a fair sized gash, and leaving me with a nice goose egg. To add insult to injury, both of my eyes were blackened.
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This reminds me of something in class I'd forgotten about. A small third dan (maybe he was a second dan then) was going to do a jumping roundhouse kick to a board held at head height of a tall second dan. The kicker tried once and kicked an inch or two too high on the board. He tried again and this time kicked an inch or two too low. Finally he jumped again, kicked right in the center and- the middle piece of the board went flat back against the holder's nose while he was left still holding the top and bottom pieces! "Punch out at the perforation!"
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One of my instructors once, during a 'anything can and will happen' talk, told us about a particular grappling match in which he went twice attempted a cross body arm bar (jugi gatame?). The first time the sweat on the guys armmade him lose his grip as he was thrusting his feet into position and he went flying back about 8 feet or so. Later in the match he had the same opportunity, grabbed the arm and pulled, lost his grip and proceed to drive his finger up his own nose - which promptly began to gush blood everywhere.
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We were doing a show for the Ontario Winter Games a few years ago. The opening ceremonies was being broadcast live on local television stations. One of our BBs was doing a break of two concrete slabs with his head. Unfortuantely, instead of htting with his forehead he hit with his face. He broke his nose and began to bleed all over the stage as the cameras did a close-up. Gotta love live TV :->
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I did something similar, I'm sorry to say. While still a white belt, I was throwing my (male) partner with ouchi gari (major inner reaping throw), but lost my balance while sweeping his leg. He fell on his back, legs spread, and _I_ fell forward between them, landing on his cup with my knee... you bet it cracked! The poor guy said he saw his life flash before his eyes. He was a good sport about the accident though (once the pain wore off), and proudly showed his cracked cup to people for about a month afterwards. My nickname for about a year in the dojo was "The Headhunter".
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I've witnessed a woman break her own nose with a front kick above her head during a demo at a seminar. I almost wet my pants I was laughing so hard. Afterwards I heard her tell her instructor, "You didn't say _that_ could happen!"
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The stupidest move ever performed in a tournament I was an orange belt at the time and had won quite a few tournaments. As a result, my ego was inflated much more than it should have been. I was fighting this guy frm Northern Karate in Toronto who was able to read people better than anybody I had every seen. He could predict the moves of someone so well that he had ample time to perform any block or whatever, the guy was phenomenal. Anyways, I was fighting in the final match against him and was down 2-0 (fights go to 3). I knew that I had no chance to best this guy, basics were not working so I decided to try something that had worked quite well in the dojo. I got some distance between us and performed a front roll, intending to come up into a jumping side kick (hey, it worked the one other time I tried it). Unfortunately, the guy did not step back but side stepped and placed his foot in my chest as I was starting to come up out of my roll. There I was back flat on the floor, foot in chest, and the guy grinning at me. I felt like a fool. What was worse is there was a girl from Northern, video taping the match. After that match I disappeared REAL quick. You know, have not tried that since.
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I was competing at a karate tournament last summer; for the first time my girlfriend, who is fairly apathetic about my budo madness, came along to videotape my matches. I really wanted to impress her so I had trained my ass off. When it came time to fight, I came up against one of these incredibly irritating asses who fights with his leg cocked up, jumping around on one foot. He was quick though, and caught me with his mae-geri front kick twice. Knocked me on my ass because my fighting stance at that time was very square and aggressive. Needless to say, I lost the match because my shots were deemed excessive contact (joke!). Sitting up in the bleachers, I was hoping that the guy would go on to win so that I didn't look like I was eliminated by some nobody. Up there, sitting beside Ange, I watched only half-interested until buddy came up. As we watched, he attacked with a penetrating front kick. The opponent side stepped and buddy went sprawling to the floor, hit his head on the floor, and knocked himself out. I got eliminated by someone who knocked himself out. As we walked out of there, the only thing more injured than his bald head was my rapidly deflating ego.
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This one reminds of a student in our dojo. He was a yellow or oragne belt (don't remember) he had pick up a 3-sectional staff somewhere and was trying to figure out how to swing it. Nobbody in the dojo really knew how to use them very well so he was experimenting on his own in the middle of the dojo. Anyways, as he was swinging it on section swung up and struck him in the back of the head, knocking him out. After we brought him back to consciousness and dtermined that he was ok we left. Not 10 minutes later there he was again, face flat on the floor. He had knocked himself out again with the staff. Twice, in less than 30 minutes. This time we took him to the hospital tocheck for a concussion, luckily he did not have one.
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It was after class at night in the parking lot and I was playing with a heavy five foot staff, making passes over my head and behind my back as I turned in front of my friends.On end of the staff caught the ground as I was twirling away and it messed up my rotation but the speed of the staff caused it bounce up to meet my face in a lovely smaking sound! It was sort of dark but The blood spray hit one of my buddys about six feet away . Well they stiched my lip back to my face , about a half inch was hanging down in front of my mouth. That was a long night , ten stiches in my lip , lucky I have always worn a mustache, hides the scar real good
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I was doing a drill with one of the girls in my class where you were supposed to inside crescent kick a target hand of your partener. anyway, i don't know what the hell she was thinking but her 'arc' for the crescent ended up straight up between my legs...needless to say i collapsed in a big heap and didn't move for a little while.
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Yes, an amazing amount of those ended up with people being nailed in the groin. Well, it's funny if it happens to someone else...Kinda like standing in class watching someone else get mangled in a lock, and laughing and groaning at the same time while watching them grimace in pain...

MARTIAL ARTS MOMENTS

2007-01-30T03:12:00.000+02:00

Ghostwheel's Top Ten Signs you're in a McDojo
10. You instructor has a Grandmasters Certificate. In Crayon.
9. The Senior Assistant Instructor is a 4 year old black belt.
8. The sign in the window says the school trains in more than 10 martial arts.
7. Its a Korean art. {g} [Ed. Note: HEY!!]
6. Your instructor tries to sell you Amway products.
5. While examining the schools tournament trophies, you find 3 for spelling bees.
4. Reading the contract for the school is considered a kata (and a long one at that).
3. No one sweats.
2. While at a tournament, your opponent finds out who your teacher is and high-fives his teacher.
1. When paying for your belt examinations, the instructor asks: "Do you want fries with that?"

The Top 13 Signs You've Joined the Wrong Martial Arts School
13> Your dojo's symbol is a bullseye target.
12> First demonstration consists of falling to the floor, curling into the fetal position, and whimpering pitifully.
11> Frequent pauses while instructor tearfully stops to right his spilled pocket protector. 10> The "gis" are used hospital gowns, and the "throwing stars" are just slices of old cheese. 9> The homework is always just to watch a Jackie Chan movie.
8> The techniques are only effective if your attacker is one of the Three Stooges.
7> Instructor's low fees enhanced by take from one-on-one "pop quizzes" in dark alleys.
6> Benihana has a restraining order against your instructor.
5> Local muggers gather in the parking lot waiting for class to end.
4> Current students bark out on cue the phrase "Insurance does not exist in this dojo!"
3> You take yourself to the mat 4 out of 5 times simply trying to tie your belt on.
2> Sensei's "ancient Chinese secret" required notifying the neighbors when he moved in. and the Number 1 Sign You've Joined the Wrong Martial Arts School...
1> Did Confucius ever really say he was "going to open up a can of whoop-ass" on someone? [ This list copyright 1998 by Chris White ] [ The Top 5 List top5@gmbweb.com http://www.topfive.com ] [ To forward or repost, please include this section. ] [ You like to receive credit for your work, and so do we. ]

This is really funny---but it's scary how many of these you hear from people, with the meanings like those above.

You Know You've Been In the Martial Arts Too Long When...
* you say to the salesman in the men's store, "Nice pants, but I don't thinkI can kick in them."
* when you want to say "I'm sorry" and involuntarily bow.
* you go to the shoe store to try on shoes.
* Instead of walking or jogging around the store, you practice pivoting,sweeps, stances and kicks.
* You check to see if the shoe has a sufficiently hard striking surface andwhether it protects the toes well
* and lastly, you don't even care if (and they probably are) the otherpatrons are looking at you funny. (That's the big clue)
* Now when every time you pass a wall you start to wonder:'Is thatstructural or drywall?' THEN you know you've gone overboard.
* When you hit your head on a low doorway or ceiling and kick it in angerand _damage_ it.
* "GAK! NO!
The left side of the bathrobe goes on top...."
* "What was I doing in my office when I was spinning around and flailing myarms and legs? Ahhhhhmmmmmmm....."
* when you're practicing your arm blocks while driving down the highway,notice someone in another car staring at you, and suddenly turn your blockinto vigorously fanning away an imaginary fly
* when you use various strikes to turn lights off and on;
* don your clothing with kicks, thrusts, and punches
* open and close doors with spinning kicks
* find yourself idly doing iaido and kenjitsu moves with the plastic knivesat the fast food place
* can't walk by anybody else from your school without casually exchanging aflurry of mock strikes and kicks
* haven't gotten over the phase of seeing everybody walking around with ablanket of little red cross-hairs on all their vital spots
* leap to your feet and shriek with indignation while watching "Kung Fu","Walker, Texas Ranger", and "Highlander" at home
* deliberately go to see martial arts movies in the theater so you can leapto your feet and shriek with indignation during the movie, out in theparking lot, and with all your friends the next time you're at class
* find yourself practicing bo staff techniques in miniature with your pencilduring dull meetings
* try to backfist the correct floor button on the inside of the elevator,based on your memory of the button's location, before you get in far enoughto see it
* notice you never stand with your arms crossed or your hands in yourpockets
* tend to keep at least one flavour of martial arts weapon close at hand byyour bed when you sleep
* buy shoes either because they're particularly flexible or have steel toes
* have at least one fantasy where you are a martial arts hero and end the fight by saying something *so* cool that you make Arnold Shwarzenegger andClint Eastwood look like nervous chatterboxes
* have begun to master the reflex to commit a very messy homicide when,directly after someone finds out you practice martial arts, they immediatelyask "Are you a Black Belt ???"
* Urge to bow every time I enter or leave a room? Uh, not anymore,thankfully.
* I used to accidentally call one of my favorite professors 'sensei' withfair regularity, and I don't think I'll ever stop saying 'hai!' instead of'yes!'.
* When standing in line you find yourself practicing some stance from yourart
* When you bow going into and out of the bathroom *
When you don't use any tools while splitting firewood.
* When you are introduced to someone and you bow to greet them.
* Whenever you see some wood or concrete, even things like stools ortables, and get excited while you picture just how you would go aboutbreaking it. Then you get funny looks as you feel it and give it a look ofhard concentration, then maybe measure off a few times.
I counted off how many of these I do----I'm embarrassed to admit to 21 of them.

Newbie Guide to Martial Arts Doublespeak
When people say.. They really mean... ------------------------------------------------------------
Japanese martial arts are the best.
I practice a Japanese martial art.

This art is thousands of years old. This style is decades old.

The martial arts are about building better people.
The martial arts are about sweat, bruises and money.

Chinese martial arts are the best
I practice a Chinese martial art.

High kicks are stupid.
I can't do high kicks.

Sparring is extremely important.
I'm good at fighting and I like it and I can't do much of anything else.

The martial arts are about building better people. T
he martial arts are about beating people up if they lay a finger on you.

Korean martial arts are the best.
I practice a Korean martial art.

Breaking techniques are very important.
We do a lot of breaking techniques.

I don't believe in grades.
Nobody ever gave me a high grade.

The martial arts are about building better evolved characters.
Like me.

Filipino martial arts are the best.
I practice a Filipino martial art.

Sophisticated arts like Tai Chi and Aikido are far superior.
Sparring frightens me.

He's a good martial arts teacher.
He's in my organization.

He's a lousy martial arts teacher.
He used to be in My organization but he broke away and I don't get any money out of him anymore.

My style is the best.
I don't know anything about any other styles.

Grades are not important.
There's a grading coming up and it's important.

Breaking techniques are useless.
I can't do breaking techniques.

I'm an innovative, free- thinking, modern Western martial arts teacher, doing my own non- classical thing.
I'm more interested in teaching than learning; and the Orientals ignore me because they know how ignorant I am.

Martial arts politics are the necessary result of official recognition by respectable associations to protect the public.
I belong to a large, well- established organization.

I hate martial arts politics.
None of the large, well-established organizations recognize me or have the slightest interest in my existence. I

n this system, we make the art fit the person.
In this system, we make the person fit the art.

Competitions are a waste of time.
I never won any competitions.

Forms or kata are the highest xpression of the inner essence of the martial arts.
I read that somewhere -- and I've had enough of tournaments.

Forms or kata are useless.
Bruce Lee said forms are useless and this relieves me of a lot of effort, so go argue with him.

One style is not better than another -- it's the individual that counts.
Don't go to another school it's the style we teach here that counts.

The techniques aren't important.
The techniques are important.

The principles are important.
I wouldn't know what else to do with the principles so it's the techniques that are important. Bruce

Lee didn't know what he was talking about.
I don't know what Bruce Lee was talking about.

Size and strength are not important.
Size and strength are important, especially if you're fighting somebody who's bigger and stronger than you are.

Science and leverage will always win out over brute force.
Except when he's bigger and stronger than you are.

The purpose of the martial arts is spiritual development and liberation from the ego.
I'm so humble and wise, it's terrific.

This is really funny---but it's scary how many of these you hear from people, with the meanings like those above.

MARTIAL ARTS MOMENTS

2007-01-30T02:51:00.000+02:00

Some Martial Arts Definitions...

These are meant in fun, so don't take offense. And they ARE funny...

VARIOUS QUOTES FROM PEOPLE:

* Kempo: Percussion class with people as the drums
* Aikido: Origami with people
*Jiu-jitsu: people who fold your laundry for you----while you are still wearing it.
* Tai Chi: martial art overdosed on valium...
* The idea of Taiji is to yield to your opponent's attack.... in most cases the yielding seems to be so pronounced that the idea must be to play on the opponent's pity. :^)
* Someone once told me my Tai Chi would only be useful in fighting NFL replays.
* I once described Tai Chi to my fellow classmates as being just like standing still, only faster.

Minor Martial Arts Dictionary
Aikido: A martial art which allows you to defeat your enemy without hurting him. Unless of course his does not know how to ukemi in which case he has his wrist broken in about 20 places.
Arnis: "Harness of the hand." A Filpino martial art, also known as eskrima and kali, centering around stick, blade and empty hand combat. Mispronanciation of the art guarantees a quick taste.

Bo: A stick.

Bokken: A stick that looks like a sword.

Buddhism: A religious doctrine and a marketing tool to populate asia with statues of short fat bald men.

Chi: A biophysical energy generated through breathing techniques, which in defying the laws of physics and the basic scientific common sense, allows the user to develop super human strength.

Dan: A term used in the Japanese martial arts for anyone who has achieved the rank of at least first-degree black belt.

Darn: The sound uttered when the wearer of a Dan realizes that they will now get hit harder and more frequently during training.

Dojo: "The place of the way." A training hall or gymnasium. Very similar to a B & D parlor but without the mistress.

Hakama: A skirt sometimes worn in the Martial Arts but we don't really like to talk about it.
Iaido: "Way of the sword." The modern art of drawing the samurai sword from its scabbard. A rather interesting art developed around the principle of "look how big mine is".

Judo: "Gentle way." A Japanese art where grown men roll around cuddling each other without apparently doing any damage. These men are often closet Hakama wearers.

Jujitsu: A lot like judo except that these boys like to inflict slightly more damage. Tend to get very angry when accused of being Hakama wearers and often are heard saying "You gotta a big mouth"

Karate: "Empty hand" or "China hand." The primary purpose of this art is the destruction of wood and other natural products. Most Karate styles have a placing on Green Peace's most wanted list. This art will be outlawed by most countries by the turn of the century. Karate people enjoy pain, this is shown by their habit of fighting with their fists on their hips.

Kata: A series of prearranged maneuvers practiced in many of the Oriental martial arts in order to avoid free sparring or anything else that may involve pain.

Katana: A sharp metal stick.

Kendo: A strange and unusual past-time involving hitting each other with sticks and making in-human sounds. Could be a cult ??

Kuk Sool Won: A combination of Kata, Karate, Tae Kwon Do, Zen, Jujitsu and Master definitions but of course the tapes for Kuk Sool Won are much more expensive.

Kung fu: A generic term for a majority of the Chinese martial arts. Many of these arts involve the emulation of animals. Many students of Pray Mantis spend years attempting to obtain the other 4 legs while students of Monkey Kung-fu tend to find themselves being carted off by men in white lab coats.

Master: A title bestowed on a martial artist who has attained advanced rank after long years of study or has started his own style after achieving kyu grades in at least 4 arts, or has completed the "Become a Master by Video" course available for only 19.95 per month.

Naginata: A stick with a sharp bit on the end.

Ninja: A rather confused individual who likes sneaking around at night in his pajamas.

Ninjutsu: The art of being confused and sneaking around in your pajamas

Sparring: Bashing each other senseless in the hope that nobody realizes that you don't know any kata or techniques.

Tae kwon do: An unusual martial art that relies on its followers to have the flexibility of a professional ballet dancer.

Tai chi chuan: Another unusual art that promises ultimate power from moving very slowly for many years. The drawback being that by the time you develop the ultimate power you are close to death anyway.

Tatami: "Straw mat." A mat usually measuring three by six feet and three inches thick (with bound straw inside.) Original purpose to prevent blood stains on the wooden floor.

Three sectional staff: Three sticks linked together.

Zen: The discipline of enlightenment related to the Buddhist doctrine that emphasizes meditation, discipline, and the direct transmission of teachings from master to student. Mostly taught by rather old and confused monks who have had one too many rocks fall on their heads during waterfall meditation. Works best when sitting in a cave facing a wall for 10 years or so.

Top Ten Reasons for Studying the Martial Arts
By Danny Abramovitch
10) Broken masonry makes great drainage for potted plants.
9) Get beaten up by people half your size and twice your age.
8) Never run out of kindling wood again.
7) No need to wonder what belt to wear.
6) Get to be on first name basis with the Emergency Room staff.
5) These uniforms make nice pajamas.
4) Never need to wonder why it's hard to get up in the morning.
3) Get to appreciate the finer points of Chuck Norris' acting.
2) Learn to count to 10 in 3 different Asian languages.

And the top reason for studying martial arts:

1) (Tie) Get to star in Ginsu commercials. / Three words: free nose job.

You Know You're Hooked on Karate When...
By De Stewart
Do you wake up Saturday mornings stiff and sore?

Is another night like Friday night the only thing that will make you feel better?

Do you workout alone?

Do you find that once you've thrown a jab, you can't stop until you've followed it with a reverse punch? If so, you may be (gasp!!) HOOKED ON KARATE. How do you know? Here are a few clues.

You know you're hooked when the first word out of your parrot's mouth is KIAI!, and you teach your cat how to free spar.

You know you're hooked when you have more bruises than a roller derby queen, and you still go back for more.

You know you're hooked when you shut the refrigerator door with a side thrust kick.

You know you're hooked when you shop for clothes based on whether you can kick in them.

You know you're hooked when the only clothes you'll wear are gis.

You know you're hooked when you actually crave a beach workout.

You know you're hooked when the books on your night stand are by authors like Gichin Funakoshi, Hirokazu Kanazawa and Musashi Miyamoto.
Y
ou know you're hooked when the Twelve Days of Christmas becomes: one boxing bag, two boxing gloves, three shin pads (includes an extra pad for the one you'll inevitably lose), four Tokaido gi's, five rolls of adhesive tape....twelve cases of Tiger Balm.

You know you're hooked when you look for a place to live based on the amount of practice space it provides.

You know you're hooked when you refuse to wear shoes.

Well, how did you score? Does any of these situations sound familiar? If so, it's hopeless - you're hooked. The only option now is to join CKA, Compulsive Karatekas Anonymous. Don't fret though. I'm sure you'll find plenty of familiar faces. See you there.

