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My function at Verve was that of a genuine producer in artists and repertoire.

quote by Norman Granz
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Producer/fall From The Grace Of The People

Earth shares what earth receives
And now only blood brings life
A tiller bring life, producer bring life
Protector bring life, soiled hands bring life
The tree of democracy shall be watered by the blood of revolution
So go plant a seed, go plant a seed for harvest
Go plant a seed for harvest producer
Producer, producer, producer, producer
Producer, producer, producer, producer
Producer, producer, producer, producer
Producer, producer, producer, producer
Producer, producer, producer, producer
Producer, producer
And it all shall fall by the grace of the people and
It all shall fall by the grace of the people and
It all shall fall by the grace of the people and
It all shall fall by the grace of the people and
It all shall fall
It all shall fall
I first met you and the ideas you uphold while incarserated
A victim of a social experiment
Eventually addicted to your eight hour injections of hypocracy and
Arrogance and greed
Forced to sit with coplicity in front of my executioners
As they blugeoned me with their so called superior values and demanded my submission
I bacame an indentured servant in a factory
Where I myself was the product
Whos useful quality was to protect their palaces
Every word uttered from their mouths strangeled me
So that every thought I express
Shall sow the seed for the noose around their necks
And set fire to their homes
And every word uttered from their mouths strangeled me
So that every thought I express
Shall sow the seed for the noose around their necks
And set fire to their homes
And set fire to their homes
And set fire to their homes
And set fire to their homes
And set fire to their homes
And it all shall fall by the grace of the people and
It all shall fall by the grace of the people and
It all shall fall by the grace of the people and
It all shall fall by the grace of the people and
It all shall fall by the grace of the people and
It all shall fall
Fall
Fall
Fall
Fall

[...] Read more

song performed by Rage Against The Machine
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Washed Away Under Work Loads

artists feel frustrated
when achieving not
when producing art not
not realizing images
in shifting vision mind

artists should
be producing art
no time for cooking
no time for cleaning
no time for hair cut

artists should not
not be able to keep up
with fermenting ideas
rain weather changes
haunting wake up calls

not creating art
is wasting artistic souls
is wasting artistic lives
in dry season droughts
withering artistic minds

work income human activities
life necessity farming for wages
dependent on salary climates
fifty sixty wage slave hours
is change devastating for artists

this drought no time for artistic activities
is crop failure starvation of artistic minds
leading to artistic suffering on massive scales
droughts are caused by lack of fertility rains
extended over long periods of wage slave times

slight brief rains slight artistic showers
is normality artistic not enough spring rains
to ground absorb artistic evaporated minds
artist is dehydrated lacking soul rejuvenations
plants animals need sustaining life waters

artists need self generated creativity waters
least art dies death of artistic dehydrations
art is main ingredient in artistic food chains
plants die from lack of water therefore animals
eating these plants will also die in drought cycles

artists true artists deprived of art wither drought dies
in mind soul lacking artistic flowering rejuvenations

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Producer Fall From The Grace Of People

Earth shares what earth receives
And now only blood brings life
A killer bring life, producer bring life
Protector bring life, soiled hands bring life
The tree of democracy shall be watered by the blood of revolution
So go plant a seed, go plant a seed for harvest
Go plant a seed for harvest producer
Producer, producer, producer, producer
And it all shall fall by the grace of the people and
It all shall fall by the grace of the people and
It all shall fall by the grace of the people and
It all shall fall by the grace of the people and
It all shall fall
It all shall fall
I first met you and the ideas you uphold while incarserated
A victim of a social experiment
Eventually addicted to your eight hour injections of hypocrisy
And arrogance and greed
Forced to sit with coplicity in front of my executioners
As they bludgeoned me with their
So called superior values and demanded my submission
I bacame an indentured servant in a factory
Where I myself was the product
Whos useful quality was to protect their palaces
Every word uttered from their mouths strangeled me
So that every thought I express
Shall sow the seed for the noose around their necks
And set fire to their homes
And every word uttered from their mouths strangeled me
So that every thought I express
Shall sow the seed for the noose around their necks
And set fire to their homes
And set fire to their homes
And it all shall fall by the grace of the people and
It all shall fall by the grace of the people and
It all shall fall by the grace of the people and
It all shall fall by the grace of the people and
It all shall fall by the grace of the people and
It all shall fall
Fall

song performed by Rage Against The Machine
Added by Lucian Velea
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Gusto, Brio And Panache

Gusto, brio and panache
happy writers have, who dash,
while those lack élan and verve
scribe slower, fearing they may swerve,
which doesn't matter if you've brio,
panache and gusto, happy trio,
but does if you have no élan
or verve, not just an also-ran
but, what's far worse, an also-walker,
and, yet more horror, also-talker.

