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Howto Get a Haircut in New York City -- CAPTIONS
BE SURE TO HAVE YOUR YOUTUBE CLOSED CAPTIONS ON FOR SPOKEN DIALOG. New to town, or a weary international traveler who needs to restore his or her glamor, or are you just tired of the same old hair stylist? Here is how to get a haircut (hair styled) for a fabulous look, great, professional hair styling at a very reasonable price, $42.00 USD. Awesome, and as the client in the chair points out, "Famous," Geraldo Dominguez will work his magic. (001) 212-505-0383 Call for an appointment. Be sure to use his name. Convenient ground floor, East Village location @ Hoshi Coupe -- 214 East 9th Street NYC , just off 3rd Avenue, between 2nd and 3rd.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 06 January 2014
BLEEDING LOVE [Video Has Closed Captioning]
DECEMBER, 29, 2013, My YouTube Channel, Stanley Pacion, counts 220,000 Hits, Single Page Visits SUBSCRIBE, Please. Full Text WORDS HERE (Show More) http://stanleypacion.blogspot.in/2013/10/bleeding-love.html ~~ Or ~ http://www.stanleypacion.com ~~ https://www.facebook.com/stanleypacion ~~ India EveryDay: http://83.170.91.156/video/u/StanleyPacion.htm?ss= BLEEDING LOVE Somebody wrote me, It was in response to a YouTube video; He commented upon an up-load, One where I read some love lyrics of mine. The writer said that a man my age should be content -- Say with a garden or maybe a grandchild or two; He claimed that romance is A wild and an often fruitless labor, Hardly worth the effort, No matter how old the pursuer, Though at least youth has energy in its favor. Then he laughingly added, "No fool like the fool whose fate it is, Stuck in the rut of heart-ache verse." Yeah! Sure, OK, but grant me my own life, and frankly What do I care how purveyors of joylessness think? My first thought here cries, get lost! Beat it! Mister! Hey! Get a grip! Anyways, I thank the commentator for his time, Then I consider his remarks for a bit. Still I must insist, no fear, no worry of rebuke, That I am not troubled, and still do boldly proclaim, I keep bleeding, bleeding in love. I take delight, Announce that more command of word, More love's vocabulary resides within my little finger, Than occupies all the many heads, Which march in the armies of negativity! I keep bleeding, bleeding in love. Once Son of Man lost life. And when He rising from the dead, He fulfilled the Holy Writ and dies no more. And we ourselves after Resurrection, Shall be 'Ever with the Lord.' Remember the promise, we who love, Not necessarily wisely, but well, We who give ourselves to the commandment, Love, love, love. Yes, that was the Word, Today we shall be with Him in heaven. I keep bleeding, keep bleeding in love.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 04 January 2014
LOVE STORY, At the Hardware Store
DECEMBER, 29, 2013, My YouTube Channel, Stanley Pacion, counts 220,000 Hits, Single Page Visits SUBSCRIBE, Please. Full Text WORDS HERE (Show More) http://stanleypacion.blogspot.in/2013/12/love-story-the-hardware-store.html ~~ Or ~ http://www.stanleypacion.com ~~ https://www.facebook.com/stanleypacion ~~ India EveryDay: http://83.170.91.156/video/u/StanleyPacion.htm?ss= LOVE STORY, At the Hardware Store Dad! Try as hard as I can, I won't be able to finish the inventory. Count up the boxes of bolts and screws. List them according to head type, Length, and numbered thickness. Then double check the tally. At this point I just don't have the wherewithal. How could I possibly enter all those details. Just one look at the lines and columns confuses me! Plus, exacting cost price and summing page totals, Running entries from bookkeeping sheet to sheet, Those kinds of computations demand a clear head. My mind's a mess. I'm sick. The accountant will have to wait. Let's hope I feel better. Blame Aphrodite, Soft as she is She has almost Killed me with Love for that girl. .

