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I really wanted the MTV Award the most, It was a golden popcorn container and it looks really neat.

quote by Kirsten Dunst
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The Scripture of the Golden Eternity

1
Did I create that sky? Yes, for, if it was anything other than a conception in my mind I wouldnt have said 'Sky'-That is why I am the golden eternity. There are not two of us here, reader and writer, but one, one golden eternity, One-Which-It-Is, That-Which- Everything-Is.

2
The awakened Buddha to show the way, the chosen Messiah to die in the degradation of sentience, is the golden eternity. One that is what is, the golden eternity, or, God, or, Tathagata-the name. The Named One. The human God. Sentient Godhood. Animate Divine. The Deified One. The Verified One. The Free One. The Liberator. The Still One. The settled One. The Established One. Golden Eternity. All is Well. The Empty One. The Ready One. The Quitter. The Sitter. The Justified One. The Happy One.

3
That sky, if it was anything other than an illusion of my mortal mind I wouldnt have said 'that sky.' Thus I made that sky, I am the golden eternity. I am Mortal Golden Eternity.

4
I was awakened to show the way, chosen to die in the degradation of life, because I am Mortal Golden Eternity.

5
I am the golden eternity in mortal animate form.

6
Strictly speaking, there is no me, because all is emptiness. I am empty, I am non-existent. All is bliss.

7
This truth law has no more reality than the world.

8
You are the golden eternity because there is no me and no you, only one golden eternity.

9
The Realizer. Entertain no imaginations whatever, for the thing is a no-thing. Knowing this then is Human Godhood.

10
This world is the movie of what everything is, it is one movie, made of the same stuff throughout, belonging to nobody, which is what everything is.

11
If we were not all the golden eternity we wouldnt be here. Because we are here we cant help being pure. To tell man to be pure on account of the punishing angel that punishes the bad and the rewarding angel that rewards the good would be like telling the water 'Be Wet'-Never the less, all things depend on supreme reality, which is already established as the record of Karma earned-fate.

12
God is not outside us but is just us, the living and the dead, the never-lived and never-died. That we should learn it only now, is supreme reality, it was written a long time ago in the archives of universal mind, it is already done, there's no more to do.

13
This is the knowledge that sees the golden eternity in all things, which is us, you, me, and which is no longer us, you, me.

14
What name shall we give it which hath no name, the common eternal matter of the mind? If we were to call it essence, some might think it meant perfume, or gold, or honey. It is not even mind. It is not even discussible, groupable into words; it is not even endless, in fact it is not even mysterious or inscrutably inexplicable; it is what is; it is that; it is this. We could easily call the golden eternity 'This.' But 'what's in a name?' asked Shakespeare. The golden eternity by another name would be as sweet. A Tathagata, a God, a Buddha by another name, an Allah, a Sri Krishna, a Coyote, a Brahma, a Mazda, a Messiah, an Amida, an Aremedeia, a Maitreya, a Palalakonuh, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 would be as sweet. The golden eternity is X, the golden eternity is A, the golden eternity is /\, the golden eternity is O, the golden eternity is [ ], the golden eternity is t-h-e-g-o-l-d-e-n-e-t-e-r- n-i-t-y. In the beginning was the word; before the beginning, in the beginningless infinite neverendingness, was the essence. Both the word 'god' and the essence of the word, are emptiness. The form of emptiness which is emptiness having taken the form of form, is what you see and hear and feel right now, and what you taste and smell and think as you read this. Wait awhile, close your eyes, let your breathing stop three seconds or so, listen to the inside silence in the womb of the world, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, re-recognize the bliss you forgot, the emptiness and essence and ecstasy of ever having been and ever to be the golden eternity. This is the lesson you forgot.

15
The lesson was taught long ago in the other world systems that have naturally changed into the empty and awake, and are here now smiling in our smile and scowling in our scowl. It is only like the golden eternity pretending to be smiling and scowling to itself; like a ripple on the smooth ocean of knowing. The fate of humanity is to vanish into the golden eternity, return pouring into its hands which are not hands. The navel shall receive, invert, and take back what'd issued forth; the ring of flesh shall close; the personalities of long dead heroes are blank dirt.

16
The point is we're waiting, not how comfortable we are while waiting. Paleolithic man waited by caves for the realization of why he was there, and hunted; modern men wait in beautified homes and try to forget death and birth. We're waiting for the realization that this is the golden eternity.

