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I am in the prime of my senility.

quote by Joel Chandler Harris
Added by Lucian Velea
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Recollection of the Arabian Nights

WHEN the breeze of a joyful dawn blew free
In the silken sail of infancy,
The tide of time flow'd back with me,
The forward-flowing tide of time;
And many a sheeny summer-morn,
Adown the Tigris I was borne,
By Bagdat's shrines of fretted gold,
High-walled gardens green and old;
True Mussulman was I and sworn,
For it was in the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.

Anight my shallop, rustling thro'
The low and bloomed foliage, drove
The fragrant, glistening deeps, and clove
The citron-shadows in the blue:
By garden porches on the brim,
The costly doors flung open wide,
Gold glittering thro' lamplight dim,
And broider'd sofas on each side:
In sooth it was a goodly time,
For it was in the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.

Often where clear-stemm'd platans guard
The outlet, did I turn away
The boat-head down a broad canal
From the main river sluiced, where all
The sloping of the moon-lit sward
Was damask-work, and deep inlay
Of braided blooms unmown, which crept
Adown to where the water slept.
A goodly place, a goodly time,
For it was in the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.

A motion from the river won
Ridged the smooth level, bearing on
My shallop thro' the star-strown calm,
Until another night in night
I enter'd, from the clearer light,
Imbower'd vaults of pillar'd palm,
Imprisoning sweets, which, as they clomb
Heavenward, were stay'd beneath the dome
Of hollow boughs.--A goodly time,
For it was in the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.

Still onward; and the clear canal
Is rounded to as clear a lake.

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Prime Time

Cavalier roses, but the thorns got in my soul
Chocolate box intention, but a bitter taste left me cold
Take a little something, a present clouds the past
Traded our emotions, it couldnt last, wouldnt last at all
And though you didnt say
I knew youd swim away
Fine time for hook and line
And though whats done is done, yeah
I know my right from wrong
Prime time to cast me down!
Bitter suite decision, sofa so good the day we met
Eye for eye collision, pillow talking, only pillow talking
Matinee romancing, the bait is set, the net is cast
Cheated our emotions, it couldnt last
Wouldnt last at all
Although you didnt say
I knew youd swim away
Prime time for hook and line
And though whats done is done
I know my right from wrong
Prime time to cast me down!
And words are words thats all
Im going to stand or fall
Prime time for hook and line
Dont you swim away...
Prime time for the hook and line
Prime time for the hook and line
For the hook, the hook and line
Although you didnt say, yeah
I knew youd swim away
Prime time for hook and line
And though whats done is done, yeah
I know my right from wrong
Prime time to cast me down
Line by line adventure
A prime time for the hook and line
Castaway in pleasure
A prime time
Curtain razor tension
A prime time for the hook and line
Wasted our emotions
A prime time

song performed by Haircut 100
Added by Lucian Velea
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100 STD's 10,000 MTD's

There are STD's, sexually transmitted diseases.
and then there are MTD's, meat transmitted diseases.

The latter take a lot more lives.

*********

In Animal Flesh: Blood Sweat Tears as well as Carcinogens Cholesterol Colon Bacteria

Animal products kill more people annually in the US than
tobacco, alcohol, traffic accidents, war, domestic violence,
guns, and drugs combined. USAMRID wrote that consumption of pig flesh caused the world's most lethal pandemic in WW1,
euphemistically called flu. Anthrax
used to be called wool sorters'
disease. Smallpox used to be called
cow pox or kine pox because of
its origin in animal flesh.
.

WHAT'S IN A BURGER? BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS (AS WELL AS BIOTERRORISM)

POISONS IN ANIMAL AND FISH FLESH... A PARTIAL LIST

a partial list in alphabetical order

acidification diseases
addiction (to trioxypurines)
adrenalin (secreted by terrorized
animals before and during slaughter)

ANTIBIOTICS (too many to list) (crowded factory farm animals standing in their own feces are often infected)

BACTERIA
creiophilic bacteria survive
the freezing of animal flesh
thermophilic bacteria survive
the baking boiling and roasting

bacteriophages (viruses FDA allows to
be injected)
blood
colon bacteria.. euphemistically
called ecoli animals defecate
all over themselves in terror
John Harvey Kellogg MD studied
the exponential rate into the billions