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 30 December 2013
ETTA, 1958
DECEMBER, 29, 2013, My YouTube Channel, Stanley Pacion, counts 220,000 Hits, Single Page Visits SUBSCRIBE, Please. Full Text WORDS HERE (Show More) http://stanleypacion.blogspot.in/2013/12/etta-1958-he-had-twisted-his-ankle.html ~~ Or ~ http://www.stanleypacion.com ~~ https://www.facebook.com/stanleypacion ~~ India EveryDay: http://83.170.91.156/video/u/StanleyPacion.htm?ss= ETTA, 1958 He had twisted his ankle. His foot was swollen and it ached, Hurt him to the degree that he could no longer concentrate. He had lost the capacity to figure. His mind no longer able to grasp even very simple things, His eyes appeared vacant, as if in a trance. He was young and he kissed the back of her hand, He kissed her about the face, He kissed her eyelids, And he rested his lips at the base of her neck. He had kissed the skin all-over both her shoulders. He and she were minors, and their ardency, Its possible consequence worried their parents. There was no question about the boy being strong. Within the warmth of a late August, summer night, The couple walked hand in hand along a dirt path. They followed a trail along side truck-farm fields, Alternate tracts of cabbage and corn, Which then became a shortcut, A line through an expanse of crabgrass scrub. The land rose a few inches, Slightly above the counter-sunk, worn-earth channel, Suggesting a beaten path, a safe passage, Perhaps once a native American footway, Of an age older than most would dream. They headed toward an old Dutch Elm. The tree grew beside the muddy bank of a creek, Whose occasional flow emptied west into a river, A river the early French settlers had named Des Plaines. They thought that they might sail away upon the waters. The Milky Way seemed to stretch out across The vault of deep space more like some Will-o-wisp patch of terrestrial weather Than the starry edge of our own galaxy. Yet more, much more than the taste of salt -- The tiny sweat above her brows, more than how Moisture had collected and now had formed Fetchingly to glisten upon her shoulders, It was a night whose such awesome, absolute clarity Enhanced a once-in-a-life-time, white light streak. At its end a mighty, bright flash erased the sky. Though now near midnight, all nature cast a quick shadow. The day's heat permeated the late summer evening. They were standing before the great Dutch Elm, The tree beside the muddy bank of the creek, The small, occasional water emptying west into the river, The river the early French settlers had named Des Plaines. In a momentary all-over illumination, The youths saw their silhouette. They were merged as one. They saw themselves fused into a single shade. A snap of thunder followed, and, there, in the instant, All of heavenly influence fell upon their embrace. And when they turned and gazed upon each other, Before either of them spoke a word, They had come to believe that In a book all their days had been written. The verse which enfolds telling of this one moment Had already been composed. Though still no gathering of the waters into the seas, Prior to Earth's becoming the name for dry land, Likewise before the glory of first morning or first sun's set, Even before the beginning when the Spirit of God Announced light and illuminated the darkness, They had been granted affection. Before the beginning, Before the Lord brought into being The blazing brilliance across the infinite deep, And called it good, They had been blessed with ever grateful remembrance. This one moment had already been written.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 29 December 2013
LET ME TELL YOU TRUE