Iron Crotch Kung Fu
Someone write this to me, and you can see what my response was. The scary part of the following is that what he wrote to me is true, and used to be practiced.
I don't know if you've heard of this but here goes.

Iron Crotch Kung Fu ( I swear I heard this on TV during a demonstration of Kung Fu)
Find a large heavy rock
Place rock on a near by wall
Tie a leather thong (rope) securely around the rock
Tie the other end of the rope around your scrotum
Assume a horse riding stance and walk backwards pulling the rock off the wall and let swing
The scary thing here is that this is a true thing---this sort of thing used to be one of the "tests" given by the Shaolin priests to gauge your chi.
Yipe.
Personally, I think what it REALLY was had to do with the fact that the older priests were tired of having to deal with the high testosterone levels of the younger initiates, so they devised this "test". After doing that a couple of times, testosterone is something your body simply won't produce anymore. Ta-da! Instant serene monk, without that pesky testosterone-based macho attitude.
Ow.
It's supposed to show your would-be attacker that you are impervious to pain. This is definately the case but I'm not sure how practical this would be in a fight. It also shows your attacker you are as thick as a plank.
Strong, tough---and not much for brains. :)
Other Humorous Martial Arts Links
Promotion Requirements for a 11th Degree Black Belt Murphy's Laws of Martial Arts Enter The Dragon Drinking Game ARM's Martial Arts Humor
If you've got any more martial arts humor, MAIL it to me. I can't guarantee that I'll add it, but I'll certainly consider it!Note: if mailing me something, and it seems like someone would care if it's cited, make sure to let me know who wrote it!
to the Martial Arts page.
Author: Thomas

MARTIAL ARTS MOMENTS

2007-01-30T02:36:00.000+02:00

Common Students that Martial Arts Instructors See
This section taken from a hilarious thread in rec.martial-arts.moderated. You will note some of the student descriptions are similar----I found it funny that I recognized every single one of the "students"---and so I didn't want to drop any of the variations.

1. Question Lad (aka. What-If?): This guy will bring up every possible permutation for every drill that is being worked. Solution: Make him uki.
2. Captain Slacker: Dogs the drills and sucks away the stunning dynamic experience that occurs during every class. ;-) Solution: Make him uki.
3. The Interpreter: Seems to believe that explanations must be altered to so that the masses can understand them. Even when the masses are already doing the drill. Solution: Make him uki.
4. The Whacker. Selflessly and altruistically strives to make each partner drill ultra-"realistic", for his partner's learning benefit. Leaves a wake of bruises, black eyes, and sprains behind him until he tries it on the wrong person. Solution: trade partners frequently, the right one will come along soon.
5. The Silver Spoon. Has a unique blind spot that prevents him from seeing anything that needs doing around the dojo. This blind spot is so wide that he can't see an entire dojo floor full of other students with rags cleaning up. Solution: hand him a rag. Or make him uke. Gis make great cleaning rags, with or without a person in them.
6. The Assistant Insructor. Possessed of a truly amazing learning curve, this specimen has absorbed enough knowledge in six months' study to be able to offer a flawless critique of others' practice. Undeterred by the presence of actual knowledge and experience. Solution: have him do heian shodan. As my sensei told me, "Nobody knows more about karate than a green belt. If you don't believe it, just ask him"
7. The Vince Lombardi Wannabe: Believes only that a good offense is the best defense. Constantly attacks training partners at full speed to demonstrate this philosophy, leaving confused and disgruntled students in his wake. Solution: He/she feeds the instructor next time.
8. The Whiner. Common source of "but that huuuuurts!" "I think I need to sit out for a moment," and "that's too hard!" during simple basic partner drills, including all light sparring. Solution: Take two Tylenol and put them back in. They'll either gain a little intestinal fortitude or they'll quit. (Note: the Tylenol is for YOU, not them.) (Note 2: I'm not talking real injury here----I mean the whimpering little whining that happens when someone gets an arm bar put on, so that the pressure on the arm "hurts my arm muscle." Things like that. People who simply canNOT get through an entire class without at least 2 brief class pauses while the instructor checks if the person is really hurt, or just whining yet _again_.) (And yes, I've got one of these. Arg.)
9. The Toughman. Can take ANY technique, and "tough it out" according to him (it is almost always a him) Pressure points don't work (according to him), locks are something he can handle (according to him), and getting thrown/landed on/smashed/crushed/mangled is something where he can "take the pain, suck it up, and shrug it off." No matter what. Solution: make him uki MORE.
10. The Cross-trainer. "White belt, you need to adjust your stance this way." "But sir, this is the way we did it in the last tkd/karate/aikido/judo/whatever class I was in. And I've noted you don't do [such and such] technique 'correctly' ---in my last class, the teacher said it was stupid to do it the way you do." Teacher: "Arg. Can I simply kill you now?" Solution: Manage to not show Little Grasshopper why you "do it that way," and simple explain that different classes do it different ways----and in THIS class, we do it MY way.
11. The Primal Male. Women simply canNOT do techniques that would be effective against this man because, after all, they are women. Smaller, weaker, etc... Solution: Have the smallest high ranking female in class use The Primal Male as demonstration person for joint locks and throws. In front of the new students. (This person is common in many college programs, BTW.)
12. The Mouth. Has the amazing ability to continue talking while you are standing in front of him stating that he should shut up. (If you're lucky, this only occurs in children's classes.) Solution: His partner gets 10 pushups everytime he opens his mouth.
13. The Clueless: He's constantly doing stuff wrong. Even the simplest explanations bring a glazed look to his eye as he continues to be unable to improve. Solution: Can't think of a single one. [Ed. Note: Baseball bat. Hey, it is theraputic for the teacher.]
14. The macho newbie: He's big, he's strong, and he knows it. Furthermore, there's no woman in the whole dojo that he couldn't knock out with his fabulous punch, and he's going to make sure that everyone knows it. Solution: Kick him in the groin. ;) (OK, so you can't really do that if you're the instructor, but you can tell the other students to do it!)
15. The macho old-timer: He's big, he's strong, and he's been doing this a long time. Ain't no one in the place that better *ever* beat him at a drill, or they will pay the concequences. Solution: Kick him in the groin (Hey, Don got to use solutions over! ;), and then quickly move on to the next partner.
16. The "in my previous dojo"'er: Need I say more? :) Solution: send him on to his next dojo.
17. Ninja Bob: is pretty sure that he is training to become a covert agent, and wants constant reassurance of the deadlyness of his/her endeavors.
18. Every sifu's best friend: wants to be your 'best' student, but unfortunately can't deal with training in the group. It's not his fault really, but he's a kick ass private student at the no contact level. (you guys can call this "The Maurice" if you want)
19. Mr. Agreeable: Yes, he understands. Yes, the drill makes sense, sure. Sure, keep it slow, watch the contact. (smile, nod) Oh, like that, right. ...Proceeds (as soon as your back is turned) to, in dazed confusion, invent his own damn drill, thank you very much, fast, out of control, and not at all similar to the original.
20. Ms. I'm-tough-'cuz-I-do-karate. She likes to think she's tough, but anytime someone makes even a little bit of contact, she's going to complain to anyone that will listen. This is to be contrasted with the women who *are* there to train, and say nothing about the multiple bruises they take home every night from the macho-newbie and the macho-old-timer. Solution: Hit her really hard and tell her to stop being such a wuss when she complains. The phrase "It's karate/judo/etc., it's supposed to hurt a little bit" should be used often. Solution: every single time, without exception, pair Ms. Selfdefense with #4, The Whacker. This will necessitate her learning to "whack" back.
21. Ms. Self-Defense. She's read too many RMA threads, and truely believes that her intelligence will get her out of any struggle she may encounter. And if her intelligence doesn't work, then her legs will, because after all, women's legs are stronger than men's. Solution: Put her one on one with one of the smaller guys, and tell her to defend herself. 19 times out of 20, she'll find that her legs and her intelligence don't matter too awefully much. Every single time, without exception, pair Ms. I'm-tough-'cuz-I- do-karate with #9, the macho newbie. She will probably eventually get pissed off enough to WANT to let him have it.
22. The glass menagerie: think that they should be able to learn how to fight without ever falling down, getting bruised or otherwise experiencing physical discomfort. Never fully commits to a technique, holds back and typically ends up being one of the first people to experience an injury. (Usually from not committing to the movement properly) Solution: time...they either learn or leave.
23. The natural: has natural athletic ability which really does help him or her in the learning of MA. Is frequently lazy, however, since it doesn't seem that hard to learn. This person frequently gets bored and ends up leaving without fulfilling their potential. Solution: find something that challenges them (and make them uke?)
24. Eclectic Man. Has done thirty other arts for one class apiece. Is just killing time until he can create his own martial art and associated web site (whose address he will repeatedly post to RMA). Hopes to be inducted to the "World Martial Arts Hall of Fame" as "Supreme Grandmaster of the Year" before his 23rd birthday. Immediate response to any drill is "In Armenian Tae Kung Kara Aikikenpojujutsu, they do X instead". Thinks you are jealous because his uniform has more patches on it than yours does. Solution: Make him uke. Preferably for "the Whacker" ;-)
25. Satori Man. Has read every single book or article ever written on Zen and martial arts. Owns stock in Shambala. Has never actually done zazen. Quotes koans at every opportunity. Believes Morihei Ueshiba was God. Believes Morihei Ueshiba was a Buddhist. Is fond of expounding about how "X" is not a "real martial art" because it lacks a "spiritual component" Solution: Invite your friend Charlie, who has been teaching "X" for a couple of decades, to the dojo to teach a surprise special seminar...and thereby acquaint Satori Man with his own spiritual component by making him uke.
26. Variant 1 on Satori Man: all this and has never done any MA training. Solution: make him stop talking and practice. He'll go away. I recall one kid who rebelled at being forced to hold the shinai with a right-handed grip. He'd read Go Rin No Sho and according to him, Musashi didn't do it that way. He lasted 2 classes.
27. Jutsu Man. Flip side of "Satori Man". Believes he is the reincarnation of Miyamoto Musashi, John L. Sullivan, and Attila the Hun. Is dismissive of many "-do" forms because they "aren't practical" have "all that spirituality bullshit", or are "just sports". Believes women "can't fight for shit". Solution: Invite a small, female, godan in Judo to teach him the meaning of the term "kata guruma"...and make him uke.
28. The Ogler. The woman who is so busy oogling at the guys, she's not paying attention to what you're trying to teach her. In my experience, these are always beginners. One possible solution is to pair her up with a guy, ideally one of the guys she's oogling. That way, at least, I can go off and teach someone else or practice with someone who wants to train. Another solution is to throw her quickly and rather than help support the fall, let her weight drop completely. Doesn't leave quite the same bruises as punching, but can be pretty punishing all the same. Of course, *I* would never do this.
29. The Drifter: Comes to class once every couple of months. Is completely clueless about the material currently being studied, but wants to be promoted to the next belt. solution: Relocate the dojo every once in a while. (Thats what my Sensei does)
30. The Hasbeen: used to practice five or ten years ago, and has now returned. Thinks he knows just as much as the advanced students that studied with him then and haven't stopped. Tries very hard to prove he is just as good as them by using lots of force while doing the techniques. Solution: pair him up with one of said students.

This is by no means an exhaustive list---but it certainly covers many of the non-normal "types" I've seen. :)
________________________________________

a likgaribe poem - Boys Own Rude

2007-01-20T16:59:00.002+02:00

i loved a man once his name was Shia, i fell deeply and totaly in love with - i do not know why exactly but he did not love me i waited and hoped , i beleived and was patient, but it was not to be.

Boys own rude
Lets talk about boys,
All types of boys,
Hard boys, naughty boys, wild boys,
Well of boys, mummy boys sweet boys,
Sincere boys, players, killers, ugly, rich and down to earth boys,
Boy next door, and dream boys, ultra males, and hunky jocks,
Boys who call girls princess, my cherrie and sweetness.
Boys in this town
Boys in this city

Boys own rude, crude and strongly attractive
dishing out bucket loads of heartbreak
they come to you with sweet scented tongues and
sugar coated words,
looking into your eyes and filling your head
with wild daydreams of togetherness, forever ness
and possibilities of only before dreamed of closeness.
Boys in this town
Boys in this city

Boys own rude, rowdy and unrepentantly riotous
Taking nights off for frivolous partying
And hey babes
Howza about I buy you a drink, hey howza about
I come round to your place
And howza about me and you get personal before I leave
At 4 in the morning never to be seen or heard from again.
You see it ain’t personal babes its just games, you should loosen up girl,
You wanna talk, na howza about we talk at three in the morning
See I’m too drunk right now.
Boys in this town
Boys in this city

Boys own rude, green and forever juvenile
That did not grow into men
But sweet childhood cloaks their facades of maturity
A pretense to responsibility and grown up intentions
Hiding behind facades of grown up manliness
Talking of taking care of a lady, and giving her what she wants,
talking about visits to the kraal and taking care of business,
taking care of family and all that
so Mr. taking care of things when you gonna
get around to taking care of me?
Boys in this town
Boys in this city

Boys own rude, wild and eternally energetic
Fired up, hot engines of sleek machines
That glide upon gravel
With sharp headlights
And move along as wings on a motorcycle
Cruising around town, looking out for a fresh kill

a likgaribe poem - Boys Own Rude

2007-01-20T16:59:00.001+02:00

i loved a man once his name was Shia, i fell deeply and totaly in love with - i do not know why exactly but he did not love me i waited and hoped , i beleived and was patient, but it was not to be.

Boys own rude
Lets talk about boys,
All types of boys,
Hard boys, naughty boys, wild boys,
Well of boys, mummy boys sweet boys,
Sincere boys, players, killers, ugly, rich and down to earth boys,
Boy next door, and dream boys, ultra males, and hunky jocks,
Boys who call girls princess, my cherrie and sweetness.
Boys in this town
Boys in this city

Boys own rude, crude and strongly attractive
dishing out bucket loads of heartbreak
they come to you with sweet scented tongues and
sugar coated words,
looking into your eyes and filling your head
with wild daydreams of togetherness, forever ness
and possibilities of only before dreamed of closeness.
Boys in this town
Boys in this city

Boys own rude, rowdy and unrepentantly riotous
Taking nights off for frivolous partying
And hey babes
Howza about I buy you a drink, hey howza about
I come round to your place
And howza about me and you get personal before I leave
At 4 in the morning never to be seen or heard from again.
You see it ain’t personal babes its just games, you should loosen up girl,
You wanna talk, na howza about we talk at three in the morning
See I’m too drunk right now.
Boys in this town
Boys in this city

Boys own rude, green and forever juvenile
That did not grow into men
But sweet childhood cloaks their facades of maturity
A pretense to responsibility and grown up intentions
Hiding behind facades of grown up manliness
Talking of taking care of a lady, and giving her what she wants,
talking about visits to the kraal and taking care of business,
taking care of family and all that
so Mr. taking care of things when you gonna
get around to taking care of me?
Boys in this town
Boys in this city

Boys own rude, wild and eternally energetic
Fired up, hot engines of sleek machines
That glide upon gravel
With sharp headlights
And move along as wings on a motorcycle
Cruising around town, looking out for a fresh kill
Hunting for sweet babes to sacrifice upon the alter of
Love, and relationships, games of virility
And moments of wildness
Watch out for them
you can’t miss them.
Boys in this town
Boys in this city

You said you loved me
I fell upon your words like a mother hen
Falling upon its young
I was blind to your deception
I took a leap for love
Across the abyss hoping to finally experience
And yet you were never there and I have fallen
Fallen into the dark abyss
When you said you loved me

Boys own rude, crude and strongly attractive
Boys own rude, rowdy and unrepentantly riotous
Boys own rude, green and forever juvenile
Boys own rude, wild and eternally energetic
Boys in this town, boys in this city

a likgaribe poem - Boys Own Rude

2007-01-20T16:59:00.000+02:00

A coolmsasa article - what is love

2007-01-16T17:43:00.000+02:00

A special freind sent me this e-mail.