17
It came on time.

[...] Read more

poem by Jack Kerouac
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Popcorn Love

Dont you know, dont you know, dont you know
Its the real thing, girl
They say its popcorn love
But its more than that to me
Popcorn love
Just wait, they will see
Its popcorn love
Every morning, noon and night
Popcorn love
Dont you know, dont you know
Its the real thing, girl
When we go on those special dates
Were always holding hands
Were never, ever late
Youre on my mind all the time
I keep thinking (I keep thinking)
Thinking (I keep thinking)
I keep thinking (thinking of you)
Popcorn love
But its more than that to me
Popcorn love
Just wait, they will see
Popcorn love
Every morning, noon and night
Popcorn love
Dont you know, dont you know
Its the real thing, girl
I go to school and then I come straight home
The first thing that I do is call you on the phone
The things you say, uh, really make my day
I need you, girl, in every kind of way
I keep thinking
Im just thinking
I keep thinking (thinking)
Thinking (thinking)
Thinking (thinking)
Thinking
Thats right
Thats right
Thats right
Thats right
Ah p is for her personality
I said the o is for originality
And the other p is for the perfect love she gives to me
The c is just cause she loves me
And the o means shes the only love I got
And the r and the n, our love will never end
Well, I know, I know its the real thing
Because she told me so
And I know, I know its the real thing

[...] Read more

song performed by New Edition
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Buttered Popcorn

My baby likes
(Buttered popcorn) Uh-huh!
(Buttered popcorn) Oh-hoh!
(Buttered popcorn) Oh yeah!
(Buttered popcorn) Oh!
He likes it greasy (buttered popcorn)
And sticky (buttered popcorn)
And gooey (buttered popcorn)
And salty (buttered popcorn)
I said

song performed by Supremes from Meet the Supremes
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A Doctor-Poet’s Tribute to a Great Doctor and Man of Science

It was a rare, rare find!
I say this with my heart and mind;
I was so thrilled to find a man –
So learned, yet simple – I was his fan!

A man of science
With conscience!
He donned a string of fine degrees;
The man was bent to fight disease;
He occupied the highest chair
At MAHE’s academic hill, so rare.

I wondered how a man could rise
So adamantly, without vice
To be a great phenomenon –
A proud, prodigy physician.
He made his parents, country proud,
And placed his family in ninth cloud!

A Stanlian with great awards –
Pride of India award;
Dr.B.C. Roy award;
Jagdish Chander Bose award;
Distinguished Physician of India award;
Great Teacher award
Stanley Alumini award
Karnataka Rajyothsava award
Excellence for 2000 award
And many more on his cards!

Step by step, he climbed each rung
Of life’s ladder to stay among
The most elite of medical men
With scholastic prowess and ken
That few Indians ev’r attained,
And God-willingly rarely gained!

He was an eminent teacher,
And ‘State-of-the-art’ top reacher;
A par excellence Professor,
Erudite ex tempore speaker.

He loves to teach and train students,
And toils to updat knowledge, hence;
He wears a smile of humbleness
That masks a face of true greatness.

He continues still to be:
A cardiologist- Teacher,
A referee and researcher;

[...] Read more

poem by John Celes
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The Hired Man And Floretty

The Hired Man's supper, which he sat before,
In near reach of the wood-box, the stove-door
And one leaf of the kitchen-table, was
Somewhat belated, and in lifted pause
His dextrous knife was balancing a bit
Of fried mush near the port awaiting it.

At the glad children's advent--gladder still
To find _him_ there--'Jest tickled fit to kill
To see ye all!' he said, with unctious cheer.--
'I'm tryin'-like to he'p Floretty here
To git things cleared away and give ye room
Accordin' to yer stren'th. But I p'sume
It's a pore boarder, as the poet says,
That quarrels with his victuals, so I guess
I'll take another wedge o' that-air cake,
Florett', that you're a-_learnin_' how to bake.'
He winked and feigned to swallow painfully.--

'Jest 'fore ye all come in, Floretty she
Was boastin' 'bout her _biscuits_--and they _air_
As good--sometimes--as you'll find anywhere.--
But, women gits to braggin' on their _bread_,
I'm s'picious 'bout their _pie_--as Danty said.'
This raillery Floretty strangely seemed
To take as compliment, and fairly beamed
With pleasure at it all.