As of this date, October 1, 2013, My YouTube Channel, Stanley Pacion, counts 219,000 Hits, Single Page Visits SUBSCRIBE, Please. Full Text WORDS HERE (Show More) http://stanleypacion.blogspot.in/2013/12/let-me-tell-you-true.html ~~ Or ~ http://www.stanleypacion.com ~~ https://www.facebook.com/stanleypacion ~~ India EveryDay: http://83.170.91.156/video/u/StanleyPacion.htm?ss= LET ME TELL YOU TRUE As you must already know, I am quite over you. I barely think of you more than twenty times a day. Though I must confess that today, When I went all about town in what had been Just an incredibly gorgeous day -- 89 degrees Fahrenheit, Dry, even very dry, and absolutely sunny With a ten mile-per-hour steady breeze -- My thoughts of you had crossed my mind At more than twice the usual number-rate. Seems every great weather day reminds me of you. Otherwise I am fine and my recovery progresses. OK! I am not going to blame you for it. I feel that I am congenitally distracted. On Monday, now that was two days ago, It rained and rained, the entire day was hot and stuffy. Still my heart ran to you, I counted, Ninety-two sparate times. Then later during the selfsame day I stepped into a puddle. I dropped my umbrella, and soak and wet, I became distracted, so wasn't it better, Certainly more rigorously honest, That I should start my addition all over. Thus by bedtime, I had the new number, thirty-three, Which, of course, must be added to my first subtotal. I'm sure that you can compute my arithmatic here. In my own defense -- you no doubt recall -- Low barometric pressure has always had a bad effect on me. All right, let's get real! If we average out my daily count, Say over the last 365 days, One thing is abundantly clear, no mistake about it, I no longer spend my days just thinking of you. And let me tell you true, my thoughts turn to you No more than thirty-six times a day.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 18 December 2013
KNOCK OUT
As of this date, October 1, 2013, My YouTube Channel, Stanley Pacion, has 214,000 Hits, Single Page Visits SUBSCRIBE, Please. Full Text WORDS HERE (Show More) http://stanleypacion.blogspot.in/2013/10/knock-out.html ~~ Or ~ http://www.stanleypacion.com ~~ https://www.facebook.com/stanleypacion ~~ India EveryDay: http://83.170.91.156/video/u/StanleyPacion.htm?ss= KNOCK OUT Describing the awful upset, the melancholy, The force which has struck me so hard That I have seemingly become unconscious And have lost all capacity for right direction, Has me contradicting every principle of sacred philosophy. I am forced to postulate the existence of a physical soul. Your absence, the thought of your No longer being part of my life, has floored my spirit. I fear that my vitality has been stopped. My training in prayer has failed me. I lack the muscle strength and the great breath, Despite my belief in the audacity to hope, I want the stamina to continue the match. I have been hit, and I am down. I bleed, darling, I bleed. I struggle to my feet, I stand just before the ten-count. Your blow has opened a cut above my eye. What salve, what ointment staunches the blood! The men in my corner struggle to fix it. They will not let me face another round. The bell keeps clanging, I hear the terrible roar of the crowd. The referee enters center ring. I have lost the fight. KNOCK OUT Describing the awful upset, the melancholy, The force which has struck me so hard That I have seemingly become unconscious And have lost all capacity for right direction, Has me contradicting every principle of sacred philosophy. I am forced to postulate the existence of a physical soul. Your absence, the thought of your No longer being part of my life, has floored my spirit. I fear that my vitality has been stopped. My training in prayer has failed me. I lack the muscle strength and the great breath, Despite my belief in the audacity to hope, I want the stamina to continue the match. I have been hit, and I am down. I bleed, darling, I bleed. I struggle to my feet, I stand just before the ten-count. Your blow has opened a cut above my eye. What salve, what ointment staunches the blood! The men in my corner struggle to fix it. They will not let me face another round. The bell keeps clanging, I hear the terrible roar of the crowd. The referee enters center ring. I have lost the fight

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 06 October 2013
IMPOSSIBLE DREAM