BSE DISEASES, PRIONS IN SPECIES FROM GELATIN (JELLO ETC)
Mad Chicken

[...] Read more

poem by O. Anna Niemus
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Prime Of Our Love

I have rocked you to sleep like a baby
Stood beneath you and lifted you up
I have given you comfort and safety
Now youve gone in the prime of our love
I have cradled your head on my pillow
Quenched your thirst from my sweet loving cup
I have bowed to your needs like a willow
Now youve gone in the prime of our love
Oh, the days are slow in their passing
And the nights are so dreadfully dull
And the question my heart keeps on asking
Whyd you leave in the prime of our love?
I have cradled your head on my pillow
Quenched your thirst from my sweet loving cup
I have bowed to your needs like a willow
Now youve gone in the prime of our love
In the prime of our love youve forsaken
Our bright hopes and just left them to fade
And the heart that was yours for the breaking
Lies in pieces to wither away
I have cradled your head on my pillow
Quenched your thirst from my sweet loving cup
I have bowed to your needs like a willow
Now youve gone in the prime of our love
In the prime of our love youve forsaken
Our bright hopes and just left them to fade
And the heart that was yours for the breaking
Lies in pieces to wither away
Lies in pieces as cold as the clay

song performed by Dolly Parton
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Plea Of The Midsummer Fairies

I

'Twas in that mellow season of the year
When the hot sun singes the yellow leaves
Till they be gold,—and with a broader sphere
The Moon looks down on Ceres and her sheaves;
When more abundantly the spider weaves,
And the cold wind breathes from a chillier clime;—
That forth I fared, on one of those still eves,
Touch'd with the dewy sadness of the time,
To think how the bright months had spent their prime,

II

So that, wherever I address'd my way,
I seem'd to track the melancholy feet
Of him that is the Father of Decay,
And spoils at once the sour weed and the sweet;—
Wherefore regretfully I made retreat
To some unwasted regions of my brain,
Charm'd with the light of summer and the heat,
And bade that bounteous season bloom again,
And sprout fresh flowers in mine own domain.

III

It was a shady and sequester'd scene,
Like those famed gardens of Boccaccio,
Planted with his own laurels evergreen,
And roses that for endless summer blow;
And there were fountain springs to overflow
Their marble basins,—and cool green arcades
Of tall o'erarching sycamores, to throw
Athwart the dappled path their dancing shades,—
With timid coneys cropping the green blades.

IV

And there were crystal pools, peopled with fish,
Argent and gold; and some of Tyrian skin,
Some crimson-barr'd;—and ever at a wish
They rose obsequious till the wave grew thin
As glass upon their backs, and then dived in,
Quenching their ardent scales in watery gloom;
Whilst others with fresh hues row'd forth to win
My changeable regard,—for so we doom
Things born of thought to vanish or to bloom.

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Hood
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The Prime of Life

OH, the strength of the toil of those twenty years, with father, and master, and men!
And the clearer brain of the business man, who has held his own for ten:
Oh, the glorious freedom from business fears, and the rest from domestic strife!
The past is dead, and the future assured, and I’m in the prime of life!

She bore me old, and they kept me old, and they worked me early and late;
I carried the loads of my selfish tribe, from seven to thirty eight:
I slaved with dad, in the dust and heat, that my brothers might enjoy—
But I rest to-day in the prime of life, and I’ll live and die a boy!

When the last crop failed, and the stock were gone, did the old man’s head go down?
No! he started business, on what was left, in the produce line in town.
They sent my brothers to boarding schools, when our way to the front we’d won—
They’d borrow, and borrow, but never had aught but contempt for the eldest son.

My brothers they went to the world away, and they left the home in strife.
They sowed wild oats in the pride of youth, and they pawned the prime of life.
They sowed too fast, and they sowed too far; and they came back one by one—
You couldn’t tell which is the eldest son and which is the youngest son.

Oh, I longed for a love that I could not claim, and a breath of the youth denied—
But I stuck to the store when the old man went, and the mater until she died:
With Job’s own sister and Satan’s aunt—good Lord! and the fiend’s own wife—
But I’m free of them now, it is no matter how, and I’m in the prime of life.

