Citatepedia^®.com

Paganism is infectious, more infectious than diphtheria or piety.

quote by E.M. Forster
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Infectious Grooves

Insane-the mother funksters tear it up
The beat-that makes you wanna stomp it up
Rhythm-you just can't get enough of the Infectious Grooves
Hardcore-and then they switch it to the smooth
Got vibe-mix it in with the groove
The plague-that's gonna make you booty move it's the Infectious Grooves
Gave it-the network of ability
Threw in-all kind of insanity
Add it up-and now you got the recipe of The Infectious Grooves
Chorus:
Talk to me baby you should of been good-you think you're on it
but you ain't got nothing on me
It aon't as if I hadn't told you so
So now you sit and then you go and when you hear it
Damn-that's what you say when you hear us
Jam-'cause the boys know how to make it all
Slam-now you wanna get with the program of the Infectious Grooves
Pack'n-a loc'd kinda zak that's
Attack'n-with the bass that's pump'n and
Smack'n-leave you breathless coughing and hack'n with Infectious Grooves
We found- the hippest, hardest, heaviest sound
Took it straight from the underground
Now you got the plague that's going around, known as Infectious Grooves
Talk to me baby it's me again
I love to tell you 'cause it ain't the way that you wanna hear
You try to stop it, but I seen you move your booty
Move that booty, mmm that's a booty, she has a very nice booty Infectious
Now you know it's Infectious
It's Infectious-the rhythm that'll tear it up
Infectious-the beat that makes you get on up
Infectious-the mother funksters tear it up-with the Infectious Grooves
Infectious-A loc'd kinda zak that's
Infectious-with the bass that's pumpin and
Infectious-leave you breathless coughing and the Infectious Grooves
Infectious-switch to the smooth and it's
Infectious-miz it in the groove and it's
Infectous-the plague that makes your booty move it's the Infectious Grooves
Infectous-the plague that makes your
Infectous-the plague that makes your
Infectous-the plague that makes your booty move it's the Infectious Grooves

song performed by Infectious Grooves
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Plegaria

Spanish

–Eros: acaso no sentiste nunca
Piedad de las estatuas?
Se dirían crisálidas de piedra
De yo no sé qué formidable raza
En una eterna espera inenarrable.
Los cráteres dormidos de sus bocas
Dan la ceniza negra del Silencio,
Mana de las columnas de sus hombros
La mortaja copiosa de la Calma
Y fluye de sus órbitas la noche;
Victimas del Futuro o del Misterio,
En capullos terribles y magníficos
Esperan a la Vida o a la Muerte.
Eros: acaso no sentiste nunca
Piedad de las estatuas?–
Piedad para las vidas
Que no doran a fuego tus bonanzas
Ni riegan o desgajan tus tormentas;
Piedad para los cuerpos revestidos
Del armiño solemne de la Calma,
Y las frentes en luz que sobrellevan
Grandes lirios marmóreos de pureza,
Pesados y glaciales como témpanos;
Piedad para las manos enguantadas
De hielo, que no arrancan
Los frutos deleitosos de la Carne
Ni las flores fantásticas del alma;
Piedad para los ojos que aletean
Espirituales párpados:
Escamas de misterio,
Negros telones de visiones rosas...
Nunca ven nada por mirar tan lejos!
Piedad para las pulcras cabelleras
–Misticas aureolas–
Peinadas como lagos
Que nunca airea el abanico negro,
Negro y enorme de la tempestad;
Piedad para los ínclitos espiritus
Tallados en diamante,
Altos, claros, extáticos
Pararrayos de cúpulas morales;
Piedad para los labios como engarces
Celestes donde fulge
Invisible la perla de la Hostia;
–Labios que nunca fueron,
Que no apresaron nunca
Un vampiro de fuego
Con más sed y más hambre que un abismo.–

[...] Read more

poem by Delmira Agustini
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Mimis House