of this date, October 1, 2013, My YouTube Channel, Stanley Pacion, has 214,000 Hits, Single Page Visits SUBSCRIBE, Please. Full Text WORDS HERE (Show More) http://stanleypacion.blogspot.in/2013/09/impossible-dream-lovers-question.html ~~ Or ~ http://www.stanleypacion.com ~~ https://www.facebook.com/stanleypacion ~~ India EveryDay: http://83.170.91.156/video/u/StanleyPacion.htm?ss=tru IMPOSSIBLE DREAM, A Lover's Question I have an astounding dream to report. It has me running down a long hall in the semi-darkness With a key in my hand. It's a cylindrical key, And on its end it has a single, protruding notch, The type of a key used to wind an antique clock. Mounted to the wall at the end of my run stands A giant, three-dimensional cartoon heart. Although hand-painted, it has a natural color. It seems the skin of a Red Delicious apple. On the right at the top of this wondrous heart A gold-metal strike plate sets up over against An aperture, the channel; I wonder if it leads To the lock that might open, release your heart? Have I the key? Or do I dream only to wake, Awaken to nightmare day of awful longing and ache? Have I lost my mind? Has logic betrayed me? Do I confuse dream wish with reality? Darling, answer me soon! Does my deep desire Verge on truth? Will anxiety cease? The promise of a new, peaceful kingdom Is it to be fulfilled, here, in the affirmative today? Now I stand before you, You, Love, my higher power, And the congregates sense the blasphemy; They whisper calumnies. They say that I am my father's son, "He is the boy from the hardware store! By whose authority has he the right to reveal, Who does he believe -- just who might he think he is When he revels in his midnight imaginings?" And me, their belligerence, The hostility of the locals does not concern me, Not a whit, though they rise up And ready to condemn me. I pray ... I might have definite answer, That I am prophet in this house, That I may begin this, my public ministry, positive, Carry hope for life anew, And have news extraordinary, good, for all to hear. Down a space eclipsed in semi-darkness, I run. I have a key in my hand. It's cylindrical; A single notch protrudes at its end. It seems the kind of key that winds an antique clock. Darling, please, your answer! Have I the key to open your heart, Or do I dream the impossible dream?

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 03 October 2013
RENDEZVOUS [Video Has Closed Captioning]
As of this date, October 1, 2013, My YouTube Channel, Stanley Pacion, has 214,000 Hits, Single Page Visits SUBSCRIBE, Please. Full Text WORDS HERE (Show More) http://stanleypacion.blogspot.in/2013/09/rendezvous.html ~~ Or ~ http://www.stanleypacion.com ~~ https://www.facebook.com/stanleypacion ~~ India EveryDay: http://83.170.91.156/video/u/StanleyPacion.htm?ss=tru RENDEZVOUS* Though it seems that we have grown distant, I am readily able to reach out and touch you. My feelings steadfast, my heart apparent, Even that this verse fails to mention your name. Albeit we are housed in poor mortal frame, Some one in a future time will think of us. However history conspires to hush our story, Destiny speaks and reveals to world The book in which all our days were already written. *A original love poem adapted from a verse by Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Balkhī, also known as Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī, and more popularly in the English-speaking world simply as Rumi. He was a 13th-century Persian poet.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 01 October 2013
PEARL NECKLACE An Adapatation of a Tagore Poem