The ones who stand and wait to serve
because they lack élan and verve
won't slow down writers who are rash
and with their brio, gusto dash,
because panache provides the torrent
that those who're slow may find abhorrent,
for those whose writing style is speedy,
of gusto, brio never needy,
in flights of fancy won't be flustered
when they're panached and, brioed, gusted.

On November 4,1838, Stendhal, born Marie Henri Beyle, sat down at No.8 Rue Caumartin in Paris and gave orders that he was under no circumstances to be disturbed. The manuscript of 'The Charterhouse of Parma' was finished seven weeks later. As Daniel Mendlessohn says, reviewing a new translation by Richard Howard in the Modern Library ('After Waterloo' A new translation of Stendhal's masterpiece about a young soldier in Napoleon's arm, his aunt and her lover, ' The New York Times Book Review, August 29,1999) , though the swiftness of its composition with 'gusto, brio, élan, verve and panache' took a toll in narrative coherence the urgency of its style is masterly. As an example, he quotes: 'Here we shall ask permission to pass, without saying a single word about them, over an interval of three years.'

9/3/99

poem by Gershon Hepner
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Flowers Are The Clocks Of The Light

Flowers are the clocks of the light.
Spring grey. Clouds. Half smoke, half crocus.
The rivulets are carrying last November's leaves away
like long lines of ants bearing the gnostic gospels
of the snow thawing into a spiritual life of water
back to the shrine of their colony
to be chewed over by the divines
masticating the mystery into something
like an edible orthodoxy of mystic impiety.

My heart is a bruised apple with purple blood today.
Neither passionate, nor aloof, clinging
nor unwilling to let go if that's what I must do.
One foot on shore. One in a lifeboat.
O what funny bridges we make as if
we were trying to balance the axis
of heaven and earth upon our nose
like the calves of giraffes learning to walk on stilts.
But there you go. What are you going to do?
That's the way it seems.
You've got to look up and stick your neck out
if you want to graze on the stars.
Same way with dreams. You've got to
risk waking up if you don't want to lose them.

I've wandered off from the carnage
of my doomed holy war of one with my heart
into a peaceful valley where I can sit
on a glacial skull of prophetic rock
and sheathe my sword in the wound I drew it from
like fire from the ore of a crippled dragon
that walked with a limp out of the war
weary of winning these honourable surrenders
like Jacob wrestling with the angel in the way.

Soft here. Easy on the eyes. A gentle touch.
The air on the verge of tears and the trees
about to see who's a skeleton and who's a survivor.
Who made it through the winter, and who
dreamed they died in their sleep and did,
and who, the ghost amputee of the limbs they lost.
I have a mindful heart and a warrior's compassion
for lost lovers, friends, suicides, martyrs, heretics,
neglected gods, defrocked saints, those
who fell half crazy on the broken panes
of their own clarity, committing hara kiri
on the splintered plinths of their own love-crossed stars.
One-eyed artists riding a pair of red bicycle glasses
in a high-wire act without safety nets
like a dropp of dew on a spider's thread

[...] Read more

poem by Patrick White
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Bestowers Of Transformative Vision

pathos suffering passion
ripe within bodily experience
pathos of culture artistic expression

artists the 'I give birth to'
shape shifters people creators
bestowers of transformative vision

sentence seen is life vibration alteration
passionate in artistic creation expression
enrichers of web strand seekers beholders

artists hung upon vision quests
artists hung upon life beat heart beats
artists hung upon eyes burning in soul flame