I remember many times when I was just a child,
How I played in that old house upon the farm.
With rocking chairs and squeaky stairs, all pieces of her world,
And a fire in her room to keep us warm.
cause no one is a stranger in mimis house,
cause love has made his home there in her heart.
And shes got that infectious way of laughing right out loud
That takes away my pain and lights the dark.
And now were not as young as when I played there all the time,
And the visits seemed too scarce and far between,
But life goes on at mimis house, and in my mind Im there,
With a fire in her room to keep us warm.
cause no one is a stranger in mimis house,
cause love has made his home there in her heart.
And shes got that infectious way of laughing right out loud
That takes away my pain and lights the dark.
And when I stop and think of how shes aging,
Growing strong and graceful in her god.
Well, you know it takes my fear away from aging;
She seems to know the secret that well never be apart.
cause no one is a stranger in mimis house,
cause love has made his home there in her heart.
And shes got that infectious way of laughing right out loud
That takes away my pain and lights the dark.
Yes, shes got that infectious way of laughing right out loud
That takes away my pain and lights the dark.

song performed by Amy Grant
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

In It For The Paganism

In it for the paganism.
In it to trick others!
And to have themselves sit...
In self unction annointing meant!
And dismissing others...
Enthralled and used.
Those enlisted to assist...
In their public 'lift'.
Declaring themselves founders,
Of institutions!
Although deceivers of those of goodwill.

Stealing from them ideas and ideals,
That would appeal...
To the unconsciousness of the masses.

In it for the paganism!
In it for the glory.
In it to label themselves righteous beings.
Yet discovered too late.
After years of painful deceit.
Hoodwinking was their aim.
To have their names proclaimed,
On historic public streets.

With promises of tasty activities.
Tasty exciting treats!
In false declarations...
And sheltering a dishonesty,
With everyone they meet!

Dedicated To:
Those who achieve fame,
By making false claims.
And defaming others...
They denounced to make their gains!

May their souls find an eternity...
Only God determines is just and appropriate,
For those deserving.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Ch 07 On The Effects Of Education Story 20

Contention of Sa’di with a Disputant concerning Wealth and Poverty

I saw a man in the form but not with the character of a dervish, sitting in an assembly, who had begun a quarrel; and, having opened the record of complaints, reviled wealthy men, alleging at last that the hand of power of dervishes to do good was tied and that the foot of the intention of wealthy men to do good was broken.

The liberal have no money.
The wealthy have no liberality.

I, who had been cherished by the wealth of great men, considered these words offensive and said: ‘My good friend, the rich are the income of the destitute and the hoarded store of recluses, the objects of pilgrims, the refuge of travellers, the bearers of heavy loads for the relief of others. They give repasts and partake of them to feed their dependants and servants, the surplus of their liberalities being extended to widows, aged persons, relatives and neighbours.’

The rich must spend for pious uses, vows and hospitality,
Tithes, offerings, manumissions, gifts and sacrifices.
How canst thou attain their power of doing good who art able
To perform only the prayer-flections and these with a hundred distractions?

If there be efficacy in the power to be liberal and in the ability of performing religious duties, the rich can attain it better because they possess money to give alms, their garments are pure, their reputation is guarded, their hearts are at leisure. Inasmuch as the power of obedience depends upon nice morsels and correct worship upon elegant clothes, it is evident that hungry bowels have but little strength, an empty hand can afford no liberality, shackled feet cannot walk, and no good can come from a hungry belly.

He sleeps troubled in the night
Who has no support for the morrow.
The ant collects in summer a subsistence
For spending the winter in ease.

Freedom from care and destitution are not joined together and comfort in poverty is an impossibility. A man who is rich is engaged in his evening devotions whilst another who is poor is looking for his evening meal. How can they resemble each other?

He who possesses means is engaged in worship.
Whose means are scattered, his heart is distracted.

The worship of those who are comfortable is more likely to meet with acceptance, their minds being more attentive and not distracted or scattered. Having a secure income, they may attend to devotion. The Arab says: ‘I take refuge with Allah against base poverty and neighbours whom I do not love. There is also a tradition: Poverty is blackness of face in both worlds.’ He retorted by asking me whether I had heard the Prophet’s saying: Poverty is my glory. I replied: ‘Hush! The prince of the world alluded to the poverty of warriors in the battlefield of acquiescence and of submission to the arrow of destiny; not to those who don the patched garb of righteousness but sell the doles of food given them as alms.’

