When it comes to peace, how would you describe yourself?
I'm just a peaceful person
What do you believe are the 'burning issues' today?
War, Hunger, Poverty, Education, Violence, Our Shrinking Freedom, Other
So what is it?
tolerant and patience
What must we overcome to achieve peace?
Fear
More
people afraid from the unknown
The human being (homosapiene) is the cruelest creature on our planet,
cause s\he has got a brain.
Can we change the world?
Definitely
More about me
education through Art & Art education
I'm an ecological artist who believe in joy and kindness.
... " all the things bright as brilliant. all the creatures small as big. all the things shining as beautiful .
All are God creation....Cecill Francess Alexander
Promise to respect others and refrain from spamming?
When the one who is awaited comes
and you find your face
within his face
and your heartbeat
living inside his heartbeat
as entwined as lover’s breath;
when the angel that he brings
bears your name as
clearly inscribed as his own
and the animal at his side
walks peacefully
in the shadow of your footsteps;
then will the Earth Revolution begin
like a child
awakening at the onset of morning
(a Dawn Child)
and green will be as red as gold.
And that which starts
prayerful in a whispered word
swift as lightning
or as wildfire consumes
not but bitterness
and the lusts of exploitation and war.
And it shall end in this:
The never ending fertility
of the dream of God
and the promise filling the fields
of holy prophesy. For we
in the companionship
of the awaited—of one coming on—
shall eat at the banquet of our preparations.
And the one will be invited
to sit here
and be among us.
That day shall be called
Abundance. And that night
Deliverance from the Apocalypse
of manmade evils. And the world
with the one at the center of
the everywhere from
now until always will dance.
Dance as people dance
around a tree of fire
that does not burn but
shines with joy. With life.
With redefining
Liberty.
David Sparenberg
6 August 2008
ON HEARING AGAIN BEETHOVEN’S
ODE TO JOY
In the terrible
conflagration of war
it is not only armies
that are consumed
but the obo
and the violin die
die tragically as well.
In the monstrous
rampages of hatred
it is not only the victims
of insidious propaganda who
are the targets of political rage
but the flowers of perception
are withered too.
Like a winter storm
the land that longs
for love of spring
wastes with wounds
and ugly memories.
Somewhere in the darkness
of petrifying screams
there is the smell of
carrion earth
an outcry of blood.
Music too
like a sweetness in the soul of
struggling even
as a song bird
nesting
in the heart of the angel
of human discovery perishes.
Who then pleads
for the others who
are scattered everywhere
like dust in the wind?
EATING OF THE GODS & THE DEMOCRATIZATION OF DELIVERANCE
You cannot be all things
You cannot have all things
You cannot say everything righteous or beautiful
or even everything that needs to be said
You cannot be the world governing order
You cannot be the prince of peace in glory
and the founding father of trust, truth and community
You cannot be synagogue and mosque
and catholic church
You cannot be the bank of ambition
or the pulse of aspiration, inspiration
or the pillar undergirding the mishaps of the poor
You cannot be the estuary of ubiquitous pain
or the pit of vicarious agony
or the midmost point in the zenith
of meditative light
You cannot love all loveliness
or possess all sensual moments
or parent all children
who grow and need feeding, anymore
than be a brother to every man
who prays for a friend
or all friends in prayer for their brothers
You will not, no, you certainly, certainly will not
end all wars
correct injustices, end intolerance
or give the healing medicine to each and every
thought askew or soul inflamed or twisted limb
Or reach deed, deep within and mend
the sources of malice, malediction and festering atrocities
—the abrupt violence or the violence premeditative
and executed by design
You cannot be the psalmist David
with his god-touched, angel’s tongue
or the sagacious Solomon, with his dialectical- intuitive mind
or the fire empowered Elijah
on a chariot of wings on the wind
of eternity-piercing time
nor even become any of the wide world’s billions of other
forms and faces of frightened, absurd, honest
and death defying human beings
You can only be you (small and set apart)
You can say what you say (rich but
stammering)
You can love whom you choose (with paradox and
exemplary passion)
You can do what you do
(in the full composition of act and intention
in the shadow and the substance of each offertorial,
twofold, implicational act)
And in so do
and in so saying
and in so loving
—-especially in the loving
with its pearl-like mystery
with its transformational chemistry
and with its spectrum of free floating, face making colors
by being
only who you are and what you are
when you are and where you are
you share a little (but oh! so importantly)
in the gold pot of creation’s bounty and carry
the whole cross in your limited, pennypoor,
privational portion, miraculously, bite and kiss
the full, red, honey dipped and wine sopped lips
of poison, dismemberment
and salvation.
from HEALING, A Book of Poetry by David Sparenberg
This little bird came to me
On a ray of morning sun,
And told me I could make a wish
To carry it to someone...