"Lust is what makes you keep wanting sex, even when you have no desire to be with each other. Love is what makes you keep wanting to be with each other, even when you have no desire to do it." -Judith Viorst
CONFUSING THOUGHTS ABOUT LOVE
John Ciardi, in a 1978 New York Times article, wrote, "Love is the word used to label the sexual excitement of the young, the habituation of the middle-aged, and the mutual dependence of the old." Is this what love is? Do the young fall in lust and call it love? In our middle years do we call a feeling of comfort and familiarity love? Is love in our golden years just a feeling of mutual need for emotional and physical support? In the book Love and Limerence (1979), Dorothy Tennov states, "Human beings have had difficulty differentiating among: 1) sexual desire, 2) liking, in the sense of friendship, 3) affection and 4) love, in the sense of c oncern for the other person's welfare." I would add as a fifth confusing feeling the dependent need to be loved, for there are those who believe they love another on the sole basis of that person loving them. In our society, we talk and write and sing so much about love, but it remains a mystery. Plato, the Greek philosopher, wrote, "Love is a grave mental disease." Renowned psychiatrist Karl Menninger, however, wrote, "Love cures people - both the ones who give it and the ones who receive it." This leads me to ponder the question, is love both the illness and the cure? To love and not be loved in return is very painful. To desperately need and not be needed can be, for some, emotionally devastating. Robert Kalich, in 1981, wrote, "Loving a woman who doesn't love you back is like bouncing a basketball without air in it." Rejection can lead to feelings of depression, to a devaluing of one's own personal worth, and to a wide range of emotional and physical symptoms. Are these devastating feelings the result of unreturned mature love, or are they the consequences of an immature dependent love and the erroneous belief that one has no value unless loved by another? When a lover leaves, the sense of intense loss is fueled by the irrational belief that one can never love another person as much as the love felt for the one who has gone. Desperate, dependent, destructive "love" has been viewed as an addiction in many of the popular books of the '70s and '80s, such as How to Break Your Addiction of a Person by Halpern, Women Who Love Too Much by Peele, and Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places by Diamond. Others warned women about making bad decisions in matters of love, as in Smart Women, Foolish Choices by Cowan & Kinder, and Men Who Hate Women and the Women Who Love Them by Forward & Torres. Cassel, in Swept Away, warns women not to fall into lust and then excuse themselves for being sexual by convincing themselves they must have been swept away by love.
LOVE AND LIMERENCE
Is love blind? Do we enter an altered state of awareness when we fall in love and misperceive our loved one? This would appear to be true, at least according to Dorothy Tennov who has coined the word "limerence" to identify the early stages of attraction and infatuation, during which we see no faults. In limerence, one will be blinded by the feelings and rush headlong into a relationship with someone who is still a relative stranger. In limerence, one cannot sleep, cannot eat, and cannot concentrate on anyone but the object of this powerful attraction. (Others, e.g., Krenshaw in The Alchemy of Love, would see this altered state as being induced by biochemical influences not readily available to conscious awareness.) Limerence might be the precursor to love, but according to Tennov, it is not love. If, in the course of basking in limerence, love develops, the feelings will have permanence. However, if there is limerence and no love, the feelings will fade into indifference or dislike. Tennov gives limerence from six to twelve months "shelf life." What remains is the true test of the relationship. Statistics tell us that with a larger percentage of marriages occurring less than a year after the couple met, divorce is likely to occur. The concept of limerence is a good argument for dating well past the one year mark before committing to the legal contract of marriage. Liv Ullmann, in a 1977 McCalls story, is quoted as saying, "I felt as though the clouds were not on the horizon, but under my feet." It was surely limerence that had inspired a description of such romantic euphoria. In a more cynical mood, John Barrymore once said, "Love is the delightful interval between meeting a beautiful girl and discovering that she looks like a haddock." Such an interval is exactly what Tennov had in mind when she wrote about limerence. This blindness imposed by a state of limerence is also expressed in the 1955 comment by Maurice Chevalier when he said, "Many a man has fallen in love with a girl in a light so dim he would not have chosen a suit in." One wonders if he was talking of love, limerence or just plain lust. (In addition to possibly confusing love, limerence and lust, note how forty plus years ago, grown women were referred to as "girls." Political correctness had not yet made its entry into our way of thinking and writing.)
STYLES OF LOVING
Two books, Loving Styles by Rosenman (1979) and Styles of Loving by Lasswell and Lobsenz (1980), presented an interesting perspective on the various way people feel, but indiscriminately call love. These authors argue that there is no one kind of love, no single constellation of feelings, but rather at least six distinct styles. They make the point that we love in different ways and that each of us has developed a unique combination of these different styles. In the English language we use the word love very broadly (and may modify it by adding an adjective, such as brotherly love, parental love, platonic love, etc.). In the Greek language, however, there six different feels are identified: Storge, Agape, Mania, Pragma, Ludus, and Eros.
Storge (pronounced like stor-gay) is friendship love. A storge lover says of the loved on, "He/she is my very best friend." This love is based on common interests, similar values, mutual goals and compatible personalities. Storge loving builds slowly it is not complicated by sexual chemistry. Sex is not important in the development of the relationship and is not the central to it. Although this style of loving lacks excitement and passion, it brings a great sense of security and stability. Of all the styles of loving, storge loving between friends is the most lasting. The agape lover is giving and forgiving. Agape lovers believe that loving someone means putting the other's welfare above their own. Bill Murry described it on a 1980 Late Night Show with David Letterman, when he said, "If you really love someone you try to do for them what they don't know they need done." Too much giving and forgiving, however, can approach the level of martyrdom, and resentment might begin to build. Lopsided self-sacrifice and too much forgiving of bad behavior can lead to feelings of being taken for granted and of being abused. Many agape lovers who have gone to extremes have remarked, "I'm sick of it. I give and give and never get back. I overlook everything and feel walked on. I'm burned out and just can't give any more." Agape lovers thrive only with an appreciative partner who gives in return. Mania loving is being madly in love. This high energy loving adds excitement to a relationship, but too much madness leads to possessiveness and jealous. It is as thought the intense mania lover is never sure that the loved one will not leave, and they must cling tightly. Partners of mania lovers might initially be thrilled to be loved and needed so intensely, but they are likely to end up feeling rigidly controlled. Mania love does not allow a partner to grow, as the mania lover feels at risk when they are unable to control their partner. Too much mania becomes oppressive, controlling and ultimately destructive. Pragma love is practical. Often it is like falling in love with your head, not your heart. A true pragma lover goes out with a mental shopping list of the qualities required in a prospective partner. The list is usually very practical, including such things as the ideal partner's social status, occupation, material possessions, and level of income. A man who buys an expensive car to attract women is shopping for a pragma lover. The father who gives his daughter the advice, "It is just as easy to marry a rich man as it is to marry a poor one," has given a pragma message. Indeed, the first thing that attracts her to a man might be his car. The pragma message can be found in an old English proverb, dating back to 1670, that states "Who marrieth for love without money hath good nights and sorry days." Ludus lovers are the game players. The love the singles bars that become their playground. Ludus lovers will come on strong, being well practiced in the art of seduction. However, it is very difficult for a ludus lover to make a lasting commitment. It is ironic that the ludus lover is most likely to end a relationship when it is at its best. Since it is the pursuit and not the conquest that is exciting, commitment holds no attraction. As a relationship becomes secure and the initial passion fades, ludus lovers become bored and will often begin a new relationship even before ending an old one. By overlapping relationships, the game player can guarantee the continual excitement of a fresh pursuit. The sixth style of loving is Eros or erotic love. Eros lovers are typically romantic and value intimacy, both emotional and physical. They are likely to believe in love at first sight and will talk of feeling a strong physical attraction to their partner... a sexual chemistry. Sexual behavior is likely to occur between two eros lovers much earlier in a relationship than between two storge lovers. While the ludus lover might push for sexual relations early in a relationship, it is a matter of conquest and scoring, but the eros lover's desire to be sexual is to connect and to share the intimacy of mutual sexual satisfaction.

CONCLUSIONS
If we accept the assumption that what we typically call "love" is really a combination or mixture of at least six different styles of loving, we can begin to understand why some relationships are destined to fail. An agape lover might burn out, a mania lover can hold too tightly, a pragma lover might never feel emotionally filled, and an eros lover might fall in love with a ludus lover and wonder how such a perfect union could end so abruptly. We can also understand why two people can each profess love for the other, but neither will feel loved. It certainly seems true that love is neither a singular nor simple emotion that we could ever hope to define in a simple definition. We each love in our own unique way and respond best when loved back in a similar style. Love is a celebration of two lives bonded together by mutual caring, compassion, and concern. Consideration, compatibility and open communication enrich both lives. Mature lasting love is characterized by mutual respect, and is never critical, demanding, or restrictive. Mutual growth is supported, both as a couple and as individuals. Dorothy Parker wisely has said, "love is like quicksand in the hand. Leave your fingers open, and it stays. Clutch it, and it darts away."

A ligkaribe Poem - i lost my mind

2006-12-01T14:26:00.000+02:00

My mind moved from one place
of abode to another -
It packed up and went without even
waiting for the moving truck…
I could not take it with me.
And now I sit here and contemplate how
Can I ever live without my mind?

a likgaribe poem - Mr. Possibilities

2006-12-01T14:18:00.000+02:00

i met a guy on the weekend who just affected me so much i had already drafted this poem, as it turns out i affected him just as much too.

Mr. Possibilities
On a hot sultry 10 o’clock morning I met him
in the bus dreadlocks and dark chocolate face he sat
his eyes spoke of an inner spirit that echoes the
sounds of deep caves in earths core
his voice was a song of men a song of African
heritage dark rich and melodious he spoke to me
of nothing he spoke to me of everything
rumbling on about trivial things in the seat behind
mine I asked him were he was from “I’m from here”
he said I asked him again “I’m from Gabs” this time
I asked him again “I’m a village boy from Modipane
beyond Oodi before Sikwane”I let my questions rest.
He asked me where I was from I told him I was from
two places He laughed, I asked him if that was funny
He said – no it isn’t. His spirit captured mine,
His words arrested my soul and cocooned it in a ball
of affection forever entwined to his spirit I saw in his
eyes hope and a belief in endless possibilities
I heard in his voice the mind of men the mind that never
fears or sleeps I sensed in his heart a strong soul
The spirit of Mr. Possibilities He is searching for a woman he
said, an African woman, a real woman, who understands
herself Who respects an African Man?
He said she is confident She is clean, she is a good woman
He didn’t want “no woman who gotta be on top”,
he’ll take her to a place A village surrounded by hills and
Mountains the village of “Morakalalo” “the place of
Chilling” And there they would get married
on his 29th birthday on the 25th November And
raise a big family with 6 children no less.
On a hot sultry 10 o’clock morning I met him
in the bus dreadlocks and dark chocolate face
he sat his eyes spoke to mine of an inner spirit that
echoes the sounds of deep caves in earths core
his voice was a song of men a song of African heritage
dark rich and melodious he is Mr. Possibilities

A ligkaribe Poem - My Shia

2006-11-30T16:01:00.000+02:00

Hugging pillows and day dreaming
Sweet taste of lovely smiley days
Relaxed and lazy with my love
What can I say about my Shia
Except that love is divinity
And he is the God of my universe

Inspirations – thoughts of something
Something greater than me,
Something sitting on a horizon
Just beyond
waiting
Waiting for me to capture it
Like an eager child captures the
butterfly in their tiny beautiful palms

it’s a hunger unfulfilled
something that i eat but it seems
I always have to come back for
more, speaking of butterflies, flutters in
my chest and pillow hugging nights of
day dreaming and sweetness.

Sensations
I chase a dream
I chase sensation
I chase a sound
I crave a voice
The voice of my Shia
A sweet melody in my ears that
Creates havoc in my hearts deeper
Chambers and bodily sensations off craziness’

As I watch the playful birds circling above
I dream that I could chase after a dream
That I could soar high above in oblivion
Finally catching these birds to play amongst the
Gods and dance amongst the stars
When finally my Shia and I will be together

What can I say about my Shia
Except that love is divinity and my Shia
is the God of my universe

to my love, this is the joy you have brought to my heart:

“My heart is all happy,
My heart takes wing in singing,
Under the trees of the forest,
The forest our dwelling and our mother.”
Pygmy (central Africa) chorus (Turnbull, Man in Africa, p.109)

2006-11-24T15:30:00.000+02:00

A friend who calls a friend a friend,
He is my friend in darkness
My coolmsasa greatness
A man of unparalleled wisdom
He speaks words of freedom,

A song of freedom to me,
Of liberation true
Coming on the wake of
an even darker night.
When not even
noisy cicadas stirred
He dared

My muse, my won personal oracle
My inner heart he knows,
And with these my hearts strings
a miracle he weaves
my inner voice he hears,
and with its rhythm and beat
a song he writes
my woman hood he penetrates,
and with its sweet quintessence
a queen he fashions

my coolmsasa greatness
could I ever hope to touch him
on a cold key board
could I hope for the tips of my fingers
to glide upon the planes of his cheeks
and brush against
lush lashes of closed eyelids
could I hope that where he sat
he tasted me and smelt sweet my womanly
smell that could speak for me words that
these black strokes could never convey

He’s heart is hidden to me,
my friend who calls a friend a friend
My coolmsasa greatness,
A man of unparalleled wisdom
who speaks to me
his words of freedom,

"to luke; this poem may have a meaning or none at all, it may be called an abstract poem, it may not.

With abstract poems, the meaning is in the interpretation, it is for the listener or reader to decide, whatever meaning it may have to them at a particular point in time.

Someone once said a poem is not a poem until it has meaning to the reader, otherwise it is a useless poem, just words without essence.

I’d say it’s a dead poem, waiting to be resurrected by someone who will interpret it according to their, heart, mind and being. At any rate this poem, when I first drafted it was something else, in the final draft it turned into something else altogether different, hmm, it had a life of its own,

It is however dedicated to you, it may mean something to you, it may mean nothing at all. Maybe it will mean something, today, maybe just tomorrow, or even yesterday or maybe never. This is nothing it is only the difference between life and death, living and dying. The death of a poem what is it, in the scheme of things compared to the sleep of millennium year old mummies that lie in Egyptian tombs, and the departed souls, of kings, queens, emperors, warriors, and commoners alike?

So it may mean something to you, it may not, do not concern yourself either way.
Ps: still incomplete and yet untitled. Oh and the penetration part is probably metaphoric, I think I had to mention that."

a likgaribe poem - "listen closely"

2006-11-24T15:27:00.000+02:00

Listen closely
A tale of my death
A tale of my life
My name is Vlad III Teppes
Also known as the impaler
I am of the Bela Lugosi
Son of Dracul
Son of the Dragon
When I was growing up
in my wild native Walachia
In the hills and silver forests
of my beautiful Transylvania
A dark shadow
came upon our lands
An evil out of the east
Pagan infidels,
with the blood lust
they worshiped
not the risen lord
Nor our old ways
I a Carpathian prince
slayer of the infidel
of The order of the dragon
The ancient house of Drakulya
was protector and avenger

on the night I met the
deceiver, I was in the chapel
My own personal haven
Out upon lake Snagov
he was only a boy
He spoke to me of his fear
Of his seeking sanctuary
He claimed my spot
Never mind he said
there’s just
two of us anyway
he had a strange accent
“the voice was soft and
infinitely dangerous”
those mischievous eyes
he was not a boy when he spoke
I had not seen such as him before
for once I was more interested
in someone other than myself
with a knuckle in my mouth I smiled
I listened hard and I watched hard
I could not breathe

On a dead night
A knocking awakens
From quite contemplation
In the distance
I heard the dogs barking
Or were they laughing
Such a night it was
I heard the incessant knocking
Not on my door who cares
The footsteps you see
Made the more loud
By the invisibility
of the apparition
“come and I will give
you knowledge
For ten thousand lifetimes,
Do not keep me waiting
If you will not come
I will come for you”
“you shall enjoy the eternal life
That only a few
beings can claim”
“I struggled not to faint
Not to go to him on that instant
And throw myself
on my knees before him
And not to put myself
under his hand”
and yet in the end
he did not need to come

Listening to stories
Listen closely
A tale of my death
A tale of my life
My name is Vlad III Teppes
Also known as the impaler
I am of the Bela Lugosi
Son of Dracul
Son of the Dragon
of The ancient order of Drakulya!!!

“The historian, by Elizabeth Kostova a chilly tale of life and death, that after reading left in me an intense hunger for life, the true full experience of life, after all that is what we all want.”
Someone said of the book, “Dracula is back – alive and well (or at least undead)”

a ligkaribe poem - "fish in the bowl"

2006-11-24T15:23:00.000+02:00

There is a fish in the bowl
It is to be expected
Sometimes there is no fish
Expect the unexpected
It is not a fishbowl
“what is
is not,
what is not
is”

nothing is ever as it seems, we must not always expect that the world is in the exact coulers or shapes we imagine it is or even the ones that we see it in, it is not always to be as we expect or hope, we must be ready for anything, accept this anything equally at all times whatever it is, without surprise, shock, sadness, or disappointment. it is the process that counts not the outcome. We must observe and learn from the outcome. Inspired by my Zen.

A ligkaribe Poem - "Knights of the circle"

2006-11-15T09:25:00.000+02:00

this was a contest poem, for poems about bravery and the lack of it in todays age?

“Nights of the circle” by likgaribe on Nov 10 (Contest-Poem) (This was an entry for the contest No Bravery Anymore [Contest] by Child of WaterPosted on Nov 10.

“Knights of the circle”
When I was King Arthur
In the year of the chieftains
The time of Saxon invaders and wolf warriors
I called unto me
The brotherhood of supremacy
The knights of the round table

This was the time
When the old gods were in danger
Talk of a mighty desert king
A new religion of the cross
The Celtic priestesses, were unhappy
And the Druid priests discontented

It was a time of disloyalty
Cut throats and vagabonds of first class trade
Ruled in the deep green forest recesses
of middle earth
Alliances were fragile and faith only
A story for wee ones at fire side

I was only a man child then
A lad no more than sixteen
They were men of valor and gallantry
Proud and refusing to bend
They scoffed that they wanted a man
for king, a man of whiskers, a man of deeds

I sought to save this land
This beautiful middle earth
I sought their pledges and fealty
The promise of their blood and valor
I dreamed of peace and shared alliances
Yes I sought to establish, a perilous order

This was my destiny as I understood it
“The emblem and agency of my identity”
“Immovable for so long in the black rock”
The blue sword called Excalibur
after years of sinister silence
came away easily in the palm of my hand

It was a sign he said
A sign of blood and lineages
Drawn and entwined in my being
As the twirling roots of the mighty oak
For I was son of Ingram the last queen of the Celts
I Aquila Reagalis Thor High King of all Britainia

He would have none of my weakness or doubts
He abode not my protests of youth
For he said it was not my destiny alone
Not my life alone
But the life of middle earth
the future of empathy in chivalry

He was protector of middle earth
The one of whom I cannot speak
But you know him
He was protector of this time and age
Of this species of brave ones
Of this race of humans

When I was King Arthur
In the year of the chieftains
The time of Saxon invaders and wolf warriors
I called unto me
The brotherhood of the supremacy
The knights of the circle

“forsaken by our dreams,
Naked but for our stories,
With only the stars for food,
The four directions for shelter,
And the spirit of all that we love
Our only companion,
We live as warriors of
A perilous order,
Champions of kindness,
Who battle for virtue?
In the ruthless war of survival”

The knights are the embodiment of bravery and the round table is a sign of their empathy, bravery and empathy - inseparable

A ligkaribe Article - on death

2006-10-31T14:17:00.000+02:00

This is harder than one may think, blogging -: when you know there really is no one listening, but I guess I have the experience to stand me in good stead. I have steadily kept a private journal for some years now, I’m not an exact person but I must have started when I was sixteen or so. I really do it for myself mostly; I want to be able to read all this stuff especially when I’m older I think it should give me a kick. In my experience I can sometimes go for months on end without bothering with a new entry, its better that way in the long run. With this site I’m trying hard not to just throw in any crap that just happens to be running through my head at a time. Its not easy, to try and make the needed effort, but its fun and worth it eventually.

In today’s environment we have a situation were death is all around us in fact some of us live with it on a daily basis. We breathe it, we walk it, we think of it in the mornings and before we go to sleep. I think to face death in the eye is the bravest thing that any of us can do, it is also the hardest. There seems to me nothing that any person can ever say to make a difference. Here I have tried to look at perspectives on death from a number of different cultures, beliefs and philosophies. With a hope to maybe destroying the power that it has on us.

It is expressed by Mariama Ba, a Senegalese writer as “the tenancy passage between two opposite worlds, one tumultuous, the other still.” Africans have always believed in the existence of our ancestors, that we do not die but we carry on looking over our descendants and their coming and going. “Death is a privilege…because it is neither final nor the treacherous villain that some men have made it out to be” Sly Cheney Coker-Sierra Leonean writer. I do think Africa is the one culture in the world that seriously goes about the business of talking to our departed ancestors and making them our gods; most other cultures do not actively practice this belief:

“The dead are not dead
are not down in the earth
They are in the trembling trees
In the groaning woods
In the water that runs
In the water that sleeps
They are in the hut
They are in the crowd
The dead are not dead”
{Birago Dio[ Senegalease poet}

Slowly the muddy pool becomes a river
Slowly my mother’s disease becomes death
When wood breaks it can be repaired
But ivory breaks forever
An egg falls to reveal a messy secret
My mother went and carried her secret along
She has gone far
We look for her in vain
But when you see the kob antelope on the way to the farm
When you see the kob antelope on the way to the river
Leave your arrows in the quiver
And let the dead depart in peace.
{Yoruba, Nigerian funeral song}

The day we die the wind comes
To wipe us out, the traces of our footsteps
The wind creates dust which covers
The traces that were where we had walked
{Bushmen, Botswana, poem}

Return to the hut and search no more
You will not find him in the reeds or tree
Kemo, kemo, he is not there,
His campfire burns now among the stars
{Ovamba, Angolan funeral song}

And Swahili poet, Shaaban Robert says of his departed wife Amina,
“Amina you have withdrawn yourself, like a flower you have closed.”

Japanese people have a tradition of writing death poems when they are about to pass away:
i.e. a poem that was ostensibly written by a kamikaze pilot before his passing
the wild cherry blossoms of
Yamato
when they fall
may dazzle even heaven
{Yamato (poetic name for Japan)}
These poems I find are very touching and in a way comforting, in their acceptance of death and celebration of a life lived.

and here is a story about our inevitable appointment with death:
The legend of the appointment in Samarrah, has never failed to captivate me:
A servant overheard in the market place that death was looking for him – he raced home and told his master he must flee to the neighboring town to Samarrah so that death would not find him.

After supper that night there was a knock upon the door. The master opened it and saw death standing upon the threshold, in his long black robes and hood.

Death inquired after the servant.

“He is ill in bed,” lied the master hastily, “he is too sick to be disturbed”

“That’s odd “responded death, “then he is surely in the wrong place, for I had an appointment with him tonight at midnight – in Sammarrah.”

This story has never really failed to really bring home to me the issue of our impermanency and its inevitability,

One follower of Buddha said this
“Thinking makes good and bad, life and death,
And without thinking there is no universe,
No Buddha, no dharma.
All is one and this one is empty”

Is this really about death, or is it more about non death, is it that death is a reality of our existence or is it that death exists in our mind? The followers of Zen Buddhism believe in the existence of the divine in all human beings, all of us have the Buddha nature we must only realize it through enlightenment. They believe that in this state of enlightenment one goes beyond even the existence of death.

