Robin Williams Fulfilled Terminal Cancer Patient’s Bucket List Item

We learn, every day, every moment. Compassion! the highest principle in life

Project Light to Life

Just before I was about to meet a friend in New York City, who works for ABC News, she texted me saying that Robin Williams had just died. Like nearly everyone I know, I was so sad to hear this news. Not only was Williams a great actor, but he also seems to have had a great heart. As a bucket list blogger, I was pleased to discover this article that illustrates how Williams helped a 21-year-old mother with terminal cancer fulfill an item on her bucket list.


Photo taken from the Huffington Post website.

This article about Williams and Vivian Waller is a must read!

What do you guys think?

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And the Winter Drew On

Silent Songs

The wind was cold and wet. It took with it the yellow leaves that were left on the the trees. Autumn had announced its entry, as usual, in a grey and grim manner. A few birds flew about but there was no song to be heard. The only sound was that of the rustling of the leaves flying listlessly and aimlessly. Leaves that had done their share of service, their share of duty and now made redundant, useless and invalid.

The eternal law of change implementing itself in nature and society. Nothing remains permanent other than the continual change. Every aspect of nature exhibits the merciless quality of transience. All that apparently is moves on into eternal oblivion. The ever changing phases of nature brings home the bitter the question that we have been putting ourselves, in the dark and unseen depths of our souls: what will be tomorrow?


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The Letterbox

Silent Songs

Autumn had arrived and everything was shrouded in a bleak shade of miserable grey. The skies looked sad and lost, and resembled a vast old tattered sheet of soiled cotton. An occasional flurry of wind lifted the drowsy listless leaves on the trees. Yellow and red leaves littered the streets reminding everyone that autumn had arrived.

The jackets were out again. Passersby wore hats and mufflers protected them from the winds. Hanging heads, unsmiling faces were all around. A mournful cloud hung low over the entire place.

An ambulance raced past, lights flashing and the sirens shattering the fragile silence that lay like an enormous film over the village. Someone was struggling to keep his physical frame alive. The last tangible connection to a tangible but inexplicable world. Either he would survive the struggle and manage to live on in an unkind world or he would leave behind an inanimate…

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Trapped in Freedom

My comment inspired by helenvalentina

The poet in the heart
The tortured soul
Caught between the tears
And the smiles
Words that grow
Out of burning fires
Eating the heart
Seeking solace
Bent with pain
Never in vain
Bold and weak
The poet speaks
Trapped behind memories
Free enough to speak

© The Rebel 08.11.2014

The Devil in Divine Robes

We have sold our souls and become slaves. No exclamation sign is needed here as a punctuation, for the established truth is we have lost  our sense of individuality to hang our heads in shame. In fact, we have proudly become shameless.

We have sold our families to the corporate giants, who determine our welfare, our sense of wellbeing, our sense of individuality, and, even, how to use our intellect.

We stand in supermarkets and willingly submit to the subtle commands issued by what is technically called strategic positioning. We have filled our homes with industrial junk. We have brought ourselves down to abject intellectual poverty.

We have let our needs, wants and desires be dictated. We have sold ourselves into a modern slavery of industrial abuse. We are proud of our material wealth and forget that we have, as human beings, gifted with the wealth of intellectual discrimination between the good and the bad, come down to the level of subjugated animals.

Our eyes are blinded by the glitter of apparent givers of happiness. We are not satisfied with the largest television on the shelf. We need bigger ones, shinier ones, more expensive ones. We need the most expensive cars but we are not ready to pay for food. We are ready to eat the mass produced rubbish sold for a pittance.

We are ready to spend hours in the office, while our children spend their time with electronic devices. These devices are the new substitutes for parents. We have come of age to decide that unthinking devices can replace the love of human creatures.

Men have impoverished themselves. They seek their definition in the most expensive suit! A well dressed man? That man’s existence is defined and determined by the corporate tag that hangs on his prostituted frame.

Women have sold their identity! The feminine charm can only be defined by the jewels that come the most expensive of industrial giants. There is no feminine charm, only a gross advertisement.

Gone are the days of men that revelled in intellectual banter. We are in the age where the proverbial masculine strength of the mind has been sold in the brothels of industrial prostitution to effectively market high class products that rob the poor wretch of his individuality as a human being

Gone are the day of bra burning feminism. We need, today, more silicone balloons and saline bags that turn the feminine breasts into voluptuous bags of disproportional baggage.

We have forgotten that our individuality and our beauty and our charms are not in the external hideousness but in the inner beauty of human simplicity that we are throwing away so foolishly.

We have forgotten that our happiness can never come from external objects. We need to realise that happiness is in our very self. We need to go into our own self to access that happiness and not out into the ridiculous world of materialistic nonsense. If we do, we are going to grasp only the idiocy that can verily put our souls in fetters.

We have brought back slavery but in an apparently beautiful costume. The devil in divine robes is here. Shame on us and that includes me, too.

