“The most beautiful people we have known
are those who have known defeat, known suffering,
known struggle, known loss, and have found
their way out of the depths. These persons
have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and
an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern.
Beautiful people do not just happen.”~ Elisabeth Kübler-Ross
The painful feeling arising from the consciousness of something dishonourable, improper, ridiculizes a person.
Or done by one person to another
SHAME Verb: to cause Shame and humiliate a person arises from conditioning response found in ancient misinformation passed down through mainly indoctrinated family trees encompassing “Man Made Religion” found now to be interpreted as Fact is not a fact at all. ( God must cry )
IDIOMS include Shame: you Shame: feel ashamed ( shocking, cruel thing to say to others )
Self-mutilation of character
The Human Race has been used by evil ideals to undermind our intelligence, to cause lifelong scars in humans that never heal.
The WORD, SHAME belongs in the same category as Hate, Racism, Ignorance, narcist self-absorbed individual-referred as a narcist troubled with the pompous self-righteousness of self-importance without the regard for a poor soul that you were supposed to support and love, how shockingly cruel are you to shame a loved one.
Yes, a mouthful here to think about!
Kindness using words in the English Language may save humanity and save the Government taxpayers money in the health system Treating Mental Illness.
Many Words in the English Language cause mental illness.
Ask for forgiveness, not rewards when the term used called SHAME spue them from your mouth.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door
“‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more”
“The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.”Triune, shaping, restless power,
Life-flow from life’s natal hour,
No music chords are in thy sound;
By some thou’rt but a rattle found;
Yet, without thy ceaseless motion,
To ice would turn their dead devotion
Life-flow of my natal hour,
I will not weary of thy power,
Till in the changes of thy sound
A chord’s three parts distinct are found
I will faithful move with thee,
God-ordered, self-fed energy,
Nature in eternity
You have the grit and the guts, I know;
You are ready to answer blow for blow
You are virile, combative, stubborn, hard,
But your honor ends with your own back-yard;
Each man intent on his private goal,
You have no feeling for the whole;
What singly none would tolerate
You let unpunished hit the state,
Unmindful that each man must share
The stain he lets his country wear,
And (what no traveller ignores)
That her good name is often yours.
You are proud in the pride that feels its might;
From your imaginary height
Men of another race or hue
Are men of a lesser breed to you:
The neighbor at your southern gate
You treat with the scorn that has bred his hate.
To lend a spice to your disrespect
You call him the “greaser”. But reflect!
The greaser has spat on you more than once;
He has handed you multiple affronts;
He has robbed you, banished you, burned and killed;
He has gone untrounced for the blood he spilled;
He has jeering used for his bootblack’s rag
The stars and stripes of the gringo’s flag;
And you, in the depths of your easy-chair —
What did you do, what did you care?
Did you find the season too cold and damp
To change the counter for the camp?
Were you frightened by fevers in Mexico?
I can’t imagine, but this I know —
You are impassioned vastly more
By the news of the daily baseball score
Than to hear that a dozen countrymen
Have perished somewhere in Darien,
That greasers have taken their innocent lives
And robbed their holdings and raped their wives.
Not by rough tongues and ready fists
Can you hope to jilt in the modern lists.
The armies of a littler folk
Shall pass you under the victor’s yoke,
Sobeit a nation that trains her sons
To ride their horses and point their guns —
Sobeit a people that comprehends
The limit where private pleasure ends
And where their public dues begin,
A people made strong by discipline
Who are willing to give — what you’ve no mind to —
And understand — what you are blind to —
The things that the individual
Must sacrifice for the good of all.
You have a leader who knows — the man
Most fit to be called American,
A prophet that once in generations
Is given to point to erring nations
Brighter ideals toward which to press
And lead them out of the wilderness.
Will you turn your back on him once again?
Will you give the tiller once more to men
Who have made your country the laughing-stock
For the older peoples to scorn and mock,
Who would make you servile, despised, and weak,
A country that turns the other cheek,
Who care not how bravely your flag may float,
Who answer an insult with a note,
Whose way is the easy way in all,
And, seeing that polished arms appal
Their marrow of milk-fed pacifist,
Would tell you menace does not exist?
Are these, in the world’s great parliament,
The men you would choose to represent
Your honor, your manhood, and your pride,
And the virtues your fathers dignified?