O drum of high sound and nothing within,
What wilt thou do without means when the struggle comes?
Turn away the face of greed from people if thou art a man.
Trust not the rosary of one thousand beads in thy hand.

A dervish without divine knowledge rests not until his poverty, culminates in unbelief; for poverty is almost infidelity, because a nude person cannot be clothed without money nor a prisoner liberated. How can the like of us attain their high position and how does the bestowing resemble the receiving hand? Knowest thou not that God the most high and glorious mentions in his revealed word the Pleasures of paradise-They shall have a certain provision in paradise-to inform thee that those who are occupied with cares for a subsistence are excluded from the felicity of piety and that the realm of leisure is under the ring of the certain provision.

The thirsty look in their sleep
On the whole world as a spring of water.

Wherever thou beholdest one who has experienced destitution and tasted bitterness, throwing himself wickedly into fearful adventures and not avoiding their consequences, he fears not the punishment of Yazed and does not discriminate between what is licit or illicit.

The dog whose head is touched by a clod of earth
Leaps for joy, imagining it to be a bone.
And when two men take a corpse on their shoulders,
A greedy fellow supposes it to be a table with food.

But the possessor of wealth is regarded with a favourable eye by the Almighty for the lawful acts he has done and preserved from the unlawful acts he might commit. Although I have not fully explained this matter nor adduced arguments, I rely on thy sense of justice to tell me whether thou hast ever seen a mendicant with his hands tied up to his shoulders or a poor fellow sitting in prison or a veil of innocence rent or a guilty hand amputated, except in consequence of poverty? Lion-hearted men were on account of their necessities captured in mines which they had dug to rob houses and their heels were perforated. It is also possible that a dervish, impelled by the cravings of his lust and unable to restrain it, may commit sin because the stomach and the sexual organs are twins, that is to say, they are the two children of one belly and as long as one of these is contented, the other will likewise be satisfied. I heard that a dervish had been seen committing a wicked act with a youth, and although he had been put to shame, he was also in danger of being stoned. He said: ‘O Musalmans, I have no power to marry a wife and no patience to restrain myself. What am I to do? There is no monasticism in Islam.” Among the number of causes producing internal tranquility and comfort in wealthy people, the fact may be reckoned that they take every night a sweetheart in their arms and may every day contemplate a youth whose brightness excels that of the shining morn and causes the feet of walking cypresses to conceal themselves abashed.

Plunging the fist into the blood of beloved persons,
Dying the finger-tips with the colour of the jujube-fruit.

[...] Read more

poem by Sa di
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Deborah

Time Sire of years unwind thy leaf anew,
& still the past recall to present view,
Spread forth its circles, swiftly gaze ym ore,
But where an action's nobly sung before
There stop & stay for me whose thoughts design
To make anothers song resound in mine.
Pass where ye priests procession bore the law,
When Jourdans parted waters fixd with awe,
While Israel marchd upon ye naked Sand,
Admird ye wonder, & obtaind the land.
Slide through the num'rous fates of Canaans kings,
While conquest rode on Expeditions wings.
Glance over Israel at a single view
In bondage oft, & oft unbound anew,
Till Jabin rise, & Deborah stand enrolld
On the broad guilded leafs revolving fold.

O King subdu'd! O Woman born to fame!
O Wake my fancy for the glorious theme,
O wake my fancy with the sense of praise,
O wake with warblings of triumphant lays.
The Land you rise in sultry suns invade,
But where you rise to sing you'le find a shade.

Those trees in order & with verdure crownd,
The Sacred Prophetesses tent surround.
& that fair palm afront exactly plact
That overtops & overspreads the rest,
Near ye broad root a mossy bank supports,
Where Justice opens unexpensive courts.
There Deb'rah sits, the willing tribes repair,
Referr their causes, & she Judges there.
Nor needs a guard to bring her subjects in,
Each Grace each Virtue proves a guard unseen.
Nor wants the penaltys enforcing law,
While Great Opinion gives effectuall awe.