artists historical now you see them now you don’t

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Euro Zero Zero

(vowles, del naja, marshall, tricky, norfolk, locke)
3d
Sitting in my day care
It was day-glo painted
You see me Im a drinker
You see me now Im sainted
Chased by the plaintive
Haunted by the medium
Too high to flow too bored to break the tedium
Glow from my tv set was blue like neon
Activate the remote I put the bbc on
Ive seen this city, so on
Im looking out for no-one
Pilot in my eye it gets blue like neon
It gets blue like neon
It gets blue like neon
Horace andy
Cant see nothing wrong
Cant be nothing wrong
Inside of me
Daddy g
I walk in a bar, immediately sense danger
You look at me, girl, as if I was a
A total stranger
3d
Hysterical, ecstatical no matter, call me stags(? )
Its kind of hard to get a drink or
Just a girl to relax on
Phono, no go zone I go through
Aching aways just to relocate you
Kill us with your fist
So you mix it with me
I function better when I get approximately
High by my technical flyby
I function better with the sun in my eyes
I function better with the sun in my eyes
I function better with the sun in my eyes
Horace andy
Cant see nothing wrong
Cant be nothing wrong
Inside of me
Daddy g
Take a second of me you beckon Ill be
And when youre sad Ill mourn
And when youre down Im torn
Take a second of me
Said take a second of me
I stand firm for our soil
Lick a rock on foil
Reduce me, seduce me

[...] Read more

song performed by Massive Attack
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Dinner Menu Affected The Bedroom

Insecticides concentrated
in meat and fish cause sterility
Amyloid plaque from meat
and fish... cause senility
The animal fat in meat fish
and dairy
clogs the arteries
reducing sexual
ability
*

PREVENTION OF SEXUAL TRAUMA

Impotence And Animal Flesh

A. CONQUERING IMPOTENCE
Dr. Michael Klaper, Md, in a public speech mentioned that a 25 per
cent blockage of penile arteries from cholesterol (animal fat) accounts for a quadrupled lack of function. Elimination of animal products in many cases returns sexual function. The Physicians' Desk Reference lists sexual dysfunction or impotence as a byproduct of many psychiatric drugs.
(Dr. Klaper is available through archives and live discussion on the web
at
Drs. Neal Barnard MD and Chaitowitz both concurred in this opinion in an
article in May in the Montreal Gazette.
National Public Radio on Sept 9,98 hosted the author of a book on Prozac
who stated that 30 to 40% of users feel a loss of sensation sexually.
Viagra has been correlated to heart attacks. (Eli Lilly and Pfizer
make these 2 drugs.) Fox News reported June 10,98 that Viagra in combination
with nitrates such as sodium nitrate used to color hot dogs can be lethal.
Dr. Drew, MD, host of Loveline, stated one should research the many
antidepressants which cause impotence.
B. CURING BREAST CANCER
(See the Ohio file no.7 under Nonviolent Action for an analysis of
federal and state programs regarding breast cancer.)
The New England Journal of Medicine in November of 1997 stated that
animal fats which become trans-fatty acids are a cause of breast cancer.
The major cause of breast removal in the U.S.is animal products.
(The five countries with the highest rates of breast
cancer have the highest animal product consumption. They are
Scandinavian countries, the U.S. and one other. Women with mastectomies lose
none of their beauty, but they have
a difficult time adjusting. Elimination of the butyric acid in animal
products makes the body more fragrant.
(Other factors in sexual dysfunction are generalized anger, anger with
the partner, low self esteem, general exhaustion, female hormones in animal
products, etc.)
The dietary causes of breast cancer are both the animal products and the
female hormones given to the animals. The Dept. of Defense Health Section in
October did a symposium on the trans fatty acids found in animal products as
a cause of cancer.
The administration's plan to give 450 million dollars to the testing

[...] Read more

poem by O. Anna Niemus
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The Recluse - Book First