As of this date, September 30, 2013, My YouTube Channel, Stanley Pacion, has 214,000 Hits, Single Page Visits SUBSCRIBE, Please. Full Text WORDS HERE (Show More) http://stanleypacion.blogspot.in/2013/09/pearl-necklace-original-poem-after.html ~~ Or ~ http://www.stanleypacion.com ~~ https://www.facebook.com/stanleypacion ~~ India EveryDay: http://83.170.91.156/video/u/StanleyPacion.htm?ss=tru PEARL NECKLACE* I shall travel to Hyderabad, And there select the very best of pearls for you. The stars have already wrought anklets to adore your feet. I plan to use the power of my tears To knot a strand of special luster to lay about your neck. Wealth and fame will come from you; These are things that Destiny has ordained. Yet this my sorrow remains absolutely my own. Behold the luminosity of the nacre, and appraise How the space tied between each of the jewels conspires, Enhances the subtlety of the array now falling upon your breasts. Touch with your fingers the magic of the spherical splendor. Walk to the mirror, look upon yourself -- what value, What elegance yours at the expense of my misery! I call upon you. Turn your heart about. Hurry home! Hurry back to my lips, And let me hold you in my arms again. *An original love poem, which I have adapted from Tagore's verse, "Chain of Pearls." Rabindranath Thakur, Anglicized to Tagore, and sometimes is referred to by his nickname, Gurudev. An Indian poet, Bengali, he had been awarded the Noble Prize for Literature in 1913.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 30 September 2013
SAD*
WORDS HERE (Show Info) OR ~ http://stanleypacion.blogspot.in/2013/09/sad.html ~~ OR ~ http://www.stanleypacion.com ~~ http://stanleypacion.blogspot.in/2012/02/sad-following-ancient-writers-relection.html ~~ http://www.indiaeveryday.in/video/u/StanleyPacion.htm?ss=true http://sites.google.com/site/stanleypacion/homepage http://stanleypacion.blogspot.in/2012/02/sad-following-ancient-writers-relection.html SAD* Etta, you do not seem to care if I am ill. Remember last week, when a pinched nerve Kept me in bed for most of the day? I could not walk, I began to panic, and Believed my back might never be right again. And your response, terrible, cold and unmoving, You declared what in my heart was already apparent; You told me that you had no aspirations, That if I sought a Florence Nightingale, I had barked up the wrong tree. It hurt most, when after a moment's reflection, I came to believe your response sounded rehearsed. It had a tone, which seemed practiced. You had actually precluded any concern. I had became lost to pain in an otherwise robust frame, And you had shown no worry, commiserated not a bit. Now that my health returns, and I am totally recovered, I must wonder, no matter how many the times You have claimed that you love me, If my being ill had not worried you in the least, What good is it to me to be well again. *Following an Ancient Writer's Reflection ************************* Previous Text SAD Etta, you do not seem to care if I am ill. Remember last week, when a pinched nerve Kept me in bed for most of the day? I could not walk, I began to panic, and Believed my back might never be right again. And your response, terrible, cold and unmoving, You declared what in my heart was already apparent; You told me that you had no aspirations, That if I sought a Florence Nightingale, I had looked up the wrong alley. It hurt most, when after a moment's reflection, I came to believe your response sounded rehearsed. It had a tone, which seemed practiced. You had actually precluded any concern. I had became lost to pain in an otherwise robust frame, And you had shown no worry, commiserated not a bit. Now that my health returns, and I am totally recovered I must wonder, If my being ill had not worried you at all, What good is it to me to be well again.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 11 September 2013
ALWAYS, After Pablo Neruda