My brothers have turned respectable, and are steady as men can be:
The youngest and worst is a leading light—and he aims at reforming me!
But I lend and help, and I’ll fix them up, for I can’t but see with a sigh,
That the youngest, who left us a handsome boy, is an older man than I.

But it’s “Lord make us thankful” three times a day, before they eat their fill—
They can thank the Lord if they like, I say, but I reckon I pay the bill.
They feel independent, I’m glad to know, for if all I hear is true,
My brothers agree that I do no more than I have a right to do.

They’ll work in the store while I see the world, and I’ll let them share the till—
But I sail to-day, for a year away, to go wherever I will:
I sail with the woman who waited for me—old sweetheart; and brand new wife—
She is handsome and true, and she’s thirty-two—and I’m in the prime of life.

For Capetown, and London, and Norraway, for Germany, Holland, and France,
For Switzerland, Italy—anywhere—for Greece, and for Egypt a glance,
For India, China, and “strange Japan”, for the East with mystery rife—
I have made enough, and I have my love—and I’m in the prime of life!

poem by Henry Lawson
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Lilis Address

Puff we now ourselves with pride
Swelling outward far and wide
For God herself is on our side
With heavens plan for the motherland
All right, all right ladies,
Settle down now, settle down
Now, the usual formalities
Everyone, hold all your questions please
Youll all have your opportunities to
Shoot the breeze or cut the cheese
But upon this juncture I must state
How immensely you appreciate
The illusion of grandeur I create
When every trait I overrate
And every word gesticulate
In praise of the motherland
Puff we now ourselves with pride
Swelling outward far and wide
For God herself is on our side
With heavens plan for the motherland
Quiet please, quiet, Im still speaking
Irregardless of to what we pledge
The electorate gives me the edge
And the boost to my ego that cant be measured
Ruling you is such a pleasure
Speaking of good taste in dames
I submit to you my list of names
Maybe some of them come up short on brains
But good at diplomatic games
And sycophantic without shame
I give you the cabinet
The privilege is strictly ours
To have you watch while we devour
The crumbs of presidential power
That we can grub from lilly
Shes got the wardrobe we adore
Her teeth are perfect, what is more
She knows what having friends is for
Were silly over lilly,
Silly over lilly
til were ill, well sing it shrilly
Lilly is the nations pride
And we love her like a mother
You like me, you like me
You dont know what this means to me
To be the one you run to see when
You need a mother
All right, I feel good
Im a [partridge? ]
Im ready to take you all on

[...] Read more

song performed by Utopia
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wouldnt I Be Someone

Maybe theres a reason why we broke up
I could dedicate my life to something new
But I must have been asleep but then I woke up
Working out why I was still with you
All the things I wish I could have been
Wouldnt I be someone , someone
And I would be respected
In the prime of my life , Ill do evrything right
Ill begin
Wouldnt I be something , something
I would get a reputation
In the prime of my life , Ill do evrything right
Ill begin
(break)
Midnight stars are shining on my shoeshine
Telling me the things Im gonna be
Now the hurts all gone , Ive pushed them all behind me
And the world is gonna fall in love with me
All the things I wish I could have been
Wouldnt I be someone , someone
And I would be respected
In the prime of my life, Ill do evrything right
Ill begin
Wouldnt I be something, something
I would get a reputation
In the prime of my life , Ill do evrything right
Ill begin

song performed by Bee Gees
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Painter Passing Through

Once upon a time I was on my own
Once upon a time like youve never known
Once upon a time I would be impressed
Once upon a time my life would be obsessed
Once upon a time, once upon a day when
I was in my prime, once along the way
If you want to know my secret dont come runnin after me
For I am just a painter passing through in history
Yesterday is gone, yesterdays alright
Yesterday belongs in my dreams at night
Yesterday is swell, yesterday is great
Yesterday is strong, remembering can wait
Once upon a time, once upon a day when
I was in my prime, once along the way
If you want to know an answer I cant turn your life around
For I am just a painter passing through the underground
I was in my stride, always at my game
Here comes mister cool, along the walk of fame
I was in demand, always in control
The world was in my hands, my touch had turn to gold
Once upon a time, I was in a daze when
I was in my prime, once along the way
If you want to know my secret dont come runnin after me
For I am just a painter passing through in history
Now that I am old, let me rest a spell
All that I am told, I can never tell
Never in my life, never will it pass
I am still alone, remembering at last
Once upon a time, once upon a day when
I was in my prime, once along the way
If you want to know an answer I cant turn your life around
For I am just a painter passing through the underground
If you want to know my secret dont come runnin after me
For I am just a painter passing through in history

song performed by Gordon Lightfoot
Added by Lucian Velea
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Rock It