Now twenty years that rolld in heavy pain
Saw Jabin gall them with Oppressions chain,
When she submissive to divine command,
Proclaims a warr for freedome o're ye land,
& bids young Barack with those men descend,
Whom in the mountains he for battle traind.
Go, says the Prophetess, thy foes assail,
Go make ten thousand over all prevail,
Make Jabins captains feel thy glittering sword,
Make all his army: God has spoke the word.
He fitt for warr & Israels hope in sight
Yet doubts ye number & by that the fight,
Then thus replys with wish to stand secure,

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Parnell
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Laughter Is infectious

Laughter is infectious:
It is a joyful sound
That, once it starts ringing,
Passes all around.

Laughter is infectious:
Some folks have no clue
As to what another’s laughter
Could do unto you.

Laughter is infectious:
You can get it on a whim,
But chances of it harming
Are very—very slim.
©

poem by Walterrean Salley
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Shakuntala Act 1

King Dushyant in a chariot, pursuing an antelope, with a bow and quiver, attended by his Charioteer.
Suta (Charioteer). [Looking at the antelope, and then at the king]
When I cast my eye on that black antelope, and on thee, O king, with thy braced bow, I see before me, as it were, the God Mahésa chasing a hart (male deer), with his bow, named Pináca, braced in his left hand.

King Dushyant: The fleet animal has given us a long chase. Oh! there he runs, with his neck bent gracefully, looking back, from time to time, at the car (chariot) which follows him. Now, through fear of a descending shaft, he contracts his forehand, and extends his flexible haunches; and now, through fatigue, he pauses to nibble the grass in his path with his mouth half opened. See how he springs and bounds with long steps, lightly skimming the ground, and rising high in the air! And now so rapid is his flight, that he is scarce discernible!

Suta: The ground was uneven, and the horses were checked in their course. He has taken advantage of our delay. It is level now, and we may easily overtake him.

King Dushyant: Loosen the reins.

Suta: As the king commands. – [He drives the car first at full speed, and then gently.] – He could not escape. The horses were not even touched by the clouds of dust which they raised; they tossed their manes, erected their ears, and rather glided than galloped over the smooth plain.

King Dushyant: They soon outran the swift antelope. –Objects which, from their distance, appeared minute, presently became larger: what was really divided, seemed united, as we passed; and what was in truth bent, seemed straight. So swift was the motion of the wheels, that nothing, for many moments, was either distant or near. [He fixes an arrow in his bowstring.]

[Behind the scenes.] He must not be slain. This antelope, O king, has an asylum in our forest: he must not be slain.

Suta: [Listening and Looking.] Just as the animal presents a fair mark for our arrow, two hermits are advancing to interrupt your aim

King Dushyant: Then stop the car.

Suta: The king is obeyed. [He draws in the reins.]

Enter a Hermit and his Pupil.

Hermit: [Raising his hands.] Slay not, O mighty sovereign, slay not a poor fawn, who has found a place of refuge. No, surely, no; he must not be hurt. An arrow in the delicate body of a deer would be like fire in bale of cotton. Compared with thy keen shafts, how weak must be the tender hide of a young antelope! Replace quickly, oh! replace the arrow which thou hast aimed. The weapons of you kings and warriors are destined for the relief of the oppressed, not for the destruction of the guiltless.

King Dushyant: [Saluting them.] It is replaced.

[He places the arrow in his quiver.]

Hermit: [With joy] Worthy is that act of thee, most illustrious; of monarchs; worthy, indeed, of a prince descended from Puru. Mayst thou have a son adorned with virtues, a sovereign of the world!

Pupil: [Elevating both his hands.] Oh! by all means, may thy son be adorned with every virtue, a sovereign of the world!

King Dushyant: [Bowing to them.] My head bears with reverence the order of a Bráhmin

Hermit: Great king, we came hither to collect wood for a solemn sacrifice; and this forest, and the banks of the Malini, affords an asylum to the wild animals protected by Shakuntala, (Shakuntala) whom our holy preceptor Kanva has received as a sacred deposit. If you have no other avocation, enter yon grove, and let the rights of hospitality be duly performed. Having seen with your own eyes the virtuous behaviour of those whose only wealth is their piety, but whose worldly cares are now at an end, you will then exclaim, 'How many good subjects are defended by this arm, which the bowstring has made callous!'