As of this date, September 6, 2013, My YouTube Channel, Stanley Pacion, has 213,000 Hits, Single Page Visits SUBSCRIBE, Please. Full Text WORDS HERE (Show More) http://stanleypacion.blogspot.in/2013/09/always-after-pabloneruda-imnot.html ~~ Or ~ http://www.stanleypacion.com ~~ https://www.facebook.com/stanleypacion ~~ India EveryDay: http://83.170.91.156/video/u/StanleyPacion.htm?ss=tru ALWAYS, After Pablo Neruda I'm not concerned about those other men, The lovers who came before me. I could not care less! Forget about it. Your friends, those guys who had previous claim, Who boasted title to the blood rush of your heart, They mean nothing to me. Come to me carrying an old boyfriend on your shoulders. Show me that picture, The one which has a hundred men sniffing your hair. Conjure up a mother goddess image, A thousand guys nestling between your breasts, Or tell me that you have had acolytes adoring your feet. Flood me over as were your memories A monsoon river torrent, when in mid-July it empties The mountain-gulley slopes of Goa, And speeds the great, red earth out into the Sea of Arabia. Roar into me with the tidal wave of all your mementos. Show me the wrecked hopes, The twists and heaps of those tokens which at one time spelled The bleeding-heart intent of your now-drowned lovers. How wretchedly long the debris stretch, How deep and far your keepsakes tear inland over the coastline! What vanity dreams to withstand the timeless motion of the surf! Yet here I am. I wait. I am waiting for you, No matter what, or who it is, you may bring along. We are alone, we shall always be alone, We shall always be you and I. And here -- here is the time, The place, where, through the ages, Through worlds and worlds, through universes apart, In a flash out from the cycle of life after life. We are now at the moment. Our affection reaches beyond the stint of ordinary dimension. It has settled in for the term we call immortality.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 05 September 2013
MAKE BELIEVE
As of this date, August 6, 2013, MY CHANNEL has 210,000 + Single Page Visits SUBSCRIBE, Please. Full Text WORDS HERE (Show More) http://stanleypacion.blogspot.in/2013/08/make-believe.html ~~ Or ~ http://www.stanleypacion.com ~~ https://www.facebook.com/stanleypacion ~~ India EveryDay: http://83.170.91.156/video/u/StanleyPacion.htm?ss=tru MAKE BELIEVE I have an idea. Why not today, Even now, this very moment, However late the hour, We could act as if Neither one of us once allowed The words "I love you" to form upon our lips. Come on! What's with you? Given our situation, it's worth a try. Let's pretend we know not each other, That within us desire plays no role. Make believe that soul meeting soul Is silly stuff, a bit of romantic nonsense. Might we suppose that memories are absent, And the tumult of heartache, not a factor at all! Maybe then, at sunrise tomorrow, We awake and find that nothing remains between us, No more happiness or sorrow, No hint of regret or regard. Love, what love, love had never been ours. *Josephine L.A. Ranes' poem, "Let's Pretend," prompted my own verse version on the topic of make-believe. http://abeautifultragedyjosephine.blogspot.in/ Let's Pretend We'll act as if You never said "I love you." Pretend like we never wanted One another. Let's pretend We just don't care Today. Maybe then We really won't Tomorrow.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 06 August 2013
TRAVELER [Video HasClosed Captioning]
As of this date, 9 April, 2014, MY CHANNEL has 226,000 + Single Page Visits SUBSCRIBE, Please. Full Text WORDS HERE (Show More) http://stanleypacion.blogspot.in/2013/06/yet-another-love-poem.html ~~ Or ~ http://www.stanleypacion.com ~~ https://www.facebook.com/stanleypacion ~~ India EveryDay: http://83.170.91.156/video/u/StanleyPacion.htm?ss=tru TRAVELER I have a happy heart. Yes, indeed! I smack my lips at the prospect of life! I've said it! Knock me out, Or knock me down! Otherwise I would like to float around, Flying in the sun. All I ever wanted, All I ever wanted was to fly in the sun! Yet, though not to forget, Nothing quite matches The overall sensation of a hard tropical rain. O' me, I just want to have some fun. I love being a man about town, Chauffeured all over. Here and there, Like some impossibly fortunate traveler, Who, whatever the turn in the highway, Always sees great expectations, Blessed with the wisdom, which says, That within this moment rests all delight. How lucky I feel inside! I am just that type of guy, O' me, yes, why indeed, I just want to have some fun!