I will present you with two more death poems:
Sixty six times these eyes have beheld
The changing scene of autumn
I have said enough about moonlight
Ask no more,
Only listen to the voice of pine cedars
When no wind stairs

For sixty six years I lived as best I could
Making my way in this world.
Now the rain has ended,
The clouds are clearing
The blue sky has a full moon
Both these last two were written by a Buddhist nun.

An ill student of Zen was advised as follows:
The essence of your mind is not born,
So it will never die.
It is not an existence which is perishable.
It is not an emptiness, which is a mere void
It has neither color nor form
It enjoys no pleasure and suffers no pains
I know you are very ill
Like a good Zen student you are facing that
Sickness squarely.
You may not know exactly who is suffering,
But question yourself.
What is the essence of mind?
Think only of this, you will need no more.
Covet nothing,
Your end which is endless is as a snowflake
Dissolving in pure air

Another student just before passing away received a visit from his master
Master-: “shall I lead you on?”

Student-: “I came here alone and I go alone.
What help could you be to me?”

Master-: “if you think you really come and go
This is your delusion.
Let me show you the path on which
There is no coming and no going?”

With these words the master had revealed the path so clearly the student smiled and passed away.

And we shall end with yet another story:

Zen master Hoshin lived in China many years. He then returned to the north eastern part of Japan, where he taught his disciples. When he was getting very old he told them the story he had heard in Ching.

One year on the 25tth of December, Tokufu who was very old said to his disciples.” I am not going to be alive next year so you fellows should treat me well this year”
The pupils thought he was joking, but since he was a great hearted teacher each of them in turn treated him to a feast on succeeding days of the departing year”

On the eve of the New Year Tokufu concluded “you have all been good to me. I shall leave tomorrow afternoon when the snow has stopped”

The disciple’s laughed thinking he was aging and talking nonsense since the night was clear and without snow. But at midnight snow began to fall, and the next day they did not find their teacher about. They went to the meditation hall there he had passed on.

Hoshini told his disciples it is not necessary for a Zen master to predict his passing but if he really wishes to do so he can.”

“Can you?” someone asked.

“Yes” he answered “I will show you what I can do seven days from now”

None of the disciples believed him and most had even forgotten when he called them together.

“Seven days ago”, he remarked “I said I was going to leave you. It is customary to write a farewell poem but I am neither a poet nor calligrapher. Let one of you inscribe my last words”

He dictated

“I came from brilliancy
And return to brilliancy
What is this?”

The poem was one line short of the customary four, so a disciple said:
“Master you are one line short.”

Hoshin with a roar of a conquering lion shouted “kaa!” and was gone.

By Rekopantshwe Kgomo
“And to each of us God has sent our own personal angels, so that if we are ever to know the true meaning of love we may experience it first through these beings, these beings are called mothers, do you love your mother? Endeavour to treat all beings as though they were your mother.”

What am I saying here, I speak of death, I have faced death on some occasions before I remember the first time I was in a car accident, my first lucid thought was if this is what I was born into I would rather have never been born. I was 23 at the time, and shaken to the core. I cried like a mad woman, I have to admit. I was literally bowling at the top of my voice. Not because I was hurt but because I was quite shaken. I only remembered the accident itself much later; it occurred to me that had I died that time I would not have known that I had died. For all that it left me with a lesser fear of my own immortality. I realized that worrying about the issue is pointless. “death is the thing that makes life even more worthwhile, one is never more alive than in the moment of death.”

My only fear now is not death itself, but what I will do between now and then?

The second time around was when a fellow African brother decided to pull a knife on me, I screamed and screamed like I have never done before, I didn’t even know I had it in me to scream so much. I was puzzled afterwards by the look of shock on his face when I started screaming but I later realized that, he had probably never heard anyone scream so loud before either. The brother had bad intentions, but on that night things did not quite go in his favor so to speak.

I like my evening walks, on one occasion, I was listening to the radio at the same time, and they were talking about the genocide in Rwanda. I remember feeling a great and huge presence of evil. It was so much that it was almost suffocating me, not the kind that a simple person such as me can even confront. I was even hesitant to cross the road in spite of the fact that there were no cars at the time. I eventually did, as I walked I felt the slightest of sensations on my right shoulder. I ignored this as it was illogical that there was anything there, this happened twice, I was too busy keeping an eye on my fellow pedestrians. The third time it was my left shoulder I decided this time to look, and there he was behind me coming so fast, and ahead of me the white van just by the bus stop. It was right by the junction of the stop to the road, and as I was walking by the edge of the road I would have had to pass by it. I moved faster and went in a different direction on the road side and as I turned back he was saying something but I couldn’t hear because of my ear phones. He got in the van and they sped of just as I was passing it on the opposite side, only then did I realize that he was with the van.

I truly believe an angel saved me that night, the thing about it is that its never expected is it one time on my way to the dojo I realized there was someone behind me in the shadows, luckily I found two people already inside what would have happened if I’d been number one that day? On another occasion we were walking back, three of us tall grass, no street lights and suddenly the ground right in front became two people sitting on the edge of the grass. We were walking in rural style, with a few feet en us, and guess what just like me I was bringing up the rear. The thing is whoever was in front couldn’t worn us because it was already too late by the time they saw them. They never said a thing nor moved a muscle, we never said a thing either. It was really jarring though.

One thing I know is that it is unexpected always, and it is certain always.

living

2006-10-16T17:17:00.000+02:00

this is an e-mail i got from my freaind Jay, aka Jos aka Joc,

Well pick something if u can.....and trash the rest...... This was a speech made by Pulitzer Prize-winning author, Anna Quindlenatthe graduation ceremony of an American university where she was awardedanHonorary PhD.

"I'm a novelist. My work is human nature. Real life is all I know. Don'tever confuse the two, your life and your work. You will walk out of herethis afternoon with only one thing that no one else has. There will behundreds of people out there with your same degree: there will bethousandsof people doing what you want to do for a living. But you will be theonlyperson alive who has sole custody of your life. Your particular life.Yourentire life. Not just your life at a desk or your life on a bus or in acaror at the computer. Not just the life of your mind, but the life of yourheart. Not just your bank accounts but also your soul.People don't talk about the soul very much anymore. It's so much easiertowrite a resume than to craft a spirit. But a resume is cold comfort on awinter's night, or when you're sad, or broke, or lonely, or when you'vereceived your test results and they're not so good.Here is my resume: I am a good mother to three children. I have triedneverto let my work stand in the way of being a good parent. I no longerconsidermyself the centre of the universe. I show up. I listen. I try to laugh.I ama good friend to my husband. I have tried to make marriage vows meanwhatthey say. I am a good friend to my friends and them to me. Without them,there would be nothing to say to you today, because I would be acardboardcut out. But I call them on the phone and I meet them for lunch. I wouldberotten, at best mediocre, at my job if those other things were not true.You cannot be really first rate at your work if your work is all youare. Sohere's what I wanted to tell you today: Get a life. A real life, not amanicpursuit of the next promotion, the bigger pay cheque, the larger house.Doyou think you'd care so very much about those things if you blew ananeurysmone afternoon or found a lump in your breast?Get a life in which you notice the smell of salt water pushing itself onabreeze at the seaside, a life in which you stop and watch how ared-tailedhawk circles over the water, or the way a baby scowls with concentrationwhen she tries to pick up a sweet with her thumb and first finger.Get a life in which you are not alone. Find people you love, and wholoveyou. And remember that love is not leisure, it is work. Pick up thephone.Send an email. Write a letter. Get a life in which you are generous. Andrealize that life is the best thing ever, and that you have no businesstaking it for granted. Care so deeply about its goodness that you wanttospread it around. Take money you would have spent on beer and give it tocharity. Work in a soup kitchen. Be a big brother or sister. All of youwantto do well. But if you do not do good too, then doing well will never beenough.It is so easy to waste our lives, our days, our hours, and our minutes.Itis so easy to take for granted the colour of our kids' eyes, the way themelody in a symphony rises and falls and disappears and rises again. Itisso easy to exist instead of to live.I learned to live many years ago. I learned to love the journey, not thedestination. I learned that it is not a dress rehearsal, and that todayisthe only guarantee you get. I learned to look at all the good in theworldand try to give some of it back because I believed in it, completely andutterly. And I tried to do that, in part, by telling others what I hadlearned. By telling them this: Consider the lilies of the field. Look atthefuzz on a baby's ear. Read in the back yard with the sun on your face.Learn to be happy. And think of life as a terminal illness, because ifyou do, you will live it with joy and passion as it ought to be lived".

A ligkaribe Article - on existence

2006-10-13T13:09:00.000+02:00

On existence.
“from nothingness we came, unto nothingness we shall return” wise words, whatever your choice of belief this statement does hold true, if you happen to believe that life originated after the big bang well before that there was nothing, suddenly a big explosion and matter was the result, if you believe in God on the one hand, I have heard it said that he himself came from nothing before him there was nothing and he by spoken word created the great cosmos.

“from the infinite ultimate or the void, is born the grand ultimate or cosmos” is it not possible then that the answer lies in the void, the emptiness, the unbeing, were we are from, were we shall return. The one that came first must be greater. God is void, so now you know. It sounds familiar – “THE GREAT I AM”, without name or form, timeless, and all present.

The word I am interested in is Void – a completely empty continuous area or expanse which is free or unoccupied, an unfilled space, - space being also the dimensions of height, depth, and width within which all things exist and move. It can also be defined in relation to position, as two or more items at a distance from one another. In my interpretation of void at this time I would like to differentiate between empty, which once had something and now does not, and void as something that simply has never had anything to begin with. This to me brings out an important aspect of the meaning of this void. There is infinite ultimate potential that is found in this void, because this void can be anything it wants or desires; this is the great power of void. A potential great and powerful enough to create a universe.

“what is the dharmakaya? The dharmakaya is without form. What is the meaning of the holy truths? Empty without holiness” what I see is a circle, a completion, everything exists because of the potential that is found in nothingness, and this existence, ultimately must return to the origin for it to be fulfilled. I will end my piece such as it is by presenting part of several poems, with a different and interesting interpretation on existence.

Super Position Principle by Arzab on allpoetry.com.
“Electric field produces more than one charge. Each produces it's own field resulting in a vector sum of the individual. Determining only the difference, between potentials at two different points. Potential of zero in a given region of space. Points in space defining an equipotential surface. A concentric sphere … and there is only a difference of potentials at two different points, in a concrete sphere, is reality just what is observed at all points in the universe, flowing from the infinite past, to the infinite future, with no boundary to space time and no need to specify the behavior at the boundary, as the quantum theory of gravity may suggest? No singularities where laws are broken down, no edge of space-time. For the boundary condition of the universe, could be that it has no boundary. The universe being completely self-contained, not affected by anything outside. Neither created nor destroyed. Just simply existing.”

Eden by Under STAR on Allpoetry.com
“A philosophical existence with no x-factor; channeling his will collecting in celestial nothingness. When the words were written before logic, the garden grew in the lonely universe. A philosophical existence bends the elements, and he was born. Physically he existed alone. Lay him down too sleep and she will appear. The son and daughter of his philosophical existence.
Son and daughter of a philosophical existence with no x-factor, rise in ancient perfection stay like this forever. Banish the son and daughter from the garden. Leave the wounds of imperfection for future generations to tend. A philosophical existence with no x-factor. Forgive the descendants with scars left by your ancient son and daughter. Original sin speaks disrupting the flow of original creations.”

I Breathe by likgaribe on Allpoetry.com
We hope to unify ourselves with oneness, oneness being the whole that we seek to become, And that whole is the emptiness of oneness – the wholeness of all things - the wholeness of nothing.

“And to each of us God has sent our own personal angels, so that if we are ever to know the true meaning of love we may experience it first through these beings, these beings are called mothers, do you love your mother? Endeavour to treat all beings as though they were your mother.” By Rekopantshwe Kgomo aka likgaribe

A ligkaribe Poem - The crying freeman

2006-10-05T10:59:00.000+02:00

the option i was given is write a poem about an artist, actor or muscician(not a real one). write about how they are struggling or flourishing.

this may not be exacttly what they had in mind but i chose to write about an unusual type of artist a martial artist that is, this one also hapens to be an assasin. i wanted to potray his personal struggle with himself, his conscience, his struggle in trying to define who he is, his nature, his art and his existence, unlike mosts poem about a martial artist its not very deep or wise, but more human.i was also inspired by the assasin character, in the movie the crying freeman.

The Crying freeman
by likgaribe on Sep 25 (Contest-Poem)
In Category: Fantasy.
A little different from your typical contest. Interested in seeing what is instore for 20 poets? Then come and check out the contest!
(next in contest)

a broken rib
I'm the nameless one
feel the breath, do you know
the color of a soul,
i do,
as the heart stops, slowly,
listening to the sound
of this departing, looking deeply
into these eyes,
i see clearly reflection
of fading dreams and
forever gone memories,
EXCELLENT BO SKILLS MY BOY
i shed a single tear

a broken jaw,
i perceived that life is only
an illusion of existence
the prison of wants
and desires, unattainable in this
vast wasteland of superficial beings
i questioned the truth,
seeking to realise the answers
i turned my body into the instrument
of my enlightenment
- follow me and i will show you
where conception is born
I DO IT FOR THE RUSH
i shed a single tear

a shattered brick
traces, that is all that is left
traces of love, of life and of joy
non-attachment to the seductive
pleasures of this world
teach me a song of honour
for i want to taste the cup of victory
this song will make you dance,
anywhere, anytime, with anyone
dancing the death song
the song of blood and salt
as i have danced it many times before,
with my - "clients"
AT THE BEGINNING THE INFINITE ULTIMATE
IS VOID AND NEBULOUS
i shed a single tear

tattered knuckles,
somewhere in this confusion
i will find an answer,
my teacher told me this
in the 25 years that i toiled,
see i earned my freedom,
ha! i am not like these blind fools,
clowns who call themselves masters,
they have never tasted
the anguish of despair
have they bowed to the ground
and tasted dust?
they are jokers, after a quick buck
they know not of the old ways,
the delicious secrets
NICE PANTS BUT CAN I KICK IN THEM
i shed a single tear

hardened muscles
this is the way,
self - denial and self - scourging
purge yourself of all that is life,
it`s the only way
sorry, no soft flesh and weak hearts here
only the devoted will conquer
never mind that, i do not need that,
neither do you,
i want knowledge; i want to know
that i am the one
the greatest, i have sought
in vain for a challenger
i found none
will you come?
COLD STEEL IF YOU PLEASE, GENTLEMEN
i shed a single tear

destruction in the palm of my hand
the destroyer cometh not to build,
but to kill
this is the nature of my art
it`s a serpentine dance of life and death
that which is not born, cannot die
that which is not in existence
cannot perish
this i always know when i watch that last breath
FROM THE INFINITE ULTIMATE OR THE VOID
IS BORN THE GRAND ULTIMATE OR THE COSMOS
so i am the nameless one
without colour, or form,
void in my essence
i am endless,
walking this infinite path
neither coming nor going
this is the way of my heart
i live by it
i die by it
i am given to it
listening to the silent whisper of
a swaying blade of grass in the stillness
i shed a single tear
for these my tears are my honour...

2006-09-25T17:01:00.001+02:00

there is something about this poem, that is just to coincidental, the subject is exactly the one from my forbiden sereis poems only its the other side, its a third party point of view of what the other person thinks of the way the author of forbiden treated the other person. its too much as i visualized it the seduction, the rejection, the room, the seducer is kind of good, bad at the same time, a man, not a man, yes as i said exactly as i visualized the background of the story. its a long story, but i thought it was cool.

Dreams by Darklove16 on May 01
Author's Last Login: 12 hours ago In Category: Fantasy.

Reciting stories,
music in your ears.
Trying to call upon a dream.
Dancing,
creatures,
immortality,
Things you desire.
Calling upon,
the one who gave you the power to come forth.
Seeing a god,
seeing a devil,
seeing a man,
of many things.
he’s a god,
an evil god.
He gave you power,
of a wish,
you took everything for granted,
How cruel is he,
How cruel are you.
Your eyes can be so cruel,
just as he can be so cruel.
He tried to tell you,
that he loved you.
You said those words,
those cruel words.
He and his devious eyes turned around as an owl,
and left.
Leaving you in your room.
He did so much for you,
you turned his world upside down.
You’re now gone from this maze,
this labyrinth.
Don’t wish,
of a dream,
that kills a dream.

A ligkaribe Poem - Forbiden part three

2006-09-18T14:19:00.000+02:00

Forbidden part three
So this is our story
It is the non story
Of our love
That never was

Somehow
I cannot let it go, forever there with me
sitting by my side next to me
like clinging child that wants my undivided attention
reminding me always
that I should never forget
Cannot forget my obligations to that which I created
my duties to that which is of me and from me
my chores in relation to that which depends on me
is helpless without me
Is needing me for its every breath
even then, when I turned away
I found I could not shut my mind
I could not turn of the cinema in my hallucinations
Nor somehow find my way out of this mirage
Forever lost and wandering here
In this endless delirium
Of believing in the prophecy of our phantasm love
I could not erase that which was a part of me
Deeply etched in my smoky brown skin
Like tattoo lines that speak
of deep understanding of ancient wisdom
But only to find that wisdom is only an illusion
For with us and this doomed love
there is only confusion.
Illusive to me as water through my clenched fist
There never was a straight line
Only sometimes dashes in the sand
swept away by the gentlest of breezes
and so I am alone walking
seeking to follow the path that leads
finally to your doorstep.
I can only beg
please come to me
I need you

A ligkaribe Poem - Forbiden part two

2006-09-18T14:05:00.000+02:00

Forbidden two
I never had a choice nor stood a chance
You never asked
All you did was take
It was all about took
And claim
And force
These words you breathed to me
Woven within every sound

Bathed in the sweat of your hate,
love, wants, needs, passions
I don’t know anymore what it is, is it love
Or any kind of feeling at all
Or is there emptiness only, shell like
Covering of bleak existence
Cloaking me in desolateness huh

I knew you were there before I saw you
I heard you speak to me
Of promises & eternal togetherness
Of loves deepest longings
Of wants and desires, left unfulfilled,
seeking only completion and utter release
in the completeness of our unification
A coming together of two deep desires
A culmination of erupted passion
Draped in your divine tenderness
Tender feelings and no more alone

Seductive whispers
seeking to convince me of your nearness
Your closeness, and the endless possibilities
that are within your deep arms embrace
The dreams hidden behind your hot tasty kisses
liquefying my thoughts and emotions
The fulfillment behind your closed eyes
my closed eyes
Together our eyes closed in the darkness
unwilling to see
Dialogue of a world not of this world
A world of our own making
For just us two
Only us two in rhythmic symphony
And harmonious flow

Deaf to your words deaf to your speak
For I have not the abilities to let myself go
in your arms
blind to the truth glaring in your eyes
I feel your warm embrace and your loving arms
But I deny it even to myself as only delusions
born only of my deepest longings
and so this is how you took
when I turned away and thought it was all over
when you had said goodbye but don’t forget me
when you had said goodbye and I had turned away in sorrow
this is how you came and took

then I did not know if I could ever again
be without the feeling of you inside me?

