(brief renderings) Joe Fazio
(dcar) ..............Wisdome - Poem by (brief renderings) Joe Fazio
Liquor and woman and
drugs and kids...something is not right
about that mix. If that is true and it is...
why do so many do it?
People keep tellin' me how good I look.
Why is it I feel so bad inside. Perhaps
it's the manifestation of some
of my past deeds.
All the lights of Vegas can not
compare to the light in you eyes
and the heat of the desert seems
cold compared to the warmth
of your heart.
They might be some I might give my
life for but none I would live my life for.
My life is mine alone and I shall live
it in my own way and on my own terms.
I acknowledge that at times I will be
in error, so be it... for that is life.
How can you make me feel the worst I
have ever felt in my life and be the
same person that makes me feel
as though I own the world?
Money and that which is materialistic
erodes with the passing of time;
while knowledge knows no season
One shall never discover greatness
on the road of imitation.
It has been said that mans home is his
kingdom. While that might be true on
earth, is it not possible that in Heaven
above, it is but a speck of sand
beneath the feet of God?
Charity for ulterior motives, is but a
selfish act in disguise.
If you tell me of our history, I will
learn of the lives of great men and
women, who are immortalized in
scores of documents and books.
What of the millions of others, who
are not recorded the the 'Great Books? '
Who will they be remembered by and
where will their names be found?
Can it be, the sum total of human life,
is but their date of death upon a stone?
A preoccupation with the thought of death,
is a forfeiture of the joy of life.
Death is the mother of darkness, or the
mother of light; depending on how one
has lived their life.
I have little regard for most media; for
they are parasites, who prosper at the
cost of the misery and despair of others.
Could it be that disasters of nature,
are a reminder from God, that He is?
The history of every country is carved by
the hand of man, while the hope and love
of humanity, is born of a womens soul.
You were the sunshine...
in the shadows of my life.
Now...I shall never see you again, and
the shadows...grow darker ever more.
Like leaves floating from a maple in
autumn, so to do the days of life,
fall silently into the great beyond.
Come...feast with me;
for the table of life, is abundant,
with the mysteries of existence.
Is a reason to live,
and a reason to die...
drawn from the same pool of reason?
Faith, is the light, that guides
one through the dark corridors of life.
The trick in life, is to know the answers,
before the questions are asked.
I don't know if I hold on to the past,
or the past holds on to me.
You are my dream of the past...
and my ghost of the future.
My writing, is the life raft,
that prevents my drowning,
in a turbulent sea of reality.
I weep for all the things that use to be.
I weep for all...which will never be.
In the end,
there is but one thing that truly matters;
love...or the absence of it.
Most men, are at best, students of history.
For few, will ever become, makers of history.
One knows true anguish, when words
fail to describe their pain...their tears
...their heart break.
Why in daylight do we not hear the owl,
the cricket, the howl of the wolf, or
countless other sounds of the night?
Perhaps they are weary and sleep
throughout the light of day, only to wake
at night and raise their voices, in protest,
of what they perceive to be,
never ending darkness.
Life is the ultimate gamble. In order to
receive returns, one must risk the giving of
love; the gift of trust, and the nakedness and
vulnerability of truth and unguarded emotions.
Far to many people in life use one as a
trash receptacle, for their personal garbage
and emotional problems. Be weary, least
you become too full of the trash in life
and have little room left for that which could
bring you happiness.
Many, on life's long path have envisioned
dreams of greatness, however, few
`dreamers' accomplished that which they
From the beginning, we have been a
country of dreamers, and for some, the
dream becomes reality. For most, and
sadly so, the dreams of which they yearn,
is a timeless and conflicting clash with reality,
embraced in a refuge in the mind and
heart, called hope.
While it is true the Lord blesses us all, it
is also true, that here on earth, He blesses
some, more than others.
Life: mans eternal search to find the
meaning of himself and the justification
for his existence.
Life's true meaning, lies within the interaction
of ones fellow human beings.
The true essence of life can not be measured
by material well being, or by social statue,
but rather what lies within the heart and
conscious of ones self.
They who are pure of heart, will inherit that
which is most sought in human existence.
Some, like summer breeze, just float
through life; while others are destine to
constantly attempt to steel themselves
against the rage, misfortune and futility of
Few can ever realistically enjoy the fruits
of their labor; for they are consumed by the
rigorous demands of life.
For most, the serenity of mind we seek,
is far to evasive to be discovered. We are
compelled, for the sake of mere survival,
to expend all of our energy to merely exist.
Take great care that you do not follow the legions
of lost people; for in their improprieties and in
their rejection of the God within them, they have
forsaken not only Him but themselves.
© Joe Fazio
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