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 27 July 2013
YET ANOTHER LOVE POEM [Video Has Closed Captions]
As of this date, June 26, 2013, MY CHANNEL has 207,000 + Single Page Visits Full Text WORDS HERE (Show More) http://stanleypacion.blogspot.in/2013/06/yet-another-love-poem.html ~~ Or ~ http://www.stanleypacion.com ~~ https://www.facebook.com/stanleypacion ~~ India EveryDay: http://83.170.91.156/video/u/StanleyPacion.htm?ss=tru YET ANOTHER LOVE POEM Who do you love the best Me or one of the other boys, The others who have been part of your life? I believe you love me for my poems, And the other guys because of their good looks. Excuse me! I am sure that I know How those former lovers write. I would wager, their compositions stink! They are schoolboys at their lessons. Their vocabulary weak and grammar amiss. Their voice never amounts to truth For they have not learned, They are not practiced in language of the heart. A girl like you would never fall, Never give herself over to some inconsequential chap, Even were his house rich in goods, Or if he had a ton of money in the bank. Honestly, I doubt that it would be worth Any man's while to court you, useless, I would say, Unless he had verse at his command. You will have poetry in your life, and soulful adventure. You will have love, above all else, love! No! Not artful, not postures of love, but absolute love, All-out, heedless, besotted, running a muck, Head over heels, love, as if, you were God-struck. You will have an ardency whose heart-beat mirrors The atomic steady of electrons about a nucleus, An affection which possesses an endurance Beyond any artifact of marble, any work of bronze, And puts to shame the pretense of those ancients, The builders of the pyramids of Egypt, or those others Who had disguised their vanity by erecting stone and rock Into momuments of heights and circles, What sophistry they practiced, As if they staked a claim of victory over time! The love you will have, its heart has a color and brightness, Same as those beacons from the farthest reaches of space-time, A light by which all other lights are measured, Yes, an endurance which has its match in the starry images Travelling since just those few moments after Creation, So lovely, so lasting, though all else around it, dark and foreboding. Too bad, honey! Too bad for you! You must know, and would you, please, Tell the other suitors, please, think on it a bit, Who is the man, who may compare, or even place A reasonable second in the ultimate competition, Who but me might win the race for your heart? Sorry! But it's over, no choice, It is just the luck, the fate which has befallen you. Its story line, no earthly origin, not an everyday script, The author knows when the sparrow falls, He has count of the hairs upon your head. He has conceived the architecture of the heavens. Understand, accept, and willingly embrace Wisdom, Let me call it, Destiny, and proclaim, You have won the election. A bright new day floods the horizon. Mercy on whom mercy has has been granted, and Compassion on whom compassion has been bestowed, Not by any act or exercise of human volition. But by the power of heaven and its justice.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 28 June 2013
FIRE IN THE BRAIN [Video has Closed Captioning]
As of this date, August 10, 2014, MY YouTube CHANNEL has 234,000 + Single Page Visits Full Text WORDS HERE (Show More) http://stanleypacion.blogspot.in/2013/06/fire-in-brain_26.html ~~ Or ~ http://www.stanleypacion.com ~~ https://www.facebook.com/stanleypacion ~~ India EveryDay: http://83.170.91.156/video/u/StanleyPacion.htm?ss=tru FIRE IN THE BRAIN Children watch me run through the streets, And wonder, what is it all about, my hurrying. My eyes push forward, Cause me to squint. Then all at once I break into a smile. And night after night in steady flow Ideas collect, press fierce, Hard against my brow. The pressure makes for heat; There is fire in the brain. I hear words march with noise Akin to soldiers' boots slapping on pavement. I see your gaze upon me. The beauty of your large brown eyes Engulfs my neural circuitry. Oh I smell wheat grass! It's being blended with fresh strawberries and oranges. I love the juices' heady odor, When ever I breathe it in -- I am reminded of you. We looked out the window. We sat upon stools at a Formica bar, A long, plate-glass window provided unobstructed view, And we people watched the intersection, Corners at avenue and street, the sidewalk before us, They became our theater, and we agreed; It was pleasant evening's entertainment. Pressed, cardboard cartons contained our suppers. We ate our meals with plastic forks and knives; The napkins were brown, recycled paper. Believe me, no irony intended. Honest! Every memory, every instant My being with you, every occasion was lovely! I shall die a happy man. Die a happy man? Here's my defense. However I may wonder, Whether ultimately I write fact or fiction. Do I possess truth or fall to illusion? I know that those two forces bind me, As is the case with Siamese Twins, Who are born to share common cerebrum. In a language plain, common to us all, Here I stand and bear witness, Though that I am mere flesh and born to perish, Spirit informs me and grants me friends, Friends who are awaiting worship, And friends of friends who celebrate the light, A priesthood of all believers who patiently gather Filling the rows of benches in the meeting hall. And one by one this church affirms a new covenant -- God is love and death has no power, The kingdom lives within us, our souls eternal.

By : Stanley Pacion     Added : 26 June 2013

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