What can I say then?
Is it me
Or is it you
Am I to blame
Or are you
Is there fault any
Or only the fulfillment of this
strange cruelty that is world
I find I do not have the answers
And so I shall rest
I shall let it be just here
Just now
Just so

A ligkaribe Poem - Tear drops

2006-09-18T13:59:00.000+02:00

a wierd poem, it was inspired by an email sent to me on how you know if you are stressed. i tried to potray the idea of how modern stress can make you go nuts,

Tear drops
Cool water on my skin
change in the air
Cold wet raindrops
Ceaseless down pour of wetness
Droplets of water trickling
into my black leather shoes
Wet socks and spotted glasses
Caught unawares
under the cold cement bridge
Hiding in the damp cold
Smell of wet concrete
Sight of wet puddles by the roadside
Sound of ceaseless traffic
In the dull gray atmosphere
Dim headlights struggling to come through
Hiding under my wet newspaper
and peering at the oncoming headlights
I begin to walk

I wonder to myself if I should be complaining of the rain at all
Because of late its seems to me the sun has been rather too loud
Concentrating hard for a glimpse of the individual molecules
of air vibrating before my eyes
I hear them always nowadays the sound of mimes
calling me can’t seem to get away
Time was I could walk along the road
without a care in the world
Nowadays it seems as though the whole world
is screaming at me all at once
I imagine myself leaving this place flying away
If I think hard, enough I’m sure I could fly

I walk on knowing only that it is a result of my newfound wisdom,
as of late I have begun to have more clarity
Everything is clearer too me now
Only I can’t seem to communicate this with the rest of the world
It seems sometimes just as I am struggling to put my new found
Great revelations concerning life, love, the universe
and everything else into words
They slip from my grasp and the glow fades
away leaving only confusion in its wake
like when I told the drive through attendant I wanted
My order to go, she looked as though
I had asked her a calculus equation

Searching in my deep trench coat pocket,
another anti acid tablet, I move on what a wonderful
feeling how energizing and invigorating
to be able to skip without a rope
I walk on in the rain wallowing in the experience of my runners high?
I can’t help as I wonder along but admire the aesthetic beauty
of the street signs around me
The artistry of road markings are especially captivating

Why is there so much noise and hooting, people are crazy nowadays
Some lady shouting and waving her hands out the window
She seems to be speaking to me in binary code
All this craziness, not for me however,
Me and reality filed for divorce and there is no greater bliss
Than to see al these fools driving around in the rain

As I move on I get the sense that the street poles are giving
Me the cold shoulder no amount of whining seems to help
These channelers won’t leave me alone
They follow me wherever I go I can’t get them
to stop following me
Crazy people – these fans?

The way I see it everyone is as deaf as the se street poles
But they say I keep saying the same thing twice without realizing it
Better cross the road
Shaking hands through damp hair, steady drip of water from my chin
The other day David Lynch came up to me
he asked hey can I film you
He said he wanted to know more about my teddy bear friends
And how they keep bullying me for milk and cookies
My heart is racing it feels as though is at 7/8 time

Of late, I’ve been wondering if brewing
Really is a necessary step in drinking coffee or if
I can set up an i.v. drip of espresso
I guess it must be because I’m feeling harassed
The other day David Lynch came up to me
he asked hey can I film you
He said he wanted to know more about my teddy bear friends
And how they keep bullying me for milk and cookies

I’m trying to discuss the methodology of setting up the i.v.
but I can’t seem to agree with myself on this one,
an argument ensues, the twang of defeat
I will not to talk to myself for the rest of my trip
Is that my graet great grandfather telling me I need a rest
How weird, thought she was dead
I ponder this as I stand under the concrete bridge hang on
Why am I still under the bridge
Flashing lights and blue cloth
Are you alright sir?
Are you okay Mr. President?
I have an irresistible urge to bite his nose off
Is it the stress or is there method to my madness.

A ligkaribe Love Poem; Days End

2006-09-18T13:54:00.000+02:00

Days end
At the end of another long laborious day
and a long awaited meal of groundnuts,
samp and beans
joy of communion and simple things
roasted nuts eaten by the fireside
sharp noise of peanuts being shelled,
dark silhouettes of bodies by the firelight
illuminated in orange glow. crackling of logs,
soothing smell of wood burning, a promise of life
A hum of voices, in contended conversation
of today’s doings and tomorrows hopes
and all manner of trivial things.

A ligkaribe Poem - Ancestral ceremony

2006-09-18T13:37:00.000+02:00

I have fond memories of attending these ceremonies, its one of the things i miss about being at home in ,Mawaza village, Zimbabwe. Mawaza is a remote village - the nearest telephone & electricity was 20km away, the primary school was about five km's there was no secondary school. it was in another village about 30kms out, whenever we set out to church every sunday morning we would look at those blue mountains in the distance and know that we were headed beyond the mountains. There was no tap water we walked 5min to the borehole, and there was one general dealer at the busstop. because we were remote busses used to pass by our viallge at night, they were very few and you had to be at the busstop at three in the morning in case you missed it. it was a carefree existnce really, vey original village life. i'm happy to have had the experience.

Ancestral ceremony
Arising from dusty floor of the mud hut
To the beat of drums
Calling in the distance
Throwing away the warm covers
And stepping from the warm cowhide bed
Towards the beckoning, drum beats
Loud and melodious in the silence of august night

Follow the drums, everyone is welcome here
Welcome to the dance, the moonlight dance
Sing and clap,
Take of your shoes, no dagga in your pockets
Lest you anger the ancestors
The ceaseless strong beat
The old woman dancing,
The young women singing and clapping
The renewal of blood bonds
The signing of a covenant
The ancestors are jealous people
They must be appeased tonight
Thank them for another year
Praise them for another harvest
Everyone is welcome here
Everyone can chase away their bad luck

A ligkaribe Poem - After the Rains

2006-09-18T13:27:00.000+02:00

A rembrance of old times, and days of carefreeness.

After the rains

When the rains had come and gone
We went down to the river
Cool shade under tall trees
Smell of damp leaves
Lying on the riverbed
Hiding from the hot midday sun
Digging on the river bed
Removing the river sand
Brown water dirty and muddy
The treasure herein hidden
And beneath that
Ohh the taste of eternal sweetness
The taste of rainwaterClean, clear and pure

A ligkaribe Article - economic costs of infidelity

2006-09-12T13:34:00.000+02:00

this is an article of mine that appeared in Mmgei newspaper of Friday 8th September 2006.

On Wednesday evening I happened to catch some of a midnight program on marriage problems on one of the local radio stations. It happened to be dealing with one major relationship issue of our day and age. The question of infidelity? As such I was inspired to write this article as a response to all those people out there who ignorantly engage in this behaviour without prior calculation of the costs and consequences of their actions. I propose to ignore the moral and social issues of this topic (which never make any headway anyway in this argument) but at this juncture to only focus on the economic consequences, of infidelity. In this day and age we find it is often only the fool who talks of love without talking of economics, we find that often were we think love exists the ugly monster of money issues has reared its head and the results are usually in the least a sad story of life’s woes or at worst another statistic of murder suicide cases, another case file for the law enforcement department.

Firstly I would like us to consider that marriage is a contract between two individuals, a binding contract. In any type of economic contract there are expectations of both parties that have to be met. Immediately the one party fails to deliver on this the other party will be aggrieved, and chances are they will sue for breach of contract. Immediately a third party is brought into the equation without the consent or prior consultation (this is very important) consent and prior consultation of the other party then a new contract has to be written. It is easy at this juncture for one party to claim that the paradigms of the contract have shifted and as such the contract must either be re – written or simply cancelled as the old contract is no longer binding.

The contract of marriage serves as a protection tool for two people in society who have taken the bold and responsible step, to forsake all others and to simply, well commit their well-being and economic success to the hands of one other individual. As such the marriage contract serves two dual purposes it keeps out undesirable elements to the set–up and at the same time it keeps in desirable elements. The moment it fails to keep out undesirables, chances are it will likely fail in its mandate to keep in desirables. I will not expand much on this read in between the lines if you have two cents worth a brain.

I digress however I would like to state at this juncture that marriage contracts, are an agreement between two individuals, as such the human element can never be ignored. Chances are whenever one party is not playing their part and bringing to the table their share of the agreement, there will not be success. We can not run away from the fact that, in an age were economic hardships are paramount; one will look at most issues from an economic point of view. In the past the Shona people would say to the young bride “andi ende” ( I will not leave), the Tswana will say “ mona kisilepe” the Ndebele will say “ umendo awuthunyelwa gundwane” in this type of set up, there were structures that ensured that one of the parties, would not sue for breach of contract no matter the circumstances, these measures were put there in respect of the fact that they needed to be there to begin with, if women were as infinitely patient and forgiving as is often assumed it would not have been necessary to go to such lengths.

Currently, the old set – up were women relied on men economically and financially no longer exists, women are able to provide for themselves, as such they also face the same financial and economic responsibilities that previously were common only to men. In any decision these responsibilities and economic considerations will come into play. In a world were we are all struggling, were we are all competing for the same scarce resources, (economists say economics is the problem of distributing scarce resources among different needs and wants), one will evaluate the ability of the marriage contract in letting them succeed in this type of competition. As with the free market economy. Individuals are in completion all the time. Completion for, scarce jobs, for funds from financial sources, for land, for recognition, for acceptance and for success to name a few. All these are scarce resources; all are difficult to obtain but are directly related to the well being of individuals in our society. In a marriage set – up the assumption is that the two parties combine their efforts, talents and resources (being i.e. time, money and effort) in order to attract and best obtain these scarce resources in a tough competitive environment. So what does this mean when one party decides instead to divert some of their resources (being i.e. time, money and effort) to another destination outside the current marriage set – up? Basically what impact will this have on their ability to deliver on the marriage contract? One way or the other they will under deliver and the most likely decision is that the other party will no longer find it economically worth their while to continue in the marriage. In other words infidelity is more often than not a deal breaker in most contracts of marriage. They may either decide to stick it out which means that the greater burden is now upon them to maintain the balance and cover up for the missing resources, or they will want to also divert their resources, or to completely pull out of the contract. None of these options represent the most efficient and economically advantageous e use of scarce resources.

Which brings me to the concluding point; the costs of infidelity far out weigh the benefits. As such infidelity is not a sound economic decision, neither is it intelligent or good business sense. What are the costs? The long-term costs are that infidelity may result in divorce, that means the marriage will be negated, and the assets divided between the two parties, it means also that the assets of the company, (the family) will be affected. The negative impact on the children of this marriage may also mean that they are affected in their ability to continue to build upon what their forerunners have enacted, and as such the long-term viability of the marriage and the family dynasty is under threat.

In the balance sheet of the marriage, infidelity represents a liability, a long-term liability that may never be amortised, a liability that draws on the lifeblood of the marriage that is the main assets of the marriage (the people), or in other words its share capital investment. It is a constant reduction to the distributable reserves, until a time when we may encounter a situation of negative distributable reserves. It is an endless daily expense in the income statement that will continually reduce the marriages profitability.

It represents the kind of cost that must be accompanied by a note to the balance sheets, a note to explain to any reader of the financial statements the materiality of this particular cost, and to allow the reader to judge for themselves the effect it will have on the overall health of the marriage empire. It is further more an expense that requires a conflict of interest to the shareholders. it requires a qualified statement by any auditors of the marriage partnership . A qualified statement to warn the shareholders of the possible unhealthy condition of the marriage, the danger of it continuing to be operated as a marriage, the possibility of the financial statements being a misrepresentation of the true state of the marriage, the qualification that the auditors are unable to agree that the statements give a true and fair view of the marriage. In the balance sheet of marriage infidelity in my view requires a qualified opinion that indicates, that the institution is possibly in danger of collapse and should not be allowed to continue.

“Without qualifying our opinion we draw attention to note A to the financial statements. The marriage is currently undergoing a situation of infidelity from one or both parties. The ultimate outcome of the matter cannot presently be determined, and no provision for any liability that may result has been made in the financial statements. Without qualifying our opinion we draw attention to note Z in the financial statements. The marriage incurred a net loss of xxx during the year ended … and as of date the current liabilities exceed current assets by xxx and its total liabilities exceed total assets by xxx. These factors along with other matters as set forth in notes raise substantial doubt that the marriage partnership will be able to continue as a going concern.”
NB: For more information on audit opinions please contact the esteemed Dr. Kitindi, Head of department Accounting and Finance at Faculty of Business, University of Botswana.

On a more serious note I challenge everyone to honestly assess their marriage balance sheets and determine if they can honestly give an unqualified opinion of their marriages!

A ligkaribe Article - happiness

2006-09-05T17:06:00.000+02:00

Happiness
“Now having seen it for myself because of my Babamkuru’s kindness, I too could think of planting things for merrier reasons than the chore of keeping breathe in the body. I wrote it down in my head: I would ask Maiguru for some bulbs and plant a bed of those gay lilies on the homestead in front of the house. Our home would answer well to being cheered up by such lovely flowers. Bright and cheery they had been planted for joy. What a strange idea that was, it was liberation…”
Tsitsi Dangarembga Zimbabwean writer, Nervous Conditions, 1989, p 64

“The word happiness does have a meaning doesn’t it? I shall go out in search of it.”
Mariama Ba, Senegalese writer, So long a letter, 1970 (1981 edition, p.89)

“Sorrow will perish; laughter is its cure,
Make it a habit to laugh everyday”
Shaaban Robert, Swahili poet, “Laugh with happiness”

“ in the time of happiness:
ships ply the river;
they move north and south
men build temples and dig ponds,
they make plantations of trees for the Gods.

In the time of happiness:
The people make merry;
They drink in the gladness of their hearts.
For a man can put his bed in the shade,
And sleep safely behind his own gate.”
Admonitions of a prophet, maxims of the ancient Egyptian sage Ipuwer,
around the end of the 5th Dynasty (McCoy, Ancient Egyptian proverbs, p19)

“increase your happy times, letting yourself go;
follow your desire and best advantage.
And “do your thing” while you are still on earth,
According to the command of your hearts.”
Song of Antuf, carved on the wall of a tomb in Egypt, 1300 BC (McCoy
ancient Egyptian proverbs)

“Be cheereful while you are alive”
Instruction of Ptah – hotep, no.34, maxims of an ancient Egyptian priest,
5th dynasty c 2340 BC (Kaplan, p3)

“Anticipate the good so that you may enjoy it.“
Euthopian proverb, (Leslau, African proverbs, p26)

“To be happy in ones home is better than to be a chief”
Yoruba (Nigeria) proverb (Areje)

“My heart is all happy,
My heart takes wing in singing,
Under the trees of the forest,
The forest our dwelling and our mother.”
Pygmy (central Africa) chorus (Turnbull, Man in Africa, p.109)

Africa responde

2006-09-01T11:18:00.000+02:00

I loved this logo on AIDS it has such presence and impact, recently Batswana youth were rated as the best users of condoms in Africa. That makes me proud. There was a countrywide new launch of the female condom BLISS, even though there are those who still feel that changing the name won’t really solve the issue. The main reason for the low usage of the condom being the balance of power between females, and men. This is what we need to address, personally I think women are still disempowered in my country. That has to change. On the AIDS front faithfulness in relationships is still disappointingly low and abstinence virtually a rare occurrence. Poverty does contribute to the problem. People have nothing to look forward too, they feel they have nothing to lose… Imagine someone with no job prospects, or school opportunities, who lives in a two roomed house with say 5 other people, no electricity, one stand pipe outside, and one toilet outside. The options become very narrow.

On needing a person, that someone SamiJ & Mystikrypton @ allpoetry .com

2006-08-22T17:41:00.001+02:00

This was for a contest about needing someone and I thought it captures that very well.

Catch by Mystikrypton @ allpoetry .com

Foggy skies mirror dying eyes

Fingertips smudge the pale glass

One last hope weakly standing

Losing balance

Falling (catch me!)

Wishing on invisible stars

For a rescuer to restore this broken heart

Emotion gone for far too long

A lifeless nothing emerging from the wreckage

Facial expression concealed

Melted by the consuming flames

But longing for sympathy

For understanding

For just one embrace to rebirth a lost hope

Ecstasy hidden in what was forgiven

The hands that could heal

The voice that could soothe

The kiss that could stop time

So that only two were alive

Breathing the air of each other

And holding onto a moment that would fade

Aching, sore for a moment more

To recover this lifetime it's been

(Back in your armsTonight, that's where I belong)

Craving, needing a forgotten touch

As a speck of sunshine creeps outBehind the dull clouds

another one on need

Poker Mask by SamiJ
A pathetic poker-face painted apathetically on a blank, gray canvas

Smiling for the disposition that never had the chance to smile

This is the heart of my happiness

A façade based on what I thought you wanted.

But the truth isYou didn’t even know what you wanted.

For every bet I step closerYou fold and turn away

Making me play this hand

I don’t even understand

WishingIn actualityIt was your hand

I was holding

I never really liked poker

But for you

I will learn to play

Because it hurts too much

When you ask me

If I think he’s the right guy for you.

I bite my tongue

Until speech is severed from my mouth

He’s a good guyBut is he good enough for you?

Next deal.

I checkBecause

I’m not sure I can invest my emotions

On your confusion

No matter how much you can count on me

And no matter how much

I can count on you

Chances are I can’t bet on us for a while.

So I put on this poker-face

And see how you play.

As you look at your cards

I can see the reflected image

Of a lonely queen in your eyes.

Finally realizing the King who you thought loved you

Was nothing more than every other joker you’ve ever met.

But with himYou continue to bet.

Knowing I should fold

I continue to call.

You pick up the phone

Once again in tears

It pains me to hear your sadness

My heart rips into 13 pieces.

Though flushed,

I pretend I’m straight.

Putting on Yet again

Another faceTo fool you

To fool myself.

I never really was good at poker.

But for you, I continue to play.

Holding all 13 hearts,

I realizethat can only make you heartless.

You invite me along.

The boyfriend and best friend

Should be friends themselves, afterall.

But I always decline.

How can I continue to pretend

When I stand as the three of a kind

In the pocket of your full house.

I’ll just wait for your date to end

And you can give me the flop then

Tensions running high

And I watch as things

TurnSuddenly,I may have a chance yet.

Bets go outAnd I raise.

I figure if not now, than never.

I go all in.I put it all on the line.

This time I take off the poker face mask.

And let my emotions shine.

I know you can read my face like a book

However, I am confident in what I have.

I go all in.I see the fear on his face.

And the anxiety in yours.

I don’t mean to make your heart pound so fas

tBut you have to know how your heart beats in my chest.

I go all in.His forehead sprouts puddles of tears.

My mouth grins in arrogance.

I go all in.

And the last card is flipped.

In that split second

My heart sinks

It cracks and crumbles

Like an old unkempt barge

Sinking through a raging violent River.

Maybe next timePlacing all bets aside

We could just play a nice game of Go Fish.

On needing a person, that someone SamiJ & Mystikrypton @ allpoetry .com

2006-08-22T17:41:00.000+02:00

This was for a contest about needing someone and I thought it captures that very well.

Catch by Mystikrypton @ allpoetry .com

Foggy skies mirror dying eyes

Fingertips smudge the pale glass

One last hope weakly standing

Losing balance

Falling (catch me!)

Wishing on invisible stars

For a rescuer to restore this broken heart

Emotion gone for far too long

A lifeless nothing emerging from the wreckage

Facial expression concealed

Melted by the consuming flames

But longing for sympathy

For understanding

For just one embrace to rebirth a lost hope

Ecstasy hidden in what was forgiven

The hands that could heal

The voice that could soothe

The kiss that could stop time

So that only two were alive

Breathing the air of each other

And holding onto a moment that would fade

Aching, sore for a moment more

To recover this lifetime it's been

(Back in your armsTonight, that's where I belong)

Craving, needing a forgotten touch

As a speck of sunshine creeps outBehind the dull clouds

another one on need

Poker Mask by SamiJ
A pathetic poker-face painted apathetically on a blank, gray canvas

Smiling for the disposition that never had the chance to smile

This is the heart of my happiness

A façade based on what I thought you wanted.

But the truth isYou didn’t even know what you wanted.

For every bet I step closerYou fold and turn away

Making me play this hand

I don’t even understand

WishingIn actualityIt was your hand

I was holding

I never really liked poker

But for you

I will learn to play

Because it hurts too much

When you ask me

If I think he’s the right guy for you.

I bite my tongue

Until speech is severed from my mouth

He’s a good guyBut is he good enough for you?

Next deal.

I checkBecause

I’m not sure I can invest my emotions

On your confusion

No matter how much you can count on me

And no matter how much

I can count on you

Chances are I can’t bet on us for a while.

