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Our lab had always refrained from keeping our studies secret.

quote by Peter Agre
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Sobre Horizontes

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[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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The Sky-Lab

Sky-lab, Sky-lab, the air did reverberate,
Rich or poor; young or old; literate or not:
All did discuss, the sky-lab's state,
And the dreadful destiny of mankind's lot.

The world was taut with tension,
Over NASA's debacle at exploration—
And was gripped with apprehension,
Of the faltering sky-lab's disintegration.

Under one great mantle of terror
Rocked the world with mute fear;
It chid America for the unpardonable error,
In the computation of the space-craft's steer.

Panic-stricken, some did flee,
In the fold of their kith and kin to be:
From place to place, from country to country,
People fled, to avoid the falling debris.

From dawn till dusk, to the Lord Almighty,
True offers of reverential prayers,
To save the world from the impending calamity,
Were made to ward off their fears!

But some were stoical and calm,
Undisturbed at the space-craft's tract:
And some were sorry for the harm,
That the world would, one day contract.

The Universe, Sun and Earth, to scan,
The sky-lab was sent aloft in seventy three:
Through many a thousand pictures, did them span,
Till from man, the shackles did it free.

Envisaged, for ten years to whirl around,
The sky-lab through solar panels, energy drew:
Dark- spots, in the Sun, suddenly did abound,
And the lab, beyond plans, it threw!

Towards its plunge did streak the monster,
And the count- down to crash did tick,
While for the lab's watery grave did NASA manoeuvre,
Thudding hearts, to their wireless sets, did stick.

At sixteen twenty two GMT on July Eleventh,
Crashed the sky-lab, raining down a fiery debris
Into the ocean, off Australia, near Perth,
Of life inflicting, not even an injury!

[...] Read more

poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Keeping The Peace Leaves Me Desperate

Keeping the peace leaves me desperate..
When thinking my peace,
Might cease to be.
Yes...
Keeping the peace leaves me desperate.
Yes...
Keeping the peace leaves me desperate.

I don't want thoughts of an enemy,
Taking my peace away from me.
No...
Keeping the peace leaves me desperate.
Keeping the peace leaves me desperate.

Keeping the peace leaves me desperate..
When thinking my peace,
Might cease to be.
Yes...
Keeping the peace leaves me desperate.
Yes...
Keeping the peace leaves me desperate.

I don't want thoughts of an enemy,
Taking my peace away from me.
No...
Keeping the peace leaves me desperate.
Keeping the peace leaves me desperate.

I don't want thoughts of an enemy,
Taking my peace away from me.

Keeping the peace leaves me desperate.
Keeping the peace leaves me desperate.
Keeping the peace leaves me desperate.
Keeping the peace leaves me desperate.

Keeping the peace leaves me desperate..
When thinking my peace,
Might cease to be.

Keeping the peace leaves me desperate.
Keeping the peace leaves me desperate.
Keeping the peace leaves me desperate.
Keeping the peace leaves me desperate.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Secret Life Of Arabia

The secret life of arabia
Secret secrets never seen
Secret secrets ever green
I was running at the speed of life
Through mornings thoughts and fantasies
Then I saw your eyes at the cross fades
Secret secrets never seen
Secret secrets ever green
The secret life of arabia
Never here never seen
Secret life ever green
The secret life of arabia
You must see the movie the sand in my eyes
I walk through a desert song when the heroine dies
Arabia (secret secret)
Arabia (secret)
Arabia (secret secret)
Arabia
Arabia (secret secret)
Arabia
Arabia (secret secret)
Arabia
Arabia (secret secret)
Arabia
Arabia (secret secret)
The secret life of arabia
Never here never seen
Secret life ever green

song performed by David Bowie
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American Skin

41 shots
41 shots
41 shots
41 shots
41 shots
41 shots
41 shots
41 shots
41 shots, and we'll take that ride
Across this bloody river to the other side
41 shots, they cut through the night
You're kneeling over his body in the vestibule
Praying for his life
Is it a gun?
Is it a knife?
Is it a wallet?
This is your life
It ain't no secret (it ain't no secret)
It ain't no secret (it ain't no secret)
Ain't no secret my friend
You can get killed just for living in your american skin
41 shots
41 shots
41 shots
41 shots
41 shots, lena gets her son ready for school
She says now on these streets charles
You got to understand the rules
Promise me if an officer stops you'll always be polite
Never ever run away and promise mama you'll keep your hands in sight
Cause is it a gun?
Is it a knife?
Is it a wallet?
This is your life
It ain't no secret (it ain't no secret)
It ain't no secret (it ain't no secret)
No secret my friend
You can get killed just for living in your american skin
41 shots
41 shots
41 shots
41 shots
Is it a gun?
Is it a knife?
Is it a wallet?
This is your life
It ain't no secret (it ain't no secret)
It ain't no secret (it ain't no secret)
It ain't no secret (it ain't no secret)
41 shots and we'll take that ride