--'Speakin' o' _bread_--
When she come here to live,' The Hired Man said,--
'Never ben out o' _Freeport_ 'fore she come
Up here,--of course she needed '_sperience_ some.--
So, one day, when yer Ma was goin' to set
The risin' fer some bread, she sent Florett
To borry _leaven_, 'crost at Ryans'--So,
She went and asked fer _twelve_.--She didn't _know_,
But thought, _whatever_ 'twuz, that she could keep
_One_ fer _herse'f_, she said. O she wuz deep!'

Some little evidence of favor hailed
The Hired Man's humor; but it wholly failed
To touch the serious Susan Loehr, whose air
And thought rebuked them all to listening there
To her brief history of the _city_-man
And his pale wife--'A sweeter woman than
_She_ ever saw!'--So Susan testified,--
And so attested all the Loehrs beside.--
So entertaining was the history, that
The Hired Man, in the corner where he sat
In quiet sequestration, shelling corn,

[...] Read more

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The House Of Dust: Complete

I.

The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.

And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.

'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.

We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .

Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.

Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.

Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.

II.

[...] Read more

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Busy Booked Hooker

Dressed nice and neatly.
She looked so hot.
With a weave that fizzled.

Dressed nice and neat,
Dressed nice and neatly.
With composure there.

Dressed nice and neat,
Dressed nice and neatly.
She avoided disaster.

Dressed nice and neat,
She played it sweet,
And undeterred.
She had wisdom and the drive...
To keep my interest flowing.
While 'peaking' as I'm growing,
To maximize the widening of her thighs.

Dressed nice and neat,
Dressed nice and neatly.
With composure there.

Dressed nice and neat,
Dressed nice and neatly.
She avoided disaster.

Dressed nice and neat,
She played it sweet,
And undeterred.
She had wisdom and the drive...
To keep my interest flowing.
While 'peaking' as I'm growing,
To maximize the widening of her thighs.

Dressed nice and neat,
Dressed nice and neatly.
She was not that sweet.

Dressed nice and neat,
Dressed nice and neatly.
She was a noonday hooker.

Dressed nice and neat,
Dressed nice and neatly.
Just an overbooked hooker.
On a call,
To meet.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Vampires, Mummies & The Holy Ghost

Vampires, mummies, and the holy ghost
By: jimmy buffett, roger guth, jim mayer, peter mayer
1994
--spoken:
Ohhhh rock n roll is a scary business. no hit records, no mtv
Videos...youll never make it here...scary. not! lets do it
Coral reefers...
Looked in my laptop, what did I see?
A flashin message says today therapy
Rather walk through fire than converse with my shrink
But Im getting better thats what some people think
Talk about denial and dysfunctional things
Heads like a bell somedays it dongs and it dings
My brain play tricks on me it likes to shift gears
Spend lots of money, but Im tacklin my fears
Chorus:
Vampires, mummies and the holy ghost
These are the things that terrify me the most
No aliens, psychopaths or mtv hosts
Scare me like vampires, mummies and the holy ghost
Ooohh
Had a dream last night took a time travellin ride
Back to my childhood where those monsters reside
They nack on innocence and dine on self-esteem
But I like to be in touch with what makes me scream
Chorus:
Vampires, mummies and the holy ghost
These are the things that terrify me the most
No aliens, psychopaths or mtv host
Scares me like vampires, mummies and the holy ghost
I was never ever frightened by the murderer on our block
He nurtured orchids and raised hamsters
The neighborhood is still in shock
La la la la, la la la la....
La la la la, la la la la la la
La la la la, la la la la....
La la la la, la la la la la la
So many dragons lurking out in the fog
So many crazy people mumblin monologues
Its not the tales of stephen king that Ive read
I need protection from the things in my head
Like...
Chorus:
Vampires, mummies and the holy ghost
These are the things that terrify me the most
No aliens, psychopath or mtv host
Scares me like vampires, mummies and the holy ghost
Chorus:
Vampires, mummies and the holy ghost
These are the things that terrify me the most

[...] Read more

song performed by Jimmy Buffett
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Gold