So I put on this poker-face

And see how you play.

As you look at your cards

I can see the reflected image

Of a lonely queen in your eyes.

Finally realizing the King who you thought loved you

Was nothing more than every other joker you’ve ever met.

But with himYou continue to bet.

Knowing I should fold

I continue to call.

You pick up the phone

Once again in tears

It pains me to hear your sadness

My heart rips into 13 pieces.

Though flushed,

I pretend I’m straight.

Putting on Yet again

Another faceTo fool you

To fool myself.

I never really was good at poker.

But for you, I continue to play.

Holding all 13 hearts,

I realizethat can only make you heartless.

You invite me along.

The boyfriend and best friend

Should be friends themselves, afterall.

But I always decline.

How can I continue to pretend

When I stand as the three of a kind

In the pocket of your full house.

I’ll just wait for your date to end

And you can give me the flop then

Tensions running high

And I watch as things

TurnSuddenly,I may have a chance yet.

Bets go outAnd I raise.

I figure if not now, than never.

I go all in.I put it all on the line.

This time I take off the poker face mask.

And let my emotions shine.

I know you can read my face like a book

However, I am confident in what I have.

I go all in.I see the fear on his face.

And the anxiety in yours.

I don’t mean to make your heart pound so fas

tBut you have to know how your heart beats in my chest.

I go all in.His forehead sprouts puddles of tears.

My mouth grins in arrogance.

I go all in.

And the last card is flipped.

In that split second

My heart sinks

It cracks and crumbles

Like an old unkempt barge

Sinking through a raging violent River.

Maybe next timePlacing all bets aside

We could just play a nice game of Go Fish.

The Greyness of Bubbles by Natasha Bradich @ allpoetry.com

2006-08-22T17:35:00.000+02:00

The Greyness of Bubbles by Natasha Bradich @ all poetry .com
A man walking past

Looking like he heard a reason to move

I ask "Where are you going?"

He responds saying " Can't you hear the voices?"

But I heard nothing

I shrug my shoulders

Place my hands in my pockets

I hug my neck with my collar

This world so grey

A woman standing, staring towards the sky,

She smiled so beautifully,

I ask " What do you see?"

She responds "Can't you see the artistry?"

I couldn'tI look down at my feet

Shuffle them in the dirt

I pick up my pace

This is grey this place

A child sitting with his mother

Talks to his imaginary friend

The mother feeding what wasn't there

Laughing with her child

I ask "Why are you talking to nobody?"

They respond "But he is here can't you see, can't you hear?"

Tears streaming, I whispered " No I can't."

I move slowly with all the little energy I have

With every effort I could summon,

I try to reach outI listen deeply for just a sound,

a reasonI look closely for the beauty in the sky

But, I travel alone in this grey world

Not one damn question answered

No one helping even when I cryptically asked

So I wander watching all those in colour

Disconnected, watching from my bubble,

my world of grey

A Love spell Of Darkest Amber by Kissing the killer @allpoetry.com

2006-08-22T17:30:00.001+02:00

Of Darkest Amber by kissing the killer

From each flame, and dying ember
Bring me a love, of darkest Amber
Amber for the passion, and Amber for the lust
And with a touch of caring, humour is a must
Oh Goddess, in the heavens almighty
Give this person flit and fancy
This him, or her, be taken with me
But not so much, that I cannot be rid if need be
So with these requirements in mind
Bring this one and only, perfect find
Bring us together, in perfect lust,
and loveBut don't forget, all of the above

A Love spell Of Darkest Amber by Kissing the killer @allpoetry.com

2006-08-22T17:30:00.000+02:00

It by Hands of Diego @ allpoetry.com

2006-08-22T17:28:00.000+02:00

It
by Hands of Diego
What is "it" all for
What is "it" anyways
Why do i bother with "it"
Why cant i just give "it" up
Can someone take "it" away
Can someone give me a better "it"
What if "it" leaves will i miss it
"It" pisses me off sometimes
But i guess i need "it"
With out "it" where would i be
I just wanna go away sometimes
To a place that doesn't exist
With people who aren't there
And i life i'll never have
I want "it" to be better
Maybe "it" /will/ get better
But until then i will just keep writing crappy obscure poems

Percussion lust by im dead - go away @allpoetry.com

2006-08-22T17:20:00.000+02:00

The next one is a bit weird it’s about a musicians love affair with his favorite instrument, but its well written

Percussion lust
Oh, I love the sound of percussion
A mallet and a stick
Maybe they're even
Dare I say it, Orgasmic
I'm marching with my favorite
A large bass drum
It's so magnificent
I could practically cum
There the crisp sound
Of the popular snare
When it's turned on
I want an affair
And, oh, those cymbals
Crash and Suspended
The sound they make
It more than splendid
And then there's the melody
From the pitIf it were a lady
I'd be under it
And I'm captured
Put under a spell
It makes me scream
"More cow bell!"
And how, I ask
Can you go wrong?
When whacking
The huge gong
Woodwinds are OK
Brass is good too
But percussion
Is the only one I want to do

I can only include the author’s comments, I can’t comment
Author's /Comments: Don't ask...really. Don't ask
I have no idea.
Seriously

Our Police state - Prescription Madness by MarkAndersonm @ allpoetry.com

2006-08-22T17:10:00.000+02:00

Prescription Madness by MarkAnderson

Pop your pills, and be good.
Zombify your decent.
Remain motionless, and watch
as the motion consumes you.
Kill your fears, instilled purposely.
Just lay back and chill,
as your mind deteriorates.
The out-in-the-open conquering of the
United States of America
has become a ridiculously easy task.
Smile away in your comfort zones.
Incapable of thinking,
acting on pre-plans.
You don't notice the complete lack of freedom
and rights or your indentured enslavement.
Global missions accomplished.
Never underestimate the enemy of freedom,
which is the enemy of all mankind.
Pop your pills, and be good.Y
ou're an upstanding citizen.
Relax, and enjoy the police state.

i think i'm a butterfly by true-blue-lies @ allpoetry

2006-08-22T16:52:00.001+02:00

Can you decipher this one?

i think i am a butterfly by true-blue-lies
if
you
do
not
know
you
are
a
caterpillar
in
a
cocoon,
then
what
are
you
when
you
come
out
of it
!.!
0?0
#

(read comment to understand poem)
we (caterpillar) do not know what we are in this world (cocoon) and so how can we become who we will be in this world. Its like the famous philosophical saying I don’t know if its Plato or Socrates who said it – “know yourself”.

2006-08-22T16:52:00.000+02:00

this is meant to inspire you - If Only by devotionemotio @ allpoetry.com

2006-08-22T16:45:00.000+02:00

This is meant to inspire you,

If Only
by devotionemotion

don't be a sheep
look at the world through a collide-a-scope
and just breathe
the world could be full of colors
if only you held the paintbrush
magic can slip through your finger
open your eyes and you could see change

destruction and chaos
rule the world
but after math breeds the correction
remember the days
that held greatness
revolution is yours for the taking

if only you knew the power you held
if only you knew you could hold the key
to open the door of eternity
and paint greatness for all to see
map out the world
and put yourself on the map
just sit down and take a moment to breath

look at the world
and for once don't judge
open your mind and see
the world could be lovely
if only you would give yourself the chance to be
you could be the next Diego Rivera
maybe even the next Frida Kahlo

the world makes your barriers
break them down
and be free
for you are
the one that holds the power
for you are
the one who could be...

its about how art can give power when one holds a paint brush they can paint anything, same way you are the artist of your life.________________________________________

A ligkaribe Poem - Forbiden

2006-08-21T14:29:00.000+02:00

Why does it have to be this way with you?
Why does your embrace hurt me so?
Stop, please stop
Why won’t you stop
It hurts

Are you lost?
Lost just like me
Or are you worse than me?

You asked
Why do you always have to do the right thing?
I ask
Why do you always have to do the wrong thing?
Why must there always be pain?

Where are you going?
Nowhere
Your tomorrows are just like your yesterdays
And so every day for you is today

Were are you coming from?
Nowhere
For where you came from you can never go back
And so its as good as it never was

Where are you now?
Here
here with me, wishing and hoping that through me
you might gain a past, have a future

You were never there
You are just here
Going nowhere

How can I not feel you
How can I not hear you
How can I escape you

Taken by you
You claimed me as your own
That laugh , that voice
Laced with contempt
This is all you can be
The heat of your presence
Your touch
Your nearness terrifying

let your cucumbers go by Brown Trout @ all poetry.com

2006-08-21T14:24:00.000+02:00

I just loved this one, so funny

Let Your Cucumbers Go by Brown Trout

Oh, go ahead and put your pickles in a jar...
say that these things are important to you,
and that you might want to munch on them later.

They are stagnant and old and reek of past mistakes
why would anyone want to rehash these rubber fruits?
Vinegar and water will not be enough
to save the things that have died to me as of late,
and I am not hungry for outdated modes of thinking.

Now pass the mustard and shut up.

The Inquisitive Bee by RevMark59 @ allpoetry.com

2006-08-21T14:08:00.001+02:00

A different perspective on the same issue,

The Inquisitive Bee by RevMark59

Once upon a fairytale,
Was born a baby bee,
And life’s mysteries filled him
With curiosity.

He had so many questions,
Like: why was he alive?
He’d made himself a nuisance,
The black sheep of the hive.

One day there came a hornet,
During Fall migration,
Who attacked the peaceful hive
Without provocation.

The young bee’s fellow workers
Met the hornet’s attack,
He watched them fight with honor,
Driving the monster back.

But the loss of life was great,
Many bees paid the price,
Never once hesitating
To make this sacrifice.

Yet the inquisitive bee
Could only wonder why.
Why fight if a single sting
Could cause each bee to die?

He went searching for answers,
To explain what he’d seen.
He questioned every worker,
And even asked the queen.

What is the point of fighting
If lives are always lost?
Could this battle have been worth
Such a terrible cost?

When the queen shared her answer,
He didn’t understand.
She said “many more would die
If none dare take a stand.”

“For every bee in the hive
Would feel the hornet’s bite,
Had the few who lost their lives
Been unwilling to fight.”

So the inquisitive bee
Decided to depart.
If fighting was the answer,
Then he would have no part.

“I’d rather keep my stinger,”
Was his only reply.
“If we don’t provoke hornets
Nobody has to die.”

So he packed up his honey,
And abandoned the hive.
The queen’s warring attitude,
Meant he might not survive.

So he set out on his own,
In search of some place nice.
But no matter where he looked,
He found no paradise.

He was nearly killed by wasps,
Attacked by hornets twice,
A bullfrog tried to eat him,
And he was chased by mice.

So the inquisitive bee
Decided to return.
He would go back to the queen
And tell her what he learned.

He heard the sounds of battle,
As he approached the hive.
He wondered about the queen,
If she was still alive.

Besieged by a dragonfly,
The bees were trapped inside.
He could see, upon approach,
Some had already died.

He surprised the dragonfly,
And stung him in the back.
That moment of distraction
Gave them room to attack.

The dragonfly was beaten,
And as he turned to flee,
The queen came to the side of
The inquisitive bee.

He said: “I know the answerT
hat is why I’ve returned.
Because I’d like you to know
The lessons I have learned.”
“But my time here has ended.

My queen, please take my hand,
Be comforted in knowing,
I finally understand…”

The Inquisitive Bee by RevMark59 @ allpoetry.com

2006-08-21T14:08:00.000+02:00

A different perspective on the same issue,
The Inquisitive Bee by RevMark59
Once upon a fairytale,
Was born a baby bee,
And life’s mysteries filled him
With curiosity.
He had so many questions,
Like: why was he alive?
He’d made himself a nuisance,
The black sheep of the hive.
One day there came a hornet,
During Fall migration,
Who attacked the peaceful hive
Without provocation.
The young bee’s fellow workers
Met the hornet’s attack,
He watched them fight with honor,
Driving the monster back.
But the loss of life was great,
Many bees paid the price,
Never once hesitating
To make this sacrifice.
Yet the inquisitive bee
Could only wonder why.
Why fight if a single sting
Could cause each bee to die?
He went searching for answers,
To explain what he’d seen.
He questioned every worker,
And even asked the queen.
What is the point of fighting
If lives are always lost?
Could this battle have been worth
Such a terrible cost?
When the queen shared her answer,
He didn’t understand.
She said “many more would die
If none dare take a stand.”
“For every bee in the hive
Would feel the hornet’s bite,
Had the few who lost their lives
Been unwilling to fight.”
So the inquisitive bee
Decided to depart.
If fighting was the answer,
Then he would have no part.
“I’d rather keep my stinger,”
Was his only reply.
“If we don’t provoke hornets
Nobody has to die.”
So he packed up his honey,
And abandoned the hive.
The queen’s warring attitude,
Meant he might not survive.
So he set out on his own,
In search of some place nice.
But no matter where he looked,
He found no paradise.
He was nearly killed by wasps,
Attacked by hornets twice,
A bullfrog tried to eat him,
And he was chased by mice.
So the inquisitive bee
Decided to return.
He would go back to the queen
And tell her what he learned.
He heard the sounds of battle,
As he approached the hive.
He wondered about the queen,
If she was still alive.
Besieged by a dragonfly,
The bees were trapped inside.
He could see, upon approach,
Some had already died.
He surprised the dragonfly,
And stung him in the back.
That moment of distraction
Gave them room to attack.
The dragonfly was beaten,
And as he turned to flee,
The queen came to the side of
The inquisitive bee.
He said: “I know the answerT
hat is why I’ve returned.
Because I’d like you to know
The lessons I have learned.”
“But my time here has ended.
My queen, please take my hand,
Be comforted in knowing,
I finally understand…”

Tell me again - by gradstudentaz @ allpoetry.com

2006-08-21T14:06:00.000+02:00

With regards to the current Middle East crisis
Tell Me Again by gradstudentaz @ allpoetry.com

Out in the desert

It doesn't matter

The heat burns

The thirst burns

The bombs burn

Ideologies

Theories

Beliefs

Fade

As Blood runs out

Life

seeps out

Hope dries out

Out in the jungle

It didn't matter

The heat burned

The thirst burned

The bombs burned

Ideologies

Theories

Beliefs

Faded

As Blood ran out

Life seeped out

Hope dried out

Out in the trenches

It didn't matter

The heat burned

The thirst burned

The bombs burned

Ideologies

Theories

Beliefs

Faded

As Blood ran out

Life seeped out

Hope dried out

Tell me again

What's this war about?

A ligkaribe Spiritual Poem; I BREATHE

2006-08-11T17:31:00.000+02:00

To attain happiness in our world
is rather like trying to pursue
a droplet of water
in the vastness of the ocean.

We hope to unify ourselves
with oneness,
oneness being the whole
that we seek to become,
And that whole is the
emptiness of oneness
the wholeness of all things
the wholeness of nothing.

I am an enlightened being;

I do not seek enlightenment;
I need only practice it
and seek to remove all
distractions to my practice,
I am perfect in my enlightenment,
whole and complete,
neither fearing nor unsure
of my wholeness,
Unlike the angel,
I am not perfect holiness,
nor pure spirit,
In my enlightenment
lies my divinity

In the midst of darkness,
I posses a shining spirit,
In the midst of pain and suffering,
I am joy and laughter,
In the midst of death,
I am life, I am breadth,
I am purity and perfection
These things exist
but they cannot touch me,
I am an over comer,
I am a healer,
I posses a strong heart,

I am the creator
and the created,
born of energy
forged to perfection
in the bosom of the cosmos
I am truth itself
and therefore I am free,
I have a direct line to the source
In all this perplexity,
I am enlightenment.

I am awake to my true nature,
the fire within me,
the pulsation of life
deep inside me
I am one with it,
why should I seek immortality,
when eternity is here and now,
I am eternity

What am I enlightened?
How am I enlightened?
Why am I enlightened?
Who am I enlightened?
How do I practice and live enlightenment?
What are the results and fruit of practice?
Why enlightenment, why everything, why life?

Don’t be afraid of enlightenment
for fear is the root of all pain,
the purveyor of destruction,
the destroyer of life.

Are you interested in enlightenment
do you want to posses a shining spirit and a strong heart?
Awake to your true nature
Awaken the unborn heart
the search begins here and now
the search begins deep within.
The truth is hidden inside of you
a treasure you have
jealously preserved for all eternity.

PLEASE NO OPINIONS BY Madisonthestrange @ ALLPOETRY.COM

2006-08-11T17:28:00.000+02:00

I LOVED THIS PIECE:

Calenders, palm pilots, and planners
tell us what to do and
clocks, timers, and bells
tell us when to do it.

Robotic life with
no meaning.
Please, no opinions
just go back to your cubicle.

The most change we see
is a mustard stain
on a yellow tie.

So LIVE already!
Dance like nobody is watching.
Sing like a bird in spring.
But most importantly,
Love like it's never gonna hurt.

Somewhere deep
inside yourself
you have...a personality!!!
You have spunk
You have humor
You have something unique
I promise

________________________________________

A ligkaribe Article - inspiration

2006-08-11T17:19:00.000+02:00

AS I ALWAYS SAY THERE IS NOTHING LIKE A KOAN FOR GOOD LIVING - FEAST YOUR HEART OUT. BLESSED BE ALL THE BUDDHAS BE BLESSED, BLESSED BE ALL OF US, AS WE ARE ALL BUDDHAS.

“Since all men posses the unborn Buddha heart from their birth, you are not now seeking for the first time to follow it. If you perform your chores with all your might, you are practicing the unborn heart.”

“Think of what does not think. How do you think of what does not think? It is not thinking”

“What is this talk that goes beyond Buddha’s and patriarchs?”

“I drank up the Buddha’s and patriarchs – all the mountains and rivers without my mouth”

“After I break through a solid gate clear wind blows from time immemorial”

“it is like the water buffalos passing through a window lattice,
Its head, horns, and four hooves have all passed through,
Why can’t its tail pass through?”

“Is there a truth that has not been preached to men?
This is not mind, this is not Buddha, this is not a thing”

“Where are you going?
To where there is no change
How can you go where there is no change?
My going is no change”

“I heard about the cow with no nostrils
and suddenly the universe is my home
Yonam mountain lies flat under the road,
A farmer at the end of his work is singing”

The real within the apparent
“A sleepy eyed grandma
Encounters herself in an old mirror
Clearly she sees a face,
But it doesn’t resemble hers at all
Too bad, with a muddled head
She tries to recognize her reflection”

The apparent within the real
“in the third watch of the night
Before the moon appears,
No wonder when we meet
There is no recognition!
Still cherished in my heart
is the beauty of earlier days”

The coming from within the real
“within nothingness there is a path
Leading away from the dusts of the world.
Even if you observe the taboo
Of the present emperor’s name
You will surpass that eloquent one of yore
Who silenced every tongue”

“The body is the Bodhi (enlightenment) tree
The mind is like a clear mirror
At all times we must wipe it clean
And must not let the dust collect”

“bhodi originally has no tree
The mirror also has no stand
Bhudha nature is always clean and pure
Where can dust alight”

A ligkaribe Article - Loving Zen

2006-08-07T17:11:00.000+02:00

How do you communicate nothingness, how do you speak of nothing? Zen Koans are meaningless; literally they are without meaning, because they are about nothing.
A communication from a teacher to his student about nothing, that tries to aid the student in achieving more nothingness.

The idea of Zen is really about achieving nothingness, about reaching enlightenment through emptying ones mind. We all have the Buddha nature. We however are unable to connect with our Buddha nature because of all the noise all the distractions that are the circumstances of our existence. Yet we already have this thing inside of us, it is the burning spirit that we have always felt inside without knowing what it is, it is the instinct to survive and not just exist but to demand happiness in our existence. It is the inner strength, the life force that makes this whole machine to go on, the will that makes the babies fingers cling on to the rod and never let go. The well of love and compassion, that bubbles within us all.