When I hear that rock and roll,
It gets down to my soul,
When it's real rock and roll, oh rock and roll.
Oh Oh, Oh Oh,
You really think they like to rock in space?
Well I don't know
What do you know?
What do you hear?
On the radio
I said Mama
I ain't crazy
I'm alright - alright
Hey, c'mon baby said it's alright
To rock and roll on a Saturday night
I said shoot and get your suit and come along with me
I said c'mon baby down come and rock and roll with me, I said yeah.
What do you do?
To get to feel alive?
You go downtown
And get some of that prime jive,
I said Mama etc.
We're gonna rock it............ tonight.
(We want some prime jive)
(We want some prime jive)
We're gonna rock it tonight
C'mon honey
Get some of that prime jive
Get some of that, get, get down
C'mon honey - we're gonna rock it tonight.

song performed by Queen
Added by Lucian Velea
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Better Off Dead

(rod stewart / chen, savigar, cregan, grainger, appice)
Call the girls and dress up fine
Tonight I felt like suicide
Roll them dice and pour the wine
Shuffle them cards and deal them fine
Got nobody to kiss tonight
Nothing to lose but my appetite
Wanna be silly and sing and shout
Gotta get legless and fall about
Turn the music up nice and loud
Cheer me up dont bring me down
Gonna lose my job next week
Getting replaced by a silicone chip
I might have been a hero
But I chose to stay in bed
I might have been prime minister
But right now honey Im better off dead
I might have been a hero
But I chose to stay in bed
I might have been prime minister
But right now honey Im better off dead
Dont like the scenery dont like the set
Tear it all down and start again
Man keeps talking on the radio
Telling me what I dont wanna know
Radiation wars and layatril
If tax dont get ya then cancer will
I might have been a hero
But I chose to stay in bed
I might have been prime minister
But right now honey Im better off dead
I might have been a hero
But I chose to stay in bed
I might have been prime minister
But right now honey Im better off dead
Better off dead, better off dead
Better off dead, better off dead

song performed by Rod Stewart
Added by Lucian Velea
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Portugal Manoel Da Assumpcam Missionary.

'Portugal Manoel Da Assumpcam
Amar Sonar Moyna Pakki Amigo,
I never seen you in my live ever before
Which Country are you from?
My dear amigo Manoel Da Assumpcam.

Your colour of heritage in unknown Land l fear to bear your name in word.
I can't bear to missed you my amigo, Oh yes it can't be forgot either
You have contributed your nameless name in the nation without name
To influence other and to form the crowd in unknown Land,
Where are you from Sir?

And to shape not my nationalities in Language in Culture but yours!
The present Language in Bangla o' my dear amigo never was counted by.
You may be nothing To Government of Portugal than but today.
Priceless name in the heart of people's in the unknown Land.

I have nothing to say in Language Portuguese other than to say thank you.
For teaching and advocating me in Language in Bangla
That nation today celebrates every year.
With their tears on their eyes and face.

Bear to say words other than few minute in silent,
As orphanage children's looking at each other face.
Remembering those who gave their words in Bangla and live for.
And today I believe in visual hallucination it's not too late
to say how much I love you in Language in Bangla ‘Nil Dariar Prem'

The Birth of new Generation in Culture in Bangla.
Almost was given birth after more than three century in Bangla
'Inna-Lilla-He-O-Inna-He-La-He-Ra-Je-Ow n'
When will I met you?

Day of Kiamot is to far from Bay of Bengal to Portugal.
The mother of all living things on Earth,
Singing in the name of Almighty Lord ‘Allah' too
In the soil of unknown Land in British India my not his or her love.

How lucky you was never assassinated by knowing you was pigeons,
As Bongo Bandhu,
First Prime Ministers of Bangladesh.
I miss you ‘Manoel Da Assumpcam'
Your name prescribed in Language Bangla by name
'Shaheed Minar'
Capital City o Bangladesh.
By name once was known Dac-ca' now became ‘DHA-KA'

Your name in my Language Mother tongues days and nights,
‘Joy Bangla'
To Miss you my dear amigo you left us under your own broken umbrella.