King Dushyant: Is the master of your family at home?

Hermit: Our preceptor is gone to Sómatirt'ha, in hopes of deprecating some calamity, with which destiny threatens the irreproachable Shakuntala, and he has charged her, in his absence, to receive all guests with due honour.

King Dushyant: Holy man, I will attend her; and she, having observed my devotion, will report it favourably to the venerable sage.

Both: Be it so; and we depart on our own business. [The Hermit and his Pupil go out.]

King Dushyant: Drive on Suta. By visiting the abode of holiness, we shall purify our souls.

Suta: As the king (may his life be long!) commands. [He drives on.]

[...] Read more

poem by Kalidasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Religious Musings : A Desultory Poem Written On The Christmas Eve Of 1794

What tho' first,
In years unseason'd, I attuned the lay
To idle passion and unreal woe?
Yet serious truth her empire o'er my song
Hath now asserted : falsehood's evil brood
Vice and deceitful pleasure, she at once
Excluded, and my fancy's careless toil
Drew to the better cause! ~Akenside

ARGUMENT.
Introduction. Person of Christ. His prayer on the cross. The process of his doctrines on the mind of the individual. Character of the elect. Superstition. Digression to the present war. Origin and uses of government and property. The present state of society. French revolution. Millennium. Universal redemption. Conclusion.

This is the time, when most divine to hear
The voice of Adoration rouses me,
As with a Cherub's trump: and high upborne,
Yea, mingling with the Choir, I seem to view
The vision of the heavenly multitude,
Who hymned the song of Peace o'er Bethlehem's fields!
Yet thou more bright than all the Angel-blaze,
That harbingered thy birth, Thou Man of Woes!
Despiséd Galilaean ! For the Great
Invisible (by symbols only seen)
With a peculiar and surpassing light
Shines from the visage of the oppressed good man,
When heedless of himself the scourgéd saint
Mourns for the oppressor. Fair the vernal mead,
Fair the high grove, the sea, the sun, the stars ;
True impress each of their creating Sire !
Yet nor high grove, nor many-colour'd mead,
Nor the green ocean with his thousand isles,
Nor the starred azure, nor the sovran sun,
E'er with such majesty of portraiture
Imaged the supreme beauty uncreate,
As thou, meek Saviour ! at the fearful hour
When thy insulted anguish winged the prayer
Harped by Archangels, when they sing of mercy !
Which when the Almighty heard from forth his throne
Diviner light filled Heaven with ecstasy !
Heaven's hymnings paused : and Hell her yawning mouth
Closed a brief moment.
Lovely was the death
Of Him whose life was Love ! Holy with power
He on the thought-benighted Sceptic beamed
Manifest Godhead, melting into day
What floating mists of dark idolatry
Broke and misshaped the omnipresent Sire :
And first by Fear uncharmed the drowséd Soul
Till of its nobler nature it 'gan feel
Dim recollections; and thence soared to Hope.
Strong to believe whate'er of mystic good

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Great Nations Of Europe

I read a book by alfred crosby called european ecological imperialism. it sounds awful, but it was great. it was about how everywhere europeans went in the world, their diseases came along with
And killed the native peoples. they got tb and typhoid and athletes foot/ diphtheria and the flu. they got all of them. except for athletes foot - I had to contribute something oth
An what was in the book.
Ill admit to a certain anti-imperialism. Ive got stock and yet I root against the stock market every day. I just cant help myself. Im constitutionally a cubs fan. Ive always rooted for
Underdogs, and usually they lose. you know why? cause theyre the underdog.

song performed by Randy Newman
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Great Nations Of Europe