Yet how to attain the Buddha nature, how to reach out to it, when there is all the rest of it, when we are so busy being, so busy experiencing pain, feeling anger, shedding tears, and suffering disappointment. It is so hard to talk of Buddha nature in those circumstances is it not? When we are overly exited or anxious or just preoccupied with life.

Because the Buddha nature has always been inside us one must empty themselves of all else, remove themselves of all external distractions. By emptying oneself one hopes to then be able to reach that part inside of them, to commune with it, to become it. Yet how to achieve this – this emptiness of oneness. well one can do this by sitting quietly and doing nothing. That is in ecense and true practice of Zazen.

But you see there in lies the trick, because physically just sitting is the easiest thing in the world to do, anyone can do that. But how do you still your mind, how to get the brain to sit still as well is another matter altogether. How to forget all things and stop wondering through imagination, daydreams, concerns etc.

For only when one is empty can one hope to reach out further, only when one is not currently experiencing something can one hope to experience something different. Only when one is not worrying about this and the other can they be receptive to what is inside them.

The teacher at times may need to communicate with the student, maybe they see something that is an obstacle to them achieving this stillness, this nothingness, but how to do this in a way that the student is not cluttered with other thoughts, how to encourage the student to more nothingness. Zen koans to a certain extent are situational and they cannot be interpreted through the meaning of the words. To interpret them one must understand that they are a communication about nothing that seeks to further help them on the path to emptiness.

Some people have not understood the power of Zen; the martial arts are what they are to day because of Zen, an art not just a fighting form. The art of zen teaches non-violence, it teaches strength in spirit that does not allow for violence, that does not leave room for hatred, jealousy, evil intent or pettiness. It teaches only a striving for the highest ideals for the highest morals for the highest honour. That is why if it is necessary a person may kill an opponent, but still remain spiritual afterwards, still remain calm and untroubled by anger or hatred, a person will do this in the most honourable manner possible, and only as a last resort. Talk about a living philosophy, one that does not remove the suffering, that does not take the suffering away but equips one to live with the suffering and yet not suffer.

I love Zen because it is a true challenge to mankind, to say you have divinity inside of you, you are capable of being eternally good, eternally loving, and eternally happy. After all did he not say I have created you in my own image, whatever I have done I promise you can do more,

Another aspect I love about Zen is the respect for nature and all its beauty. If one sees the gardens that are inspired by Zen one cannot help but be moved, transported beyond here to another place. Zen is the quiet philosophy, in a noisy and busy world it is my oasis of silence and contemplation, my rock of stability my pillar of strength my fountain of joy.

A ligkaribe Poem - I won't fight you

2006-08-07T17:05:00.000+02:00

Why do you fight me?

I won’t fight you

Why do you sit there?

And pour all your hate on me

I’m just like you

Lost lonely, and afraid too

Struggling like you

Needing like you

Yet you choose to fight me

to hate me

With your dagger eyes and dagger tongue

Why do you fight me?

I won’t fight you

A ligkaribe Poem - Liberty

2006-07-31T13:47:00.000+02:00

Liberty

every day,
a rushed trip around the world
never stopping,
never ending,
the days go on
walking stealthily by
as i’m preoccupied with nothing
And so it goes

stealing a piece of me every day
stealing my dreams and aspirations
i wait, and wait
longing for the day of my freedom,
hoping every day
for the day of my liberation
And so it moves forwards

painful, to look in the mirror
unfamiliar reflection
speaking to me
of lost hope and lost wishes
how painful the waiting
for that which does not come
how hopeless the anticipation
with no knowledge of when

and so it is
every day
i lose a piece of myself to despair
torn apart by care lessness
passed over on the side walk of life
on and on
every day
a step closer to my emancipation

my pic

2006-07-24T18:08:00.000+02:00

Let Me…… By the Vampire Louis @ Allpoetry.com

2006-07-20T16:53:00.000+02:00

Another Vampire Chronicle poem i got it from a fellow contestant at all poetry, the contest was to write a poem about any of the photos from the film version, with a basis on the books in general. Isn't she such a great writter?

Let Me…… By the Vampire Louis @ Allpoetry.com
I could leave you here,

tangled up in blue,

leave you to die,

whisper in your ear,

and coat you with hate,

drip your blood dry,

reveal your fate,

or would you like eternity,

to be free,

have women begging at your feet,

coat them in kisses,

or will i leave you here,

leave you to bleed,

Take the easy way out,

i can not lie,

eternity is not beautiful,

no sunset,

no romance,

darkness sweeping you in her arms,

coating you in poison,

dancing your charms,

no grave, no roses,

nothing but eternity,

,you could travel the world with me,

make me a partner,

let that be you,

dancing through ballrooms with me,

killing who we please,

let me give you life tonight,

as i whisper in your ear,

dried blood is coating your fears,

and here we are,thinking,

and you do not have long,

take my hand let me guide you,

and give you life,

of the living death,

a poem, (Eyes Meet, Let Me...by the Vampire Louis at All Poetry.com)

2006-07-19T13:16:00.000+02:00

Following are two poems on the Vampire Chronicles that i loved and included in this blog for your enjoyment.

Eyes meet – by The Vampire Louis @ All Poetry.com

Can you feel it,
I feel this too,
the way your eyes dance,
on the taste of ecstasy,
yet you look away,
as poison cuts the kill,
stop before the heart stops,
the taste is gold,
addicted, do not look away,
guilt is replaced with,
lust, the lust to kill,
the hunt for blood,
do not lie to me,
i know this is what you wanted,
on that night you let me take you,
and make you mine,
you belong to me now,
lets dance through this ballroom,
chose a pretty girl,
and make her our own,
stop before the heart stops,
ecstasy dances on your tongue tip,
blood pumps through your veins,
addicted to the taste,
do not lie to me,
i made you, this is what you need,
do not run away,
from ecstasy and lust,
mixed with the seduction of trust,
and on this ballroom floor,
we hunt the night,
finding that addictive drug,
knowing to us as survival,
and to them, blood,
the colour of red, dead red,
lets hunt....
________________________________________
Comment? All rights reserved, © The Vampire Louis. Copying without permission for non-personal use is forbidden. Send author an IM. Send this to a friend!

Let Me…… By the Vampire Louis @ Allpoetry.com

I could leave you here,
tangled up in blue,
leave you to die,
whisper in your ear,
and coat you with hate,
drip your blood dry,
reveal your fate,
or would you like eternity,
to be free,
have women begging at your feet,
coat them in kisses,
or will i leave you here,
leave you to bleed,
Take the easy way out,
i can not lie,
eternity is not beautiful,
no sunset, no romance,
darkness sweeping you in her arms,
coating you in poison,
dancing your charms,
no grave, no roses,
nothing but eternity,,
you could travel the world with me,
make me a partner,
let that be you,
dancing through ballrooms with me,
killing who we please,
let me give you life tonight,
as i whisper in your ear,
dried blood is coating your fears,
and here we are, thinking,
and you do not have long,
take my hand let me guide you,
and give you life,
of the living death,
so what be your option?......
________________________________________
Comment? All rights reserved, © The Vampire Louis. Copying without permission for non-personal use is forbidden. Send author an IM. Send this to a friend

BURIAL PRACTICES

2006-07-13T17:44:00.001+02:00

Burial practices

In some parts of Africa you are not allowed to talk at all while in the cemetery, save your comments about the length of the speeches for later.

In old days the meat cooked at funerals was unseasoned the idea being – hey this isn’t a festive occasion. Nowadays hey that’s the whole reason why we go to funerals lots of fresh meat- have you ever tasted freshly slaughtered meat? I swear this stuff you get at the butcheries and supermarkets is a curse.

Whenever people know of a funeral they would send over some form of food material to the bereaved families – of course, money is the gift of choice today.

The thing about it is that, in my part of Africa whenever you hear about a funeral you are supposed to tell as many people as you know, who you think might not have heard. You see to not attend a funeral is a BIG DEAL- so you don’t want some of your relatives saying, you know that family they never told us about the bereavement they only went by themselves. This practice has led to many problems.

Ther reason being that everyone and I mean everyone must attend the funeral and usually you talk of a crowd of not less than 400 people at, most funerals. ( IMAGINE – YOUR RELATIVES, IN THE EXTENDED FAMILY, YOUR MANY IN LAWS, YOUR WORK MATES, YOUR CHURCH MATES, YOUR SCHOOL MATES, YOUR CHILDERENS WORKMATES, SCHOOL MATES, CHURCHMATES, YOUR AUNTS WORKMATES, SCHOOL MATES, CHURCH MATES ETC I THINK YOU GET THE PICTURE – ALL BECAUSE TO NOT ATTEND THE FUNERAL OF SOMEONE YOU KNOW, WHTEHER ITS THROUGH SOMEONE WHO KNOWS SOMEONE WHO KNOWS SOMEONE IS CONSIDERED DISRESPECTFULL AND NOT SHOWING SUPPORT), The week before the funeral, daily evening prayers are held, sometimes in town if the person lived in town. This weeklong delay is apparently to allow all relatives from far and wide to attend the funeral – there we go again. And again for the same reasons most funerals are on weekends. I’m told that members of the IPCC (Intercostals apostolic church I think) only bury their members during the week – BIG UP TO THEM –

Everyone is complaining about the ridiculous costs of burying in Africa I mean, the costs of catering to 400 people is no joke. Not to mention the impact on productivity. In say a big company, how many funerals would you have to attend on any one weekend, what about in a big church, or a big family?

The night before an all night wake with singing – mainly Christian hymns - is held. Nowadays, people knock of at 12. I mean really here you’ve traveled 500kms into the bush to attend a funeral, you’re supposed to get back tomorrow in time for work and you’re expected to stay up all night too, com on.

I remember my grandfathers funeral I was dead tired did I mention that we don’t usually if ever hire catering companies – so me and my sisters were on our feet forever serving people, taking part in the cooking etc gosh its like you’re some kind of slave – you get comments like”is there any goat meat because I don’t it beef” ha ha ha , yep umm “I will only take samp, or pap or mabele”. Really, “can I have another glass of water “– puleez people.

The grave is dug by the men of the house – the coffin is placed in one of the huts and usually the wife an old lady will be there or the spouse or mother – funny I’ve never actually attended a funeral were the surviving member was male I just realized that – n-way they will usually be in that hut with a bunch of other old ladies covered in blankets. Everyone sits and sings outside the hut.

When you arrive you are supposed to greet everyone, its always confusing to me whether I’m supposed to kneel or a mere bob will suffice generally I prefer none of the above. After which the men have their domain in Botswana they are in charge of the meat from the slaughtering to the cooking – yeh they like that don’t they.

The women have their domain and they cook everything else – bread, fat cakes, tea, samp, palish, bogobe, cabbage etc

Have you ever tried cooking pap on a size 16 pot? You don’t want to know. Generally this is always a bad experience for me- I never really know how to make myself useful. I don’t know how to make the bread and generally cooking over a fire for 400 people just isn’t one of my specialties.

So what else? oh in the past men always had to be wearing jackets, but I guess how many people own those so that’s kind of archaic

Women however must still be covered on the head at all times, dukes are archaic for these purposes nowadays everyone has at least one designer hat or funky hat they use for funerals – of course if you are female trousers are a no no no no no – I cannot stress that enough, its out of the question.

This obsession about people attending funerals - I hear stories like. There was some guy in some village who every time there was a funeral he would drive his cars to the home to offer them for whatever. So the day he had a funeral at his home everyone drove their cars over and parked them and left.

Apparently some women who never used to eat whenever she attended funerals when it was her turn nobody ate the food at her funeral.

So apparently people do such things, there is some kind of blackmail in it if you don’t participate in other people’s funerals they won’t participate in yours. So you don’t really have a choice.

I have only one question would it be so bad if only 10 people attended a funeral and you didn’t have to cook for the whole world and all you did was to concentrate on mourning your dearly departed-I wonder.

Wolf Killer

2006-07-13T14:45:00.000+02:00

I chose this title because I always liked that name for Lestat, Magnus calls him “brave strong little wolf killer”,

“Lelio the Wolf killer…Sunlight in the hair, he whispered and the blue sky forever
fixed in your eyes…You’re perfect my Lelio wolf killer”.

and because the scene where he kills the wolves in the snow has always been one my most memorable in the Vampire chronicles.

“ Right now I’m thinking about the snow all over these mountains and the wolves that were
Frightening the villagers and stealing my sheep…since I was the only lord who could sit on a
horse and fire a gun, it was natural that the villagers should come to me, complaining about
the wolves and expecting me to hunt them. It was my duty...”

“That was my life and it might as well have been lived in the middle ages. I was unhappy and
ferocious as I rode up the mountain. I wanted a good battle with the wolves...”

“It was an ambush and I could never make the forest in time. And the pack was eight wolves,
Not five as the villagers had told me…”

“I think as I scramble to my feet, I knew I was going to die.
But it never occurred to me to give up. I was maddened, wild. Almost snarling, I faced the
Animals and looked the closest of the two wolves straight in the eye...”

“That was the end of it, the pack was dead. I was alive. And the only sound in the empty snow-
Covered valley was my own breathing and the rattling shriek of my dying mare…”

“By the time I reached the castle gates, I think I was not Lestat. I was someone else
altogether, staggering into the great hall, with that wolf over my shoulders, the heat of
the carcass very much diminished now and the sudden blaze of the fire an irritant in my eyes”

I recommend you read the whole scene someday. So primitive and it makes me think of how each one of us has this life defining moment maybe not as dramatic. However it is something that changes us irrevocably, it may not necessarily have a direct effect on future events but it plays a big role somehow. An event never forgotten.

Where would some of us be without Ann Rice, ever wondered? I have always loved historical novels, the Victorian mills & boons were my favorite. Ann Rice is always so accurate and she really brings her characters and the period to life in an astounding way. They become real people, real and unforgettable. I recently read a book of hers Christ the Lord, I did not know that she used to actually be atheist – it never really occurred to me. I quote in her epilogue / Bibliography where she says

“every one of my novels since 1974 involved historical research…without ever planning it, I’ve
moved slowly backwards in history, from the nineteenth century, were I felt at home in my
first two novels to the first century were I sought answers to enormous questions that became
an obsession with me that simply could not be ignored,..

Ultimately the figure of Jesus Christ was at the heart of this obsession. More generally, it
was the birth of Christianity and the fall of the ancient world. I wanted to know desperately
what happened in the first century; and why people in general never talked about it…after
that I wrote many novels without being aware that they reflected my quest for meaning in
a world without God…

I left the church at the age of eighteen…no personal event precipitated this loss of faith…

I stumbled upon a mystery without a solution, a mystery so immense that I gave up trying to
find an explanation because the whole mystery defied belief. The mystery was the survival of
the Jews…I couldn’t understand how these people had endured as the great people they were…

it was this mystery that drew me back to God. It set into motion the idea that there may in
fact be a God…many of these scholars…disliked Jesus Christ. Some pitied him, and some
felt an outright contempt…I’d never come across this kind of emotion in any other field of
research.”

I think it is so admirable that she can say that. For any individual to be able to grow and change their point of view like that to me is admirable. Often people make a decision, they become stuck in it unwilling to explore new things. In my view that can hinder your growth as a person.
Great Doubt, Great Awakening
Little Doubt, Little Awakening
No Doubt, No Awakening.
(from the Zen tradition)
I loved the book, the only complaint I had is that it ended too quickly. I would have liked to see him right up to the time he became, ok right up to when he turned 30.

She brought out some interesting aspects, i.e. that carpenters were in fact highly respected and sought after as a profession. As the builders of the temple, the synagogues etc I suppose their skill was highly regarded so that makes sense.

There is a belief that Jesus stayed that long before he started his ministry because he was looking after the business when Joseph died. But that doesn’t make sense to me - he had brother.

The book challenged me in a way I had never realized before – I have never really doubted the existence of God, but the existence of Jesus is till a problem for me, the virgin birth, the miracles, and especially the resurrection are hard for me to grasp. To be confronted with a flesh and live Jesus in the book was amazing. Especially a younger version.

In David Walsh’s conversations with God. God says that he has sent many messengers, or appeared himself to different people in different forms and appearances, and yet all that has done is create confusion because others say, no that could not have been God, because when he appeared to me he looked like this and not the way you say he looked when he appeared to you.

The rich man and Lazarus parable – Moses says to Lazarus, I can not send Lazarus to warn your brothers- there have been prophets sent before, Moses has been sent, so has Elijah, So has Noah – if they can not listen to the prophets, they will not listen even if I sent a man from the dead to talk to them.

Personally I don’t know about that, I’m like “{I’ll listen Moses, I will just send me a dead someone I’m sure I’ll listen” wouldn’t it be so much simpler – I mean the fact that no one has ever really come back may actually mean it isn’t possible to, because there is nothing, have you ever thought of it that way. But again there is the reincarnation thing so who knows.

Wolf Killer - a ligkaribe poem

2006-07-13T13:08:00.000+02:00

“A voice said wolf killer’ long & low a whisper that was like a summons and a tribute at the same time”

Wolf Killer
Immortal embrace

Sitting alone in darkness, drinking up the shadows
Embrace of loving arms, warmth on my back...
A whisper of love?
Voices in my head?

Staggering alone in twilight, listening to the silence
Arms waiting for me, moistness on my cheek...
A kiss of love?
Voices in my head?

Lying alone in gloom, drowning in the scent of dusk
soft brush of tender fingers, warm impression upon my body...
Lovers weight?
Voices in my head?

Lunacy?
The shadows whisper to me?
Incoherency is my bedfellow
Lucidity a mist before my eyes

Invisible arms and soundless kisses
Devour my faltering willpower
Alluring temptations and subtle seductions,
overwhelming my senses

Warm, chasing away the coldness,
melting my being
An invitation,
to lose myself in the arms of - who?

In that moment I am wanted,
enveloped in passion,
sinking into the sensation of predilection

Sense of you,
your presence sets my heart racing,
sinister, looming figure of darkness
Menacing, omnousity,
my mind dancing in the halls of obscurity
alive no more, walking in the twilight of life,
a moment away from your arms,
a moment away from death
Drowning in your black aura,
inundated by its intensity
Your enormous mass,
permeating itself into my pores

Scent of impermanence,
struggle for survival
All I hear now is the voices in my head
laughing and raucous,
Deafening sound of life ebbing away,
Vociferous, riotous the tang of austerity
“But this is what you sought after, my love.
Calling to me with your very essence.”

Inside me, motionless,
mind in turmoil,
Fear like I have never experienced,
Repeated plunges into my being,
into my essence

Violent and fast, fast and furious,
the taking
Fast needy breath against my ear,
Passionate, fervent embrace of death,

To be needed to be desired so much,
Sinking into forbidden ecstasy
Fulfillment of hidden desires
Now truly unveiled
You knew all along what I wanted

The taste of doom,
sweet luscious smell of death,
No longer voices in my head
but voices of my intimate,
tranquility mine to grasp

In this moment of death, never more alive, alive for eternity – immortal, by you my Wolf Killer.

My lost Zen

2006-07-12T17:55:00.000+02:00

My Lost Zen?

Who among Rinzai’s descendants really transmits his Zen?
It is concealed in this blind Donkey. Straw sandals a bamboo stuff, an unfettered life –
You can have your fancy chairs, meditation platforms and fame and fortune Zen.
(what is the significance of the blind donkey, of the straw sandals, of the bamboo staff?)