HOME AT GRASMERE

ONCE to the verge of yon steep barrier came
A roving school-boy; what the adventurer's age
Hath now escaped his memory--but the hour,
One of a golden summer holiday,
He well remembers, though the year be gone--
Alone and devious from afar he came;
And, with a sudden influx overpowered
At sight of this seclusion, he forgot
His haste, for hasty had his footsteps been
As boyish his pursuits; and sighing said,
'What happy fortune were it here to live!
And, if a thought of dying, if a thought
Of mortal separation, could intrude
With paradise before him, here to die!'
No Prophet was he, had not even a hope,
Scarcely a wish, but one bright pleasing thought,
A fancy in the heart of what might be
The lot of others, never could be his.
The station whence he looked was soft and green,
Not giddy yet aerial, with a depth
Of vale below, a height of hills above.
For rest of body perfect was the spot,
All that luxurious nature could desire;
But stirring to the spirit; who could gaze
And not feel motions there? He thought of clouds
That sail on winds: of breezes that delight
To play on water, or in endless chase
Pursue each other through the yielding plain
Of grass or corn, over and through and through,
In billow after billow, evermore
Disporting--nor unmindful was the boy
Of sunbeams, shadows, butterflies and birds;
Of fluttering sylphs and softly-gliding Fays,
Genii, and winged angels that are Lords
Without restraint of all which they behold.
The illusion strengthening as he gazed, he felt
That such unfettered liberty was his,
Such power and joy; but only for this end,
To flit from field to rock, from rock to field,
From shore to island, and from isle to shore,
From open ground to covert, from a bed
Of meadow-flowers into a tuft of wood;
From high to low, from low to high, yet still
Within the bound of this huge concave; here
Must be his home, this valley be his world.
Since that day forth the Place to him--'to me'
(For I who live to register the truth
Was that same young and happy Being) became

[...] Read more

poem by William Wordsworth
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Papa

Look out
Look where you wanna be
Look left
Look where you left me
I should have known
By the ice in your eye
That you warm me up in your so sweet demise and
Nestled in your calculated moonshine
Boy you give good...
Love, plastic love
You're a genuine wannabe
You got it all up your blue sleeve, your sleeve
Love, plastic love
You're a genuine wannabe
You got it all up your blue sleeve
But me
Papa oh papa tonight
Papa oh I'll be alright
Look left
Look where you wanna be
Look out
Look where you left me
I should have known
By the ice in your eye
That you warm me up in your so sweet demise and
Nestled in your calculated moonshine
Boy you give good...
Love, plastic love
You're a genuine wannabe
You got it all up your blue sleeve, your sleeve
Love, plastic love
You're a genuine wannabe
You got it all up your blue sleeve
But me
Papa oh papa tonight
Papa oh I'll be alright

song performed by Vanessa Carlton
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English Bards and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire

'I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew!
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers'~Shakespeare

'Such shameless bards we have; and yet 'tis true,
There are as mad, abandon'd critics too,'~Pope.

Still must I hear? -- shall hoarse Fitzgerald bawl
His creaking couplets in a tavern hall,
And I not sing, lest, haply, Scotch reviews
Should dub me scribbler, and denounce my muse?
Prepare for rhyme -- I'll publish, right or wrong:
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

O nature's noblest gift -- my grey goose-quill!
Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will,
Torn from thy parent bird to form a pen,
That mighty instrument of little men!
The pen! foredoom'd to aid the mental throes
Of brains that labour, big with verse or prose,
Though nymphs forsake, and critics may deride,
The lover's solace, and the author's pride.
What wits, what poets dost thou daily raise!
How frequent is thy use, how small thy praise!
Condemn'd at length to be forgotten quite,
With all the pages which 'twas thine to write.
But thou, at least, mine own especial pen!
Once laid aside, but now assumed again,
Our task complete, like Hamet's shall be free;
Though spurn'd by others, yet beloved by me:
Then let us soar today, no common theme,
No eastern vision, no distemper'd dream
Inspires -- our path, though full of thorns, is plain;
Smooth be the verse, and easy be the strain.

When Vice triumphant holds her sov'reign sway,
Obey'd by all who nought beside obey;
When Folly, frequent harbinger of crime,
Bedecks her cap with bells of every clime;
When knaves and fools combined o'er all prevail,
And weigh their justice in a golden scale;
E'en then the boldest start from public sneers,
Afraid of shame, unknown to other fears,
More darkly sin, by satire kept in awe,
And shrink from ridicule, though not from law.