I read a book by Alfred Crosby called European Ecological Imperialism. It sounds awful, but it was great. It was about how everywhere Europeans went in the world, their diseases came along with them and killed the native peoples. ";They got TB and typhoid and athlete's foot Diphtheria and the flu."; They got all of them. Except for athlete's foot - I had to contribute something other than what was in the book.
I'll admit to a certain anti-imperialism. I've got stock and yet I root against the stock market every day. I just can't help myself. I'm constitutionally a Cubs fan. I've always rooted for the underdogs, and usually they lose. You know why? 'Cause they're the underdog.

song performed by Randy Newman
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Hamlet Micure

In a lingering fever many visions come to you:
I was in the little house again
With its great yard of clover
Running down to the board-fence,
Shadowed by the oak tree,
Where we children had our swing.
Yet the little house was a manor hall
Set in a lawn, and by the lawn was the sea.
I was in the room where little Paul
Strangled from diphtheria,
But yet it was not this room --
It was a sunny verandah enclosed
With mullioned windows,
And in a chair sat a man in a dark cloak,
With a face like Euripides.
He had come to visit me, or I had gone to visit him --
I could not tell.
We could hear the beat of the sea, the clover nodded
Under a summer wind, and little Paul came
With clover blossoms to the window and smiled.
Then I said: "What is 'divine despair,' Alfred?"
"Have you read 'Tears, Idle Tears'?" he asked.
"Yes, but you do not there express divine despair."
"My poor friend," he answered, "that was why the despair
Was divine."

poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Ruin

There's a moaning I hear when I try to sleep.
It's the sound of a drawn out tragedy
The result of centuries of neglect.
With no attention paid to cause and effect
And the pain gets worse and the screams ensue.
It's the world living with a parasite
It's the world living with it's own infectious disease.
Ruin is what you wanted
Ruin is what you get
Ruin is what you worked towards every single day.
The infestation reaches far beyond it's means.
The sapping of the strength has muffled all the screams.
Self centered beings play out self centered lives.
Indifferent creatures living in indifferent times
And the blame is passed round when the death throws sound
It's the world living with a parasite
It's the world living with it's own infectious disease.
Ruin is what you wanted
Ruin is what you get
Ruin is what you worked towards every single day.
Ruin is what you wanted
Ruin is what you get
Ruin is what you worked towards every single day.
Ruin

song performed by Sick Of It All from Yours Truly
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Made It

Muir-Pleasants-Trujillo-
I'm lookin' for a little bit Heaven
Didn't think you'd make it (4x)
Didn't think you'd make it - from where there's no
second chance when you slip
Didn't think you'd make it - to get away most just dip
light and trip
Didn't think you'd make it - you gotta get away or
your mind's gonna rot
So happy that you made it - they called us stupid but
we never got caught
So we're looking for a little Heaven. When we're livin'
in a little Hell
Didn't think you'd make it (2x)
Didn't think you'd make it - it's so hard to make it
when they want you to fail
Didn't think you'd make it
Not all the old Hommies are dead, some are in jail
Didn't think you'd make it - they already reserved us
a cell
So happy that you make it - but we found a little
Heaven in a place like Hell
Where you find a place like Heaven. When you live in
a place like Hell?
Just lookin' for a little bit of Heaven. Yea but this is a
place like Hell
Trying to find a little bit of Heaven in a place like Hell
Lookin' for a little bit of Heaven - I'm lookin' for a little
bit of Heaven
Lookin' for a little bit of Heaven. Heaven
-----
All lyrics by Mike Muir
Infectious Grooves are: GROOVE FAMILY CYCO:
Mike Muir - Vocals Pa
Robert Trujillo - Bass Ma
Dean Pleasants - Guitar Uncle Ervil
Adam Siegel - Guitar Cousin Randy
Brooks Wackerman - Drums Lil' Jr.
Infectious Grooves
P.O. Box 350
Venice, CA 90294-0350

song performed by Infectious Grooves
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Punk It Up