Oh, bury them deeper than the sea
In universal obloquy;
Forget the ground where they lie, or write
For epitaph: “Too proud to fight.”
I have been too long from my country’s shores
To reckon what state of mind is yours,
But as for myself I know right well
I would go through fire and shot and shell
And face new perils and make my bed
In new privations, if ROOSEVELT led;
But I have given my heart and hand
To serve, in serving another land,
Ideals kept bright that with you are dim;
Here men can thrill to their country’s hymn,
For the passion that wells in the Marseillaise
Is the same that fires the French these days,
And, when the flag that they love goes by,
With swelling bosom and moistened eye
They can look, for they know that it floats there still
By the might of their hands and the strength of their will,
And through perils countless and trials unknown
Its honor each man has made his own.
They wanted the war no more than you,
But they saw how the certain menace grew,
And they gave two years of their youth or three
The more to insure their liberty
When the wrath of rifles and pennoned spears
Should roll like a flood on their wrecked frontiers.
They wanted the war no more than you,
But when the dreadful summons blew
And the time to settle the quarrel came
They sprang to their guns, each man was game;
And mark if they fight not to the last
For their hearths, their altars, and their past:
Yea, fight till their veins have been bled dry
For love of the country that WILL not die.
O friends, in your fortunate present ease
(Yet faced by the self-same facts as these),
If you would see how a race can soar
That has no love, but no fear, of war,
How each can turn from his private role
That all may act as a perfect whole,
How men can live up to the place they claim
And a nation, jealous of its good name,
Be true to its proud inheritance,
Oh, look over here and learn from FRANCE!
~ A Message to America with respect for Past Presidents
Wherever I am, there’s always Pooh,
There’s always Pooh and Me.
Whatever I do, he wants to do,
“Where are you going today?” says Pooh:
“Well, that’s very odd ‘cos I was too.
Let’s go together,” says Pooh, says he.
“Let’s go together,” says Pooh.
“What’s twice eleven?” I said to Pooh.
(“Twice what?” said Pooh to Me.)
“I think it ought to be twenty-two.”
“Just what I think myself,” said Pooh.
“It wasn’t an easy sum to do,
But that’s what it is,” said Pooh, said he.
“That’s what it is,” said Pooh.
“Let’s look for dragons,” I said to Pooh.
“Yes, let’s,” said Pooh to Me.
We crossed the river and found a few-
“Yes, those are dragons all right,” said Pooh.
“As soon as I saw their beaks I knew.
That’s what they are,” said Pooh, said he.
“That’s what they are,” said Pooh.
“Let’s frighten the dragons,” I said to Pooh.
“That’s right,” said Pooh to Me.
“I’m not afraid,” I said to Pooh,
And I held his paw and I shouted “Shoo!
Silly old dragons!”- and off they flew.
“I wasn’t afraid,” said Pooh, said he,
“I’m never afraid with you.”
So wherever I am, there’s always Pooh,
There’s always Pooh and Me.
“What would I do?” I said to Pooh,
“If it wasn’t for you,” and Pooh said: “True,
It isn’t much fun for One, but Two,
Can stick together, says Pooh, says he. “That’s how it is,” says Pooh.
Dearest and most precious friends of our Lord, I pray and trust that those of you whom God has opened your hearts and mind receiving his words will in his blessings of enlightenment make you his witness e days ahead. For many carries, their lives in being ente, trained and all events will catch up on them and will be blind as to how to handle coming situations.
Remember the return to vibrations anew will come quickly for those children of God when certain moments manifest, for those who have surrendered to Gods Love will be his Glory.
To others, many of you are to be his, witnesses in the unfolding s of the old vibrations as we have brought upon ourselves. Trust in your relationship with the eternal and see the answers he has given to you, for deep within you lays the truth you had failed to understand its importance.
At this coming time it is no point in seeking the reasons why you were blind to his light, but to become the understandings that will be revealed within you in this time to come.
The quest of each of you who came upon this beautiful Mother Earth was to return it, and all who dwell upon it to Love. To return to God not the inflated egos of ones who felt they no longer needed the Eternal and have since created a greater separation from reality and caused much pain to many, while the others slept in a false reality.
Events are unfolding, seek you first God and the love of, for it will remove you to a place sacred from the beginning. Then many who remain will give witness to these end times and its separation from Life. Let Love be your incentive. Amen.