We rovers bold,
To the land of Gold,
Over the bowling billows are gliding:
Eager to toil,
For the golden spoil,
And every hardship biding.
See! See!
Before our prows' resistless dashes
The gold-fish fly in golden flashes!
'Neath a sun of gold,
We rovers bold,
On the golden land are gaining;
And every night,
We steer aright,
By golden stars unwaning!
All fires burn a golden glare:
No locks so bright as golden hair!
All orange groves have golden gushings;
All mornings dawn with golden flushings!
In a shower of gold, say fables old,
A maiden was won by the god of gold!
In golden goblets wine is beaming:
On golden couches kings are dreaming!
The Golden Rule dries many tears!
The Golden Number rules the spheres!
Gold, gold it is, that sways the nations:
Gold! gold! the center of all rotations!
On golden axles worlds are turning:
With phosphorescence seas are burning!
All fire-flies flame with golden gleamings!
Gold-hunters' hearts with golden dreamings!
With golden arrows kings are slain:
With gold we'll buy a freeman's name!
In toilsome trades, for scanty earnings,
At home we've slaved, with stifled yearnings:
No light! no hope! Oh, heavy woe!
When nights fled fast, and days dragged slow.
But joyful now, with eager eye,
Fast to the Promised Land we fly:
Where in deep mines,
The treasure shines;
Or down in beds of golden streams,
The gold-flakes glance in golden gleams!
How we long to sift,
That yellow drift!
Rivers! Rivers! cease your goings!
Sand-bars! rise, and stay the tide!
'Till we've gained the golden flowing;
And in the golden haven ride!

poem by Herman Melville
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I Saw It Myself (Short Verse Drama)

Dramatis Personae: Adrian, his wife Ester, his sisters Rebecca and Johanna, his mother Elizabeth, the high priest Chiapas, the disciple Simon Peter, the disciple John, Mary Magdalene, worshipers, priests, two angels and Jesus Christ.

Act I

Scene I.- Adrian’s house in Jerusalem. Adrian has just returned home after a business journey in Galilee, in time to attend the Passover feast. He sits at the table with his wife Ester and his sisters, Rebecca and Johanna. It’s just before sunset on the Friday afternoon.

Adrian. (Somewhat puzzled) Strange things are happening,
some say demons dwell upon the earth,
others angelic beings, miracles take place
and all of this when they had put a man to death,
had crucified a criminal. Everybody knows
the cross is used for degenerates only!

Rebecca. (With a pleasant voice) Such harsh words used,
for a good, a great man brother?
They say that without charge
he healed the sick, brought back sight,
cured leprosy, even made some more food,
from a few fishes and loafs of bread…

Adrian. (Somewhat harsh) They say many things!
That he rode into Jerusalem
to be crowned as the new king,
was a rebel against the state,
even claimed to be
the very Son of God,
now that is blasphemy
if there is no truth to it!

Johanna. I met him once.
He’s not the man
that you make him, brother.
There was a strange tranquilly to Him.
Some would say a divine presence,
while He spoke of love that is selfless,
visited the sick, the poor
and even the destitute, even harlots.

Adrian. (Looks up) There you have it!
Harlots! Tax collecting thieves!
A man is know by his friends,
or so they say and probably
there is some truth to it.

Ester. Husband, do not be so quick to judge.
I have seen Him myself, have seen
Roman soldiers marching Him to the hill
to take His life, with a angry crowd
following and mocking Him.

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Make This House A Home

Well theres something in us living
Theres something you should know
There was a time for us to fall
Now its time to grow
But you know its not the way
That I intended it to be
Crossing hearts and killing souls
And trying to get down to whats real
All I ever wanted was to make this house a home
I let go of sinking sand wont you help me find a stone
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
Was to make this house a home
All I needed was your hand to hold
I spent so much time alone
I needed your direction
But we re-aligned my broken bones
Well theyre running from a lifeless state
Somehow we lost our hold
All we have with us is change
Left over from what started out as gold
All I ever wanted was to make this house a home
I let go of sinking sand - wont you help me find a stone
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
Was to make this house a home
This is what I give to you
Its flesh and blood
Its body and soul
Wont you take whats left of who I am
And try to see it whole
Im holding you responsible for every word I say
If you feel the brokenness
Wont you try and look the other way
I never meant to be so low
I only wanted you to see
That time was healing someone else
But its tearing apart the very heart of me
This is what I give to you
Its flesh and blood
Its body and soul
Wont you take whats left of who I am
And try to see it whole
All I ever wanted was to make this house a home

[...] Read more

song performed by Indigo Girls
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Having Fun