Such is the force of wit! but not belong
To me the arrows of satiric song;
The royal vices of our age demand
A keener weapon, and a mightier hand.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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But a large symphony orchestra basically is a repertory company and it has a very enormous repertoire and it is important for the performers to be able to know how to shift focus so that they instantly become part of the sound world that a particular repertoire demands.

quote by Michael Tilson Thomas
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After the Sea - Ship

a dancer on the stage
the ship and the sea my envy
they dance to god's repertoire
a heartwrenching spontaneous dance
energetically executed
over a stage that rotates in waves
strenuous steps that shuffle between life and death
poignant steps that send the hearts afiery, the feet frenzy
first a breeze, a soothing calm
that would soon throw the dancer helter skelter
onto a tempest
where the goddess of dance
has to be propitiated, called upon
for each step, each stomping of foot, feet
up and down, up and down
over treacherous waters
where the living bares their souls
and dancers fashion in motion every emotion
each muscle, each nerve
tested for their fitness in
the dance of the god
a repertoire of surprise, fear,
excitement in all its facets
a dancer thrown to the last test
the trading of steps for life
the waves pounds, she angles herself
steadying herself to the next onslaught of
the yet unknown dance beats
from the world master of dance
puppeteers of the world
that work behind our eyes

inspired by

After The Sea-Ship
AFTER the Sea-Ship-after the whistling winds;
After the white-gray sails, taut to their spars and ropes,
Below, a myriad, myriad waves, hastening, lifting up their necks,
Tending in ceaseless flow toward the track of the ship:
Waves of the ocean, bubbling and gurgling, blithely prying,
Waves, undulating waves-liquid, uneven, emulous waves,
Toward that whirling current, laughing and buoyant, with curves,
Where the great Vessel, sailing and tacking, displaced the surface;
Larger and smaller waves, in the spread of the ocean, yearnfully
flowing;
The wake of the Sea-Ship, after she passes-flashing and frolicsome,
under the sun,
A motley procession, with many a fleck of foam, and many fragments,
Following the stately and rapid Ship-in the wake following.
Walt Whitman

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A qui la faute?

Tu viens d'incendier la Bibliothèque ?

- Oui.
J'ai mis le feu là.

- Mais c'est un crime inouï !
Crime commis par toi contre toi-même, infâme !
Mais tu viens de tuer le rayon de ton âme !
C'est ton propre flambeau que tu viens de souffler !
Ce que ta rage impie et folle ose brûler,
C'est ton bien, ton trésor, ta dot, ton héritage
Le livre, hostile au maître, est à ton avantage.
Le livre a toujours pris fait et cause pour toi.
Une bibliothèque est un acte de foi
Des générations ténébreuses encore
Qui rendent dans la nuit témoignage à l'aurore.
Quoi! dans ce vénérable amas des vérités,
Dans ces chefs-d'oeuvre pleins de foudre et de clartés,
Dans ce tombeau des temps devenu répertoire,
Dans les siècles, dans l'homme antique, dans l'histoire,
Dans le passé, leçon qu'épelle l'avenir,
Dans ce qui commença pour ne jamais finir,
Dans les poètes! quoi, dans ce gouffre des bibles,
Dans le divin monceau des Eschyles terribles,
Des Homères, des jobs, debout sur l'horizon,
Dans Molière, Voltaire et Kant, dans la raison,
Tu jettes, misérable, une torche enflammée !
De tout l'esprit humain tu fais de la fumée !
As-tu donc oublié que ton libérateur,
C'est le livre ? Le livre est là sur la hauteur;
Il luit; parce qu'il brille et qu'il les illumine,
Il détruit l'échafaud, la guerre, la famine
Il parle, plus d'esclave et plus de paria.
Ouvre un livre. Platon, Milton, Beccaria.
Lis ces prophètes, Dante, ou Shakespeare, ou Corneille
L'âme immense qu'ils ont en eux, en toi s'éveille ;
Ébloui, tu te sens le même homme qu'eux tous ;
Tu deviens en lisant grave, pensif et doux ;
Tu sens dans ton esprit tous ces grands hommes croître,
Ils t'enseignent ainsi que l'aube éclaire un cloître
À mesure qu'il plonge en ton coeur plus avant,
Leur chaud rayon t'apaise et te fait plus vivant ;
Ton âme interrogée est prête à leur répondre ;
Tu te reconnais bon, puis meilleur; tu sens fondre,
Comme la neige au feu, ton orgueil, tes fureurs,
Le mal, les préjugés, les rois, les empereurs !
Car la science en l'homme arrive la première.
Puis vient la liberté. Toute cette lumière,
C'est à toi comprends donc, et c'est toi qui l'éteins !
Les buts rêvés par toi sont par le livre atteints.