[...] Read more

poem by Abdul Haye Amin
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The four Seasons of the Year.

Spring.
Another four I've left yet to bring on,
Of four times four the last Quaternion,
The Winter, Summer, Autumn & the Spring,
In season all these Seasons I shall bring:
Sweet Spring like man in his Minority,
At present claim'd, and had priority.
With smiling face and garments somewhat green,
She trim'd her locks, which late had frosted been,
Nor hot nor cold, she spake, but with a breath,
Fit to revive, the nummed earth from death.
Three months (quoth she) are 'lotted to my share
March, April, May of all the rest most fair.
Tenth of the first, Sol into Aries enters,
And bids defiance to all tedious winters,
Crosseth the Line, and equals night and day,
(Stil adds to th'last til after pleasant May)
And now makes glad the darkned northern wights
Who for some months have seen but starry lights.
Now goes the Plow-man to his merry toyle,
He might unloose his winter locked soyl:
The Seeds-man too, doth lavish out his grain,
In hope the more he casts, the more to gain:
The Gardner now superfluous branches lops,
And poles erects for his young clambring hops.
Now digs then sowes his herbs, his flowers & roots
And carefully manures his trees of fruits.
The Pleiades their influence now give,
And all that seem'd as dead afresh doth live.
The croaking frogs, whom nipping winter kil'd
Like birds now chirp, and hop about the field,
The Nightingale, the black-bird and the Thrush
Now tune their layes, on sprayes of every bush.
The wanton frisking Kid, and soft-fleec'd Lambs
Do jump and play before their feeding Dams,
The tender tops of budding grass they crop,
They joy in what they have, but more in hope:
For though the frost hath lost his binding power,
Yet many a fleece of snow and stormy shower
Doth darken Sol's bright eye, makes us remember
The pinching North-west wind of cold December.
My second moneth is April, green and fair,
Of longer dayes, and a more temperate Air:
The Sun in Taurus keeps his residence,
And with his warmer beams glanceth from thence
This is the month whose fruitful showrs produces
All set and sown for all delights and uses:
The Pear, the Plum, and Apple-tree now flourish
The grass grows long the hungry beast to nourish.
The Primrose pale, and azure violet

[...] Read more

poem by Anne Bradstreet
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The Child Of The Islands - Winter

I.

ERE the Night cometh! On how many graves
Rests, at this hour, their first cold winter's snow!
Wild o'er the earth the sleety tempest raves;
Silent, our Lost Ones slumber on below;
Never to share again the genial glow
Of Christmas gladness round the circled hearth;
Never returning festivals to know,
Or holidays that mark some loved one's birth,
Or children's joyous songs, and loud delighted mirth.
II.

The frozen tombs are sheeted with one pall,--
One shroud for every churchyard, crisp and bright,--
One foldless mantle, softly covering all
With its unwrinkled width of spotless white.
There, through the grey dim day and starlit night,
It rests, on rich and poor, and young and old,--
Veiling dear eyes,--whose warm homne-cheering light
Our pining hearts can never more behold,--
With an unlifting veil,--that falleth blank and cold.
III.

The Spring shall melt that snow,--but kindly eyes
Return not with the Sun's returning powers,--
Nor to the clay-cold cheek, that buried lies,
The living blooms that flush perennial flowers,--
Nor, with the song-birds, vocal in the bowers,
The sweet familiar tones! In silence drear
We pass our days,--and oft in midnight hours
Call madly on their names who cannot hear,--
Names graven on the tombs of the departed year!
IV.

There lies the tender Mother, in whose heart
So many claimed an interest and a share!
Humbly and piously she did her part
In every task of love and household care:
And mournfully, with sad abstracted air,
The Father-Widower, on his Christmas Eve,
Strokes down his youngest child's long silken hair,
And, as the gathering sobs his bosom heave,
Goes from that orphaned group, unseen to weep and grieve.
V.