When the clouds in the cosmos wanted to have some fun;
they clashed playfully against each other; fomenting
heavenly droplets of liquid to tumble down in
rhapsodic frenzy,

When the waves in the undulating ocean wanted to have
some fun; they rose and fell merrily with the
exuberant breeze; culminating into a festoon of
magnificently sparkling froth as they dissipated on
the silver sands,

When the battalion of boisterous frogs wanted to have
some fun; they bounced and frisked ebulliently after
midnight; inundating the perpetually still atmosphere
with their brazenly croaking voice,

When the solitary palms wanted to have some fun; they
embedded themselves to unprecedented limits beneath
majestic soil; thunderously clapped thereafter; to
sprinkle the granules in unanimous tandem,

When the fleet of fountain pens wanted to have some
fun; they sketched overwhelmingly funny contours of
their masters; emptying the blotted ink wholesomely on
his tyrannically wretched face,

When the bells in the dilapidated castle wanted to
have some fun; they commenced to nostalgically
reverberate; drowning in sheer ecstasy of the
euphorically tinkling sound,

When the bland glasses of water wanted to have some
fun; they deliberately stumbled when offered to the
unsuspecting visitor; drenching him disdainfully from
head to toe with their clammy caress,
When the sonorously serious eyelids wanted to have
some fun; they winked incessantly at passerby's;
making them the inevitable darling of every
flirtatious heart,

When the army of mischievous red ants wanted to have
some fun; they surreptitiously clambered up the
mammoth elephant's trunk; evoking him to thereby
collapse helplessly towards pathetically cold ground,

When the morbidly aloof spider wanted to have some
fun; it indefatigably ran up and down the periphery of
its web; eventually deciding to perch on the honey
coated biscuit placed by the luxuriously plush
bedside,

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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1985

Woohoo
Woohoo
Debbie just hit the wall
she never had it all
one Prozac a day
husbands a CPA
her dreams went out the door
when she turned twenty four
only been with one man
what happen to her plans?
She was gonna be an actress
she was gonna be a star
she was gonna shake her ass
on the hood of WhiteSnakes car
her yellow SUV is now the enemy
looks at her average life
and nothing has been all right
Springstein, Madonna
way before Nirvana
there was U2 and Blondie
and music still on MTV
her two kids in high school
they tell her that shes uncool
but she still preoccupied
with 19, 19, 1985
Woohoo
(1985)
Woohoo
Shes seen all the classics
she knows every line
Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink
even Saint Elmos Fire
she rocked out to wham
not a big Limp Bizkit fan
thought shed get a hand
on a member of Duran Duran
Wheres the mini-skirt made of snake skin
and whos the other guy that's singing in Van Halen
when did reality become T.V.
what ever happened to sitcoms, game shows
(on the radio was)
Springstein, Madonna
way before Nirvana
there was U2 and Blondie
and music still on MTV
her two kids in high school
they tell her that shes uncool
'Cause she still preoccupied
with 19, 19, 1985
Woohoo

[...] Read more

song performed by Bowling For Soup
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Trash Bag

1 bag cement mold
10 inch leather titleist golf bag
2006 kia rio side air bags
1900 s tapestry bag
1,000 face value silver bag buyers
100ft x 200ft plastic bag
16 flow-through infuser bags order e-mail
2001 accura air bags
1966 chevy pickup air bags
1st responder bag subdued
40 catchers equipment bag
10 dolars chanell bags for sale
$20,000 beanie bag
2 004 ben hogan golf bag
100 cotton childrens sleeping bags
2 mil designer bags
12 ounce bean bag
20 pound bag rabbit food
35 bag dirt james teen wendy
10 inch screen laptop bags
20 gallon garbage bags
30 gallon trash bags odor
17 leather laptop bag clearance
42 rolling duffle bag
2 section 17 roller cooler bag
40 long sportsequipment bag
2005 ford taurus air bag
06 toyota corolla air bag
3 x 8 cello bags
1 ball roller bowling bags
10020 garbage bags
250 liter bag
21 sensational patchwork bags
4 wheeler cargo bags
3 shelf laundry bag cart
2002 altima air bags
2003 crown victoria air bag recall
2 pc motorcycle tour bag
2 x3 zip lock bags
360121 bat bag
$1 tea bag holder
400 gauge thick poly bags
2005 jackie o gucci hand bag
1 bag cement mixers
1920s clutch bag
1.5 oz bag reg chips
1 bag popcorn serving size
2000 saturn sl air bag light
11 gallon garbage bags
306 leather tour sissy bag

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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The Golden Age

Long ere the Muse the strenuous chords had swept,
And the first lay as yet in silence slept,
A Time there was which since has stirred the lyre
To notes of wail and accents warm with fire;
Moved the soft Mantuan to his silvery strain,
And him who sobbed in pentametric pain;
To which the World, waxed desolate and old,
Fondly reverts, and calls the Age of Gold.