And so I sent the bird off to you
To brighten up your day
With a special wish for happiness,tranquility and peace
In each and every way!
Nós somos a geração de março
trazemos vendas nos passos
e fechaduras solitárias nos olhos
Nós somos a geração de agora
Não sabemos o dia em que estamos
a mercê de nossa demora
Nós somos a geração híbrida
(de laboratório)
Vivemos nos corredores
entre horários afiados
e o descanso das sepulturas
Nós somos a geração estúpida
Ficamos sempre em dívida
com a nossa dúvida
e não contestamos
Brigamos nas mesas dos bares
as boas notas tiradas
nas aulas de covardia
Nós somos a geração sem voz
Sem olhos
e sem história
Somos cordeiros dopados
Somos o consenso do medo
Somos o corte do grito
Somos o som do arbítrio
Somos o quadro-frio do "NÃO"
A gravidez prolongada
da exceção
Somos sócios da indiferença
Somos a chave da violência
Somos as peças dos tecnocratas
Somos as cordas da repressão
A partilha hereditária
da corrupção
Nós soms fabricados em série
nas escolas e universidades
e vendidos no mercado
ao preço da usura
Somos sim funcionários da tortura
frutos do absurdo
que são todas as ditaduras
Nós somos uma geração de culpados
e ainda seremos culpados
pela próxima geração
se consentirmos ser
enquanto trocam os termos
que a liberdade nunca ditou
se consentirmos estar
ao lado do corpo abatido
naturalmente
como o corpo abatido
Somos culpados em máxima culpa
porque maximizamos as desculpas
e minimizamos fazer!
Nós somos a geração castrada
comemos "pão-com-cocada"
"rotidoguicumustarda"
fumamos a "palha da braba"
cheiramos o "pó das estradas"
nas reuniões marrr giiii naaaaiiiisssss...
Nós somos a raiz do mal
o radical doente
mas
apesar em nós
essa loucura
somos de repente
A CURA!
A CURA!
A CURA!
(oxénte!)
Comment Wall (25 comments)
You need to be a member of iPeace.us to add comments!
Join iPeace.us
iPeace is deleted from David Califa the end of June. Here you can find a new home.
http://peaceformeandtheworld.ning.com/
You are cordially invited.
Warm regards, Eva
EcoDelMar.org
EcoDelMar.org/music
Let the foaming water bathe you
from the sea the moon smiles over
and where the sun sets.
Let the rain find you on a little hill.
Dreaming beneath the autumn tree,
let dew drop into your imagination
and splash candles of rainbows.
Grow the wings of raven: where mystery
and silence transform space and time,
fly to the garden-vision
in the heart of the world.
Do not forget the seasons of seeding;
the moments of harvest,
when flowers of manna
become fruit from your soul.
Do not forget:
here is the Earth and you,
earthling, are here in the shadow-play
of dreams and storms.
There is a spirit hovering and she nests
wherever centering occurs. Out of whose
hands, beloved,
does the dove of now ascent,
if not from yours?
David Sparenberg
15 December 2008
When the one who is awaited comes
and you find your face
within his face
and your heartbeat
living inside his heartbeat
as entwined as lover’s breath;
when the angel that he brings
bears your name as
clearly inscribed as his own
and the animal at his side
walks peacefully
in the shadow of your footsteps;
then will the Earth Revolution begin
like a child
awakening at the onset of morning
(a Dawn Child)
and green will be as red as gold.
And that which starts
prayerful in a whispered word
swift as lightning
or as wildfire consumes
not but bitterness
and the lusts of exploitation and war.
And it shall end in this:
The never ending fertility
of the dream of God
and the promise filling the fields
of holy prophesy. For we
in the companionship
of the awaited—of one coming on—
shall eat at the banquet of our preparations.
And the one will be invited
to sit here
and be among us.
That day shall be called
Abundance. And that night
Deliverance from the Apocalypse
of manmade evils. And the world
with the one at the center of
the everywhere from
now until always will dance.
Dance as people dance
around a tree of fire
that does not burn but
shines with joy. With life.
With redefining
Liberty.
David Sparenberg
6 August 2008
ON HEARING AGAIN BEETHOVEN’S
ODE TO JOY
In the terrible
conflagration of war
it is not only armies
that are consumed
but the obo
and the violin die
die tragically as well.
In the monstrous
rampages of hatred
it is not only the victims
of insidious propaganda who
are the targets of political rage
but the flowers of perception
are withered too.