[...] Read more

song performed by Bruce Springsteen
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The Idols

An Ode
Luce intellettual, piena d' amore

Prelude
Lo, the spirit of a pulsing star within a stone
Born of earth, sprung from night!
Prisoned with the profound fires of the light
That lives like all the tongues of eloquence
Locked in a speech unknown!
The crystal, cold and hard as innocence,
Immures the flame; and yet as if it knew
Raptures or pangs it could not but betray,
As if the light could feel changes of blood and breath
And all--but--human quiverings of the sense,
Throbs of a sudden rose, a frosty blue,
Shoot thrilling in its ray,
Like the far longings of the intellect
Restless in clouding clay.

Who has confined the Light? Who has held it a slave,
Sold and bought, bought and sold?
Who has made of it a mystery to be doled,
Or trophy, to awe with legendary fire,
Where regal banners wave?
And still into the dark it sends Desire.
In the heart's darkness it sows cruelties.
The bright jewel becomes a beacon to the vile,
A lodestar to corruption, envy's own:
Soiled with blood, fought for, clutched at; this world's prize,
Captive Authority. Oh, the star is stone
To all that outward sight,
Yet still, like truth that none has ever used,
Lives lost in its own light.

Troubled I fly. O let me wander again at will
(Far from cries, far from these
Hard blindnesses and frozen certainties!)
Where life proceeds in vastness unaware
And stirs profound and still:
Where leafing thoughts at shy touch of the air
Tremble, and gleams come seeking to be mine,
Or dart, like suddenly remembered youth,
Like the ache of love, a light, lost, found, and lost again.
Surely in the dusk some messenger was there!
But, haunted in the heart, I thirst, I pine.--
Oh, how can truth be truth
Except I taste it close and sweet and sharp
As an apple to the tooth?

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Laurence Binyon
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Keeping My Distance

(jimmy davis/tommy burroughs/don smith)
Im keeping my calandar open
Even if it takes me years
til you figure out what your plan is
You figure out all of your fears
I dont wanna know anything about her
Or what you feel like you have to defend
But Ive seen your situation
And the world she keeps you in
Im keeping my distance
Im keeping my distance
And Ill wait until my time is here
Im keeping my distance
Im keeping my distance
And Ill wait until you make it clear
If you dont want to rush it baby
Well then by all means dont
But Im gonna wait for the day when
When you see that its me you want
I can see, I can tell that you need me
You know that I need you too
So why on earth cant you ever let her go
Will you ever try anything new
Im keeping my distance
Im keeping my distance
And Ill wait until my time is here
Im keeping my distance
Im keeping my distance
And Ill wait until you make it clear
Where will you find the strength
I cant hold you against your will
You keep me at arms length
Im reaching out to hold you still, yeah, yeah, yeah
I can see that you need me
You know that I need you too
So why on earth cant you ever let her go
Will you ever try anything new
Im keeping my distance
Im keeping my distance
And Ill wait until my time is here
Im keeping my distance
Im keeping my distance

song performed by Martina Mcbride
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I Love My Man

verse 1:
See I finally found me a good man
matter of fact he might be my future husband
yeah he really knows how to love me
and he can't get enough of me
oh yeah he's got class and good looks
by the way he's number one in my book
I prayed for a love and he appeared
no girl got a man like this here
chorus:
So I ain't gonna nag and I ain't gonna trip
I ain't gonna do any arguing
cause I love my man
and I plan on keeping him
so I'm not gonna accuse my man of lust
and I'm gonna trust him let me tell you why
cause I love my man
and I plan on keeping him
verse 2:
No the other guys just don't compare
to my man's good love honey i swear
he's got my back in the time of need
it's good to know that he's there for me
let me say all that he knows my heart
and it means it was love
at the very start when i saw him
with my girlfriends
so I knew I was keeping him
chorus:
So I ain't gonna nag and I ain't gonna trip
I ain't gonna do any arguing
cause I love my man
and I plan on keeping him
so I'm not gonna accuse my man of lust
and I'm gonna trust him let me tell you why
cause I love my man
and I plan on keeping him
So I ain't gonna nag and I ain't gonna trip
I ain't gonna do any arguing
cause I love my man
and I plan on keeping him
so I'm not gonna accuse my man of lust
and I'm gonna trust him let me tell you why
cause I love my man
and I plan on keeping him
bridge:
I know that he loves me and his love is pure
so I don't have a reason to be insecure
ooh, I, love my baby, baby
ooh, I, love my baby