2006-07-12T17:51:00.001+02:00

The question

The myriad things return to one? Where does the one return too?
When I was in Ching Chau I made a cloth shirt, it weighed seven pounds
(try to imagine the cloth shirt, the making of the cloth shirt, from the choosing of the cotton seeds, the planting of the cotton, the harvesting, the yarning, the spinning, the weaving of the cloth, and finally the cutting and sewing of the cloth shirt? After all the making of a cloth shirt in true essence involves all these stages – try to imagine the weight of it, can it weight that much, is it a cloth shirt? Did he make a cloth shirt or did he make something else? What are the myriad things, why do they return to one, what is the one?)
“The Question: it stimulates our imagination, it takes us further, it helps us to reach out beyond ourselves, our limit, our capacity – it is the Great Doubt.” Neo Kgwatalala

The Buddhist Vow

2006-07-12T17:51:00.000+02:00

The Buddhist Vow

Sentient beings are numberless – I vow to save them all
Delusions are inexhaustible - I vow to cut them all
Dharma gates are limitless – I vow to penetrate them all
The Buddha’s way is unsurpassable – I vow to achieve it.

(About aiming and seeking to achieve the impossible - impossible is impossible as impossible is)
Do you want to save them? How can you save them all?

Legend Of The Appointment In Samarrah

2006-07-12T17:44:00.001+02:00

Legend Of The Appointment In Samarrah

A Servant overheard in the market place that death was looking for him,
He raced home and told his master he must flee to the neighboring
town to Samarrah so that death would not find him.

After supper that night there was a knock upon the door.
The master opened it and saw death standing there in his long black robes
And hood.
Death inquired after the servant. “He is ill in bed” lied the master
Hastily “He is too sick to be disturbed”

“That’s odd” said death
“Then he is surely in the wrong place, for I had an appointment with him tonight at midnight in Samarrah”

Mirror in the sky

2006-07-12T17:44:00.000+02:00

I HAVE ALWAYS LOVED THIS SONG – I HOPE IT INSPIRES YOU AS IT DOES ME.

LANDSLIDE By Stevie Nicks

I took my love, I took it down

Climbed a mountain and I turned around

I saw my reflection in the snow covered hill

still the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the skyWhat is love

Can the child within my heart rise above

Can I sail thru the changing ocean tides

Can I handle the seasons of my life

Well, I’ve been afraid of changing cause

I’ve built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Children get olderI’m getting older too

Oh, take my love, take it down

Climb a mountain and turn around

If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills

Well the landslide will bring it down

If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills

Well maybe the landslide will bring it down

It touches a place deep inside me where I am most vulnerable, and it just always gives me goose bumps – the imagery is breathtaking and awesome.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Witchcraft

2006-07-10T14:11:00.000+02:00

Songoma’s, Nyanga’s(Witch doctors), Witches - what’s the difference

Did you know that Nyanga’s in Africa well at least my part of it are buried at night only, specifically between midnight and two in the morning is preferable, 3 to 4 am is actually a bit late.

Well now you know, that certainly put paid to any aspirations I may have had.

I’m not sure if this applies equally to Songoma’s, nowadays it is quite the in thing to be one, I wouldn’t mind myself actually that is if I don’t have to undergo the training part of it.

Definition
From what I understand Songoma’s and Nyanga’s (traditional doctors) are people who have a healing gift. They also have divination skills and can also communicate with the ancestors. They are consulted mostly on many problems to do with life besides actual illness, and usually preside over traditional ceremonies such as talking to the ancestors (we had one of those last year – it was an experience I never could have imagined) and the annual sacrifice (we are talking beer here people not anything remotely blood related for all you “sadomasochists”), usually performed after the harvest season when there is less to do as most of the work has been done), (I used to love those when me and my sisters used to sneak to neighboring homes at nights – you can hear the drums for miles - to attend them my granny is a staunch Christian). Basically beer is brewed from the harvested millet and people come together at night to dance and sing and well there is a lot more that goes on here – such as the ancestors talking to the people this from personal witness – you want to know more?

Training
The schooling involves apprenticeship with the teacher whereby you actually go to live with them for the duration of the learning. This can consist of months in the bush, with no shelter, no shoes, no food, and absolutely no chance of a bath, sot of like survivor international, except this time around you are supposed to emerge with great psychological powers (among others) as opposed to psychological issues, oh and just forget about combing your hair.
Nowadays however this apprenticeship can also be done in towns where, nowadays it can involve office help, or even chauffeuring services for the teacher – its civilization people!

Finding a teacher
Well the process of finding a teacher isn’t as simple, normally you will be told by those who “see” that you have “the gift”, sometimes if you are resistant the calling of the ancestors may manifest itself as illness or ill luck maybe even mental illness, the doctors will be unable to diagnose and eventually you may be forwarded to the traditional doctor who will inform you of the true nature of your illness. In some cases, of course it’s just hereditary, your father was a traditional healer, your grandfather is one and so on.
When looking for a teacher one may get responses such as “ I am not the one you are looking for” or “you are to heavy for me – please move on”??? I know, this all makes sense in the next paragraph

The examinations
I am told that at the end of it all teacher and student must test their powers against each other – to the death that is. Okay I don’t really know why this is so but there is a wide consensus on this one – it can’t be ignored. It explains the heaviness comment I think. What I wonder is if the student fails at this stage do they qualify for night burial?

Witches
Witches in Africa are common knowledge but one of the best kept secrets of the African heritage, little besides all the crazy stories - and there are many of these it would require a blog page dedicated to just witch stories or something like that to cover those fantastical tales - is actually known about them, in spite of the fact that there is apparently a network of them (yes they collaborate and share tips I’m told, it helps if say this person you were trying to bewitch moved to a different geographical area they even have a hierarchy of leadership). Apparently, witchcraft can not be used to enrich oneself, if you try some kind of spell to do so it will not work; also they cannot do good things with their powers. And the nudity thing just never seems to go away when talking about witches – I don’t know why all the stories involve them flying around at night in the nude but there it is.

Generally witches in Africa can “fly” and are generally always up to no good, putting evil spells and the like. I have come across a witch on 3 occasions in my life, if you wanna know more about that you will have to ask me.

I hope one day I do get an opportunity to interview one, and maybe I’ll be more informed then.

Oh I almost forgot when we were young growing up in the village, I did hear say that say you wanted to become a witch, and say you happened to know an old lady who was a witch in the village, you’d go to the bush and chop a whole stock of firewood and deliver this to the old woman. Ok unfortunately I never quite got the courage to try that one so (akitsi) – I don’t know, again I never really liked chopping firewood. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to tell whether a particular tree can be used as fire wood or not, or even whether its dry enough or not – just don’t remind me.

I will end with a question what is the difference between a traditional doctor & a sangoma – does anyone know?

Why all the hate?

2006-07-10T13:30:00.001+02:00

The Kenyan quote on the snake and the men in my recent post highlights a theme that as Africans is central to our everyday existence, the issue of tribalism – in a recent article in the Sunday Standard newspaper a reader wrote a letter titled time to tame the Zimbabweans, well… there was a lot said but the gist is that the Botswana Defense Force commander should lead the way in this exercise. So I ask what exactly does such a letter imply?

There is a lot to explore here and I intend to, but as of now below is a letter I published in the Sunday Standard in response:

Had enough?
Have you heard the one about the white person who makes a point of saying oh but I have black friends, or the homophobic who says, but I have some gay friends?

The article in Sunday standard June 18 – 24 2006 issue sent a very cold shiver down my spine. That a person can have the guts to send such a hateful article to the Sunday standard knowing full well that it will be accessible to a large number of the population is very unbelievable, at the very least irresponsible. Further more the newspaper did not have any qualms about publishing such a letter.

I was literally amazed by what I read about Zimbabweans taking over such public places as gyms, stadiums and even bus ranks. Whenever I am in any of these places I only observe people who are going about their business, how anyone can take over these public places that can hardly be claimed ownership by any one individual due to their very nature actually boggles my mind. I wonder if the writer is a frequent user of these places, I have noticed that people who drive cars have a very weird view of the bus rank/ station from many comments I have heard them utter.

How anyone can even purport to be able to recognize who is Zimbabwean, South African, Malawian, Zambian or even Jamaican for that matter (Botswana is a very metropolitan country!!!) in such crowded situations only the writer seems to know. I can only express amazement at their amazing talentdedness. Whenever I pass through these areas I go about my business without paying much attention to whether the guy on the other treadmill is Zimbabwean, or the five out of 15 passengers with me are Mozambique’s, or that guy sitting in front of me at the game is from Malawi. Not so it seems with our writer, these matters in fact for reasons known only to them seem to be of great importance to them.

I never frequent pubs but the few – (for me anyway - unpleasant times) I have been there my experience is of overcrowded noisy places with hardly any standing room, its usually to dark to tell if a person is black, white, Indian, or in between let alone the true national identity of individuals, again the writers amazing powers and gifts are to be marveled at. I wonder how these places are taken over BY Zimbabweans, do they claim all the seats or maybe they buy all the drinks? Apparently they even have money to go to these places.

I quote the writer
“First and foremost in the mind of a typical Zimbabwean is an intense desire to dominate and take over”
“What bothers me is the general attitude and conduct of Zimbabweans in this country”

Very strong accusations stated matter of factly, and categorically, not to mention generalizing the behavior of a very large number of the Zimbabwean population in this country.

The writer having made these accusations goes on to further insult our intelligence by not even bothering to qualify, clarify, or support his statements with any supporting evidence. They are simply taking over and we must all agree with the writer and become fed up as well. I will not even raise the question of how many Zimbabweans the writer knows well enough to make such assertions, lets not forget their qualifications in uttering such statements, a PhD in psychology or human behavior perhaps, hmm and dare I ask concerning the extensive research the writer must have conducted in order to come up with such strong conclusions and assertions concerning the mind, general attitude, conduct and behavioral patterns of typical Zimbabweans in Botswana.

Our writer, who is “a Motswana citizen by birth” dare we forget, has made a very grave mistake in the form of this letter and it is my sincere hope that they realize the error of their ways and repent thoroughly. I have deliberately not stated my citizenship in this letter, whether it be by birth or by some other means or unsavory defect. I believe in the idea that irregardless of the couler of ones passport we are all human beings, none of us being perfect. We have no choice but to accept that the world is a small place and as such we are likely to find it difficult if not downright impossible not to have interactions with each other. We can only tolerate each other communicate our grievances peaceably and like the civilized people we are with a view to forging a way towards peaceful coexistence.

Respect for others in public areas indeed in all situations and circumstances is not just a Tswana custom but in fact an African custom. One that I believe all African cultures extol and instill in their members at a young and tender age it is who we are, not only that it is a respect that does not consider were a person is from or their country of origin. One that all Africans should be proud of I might add.

The snake flees from the man; the man flees from the snake,
and the path remains empty. Thus does enmity waste opportunity?
Translation of an Oromo tribe (Ethiopia / Kenya) proverb

The bitter heart devours its owner
Tswana saying

Most importantly this was a hateful letter aimed at inspiring nothing but malicious feelings towards Zimbabweans, written by a deeply disturbed individual, that level of hate found in any one individual in my view is a sign of sickness. On the other hand it may have been just an error due to the passion of the moment. The writer is totally unashamed to talk of respect in one breadth and then peddle such hate in the next. I am equally disappointed in the editor of a newspaper I happen to love and respect. As a reader I am offended to have been subjected to such hateful utterances, and have them treated with such apparent disregard of their implications so as to have found their way to this page. For the editor to have overlooked the implications of this article on the rights of another human being is unpardonable.

Am I the only person who is chilled by the call for the commander of the Botswana Defense Forces to take action against Zimbabweans, with a view to taming them? This is after all the major point of the letter as I understand it. What actions are these may I ask, I dread to imagine, I truly do. I also hope these are not the feelings of the majority of Batswana otherwise – “God help us all” is all I can say.

To the editor – i am shocked, saddened, deeply and immeasurably disappointed.

Why all the hate

2006-07-10T13:30:00.000+02:00

Empty mind, Peaceful being

2006-07-01T10:39:00.000+02:00

The shagreen leather is shrinking
“There is no cold place in a boiling cauldron.
Only the one who can stand on a whirlwind in the emptiness will be able to dance and laugh. All the rest will be dying one by one. They have already started.
The shagreen leather is shrinking.”
From The Zen Tradition

"Cauldron – large metal cooking pot for open fire cooking, a situation characterized by instability & strong emotions"

“When the waves are choppy it is difficult for the moon to appear,
Though the room is wide, the lamp can fill it with light,
I extort you to clear your mind vessel
Don’t spill the sweet dew sauce”
From The Zen Tradition

“The snake flees from the man; the man flees from the snake,
and the path remains empty. Thus does enmity waste opportunity?”
Translation of an Oromo tribe (Ethiopia / Kenya) proverb

“The bitter heart devours its owner”
Tswana saying

“For only when one is empty can one hope to reach out further, only when one is not currently experiencing anything can one hope to experience something different? Only when one is not worrying about this and the other can there be receptiveness to what is inside one…to say you have divinity inside of you, you are capable of being eternally good, eternally loving, and eternally happy. After all did he not say I have created you in my own image, whatever I have done I promise you, you can do more,”
Neo Kgwatalala

Botsetsi

2006-06-16T16:09:00.000+02:00

N-way the last time I said I’d try to find out more about practices for pregnant women in Africa,

Ok to begin with in Setswana, there is what we call Botsetsi, which is the period after birth when the mother is confined to the house, hut room or whatever the case may be for a specific time period.

In some tribes its 3 months in others its 4 months, during this time tradition is a log (I think) is placed outside the hut as a sign to others, the only people allowed in the hut will be those who are either too young or too old to be sexually active, also the tradition is that if it’s a first child the mother will go to her mothers home for Botsetsi. The maternal grandmother to the infant has the major responsibility of looking after both mother and child.

Other practices involving Botsetsi are that, the cutlery, plates, bathing utensils and even the pots of the mother and child are separated from those of the rest of the household. It is also practice that the mother must only eat porridge (yummy - I love sour porridge!) during especially the early period of Botsetsi.

At the end of the period a coming out ceremony is held for baby and mother called, Mantsho angwana aka Matso or "the coming out", (please ignore my spelling in all instances) during which well nothing much happens I think except some dancing singing and just some general rejoicing of the incident.

Ohh by the way if you are one of those not allowed in during the Botsetsi period i.e. the father you get to talk to the bride and take a peek at the baby through the window!!!

Most people still practice Botsetsi today but not in the strict sense when it comes to access to the mother and baby its more lenient nowadays. The basis of the belief I think being that people may pass on their "bad luck" or diseases to the baby, with the father I guess it’s for obvious reasons. (I intend to go for Botsetsi with all my children - God willing)

As for modern legislature
The labor laws nowadays (in my country) allow 6 wks before confinement and 6 weeks after, and when the mother is back at work two sessions of 30 mins a day are allowed for breastfeeding. On the downside companies are required to pay only 25% of the salary to the mother during the 12 weeks maternity leave period. They can however pay more if they choose. The govt pays full salary though.

N- way I still intend to dig some more on how maternity practices were back in the day.

Wishing for you???

2006-06-16T16:04:00.000+02:00

“Have you ever wondered why birds sing in the morning, why they sing in the afternoon, in the evening and all day long?

Do you ever stop to sing to the morning?

Teach me a song to sing to the new day.
A song of hope for the morning, one of joy and rejoicing for the noon time, one of longing and wishing for when dusk falls...

wishing for you!!!”

N.Kgwatalala

2006-06-08T16:46:00.000+02:00

Baby shower on the weekend - stitches?????

I went to a baby shower in Gaborone on the weekend. I don’t attend many of these. It was slow to begin with but then things started heating up.

Especially when it was time to give advice to the mother to be, one girl stood up and talked about “ditichi , gatwe unna mometsing alitswaye guitela diphola, agutshamikiwe”

Well she was talking about stitches you have to sit in salty water 3 times a day for three days, and you’ll be as goog as new. I was literally blown away. Afterwards me and my friend were exclaiming that this was the first time we had heard something so explicit at a baby shower, and how come some of these things are not common knowledge, I’d like to know. I think really shouldn’t we be talking about such things more.

So now I have a few questions
Has it always been done this way?
Do we all have to do it this way?
How do other cultures do it?
AND FOR HEAVENS SAKE WHAT ELSE SHOULD WE KNOW ABOUT?

n-way I’m gathering some more infor on pregnancy practices in Botswana, so I guess I’ll keep you posted its gonna be interesting

I mean to all you metro African mantombazana - what gives?

A ligkaribe Love Poem; SHE'S GONE

2006-05-15T14:33:00.000+02:00

She’s gone
The passion of my heart, mine dearest
The lover of my soul, is gone
Symphony of my mind, being, and consciousness – dissolved into emptiness

Quietness in dead of night, stillness in darkness, embrace of cold shadows
Engulfed in anguish, ache and yearning without boundaries, devoid of reason

Where before there was laughter and constant chatter, now there is only nothingness
Warm sensations where before there was another besides me,
Faint indentations only delusions of a fixated mind
Forever smiling eyes, the embodiment of mischief
The personification of sweetness was once beside me here,

Agony and bitterness piercing my soul, wounding me to my being
Breathing silently into each others quintessence

Shared whispers and talk of forever more
Forever more, now no more exists, it is as naught
The tenderness that was not
Barren rooms in stark dark contrast glaring coldly back at me,
Symbolising the barrenness of my spirit, Crushed and wringed of every day vitality

Were can I find this thing, this thing I have misplaced? Is it hidden from me?
Did I hide it somewhere? Hide it so well that now I do not know where to look for it
Oh I am unable to find it, afraid to seek, sitting here forging new alliances with silence, fear is my new attendant, and doubt my only logic,
For I fear I may have never had what I thought I had for so long

Why did I not speak of it, this love that I feel, unprofessed feelings
Implied understandings, assumed promises
Why did I not utter those daunting words, they are only words after all,
- are they not,
Suffocated under the weight of my own pride,
Comatosed by my own cowardice hmm

Timing is everything as they say, why did I not profess my love, when time was still on our side
For in the time before time, I could have spoken of my secret passions
And now time is no more, as my lover is no more.

Has it been in vain, my self-scourging for I have dared to not look at another?
For only my beloved was given free reign in my dream realm, hah hah
Crowned the princess of my chimeras No man could compare to her sweetness,
Non-could come near her gentleness, her beauty could never be replicated
To her alone have I given myself

Happiness was my love; happiness was her laughter, her smiles, and tender words huh
Her caresses and secret looks were my joy,
Now happiness is no more, my lover is never more
My mind seeks to justify, making excuses and rationalizations to that which is senseless
My body is quietened, chocked into submission, but my heart will not be silent “ouw”

Surrender to doom, surrender to oblivion I obliterate my existence
Destroying all hope of deliverance
One hopes, one prays, one wonders
Will I find hope and meaning from these encounters?

For she is gone, she is no more to me, my best friend? my lover? my best friend?
She is gone

I cannot describe my despondency, nor align my misjudgments,
A picture of confusion, a canvass of sadness
Dark coulers, cavernous on the plain of heartache,
Deep yawning lines of pain, and livid scars in ugliness

Take a picture of me, a portrait worth a thousand words
For it is the image of anguish, it is an image of dread
Dreadful sorrows burrow their way into my heart
Hope is lost; hope is; no longer bred

Alive no more I seek the forbidden fruit that is the tree of life
Seeking only my restoration, claiming my own salvation
Whereas there was but a shadow of hope; for true life, to - gain immortality
Whys but; did I, not deserve happiness, as others do?

For what is it to want only happiness, to want only to be content?
Is it not the right of every sentient being, encoded in our animate DNA?
Is it a sin to want joy and to seek pleasure?
But thereupon, the richness of life is found in the passions that are denied to us
Condemned by existence to never experience, the climax of consciousness itself
The orgasm of breathing

The heart is but only flesh & blood, subject to hopes and delusions,
Endless daydreams, distractions to reality
Actuality and authenticity have no place in our perfect mini worlds,
Where we are whoever we want to be, the superman and tomb raiders
Of our very own universes

We have lost ourselves in the hopes and yearnings for true love, for long lost ones
And unattainable sweethearts
Unable to see what is right in front of us, we neglect to love those who are before us.
Seek to grasp the essence of true love, to gain an understanding of selfless devotion
For until you realize the truth that is love you can never hope to be free.