Like a winter storm
the land that longs
for love of spring
wastes with wounds
and ugly memories.
Somewhere in the darkness
of petrifying screams
there is the smell of
carrion earth
an outcry of blood.
Music too
like a sweetness in the soul of
struggling even
as a song bird
nesting
in the heart of the angel
of human discovery perishes.
Who then pleads
for the others who
are scattered everywhere
like dust in the wind?
David Sparenberg
25-26 July 2008
You cannot be all things
You cannot have all things
You cannot say everything righteous or beautiful
or even everything that needs to be said
You cannot be the world governing order
You cannot be the prince of peace in glory
and the founding father of trust, truth and community
You cannot be synagogue and mosque
and catholic church
You cannot be the bank of ambition
or the pulse of aspiration, inspiration
or the pillar undergirding the mishaps of the poor
You cannot be the estuary of ubiquitous pain
or the pit of vicarious agony
or the midmost point in the zenith
of meditative light
You cannot love all loveliness
or possess all sensual moments
or parent all children
who grow and need feeding, anymore
than be a brother to every man
who prays for a friend
or all friends in prayer for their brothers
You will not, no, you certainly, certainly will not
end all wars
correct injustices, end intolerance
or give the healing medicine to each and every
thought askew or soul inflamed or twisted limb
Or reach deed, deep within and mend
the sources of malice, malediction and festering atrocities
—the abrupt violence or the violence premeditative
and executed by design
You cannot be the psalmist David
with his god-touched, angel’s tongue
or the sagacious Solomon, with his dialectical- intuitive mind
or the fire empowered Elijah
on a chariot of wings on the wind
of eternity-piercing time
nor even become any of the wide world’s billions of other
forms and faces of frightened, absurd, honest
and death defying human beings
You can only be you (small and set apart)
You can say what you say (rich but
stammering)
You can love whom you choose (with paradox and
exemplary passion)
You can do what you do
(in the full composition of act and intention
in the shadow and the substance of each offertorial,
twofold, implicational act)
And in so do
and in so saying
and in so loving
—-especially in the loving
with its pearl-like mystery
with its transformational chemistry
and with its spectrum of free floating, face making colors
by being
only who you are and what you are
when you are and where you are
you share a little (but oh! so importantly)
in the gold pot of creation’s bounty and carry
the whole cross in your limited, pennypoor,
privational portion, miraculously, bite and kiss
the full, red, honey dipped and wine sopped lips
of poison, dismemberment
and salvation.
from HEALING, A Book of Poetry by David Sparenberg
This little bird came to me
On a ray of morning sun,
And told me I could make a wish
To carry it to someone...
And so I sent the bird off to you
To brighten up your day
With a special wish for happiness,tranquility and peace
In each and every way!
(Quase um hino)
Nós somos a geração de março
trazemos vendas nos passos
e fechaduras solitárias nos olhos
Nós somos a geração de agora
Não sabemos o dia em que estamos
a mercê de nossa demora
Nós somos a geração híbrida
(de laboratório)
Vivemos nos corredores
entre horários afiados
e o descanso das sepulturas
Nós somos a geração estúpida
Ficamos sempre em dívida
com a nossa dúvida
e não contestamos
Brigamos nas mesas dos bares
as boas notas tiradas
nas aulas de covardia
Nós somos a geração sem voz
Sem olhos
e sem história
Somos cordeiros dopados
Somos o consenso do medo
Somos o corte do grito
Somos o som do arbítrio
Somos o quadro-frio do "NÃO"
A gravidez prolongada
da exceção
Somos sócios da indiferença
Somos a chave da violência
Somos as peças dos tecnocratas
Somos as cordas da repressão
A partilha hereditária
da corrupção
Nós soms fabricados em série
nas escolas e universidades
e vendidos no mercado
ao preço da usura
Somos sim funcionários da tortura
frutos do absurdo
que são todas as ditaduras
Nós somos uma geração de culpados
e ainda seremos culpados
pela próxima geração
se consentirmos ser
enquanto trocam os termos
que a liberdade nunca ditou
se consentirmos estar
ao lado do corpo abatido
naturalmente
como o corpo abatido
Somos culpados em máxima culpa
porque maximizamos as desculpas
e minimizamos fazer!
Nós somos a geração castrada
comemos "pão-com-cocada"
"rotidoguicumustarda"
fumamos a "palha da braba"
cheiramos o "pó das estradas"
nas reuniões marrr giiii naaaaiiiisssss...
Nós somos a raiz do mal
o radical doente
mas
apesar em nós
essa loucura
somos de repente
A CURA!
A CURA!
A CURA!
(oxénte!)
Geraldo Maia
View All Comments