[...] Read more

song performed by Nivea
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Stranded At The Moonbase

A long way up in light-years,
Just a pinpoint in space,
In a century of planetary storms,
Stranded at the moonbase,
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
Looking out at the roof-window,
I've seen many strange things,
From shooting stars to Stars 'n' Stripes
Thought I'd caught a glimpse of golden wings.
The air is getting low,
The air is getting low,
The air is getting low,
The air is getting low.
I got the vision of a big white dove.
I've heard the creaking of the pearly gates above.
I'm wond'ring why the big white dove
Is keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting,
Keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting,
Keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting.
Looking way down below me,
The worlds are all awhirl-whirly.
Won't you come along beside?
This place waits for company.
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
I leave my limbs behind me.
As I'm being lifted
Out into the, into the
Spiritual boom-boom abyss.
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
I got the vision of a big white dove.
I've heard the creaking of the pearly gates above.
I'm wond'ring why the big white dove
Is keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting,
Keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting,
Keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting.

song performed by Kate Bush
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IX. Juris Doctor Johannes-Baptista Bottinius, Fisci et Rev. Cam. Apostol. Advocatus

Had I God's leave, how I would alter things!
If I might read instead of print my speech,—
Ay, and enliven speech with many a flower
Refuses obstinate to blow in print,
As wildings planted in a prim parterre,—
This scurvy room were turned an immense hall;
Opposite, fifty judges in a row;
This side and that of me, for audience—Rome:
And, where yon window is, the Pope should hide—
Watch, curtained, but peep visibly enough.
A buzz of expectation! Through the crowd,
Jingling his chain and stumping with his staff,
Up comes an usher, louts him low, "The Court
"Requires the allocution of the Fisc!"
I rise, I bend, I look about me, pause
O'er the hushed multitude: I count—One, two—

Have ye seen, Judges, have ye, lights of law,—
When it may hap some painter, much in vogue
Throughout our city nutritive of arts,
Ye summon to a task shall test his worth,
And manufacture, as he knows and can,
A work may decorate a palace-wall,
Afford my lords their Holy Family,—
Hath it escaped the acumen of the Court
How such a painter sets himself to paint?
Suppose that Joseph, Mary and her Babe
A-journeying to Egypt, prove the piece:
Why, first he sedulously practiseth,
This painter,—girding loin and lighting lamp,—
On what may nourish eye, make facile hand;
Getteth him studies (styled by draughtsmen so)
From some assistant corpse of Jew or Turk
Or, haply, Molinist, he cuts and carves,—
This Luca or this Carlo or the like.
To him the bones their inmost secret yield,
Each notch and nodule signify their use:
On him the muscles turn, in triple tier,
And pleasantly entreat the entrusted man
"Familiarize thee with our play that lifts
"Thus, and thus lowers again, leg, arm and foot!"
—Ensuring due correctness in the nude.
Which done, is all done? Not a whit, ye know!
He,—to art's surface rising from her depth,—
If some flax-polled soft-bearded sire be found,
May simulate a Joseph, (happy chance!)—
Limneth exact each wrinkle of the brow,
Loseth no involution, cheek or chap,
Till lo, in black and white, the senior lives!
Is it a young and comely peasant-nurse

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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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Tale XVI

THE CONFIDANT.