Then, without toil, by vale and mountain side,
Men found their few and simple wants supplied;
Plenty, like dew, dropped subtle from the air,
And Earth's fair gifts rose prodigal as prayer.
Love, with no charms except its own to lure,
Was swiftly answered by a love as pure.
No need for wealth; each glittering fruit and flower,
Each star, each streamlet, made the maiden's dower.
Far in the future lurked maternal throes,
And children blossomed painless as the rose.
No harrowing question `why,' no torturing `how,'
Bent the lithe frame or knit the youthful brow.
The growing mind had naught to seek or shun;
Like the plump fig it ripened in the sun.
From dawn to dark Man's life was steeped in joy,
And the gray sire was happy as the boy.
Nature with Man yet waged no troublous strife,
And Death was almost easier than Life.
Safe on its native mountains throve the oak,
Nor ever groaned 'neath greed's relentless stroke.
No fear of loss, no restlessness for more,
Drove the poor mariner from shore to shore.
No distant mines, by penury divined,
Made him the sport of fickle wave or wind.
Rich for secure, he checked each wish to roam,
And hugged the safe felicity of home.

Those days are long gone by; but who shall say
Why, like a dream, passed Saturn's Reign away?
Over its rise, its ruin, hangs a veil,
And naught remains except a Golden Tale.
Whether 'twas sin or hazard that dissolved
That happy scheme by kindly Gods evolved;
Whether Man fell by lucklessness or pride,-
Let jarring sects, and not the Muse, decide.
But when that cruel Fiat smote the earth,
Primeval Joy was poisoned at its birth.
In sorrow stole the infant from the womb,
The agëd crept in sorrow to the tomb.
The ground, so bounteous once, refused to bear
More than was wrung by sower, seed, and share.

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Austin
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The Aging Musician

Run run run run. run run as fast as you can
You cant catch me...Im the gingerbread man!
Once upon a time I played electric guitar,
And they said I was a rockin-roll star.
Now nobody calls me on the telephone
So I sit and watch tv all alone.
Maybe if I put a bullet in my brain,
Theyll remember me like kurt cobain.
And the parasites on mtv,
Would wipe their eyes and act like they knew me!
But I wouldnt be a hero Id be dead!
Just a corpse beside a note that read:
If youd like to pretend that youll never get old,
You got what it takes to rock and roll!
Jagger...he was okay,
None of this...lizzy borden hairdresser crap!
I just need a couple of really good players!
I can have a band again! back on the road.
Play real music...not this computer crap real music! we go big!
Whatever happened to music? now its all about marketing and
Media coverage! God damn mtv! every thing was okay before mtv!
And gun control? like gun controls gonna stop it?
A supermarket freak can stop just about anything...whos ouzi?
Nuthins right anymore...not even tv!
Davey crockett said it all: if youre sure youre right then,
Go ahead! now...nuthins right...nuthin! God damn mtv!

song performed by Utopia
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sneaky With the Looks

Sneaky with the looks that they give.

I perceive myself alone.
I feel a curiosity directed.
At first I am not sure,
If the curiosity is directed towards me.
And I look around.
Nothing is there to block my steps.
And I begin to whistle in nervousness.
To then talk to myself...
In a calming peacefulness.
I admit is beginning to get a bit restless.

Sneaky with the looks that they give.

I am among the trees.
Alone in fresh Spring breezes.

Sneaky with the looks that they give.

I begin to hear the chirping of birds.
Conversing to break the silence,
With a charm that does not disturb.
And they fly high between the trees.
Trying to hide within the leaves.

Sneaky with the looks that they give.

I follow a path made clear of obstacles.
I stop.
So does the chirping.
I pick up a small rock,
To toss as I also pick up a twig.
There is a wind.
And I continue my journey.