© The Rebel 08.11.2014

In The Rain

Before you read this, please read

The lines below were inspired by hers

In the shade I seek the light
In pain i find my smiles
A hundred unsent letters
The words are my fetters
My lips are sealed.silent
My silence is eloquent
One day, I know, you will read
And I know your heart will bleed
Memories do not simply die
In the heart asleep they lie
One day, I know, you will read
And know how my heart did bleed
I always loved the torrential rain
It always helped me, while in pain
I am still wandering on my wayward track
I know, one day, you will look, turning back

© The Rebel 07.11.2014

And now?

Your words are full of lies
There’s no life in your eyes
You radiate rabid dishonesty
It is all false, your modesty
Ah! Your lips! They cannot kiss
You do not know that bliss
Your arms cannot embrace
You are a simply a disgrace
You talk about education
All you mean is fornication
Love? It’s unknown to you
Your heart is dead! It is true
Compassion for you is a foreign word
A word that you have never ever heard
Understanding you haven’t got
On the universe you are a blot
On the womb that bore you, you are a blight
You came upon the earth to extinguish the light
You draped the world with the cloak of your sin
And soaked the earth with the blood of your kin
Your preached about a god of mercy, you swore in his name
You slaughtered his creation in his name for your bloody fame
You poisoned the earth and the air and called yourself great
You sang the song of love but you sowed the seeds of hate
And now? My spring is dry, the words are dead
The dreams are killed, the breath is gone
The tears are dry, the lips are parched
The song has lost its melody
The melody has lost her soul
Life has declared her rejection
Death has shouted his refusal
The doors are closed the path is gone
The carriage stands, the horse is dead
The past yells from behind!
The future is dumb
And now?

© The Rebel 07.11.2014

Reverie of a soul in Agony

Holding her as I would a slender stem of jasmine in my arms,
I shall partake of the milky wine that flows from the goblet of the skies
Do I really care for the vagaries of this futile world full of follies
For I shall sink in stupor upon her alabaster breast to dream
And erotic stars of my intoxicated realm will gush forth in flood
As poems that will carry away the ugly face of the human world

I went by the rules and followed umpteen regulations
Qualities, they told me, to hold my head high and erect
Behind the screen of the infernal night, the elevated ones
Fornicated! The world did not see, for the darkness helped.
Those that stepped back and maintained decorum well,
Suffered the rod on the back and hot iron to the face
The silent secret orgasms of the pristine souls
The execution of the principled that followed the rules

Mine eyes I close and my spine hugs the patient earth.
Pour into me the potion of exuberant intoxication
To drown my racing mind in the ocean of oblivion
Let the orgasm of slumber descend into the turbulent depths
Of my tortured soul and I shall flee this foible from hence in haste
The rape of a tortured intellect! Thoughts squirting steaming blood
Kindness that was strung up the gallows, with laughter as music
The putrid remains of the massive carcass of society decomposing
Upon the amphitheatre of a futile world! Honoured by time

Pour into me in copious streams the exotic wine of death
That will still keep my crumbling futile frame alive
I lived breathing the air poisoned by heinous souls
Ah! my loins stir with fire of a million volcanoes
Waiting to flood the accursed universe, in wrath,
With the fiery lava, carrying the stench of my unbridled love
My seething hate singeing the charred fibres of my pounding heart
Throbbing in the hidden depths of my tortured soul
A strangulated spasm and scream suspended in space
From the monumental gallows of a despicable world
My death shall shake the iron heart of the sanguine earth
My ghost shall walk abroad, haunting the world lost in sleep
Ripping their heart in a bloody mess with a roaring laughter
That will crush its soul, but delivering no death

Pour into my waiting mouth the potion of burning intoxication
And I shall pass from this cesspool of the devil’s heaven
Let me lay my tired head upon your voluptuous breasts
And close my swollen eyes as your charming eyes of the blackest pearls
Pour into my fatigued soul the viscous potion of vicious death.
But die I shall not, I will not, survive I shall the kiss of murder
Your annihilating embrace I shall metamorphose with a smile
Into a never ending coitus and your everlasting orgasm of pain
That will echo in the deepest chambers of a million hells

© The Rebel 07.11.2014

Yesterday Today

To understand the lines below please read Bianca’s lovely poem Yesterday

The rising waters of maturity have gently and consistently smoothened
The jagged edges of rocks once carved by youth’s enslavement
Is now the will to rebel, to oppose, to fight in some way hardened?
Or is it now, in an advanced stage of resignation, an inner retirement?

The words still carry the chill of the ice and the singeing heat
The outer trembling calm betrays not the turbulence beneath
And yet, in the the subtle cracks that stain the words, I hear the beat
Of the trestless sword still hissing with life within a sheath

Would you now uproot every weed of injustice, would you?
The fingers twitch, the eyes aflame, yes, the will is there
The youth, indeed, was an altered concept, yesterday, true!
The yesterdays are not gone, even today, they the old fire share!

Have you forgotten yourself in yesterday? a rueful little thought,
That betrayed, ever so gently, the tears against which you fought?

© The Rebel 06.11.2014