[...] Read more

poem by Victor Hugo
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Jeepney

From places I scavenge and assemble verve
To places where I depreciate with the anthology,
The jeepney was an unfettered sailing to ferry me
While riding the undaunted wind that winnows
The opulence of the foliage of the old nirvana
In shunning the places of my incarceration.

I was moored on my uncomfortable repose
As the wind lathers into the pockmarks of my face
From the scars to the viscera to what lies yonder beneath
And I sauntered in my mind map without staggering
That I savvy this propelling with an ethereal verve.

Alcohol and conversations could be too cloying
But the I suppose it is better than nothing
Though I still prefer the latent spaces in time
Where I rode the jeepney in the most precious instance
Halting in the equinox of late night and early dawn
And defying the clockwork's fey steerage,
Where I can become ubiquitous in all places like
The wind that drove me into the clandestine places
Inside the jeepney but all over the scalp
Of a weary wandering pounding heart.

In this lapses of life, where I am not participating
In the jocund cotillion of vim and vigor
But neither alone in the boudoir of squalor,
I go closer to the gloaming without burning,
Watch the wind alter in prismatic shades,
And grow wings for conquering a parade.

As I am ferried to different timelines
With varied proportions and profane frameworks
Chasing taillights, watching the darkness erode
The city scrapes the sky to divulge my home
Not amongst the distant sundered lights
But in the latent spaces of time by the window.

Home is where I belong, home is yawning far-flung
For my home is in the lapses of my life,
Sauntering past the decadence
In a cosmic gypsies' voyage
While being present in the absence
In the mobility of the jeepney
I subsist in the nonexistence.

poem by Norman Santos
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To Live and Not To Breathe

Five arms snooping coyly
At the persiennes of the equipoise
Of the red dying night and vim of dawn
Rapping the emollient shuddering
So everything paces with synergy
And in these times I am most alive
Inside the cloys of avarice and pride
Growing more eyes and superfluous hands
And my tentacles would permit me
To wander far off, maybe too far
That I reach the enemy lines
Ticking the mines, fulminating the wiles
And the expulsion of solitude
Malingers with the billowing dusts

In the silence of the hiatus
I have been to different abodes
Of auspicious filth dangling the throat;
Families masticating endearment
And thawing faces of loathe,
Lovers quaffing the treacle poison
In the most perfidious shape of words,
Friends plucking out the petals
And shredding the virulent thorns
Of vying to fit in the swirls of the vertigo
Severing honesty from its feral veraciousness
Tangling webs into the shrilling fault of stars

The wanton susurrations inveigles
A carnal strip show in blood bath;
Everyone skewing in the rift
Of astray algebraic fractions
That defines the world's utopic vision
And the paroxysm of the paradox
Disposes oxymoronic metaphors
Of becoming most alive in a submission
I am most alive, musing upon the damp soil
Where the dead lingers casted in the tombs
Of lack of quintessence, the decadence
Is putrefying from inside their bones

Four legs crawled like a centipede
And the thighs wearily pummeled
The verve spiraling in the hex
Of the moon's ostentatious smiles
Beaming in all hidden places
As the odorless town shuffled
And unfettered howls staggered
From precipitating in the rubble
Of a marionette's muffled jeremiad

[...] Read more

poem by Norman Santos
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La Géante (The Giantess)

Du temps que la Nature en sa verve puissante
Concevait chaque jour des enfants monstrueux,
J'eusse aimé vivre auprès d'une jeune géante,
Comme aux pieds d'une reine un chat voluptueux.

J'eusse aimé voir son corps fleurir avec son âme
Et grandir librement dans ses terribles jeux;
Deviner si son coeur couve une sombre flamme
Aux humides brouillards qui nagent dans ses yeux;

Parcourir à loisir ses magnifiques formes;
Ramper sur le versant de ses genoux énormes,
Et parfois en été, quand les soleils malsains,

Lasse, la font s'étendre à travers la campagne,
Dormir nonchalamment à l'ombre de ses seins,
Comme un hameau paisible au pied d'une montagne.

The Giantess

At the time when Nature with a lusty spirit
Was conceiving monstrous children each day,
I should have liked to live near a young giantess,
Like a voluptuous cat at the feet of a queen.