Anna was young and lovely--in her eye
The glance of beauty, in her cheek the dye:
Her shape was slender, and her features small,
But graceful, easy, unaffected all:
The liveliest tints her youthful face disclosed;
There beauty sparkled, and there health reposed;
For the pure blood that flush'd that rosy cheek
Spoke what the heart forbade the tongue to speak,
And told the feelings of that heart as well,
Nay, with more candour than the tongue could tell.
Though this fair lass had with the wealthy dwelt,
Yet like the damsel of the cot she felt;
And, at the distant hint or dark surmise,
The blood into the mantling cheek would rise.
Now Anna's station frequent terrors wrought,
In one whose looks were with such meaning fraught,
For on a Lady, as an humble friend,
It was her painful office to attend.
Her duties here were of the usual kind -
And some the body harass'd, some the mind:
Billets she wrote, and tender stories read,
To make the Lady sleepy in her bed;
She play'd at whist, but with inferior skill,
And heard the summons as a call to drill;
Music was ever pleasant till she play'd
At a request that no request convey'd;
The Lady's tales with anxious looks she heard,
For she must witness what her Friend averr'd;
The Lady's taste she must in all approve,
Hate whom she hated, whom she lov'd must love;
These, with the various duties of her place,
With care she studied, and perform'd with grace:
She veil'd her troubles in a mask of ease,
And show'd her pleasure was a power to please.
Such were the damsel's duties: she was poor -
Above a servant, but with service more:
Men on her face with careless freedom gaz'd,
Nor thought how painful was the glow they raised.
A wealthy few to gain her favour tried,
But not the favour of a grateful bride;
They spoke their purpose with an easy air,
That shamed and frighten'd the dependent fair;
Past time she view'd, the passing time to cheat,
But nothing found to make the present sweet:
With pensive soul she read life's future page,
And saw dependent, poor, repining age.
But who shall dare t'assert what years may

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Keeping An Agenda Makes A Difference

Hoping I'd awaken next to someone who had thrilled,
Is a heartache I had dumped.
Wishing for someone to come to undo all my ills,
Is a heartached I had dumped.
Keeping faith and praying I would find somebody real,
Is a heartache I had dumped.

And I believe...
Keeping an agenda makes a difference.

Yes I believe...
Priorities kept in sight,
Eventually makes things turn out right...
If a patience isn't hit by a car,
Or struck by lightening.

Yes I believe...
Keeping an agenda makes a difference.

Hoping I'd awaken next to someone who had thrilled,
Is a heartache I had dumped.

And I believe...
Keeping an agenda makes a difference.

Wishing for someone to come to undo all my ills,
Is a heartached I had dumped.

And I believe...
Keeping an agenda makes a difference.

Keeping faith and praying I would find somebody real,
Is a heartache I had dumped.

Yes I believe...
Priorities kept in sight,
Eventually makes things turn out right...
If a patience isn't hit by a car,
Or struck by lightening.

And I believe...
Keeping an agenda makes a difference.
With eyes opened wide.

And I believe...
Keeping an agenda makes a difference.
With eyes opened wide.

And I believe...
Keeping an agenda makes a difference.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sigismond And Guiscardo. From Boccace

While Norman Tancred in Salerno reigned,
The title of a gracious Prince he gained;
Till turned a tyrant in his latter days,
He lost the lustre of his former praise,
And from the bright meridian where he stood
Descending dipped his hands in lovers' blood.

This Prince, of Fortune's favour long possessed,
Yet was with one fair daughter only blessed;
And blessed he might have been with her alone,
But oh! how much more happy had he none!
She was his care, his hope, and his delight,
Most in his thought, and ever in his sight:
Next, nay beyond his life, he held her dear;
She lived by him, and now he lived in her.
For this, when ripe for marriage, he delayed
Her nuptial bands, and kept her long a maid,
As envying any else should share a part
Of what was his, and claiming all her heart.
At length, as public decency required,
And all his vassals eagerly desired,
With mind averse, he rather underwent
His people's will than gave his own consent.
So was she torn, as from a lover's side,
And made, almost in his despite, a bride.

Short were her marriage joys; for in the prime
Of youth, her lord expired before his time;
And to her father's court in little space
Restored anew, she held a higher place;
More loved, and more exalted into grace.
This Princess, fresh and young, and fair and wise,
The worshipped idol of her father's eyes,
Did all her sex in every grace exceed,
And had more wit beside than women need.

Youth, health, and ease, and most an amorous mind,
To second nuptials had her thoughts inclined;
And former joys had left a secret string behind.
But, prodigal in every other grant,
Her sire left unsupplied her only want,
And she, betwixt her modesty and pride,
Her wishes, which she could not help, would hide.

Resolved at last to lose no longer time,
And yet to please her self without a crime,
She cast her eyes around the court, to find
A worthy subject suiting to her mind,
To him in holy nuptials to be tied,
A seeming widow, and a secret bride.