Infectious Grooves is on the house
Diba daba doba daba hey hey hey
Straight from another world another time another thought
We've come to save that beat to free the groove and watch you rot
Sweet feeling-can't stop it no! no! no!
We're gonna punk it up and funk it up!
Damn right we got the ways we got the means we got the feel
We've come to bust the grooves that everyone will want to steal
Sweet music-can't stop it no! no! no!
We're gonna punk it up and funkt it up!
And then the day will come when all the world will come to see
The knighting of the sound that's spreading infectiously
Sweet revenge-can't stop it no! no! no!
We're gonna punk it up and funk it up!
Well I'll punk you up and then I'll funk you up
Go cyco go cyco go cyco
Kick you with the beat kick you with the groove
Kick you in the butt now you're booty's on the move
Hit you with our feel hit you with our sound
Hit you with our zak how your booty shake around
Go cyco go cyco go cyco
Well I'll punk you up and I'll funk you up!
Punk it up funk it up we punk it up and funk it up
Jam it up and slam it up
Punk it up diba doba daba hey hey hey
Infectious Grooves blitzkrieged the house

song performed by Infectious Grooves
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Tale XXI

The Learned Boy

An honest man was Farmer Jones, and true;
He did by all as all by him should do;
Grave, cautious, careful, fond of gain was he,
Yet famed for rustic hospitality:
Left with his children in a widow'd state,
The quiet man submitted to his fate;
Though prudent matrons waited for his call,
With cool forbearance he avoided all;
Though each profess'd a pure maternal joy,
By kind attention to his feeble boy;
And though a friendly Widow knew no rest,
Whilst neighbour Jones was lonely and distress'd;
Nay, though the maidens spoke in tender tone
Their hearts' concern to see him left alone,
Jones still persisted in that cheerless life,
As if 'twere sin to take a second wife.
Oh! 'tis a precious thing, when wives are dead,
To find such numbers who will serve instead;
And in whatever state a man be thrown,
'Tis that precisely they would wish their own;
Left the departed infants--then their joy
Is to sustain each lovely girl and boy:
Whatever calling his, whatever trade,
To that their chief attention has been paid;
His happy taste in all things they approve,
His friends they honour, and his food they love;
His wish for order, prudence in affairs,
An equal temper (thank their stars!), are theirs;
In fact, it seem'd to be a thing decreed,
And fix'd as fate, that marriage must succeed:
Yet some, like Jones, with stubborn hearts and

hard,
Can hear such claims and show them no regard.
Soon as our Farmer, like a general, found
By what strong foes he was encompass'd round,
Engage he dared not, and he could not fly,
But saw his hope in gentle parley lie;
With looks of kindness then, and trembling heart,
He met the foe, and art opposed to art.
Now spoke that foe insidious--gentle tones,
And gentle looks, assumed for Farmer Jones:
'Three girls,' the Widow cried, 'a lively three
To govern well--indeed it cannot be.'
'Yes,' he replied, 'it calls for pains and care:
But I must bear it.'--'Sir, you cannot bear;
Your son is weak, and asks a mother's eye:'
'That, my kind friend, a father's may supply.'

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

0015 'Infectious holiness'..

Read the newspapers
from the back to the front, instead
and joy can catch you unawares

obituaries: all too often you just wish
you could have known them when
they were alive and glorious..

maybe there's a place for a special
service of celebration, memorial, honour
for all those who read their obituary
and wished they'd known them..so
get together in their honour in the hope
that something happens..

here's Murray Rogers, died at 89,
went from Britain to India to Jerusalem
to Hong Kong to the Mohawks of Ontario
to Oxford... and described as
'a priest of infectious holiness'..

just imagine - you met him by accident
one fine day, and next thing you know,
you've caught - well, they're waiting to see
whether it's a mild case, give it time,
maybe severe or even, terminal..

a bit like around this time of year,
popping into a pub in Bethlehem
or that place just outside the Temple
which is the equivalent of Speakers' Corner
or doing a bit of fishing just off the shore
of Galilee... these public places
are a hotbed of infection at this time of year

infectious holiness

poem by Michael Shepherd
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The virtue of paganism was strength; the virtue of Christianity is obedience.

quote by Augustus Hare
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

What is popularly called fame is nothing but an empty name and a legacy from paganism.

quote by Desiderius Erasmus
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Paganism is wholesome because it faces the facts of life.

quote by Aleister Crowley
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!