Blessings. Luke Le Bree.
YOU’RE SO PERFECT! You’re SPEC-TA-CULAR! How-can-I-be-here? speaking-in-“The-Vernacular?” I-should-have BY-NOW!! learned-the-language-OF-AMOUR! The fact that I haven’t, makes me so sore, At myself! So-I-doubt-that-I-should-even-BE, In-the-same-realm – as-one SUCH AS THEE! How can I even exist? in a world – pure enough, To-sustain your very presence? To “house” your “shaggy muff?” I should PROBABLY – just kill myself! and do it right soon, EXCEPT!? Wait-a-second! AM I BEING “A LOON?” For- to-adore-and-comfort-you, PEOPLE ARE NEEDED!! So, it’s-GOOD-that-I’m here; it’s OTHERS!-that -should-be-“weeded,” And-sent to-PARALLEL-UNIVERSES! to study and learn, That: WORSHIP OF YOU – is-what they should discern, As – The-Greatest-Joy-AND – The-Greatest-Opportunity-IN-ANY-LIFE! And every man should aspire – to make YOU his wife! I’m just SO EXCITED now, to know that I matter, To know that The-Good-Lord’s “programmed”-me to-make real good “batter,” So-I-can-make REAL GOOD COOKIES, for YOU, my DEAR – to eat! I long to feed – and to fill you up – and to massage -ee your tiny feet, And listen to your every murmur – and write them all down too, And recite the sweetest poetry – and sing LOVE SONGS for you! I’ll-feed-“your-significant,”- when-she’s-hungry-hold-“your-paw”-IF-you-be-scared! Yeah!-I-might-be-slightly-“OVERBOARD,”-but-I’m-SURE-we-are-WELL-PAIRED! So, let me get your special dinner, and I’ll-put-it in your special dish, And, as you breathe-heavily – at-The-Full-Moon – I’ll hope you get your wish: That-I’ll-turn-into-a-STUD-ly – English Terrier! And that, TOGETHER! we’ll howl-and-shag – (and) make-The-World – a-lot-merrier!
“JUST A CRAZY, LOVE-SICK OBSERVER!” a poem MoonDay: Jan. 7, 2019
Is-it so-silly? Is-it so-wrong? To-lie-here, beside-you, and-look at you? long? And-to-firmly-believe: YOU’RE-THE-PRETTIEST-THING-I’VE(ever)SEEN, Or-ever-will-see? Or-that I’D-LIKE TO CLEAN: Every-inch of your body, your front – and-back-side, When-I’m-sure – any-“impurites” (that-have-been) close-to-you, are-(quite)-purified? Your hair – and your-features, they-drive me quite mad! You’re-the-closest-thing-TO-HEAVEN! that-I’ve ever-had, And I really do think that I’m not qualified, Or – worthy -of-being-close-to-you – and I’M TERRIFIED!! Of-ever-losing this-feeling, of love for you, Dear; I-just-guess I’ve ONE WISH, which I say, with a tear! Here’s-my-wish: THAT-I-ALWAYS – ADORE-YOU AS MUCH, AS-I-DO RIGHT-THIS-INSTANT! and-I-DO-love-to-touch, EVERY-thing-connected, with sweets thoughts of you, “The-Adoration-of-The-Magi” – has-(such)-a- “pale-hue,” When-I compare-it -with:-MY-“LOST” POINT-OF-VIEW, That-places-you – on-“a-pedestal!” And-I-am-bound-to, Adore-you – and Love-you, for-I’ve-“lost-a-my-mind,” Let-me-stare-at-you-FOREVER! while-I-scratch your “behind!” Y’know -IF-The-World-didn’t-“overlook” -this-here-KOOKY-ROMANTIC, THEY’d-lock-me-away, with-a label:-“UN-PEDANTIC!” I’m-not-sure-what-that-(label)-means, and I guess I-DON’T-care, [THEY-say:] “The-World-loves-a-lover!” Well-I-(just)-like-to stare! 🙂 -Mmm – mm!
fin <3 Postscriptual-poem: I-don’t-believe-in: GOD!! Heaven – or Hell! Or-of-any set future! that-any-one-can-tell! So, why do I lie here, staring-at-your-bod, &-just -keep-on-saying: “Oh, God, God, oh, God!?”