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
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Got To Let It Go

All my life-time plans,
I got em in my hands.
Balancing my fate upon a wire.
Got to let it go.
Everywhere I turn I see
Theres nowhere left to go.
All my dreams are far,
Too much for me to hold.
Still I hate to drop them,
Werent they from you?
What did I do?
You are the one that can see,
Into the heart of me.
Am I really giving up tomorrow?
Got, got, got to let it go.
This is gonna hurt a little,
Still its right I know.
Got to let it --
Even though I fear
Too much of me might show,
I cant wait any longer for it,
Ive had enough!
Ill give it up!
Lord, heres my heart,
Ive been keeping it from you,
And I got to let it go.
Holding on just breaks me, worry,
Got to let it go,
Come and take it from me, hurry,
Got to let it go.
Go to let it -- got to let it go.
Got to give up all of my control!
Holding on too tight,
Where do I lose sight?
Wheres the lamb that seems to bring frustration,
Go to let it go.
The best of dreams can turn to nightmares,
When my heart takes hold.
How long must I learn?
This lessons getting old,
Ive got to catch a clearer vision,
Im in your hands!
Youre in command!
Lord, heres my heart (heres my heart, heres my heart)
Ive been keeping it (keeping it, keeping it) from you!
And I got to let it go.
Holding on just breaks me, worry,
Got to let it go.
Come and take it from me, hurry,
Got to let it go.

[...] Read more

song performed by Amy Grant
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Love Aint For Keeping

Layin on my back
Layin on my back
In the newly mown grass
In the newly mown grass
Rain is coming down
Rain is coming down
But I know the clouds will pass
But I know the clouds will pass
You bring me tea
You bring me tea
Say the babes a-sleepin
Say the babes a-sleepin
Lay down beside me
Lay down beside me
Love aint for keeping
Love aint for keeping
Black ash from the foundry
Black ash from the foundry
Hangs like a hood
Hangs like a hood
But the air is perfumed
But the air is perfumed
By the burning firewood
By the burning firewood
The seeds are bursting
The seeds are bursting
The spring is seeping
The spring is seeping
Lay down beside me
Lay down beside me
Love aint for keeping
Love aint for keeping
Lay down beside me
Lay down beside me
Love aint for keeping
Love aint for keeping
Lay down beside me
Lay down beside me
Love aint for keeping
Love aint for keeping
Lay down my darling
Lay down my darling
Love aint for keeping
Love aint for keeping

song performed by Who
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Metamorphoses: Book The Tenth

THENCE, in his saffron robe, for distant Thrace,
Hymen departs, thro' air's unmeasur'd space;
By Orpheus call'd, the nuptial Pow'r attends,
But with ill-omen'd augury descends;
Nor chearful look'd the God, nor prosp'rous spoke,
Nor blaz'd his torch, but wept in hissing smoke.
In vain they whirl it round, in vain they shake,
No rapid motion can its flames awake.
The Story of With dread these inauspicious signs were view'd,
Orpheus And soon a more disastrous end ensu'd;
and Eurydice For as the bride, amid the Naiad train,
Ran joyful, sporting o'er the flow'ry plain,
A venom'd viper bit her as she pass'd;
Instant she fell, and sudden breath'd her last.
When long his loss the Thracian had deplor'd,
Not by superior Pow'rs to be restor'd;
Inflam'd by love, and urg'd by deep despair,
He leaves the realms of light, and upper air;
Daring to tread the dark Tenarian road,
And tempt the shades in their obscure abode;
Thro' gliding spectres of th' interr'd to go,
And phantom people of the world below:
Persephone he seeks, and him who reigns
O'er ghosts, and Hell's uncomfortable plains.
Arriv'd, he, tuning to his voice his strings,
Thus to the king and queen of shadows sings.
Ye Pow'rs, who under Earth your realms extend,
To whom all mortals must one day descend;
If here 'tis granted sacred truth to tell:
I come not curious to explore your Hell;
Nor come to boast (by vain ambition fir'd)
How Cerberus at my approach retir'd.
My wife alone I seek; for her lov'd sake
These terrors I support, this journey take.
She, luckless wandring, or by fate mis-led,
Chanc'd on a lurking viper's crest to tread;
The vengeful beast, enflam'd with fury, starts,
And thro' her heel his deathful venom darts.
Thus was she snatch'd untimely to her tomb;
Her growing years cut short, and springing bloom.
Long I my loss endeavour'd to sustain,
And strongly strove, but strove, alas, in vain:
At length I yielded, won by mighty love;
Well known is that omnipotence above!
But here, I doubt, his unfelt influence fails;
And yet a hope within my heart prevails.
That here, ev'n here, he has been known of old;
At least if truth be by tradition told;
If fame of former rapes belief may find,
You both by love, and love alone, were join'd.