Wings flap as if there is clapping.
I adjust my cap.
And two squirrels chase...
Across my path!
To play tag and hide and seek.
I stop to watch.

Sneaky with the looks that they give.

I look up!
And there they all sit.
As if in conference on a branch.
Together...
Laughing!

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Thinking of tomorrow

I didn’t eat food today; as I wanted to wholesomely famish myself; to
devour
the appetizing chunks of pudding; Tomorrow,

I didn’t sleep blissfully today; as I was overwhelmingly excited to
run;
Tomorrow,

I didn’t play mischievously today; as I wanted to reserve every iota of
my
energy to passionately leap; Tomorrow,

I didn’t drink water today; as I wanted to gulp gallons of voluptuous
wine;
Tomorrow,

I didn’t bathe today; as I wanted to drown my persona in flamboyant
waves of
the salty ocean; Tomorrow,

I didn’t see any object today; as I wanted to view the mesmerizing
beauty of
dawn; Tomorrow,

I didn’t move my legs today; as I wanted to dance unrelentingly all
night;
Tomorrow,

I didn’t revolve my fingers today; as I wanted to sketch intricate
landscapes
with their towering summits in the clouds; Tomorrow,

I didn’t study one bit today; as I wanted to read through volumes of
mystical
tales; Tomorrow,
I didn’t go out today; as I wanted to uninhibitedly explore through the
wilderness; Tomorrow,

I didn’t see the time today; as I wanted to scrupulously count every
unleashing minute tomorrow,

I didn’t smell the air today; as I wanted to inundate my nostrils with
the
enchanting perfume of lotus; Tomorrow,

I didn’t speak today; as I wanted to scream hysterically for hours on
the
trot; Tomorrow,

I didn’t reside in the house today; as I wanted to live the entire

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Atalanta's Race

Through thick Arcadian woods a hunter went,
Following the beasts upon a fresh spring day;
But since his horn-tipped bow but seldom bent,
Now at the noontide nought had happed to slay,
Within a vale he called his hounds away,
Hearkening the echoes of his lone voice cling
About the cliffs and through the beech-trees ring.

But when they ended, still awhile he stood,
And but the sweet familiar thrush could hear,
And all the day-long noises of the wood,
And o'er the dry leaves of the vanished year
His hounds' feet pattering as they drew anear,
And heavy breathing from their heads low hung,
To see the mighty corner bow unstrung.

Then smiling did he turn to leave the place,
But with his first step some new fleeting thought
A shadow cast across his sun-burnt face;
I think the golden net that April brought
From some warm world his wavering soul had caught;
For, sunk in vague sweet longing, did he go
Betwixt the trees with doubtful steps and slow.

Yet howsoever slow he went, at last
The trees grew sparser, and the wood was done;
Whereon one farewell backward look he cast,
Then, turning round to see what place was won,
With shaded eyes looked underneath the sun,
And o'er green meads and new-turned furrows brown
Beheld the gleaming of King Schœneus' town.

So thitherward he turned, and on each side
The folk were busy on the teeming land,
And man and maid from the brown furrows cried,
Or midst the newly blossomed vines did stand,
And as the rustic weapon pressed the hand
Thought of the nodding of the well-filled ear,
Or how the knife the heavy bunch should shear.

Merry it was: about him sung the birds,
The spring flowers bloomed along the firm dry road,
The sleek-skinned mothers of the sharp-horned herds
Now for the barefoot milking-maidens lowed;
While from the freshness of his blue abode,
Glad his death-bearing arrows to forget,
The broad sun blazed, nor scattered plagues as yet.

Through such fair things unto the gates he came,
And found them open, as though peace were there;

[...] Read more

poem by William Morris
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All She Wanted

She was a good girl
Been true to herself
Never swayed by the notions of somebody else
Shed had it rough, maybe most of the time
With only one thing on her mind
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man
Who was tryin to do the best that he can
All she wanted was a lovin, lovin man
There could be blue skies in her heart
She was waitin for the good times to start
She never wanted diamonds
She never wanted gold
She was holdin out for someone to hold
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man
Who was tryin to do the best that he can
All she wanted was a lovin, lovin man
A loving man
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man
Who was tryin to do the best that he can
All she wanted was a lovin, lovin man
Loving man
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man
All she wanted was a lovin man

song performed by Electric Light Orchestra
Added by Lucian Velea
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