I should have liked to see her soul and body thrive
And grow without restraint in her terrible games;
To divine by the mist swimming within her eyes
If her heart harbored a smoldering flame;

To explore leisurely her magnificent form;
To crawl upon the slopes of her enormous knees,
And sometimes in summer, when the unhealthy sun

Makes her stretch out, weary, across the countryside,
To sleep nonchalantly in the shade of her breasts,
Like a peaceful hamlet below a mountainside.

— Translated by William Aggeler

The Giantess

Of old when Nature, in her verve defiant,
Conceived each day some birth of monstrous mien,
I would have lived near some young female giant
Like a voluptuous cat beside a queen;

To see her body flowering with her soul
Freely develop in her mighty games,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Baudelaire
Added by Poetry Lover
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We R In Control

We control the data banks
We control the think tanks
We control the flow of air.
Were controlling traffic lights
We control computer flights
We control the chief of staff.
We control the tv sky
We control the fbi
We control the flow of heat.
Computer age in harms way.
We will prevail and perform our function
C.c.t.b.
Were controlling
Were controlling
We control.
Were controlling
We control.
We control.
We control you floor to floor
We control you door to door
Were controlling while you sleep
Computer age in harms way.
We will prevail and perform our function
C.c.t.b.
Computer age in harms way.
We will prevail and perform our function
C.c.t.b.
We are in control, we are in control, we are in control.
We are in control, we are in control, we are in control.
We are in control, we are in control, we are in control.
We are in control, we are in control, we are in control.
Chemical computer thinking battery.

song performed by Neil Young
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Can't Function

I'm working hard from morning till night
My shoulder bend into the wheel
I get home, you start to run me down
How do you think it makes me feel
Your lashing turn
It hurts my soul
I start to think
And I lose control
I'm not moving like I know I should
Or feeling like I'd like to feel
And I spend my days just fooling around
I can't function,
Honey when you run me down
Oh darling don't you run me down
I gotta make a little fortune
So I can bring it on home to you
You're only hurting yourself my friend
Treating me te way you do
My hands are tied behind my back
I'm drinking dinner from a paper sack
Every day is the fourth of july
And I'm nothing but an april fool
Well I spend my days just cruising around
I can't function
Honey when you run me down
Oh darling don't you run me down
[Solo]
I'm half a man
With half a heart
I hear you laughing
And I fall apart
I'd like to put it on the table
But I'm lost before I even start
You do me wrong and it's bringing me down
My idle ways are the talk of the town
You make me feel like a do-nothing-clown
I can't function
Honey when you run me down
Oh darling don't you run me down
Oh darling don't you run me down
.........
[Background talk]

song performed by Steely Dan
Added by Lucian Velea
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At every stage

At every stage and time we find traitors
They easily get backing with their mentors
Who thinks of security, nation or country?
When there is temptation for money?

Our head bows down in shame
No one appreciates it but only blame
When we come to know it by chance?
We condemn it in strong words at once

Bartering national interest is considered as treason
No amount of arguments can be accepted as valid reason
The mother land has to be considered above everything
It is not simple piece of land but above and all special and something

We can still consider some helpless situation
It may be compelled on individual with its continuation
The common sense may not come to his help to think otherwise
He may take such hasty steps which may not be considered wise

The murderers or trouble shooters can be dealt with harsh punishment
The economic offenders may be awarded with less confinement
Little crime here and there can be controlled with severe sentences
But what can be done with traitors to set the exemplary precedence

The death punishment to terrorist may make him hero in public eye
At slightest precondition, all the preventive steps may be given go bye
How helplessly we witness the deterioration in law and order?
Forget about daily skirmishes from neighbors on our borders

The fifth line disorder is known as enemy from within
You can fight external enemies and score a win
You are not aware of the threat existing inside
This threat perception is considered open and very wide

The national security is compromised for paltry some
This is causing great concern and considered as worrisome
We have not yet developed great sense of patriotism
Any peace loving citizen should be ashamed of such criticism

Enough damage is being done on this count
Later on lot of pressure is likely to mount
The matter may be discussed at every forum
There may prevail calm and everybody may keep mum

The national interest must be assigned with great importance
It can not be compromised at any level for an instance
It is not debatable and any breach of it must be dealt with severely
The ordinary function must be allowed to function very orderly

[...] Read more

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Added by Poetry Lover
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