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poem by Ovid
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The Masque Of Pandora

THE WORKSHOP OF HEPHAESTUS

HEPHAESTUS (standing before the statue of Pandora.)
Not fashioned out of gold, like Hera's throne,
Nor forged of iron like the thunderbolts
Of Zeus omnipotent, or other works
Wrought by my hands at Lemnos or Olympus,
But moulded in soft clay, that unresisting
Yields itself to the touch, this lovely form
Before me stands, perfect in every part.
Not Aphrodite's self appeared more fair,
When first upwafted by caressing winds
She came to high Olympus, and the gods
Paid homage to her beauty. Thus her hair
Was cinctured; thus her floating drapery
Was like a cloud about her, and her face
Was radiant with the sunshine and the sea.

THE VOICE OF ZEUS.
Is thy work done, Hephaestus?

HEPHAESTUS.
It is finished!

THE VOICE.
Not finished till I breathe the breath of life
Into her nostrils, and she moves and speaks.

HEPHAESTUS.
Will she become immortal like ourselves?

THE VOICE.
The form that thou hast fashioned out of clay
Is of the earth and mortal; but the spirit,
The life, the exhalation of my breath,
Is of diviner essence and immortal.
The gods shall shower on her their benefactions,
She shall possess all gifts: the gift of song,
The gift of eloquence, the gift of beauty,
The fascination and the nameless charm
That shall lead all men captive.

HEPHAESTUS.
Wherefore? wherefore?

(A wind shakes the house.)

I hear the rushing of a mighty wind
Through all the halls and chambers of my house!
Her parted lips inhale it, and her bosom

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poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Dirty Little Secret

Let me know that I've done wrong
When I've known this all along
I go around a time or two
Just to waste my time with you
Tell me all that you've thrown away
Find out games you don't wanna play
You are the only one that needs to know
I'll keep you my dirty little secret
(Dirty little secret)
Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret
(Just another regret, hope that you can keep it)
My dirty little secret
Who has to know
When we live such fragile lives
It's the best way we survive
I go around a time or two
Just to waste my time with you
Tell me all that you've thrown away
Find out games you don't wanna play
You are the only one that needs to know
I'll keep you my dirty little secret
(Dirty little secret)
Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret
(Just another regret, hope that you can keep it)
My dirty little secret
Who has to know
The way she feels inside (inside)
Those thoughts I can't deny (deny)
These sleeping dogs won't lie (won't lie)
And now I try to lie
It's eating me apart
Trace this life out
I'll keep you my dirty little secret
(Dirty little secret)
Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret
(Just another regret)
I'll keep you my dirty little secret
(Dirty little secret)
Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret
(Just another regret, hope that you can keep it)
My dirty little secret
Dirty little secret
Dirty little secret
Who has to know
Who has to know

song performed by All American Rejects
Added by Lucian Velea
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Getting Bodacious and Less Discreet

The guys lay in secret with misters.
Laying discreeted doing dirty deeds.
Some downlow on hands and knees,
And all bugged out with plugged up mouths.

The guys lay in secret with misters.
None denying they've come out of the closet.
Few denying they now cruise on the streets.

The guys lay in secret with misters.
Some are married and some are not.
Some just started and they like it a lot.

The guys lay in secret with misters.
It may be caused by the economy.
With some feeling weakened,
With effeminate needs.
And some feeling weakened,
With a need to please.

The guys lay in secret with misters.
None denying they've come out of the closet.
Few denying they now cruise on the streets.

The guys lay in secret with misters.
Some are married and some are not.
Some just started and they like it a lot.

The guys lay in secret with misters.
Laying discreeted doing dirty deeds.
Some downlow on hands and knees,
And all bugged out with plugged up mouths.

You know the guys lay in secret with misters.
And getting bodacious and less discreet.
Getting bodacious and less discreet.

You know the guys lay in secret with misters.
And getting bodacious and less discreet.
Getting bodacious and less discreet.

You know the guys lay in secret with misters.
And getting bodacious and less discreet.
Getting bodacious and less discreet.

You know the guys lay in secret with misters.
And getting bodacious and less discreet.
Getting bodacious and less discreet.

You know the guys lay in secret with misters.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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