Feeling his loneliness the more this day
Because SHE kept it with such gentle joy,
Scarce can he brook to see his children play,
Remembering how her love it did employ

[...] Read more

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Paradise Lost: Book 05

Now Morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime
Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl,
When Adam waked, so customed; for his sleep
Was aery-light, from pure digestion bred,
And temperate vapours bland, which the only sound
Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan,
Lightly dispersed, and the shrill matin song
Of birds on every bough; so much the more
His wonder was to find unwakened Eve
With tresses discomposed, and glowing cheek,
As through unquiet rest: He, on his side
Leaning half raised, with looks of cordial love
Hung over her enamoured, and beheld
Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep,
Shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice
Mild, as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,
Her hand soft touching, whispered thus. Awake,
My fairest, my espoused, my latest found,
Heaven's last best gift, my ever new delight!
Awake: The morning shines, and the fresh field
Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how spring
Our tender plants, how blows the citron grove,
What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed,
How nature paints her colours, how the bee
Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet.
Such whispering waked her, but with startled eye
On Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake.
O sole in whom my thoughts find all repose,
My glory, my perfection! glad I see
Thy face, and morn returned; for I this night
(Such night till this I never passed) have dreamed,
If dreamed, not, as I oft am wont, of thee,
Works of day past, or morrow's next design,
But of offence and trouble, which my mind
Knew never till this irksome night: Methought,
Close at mine ear one called me forth to walk
With gentle voice; I thought it thine: It said,
'Why sleepest thou, Eve? now is the pleasant time,
'The cool, the silent, save where silence yields
'To the night-warbling bird, that now awake
'Tunes sweetest his love-laboured song; now reigns
'Full-orbed the moon, and with more pleasing light
'Shadowy sets off the face of things; in vain,
'If none regard; Heaven wakes with all his eyes,
'Whom to behold but thee, Nature's desire?
'In whose sight all things joy, with ravishment
'Attracted by thy beauty still to gaze.'
I rose as at thy call, but found thee not;
To find thee I directed then my walk;
And on, methought, alone I passed through ways

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
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Epistle to an Orphan after William Mackworth Praed A Letter of Advice

They tell me you're promised a mother,
to cuddle, to cosset, to care.
Take care for she may try to smother,
to cover her inner despair.
The experts agree that another
could just as well clinch the affair, -
and beware that you never discover
the father who's no longer there.

(Parody William Mackworth PRAED - A Letter 31 October 1990)

A Letter to PH from a Disappointed Writer

Dear PH, I leave you this letter
after writing from ten until nine
for a site I'd delight to know better,
for a smile that my heart can't decline.
Yet one finds after wearily pacing,
for replies in the cold, for some sign,
that that heart which with hope had been racing
to darkest despair must incline.

Dear PH from twelve to eleven
each night I would knock at your door
in hope that an angel from heaven
could show me the light, - but no more
will I screed in my need if no answer
effective can echo joy's store -
I can't act as a puppet-stringed dancer,
not even for one I adore!

Dear PH the time have I waited
day in and day out by grief torn,
all write up down written, ill-fated
as my consonants vowed my vowels scorn.
The wonder my dunderhead brought you
tonight may steal thunder at morn,
but the blossoms whose beauty besought you
fade as fast as last season's drenched corn.

As on Thursday applauseless, defeated,
so on Friday all clauseless I'm spurned,
is the cycle of love thus completed,
is this all the thanks that I've earned?
It is hard for a fool to be taken -
its a sign that one's soft in the head, -
but the reason that slept must awaken,
and the spirit, restored, won't be lead!

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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And let the oil flow cheaply!

Heads of state or government of 25 nations met in Belgrade, capital of Yugoslavia at the first Summit of Non-Aligned Nations on 1st September 1961. Sri Lanka was a founder of the Non-Aligned Movement which consisted mainly of developing countries that preferred to stay away from any power blocks. These nations were not aligned to any superpower – either USA (America) or USSR (Russia) .Sri Lanka’s newly elected Prime Minister, Sirimavo Bandaranaike attended the inaugural Summit, stepping on to the world stage as the world’s first woman Prime Minister. She attended the second Summit held in Cairo in 1964 and in 1976 hosted the fifth Summit in Colombo. Thereafter Sri Lanka occupied the chair for three years.The origin of the movement dates back to 1954, when the Prime Minister of India, Shri Jawaharlal Nehru had coined the term “non-alignment” during his speech at the Asian Prime Ministers Conference in Colombo. In this speech, Nehru described the five pillars to be used as a guide for Sino-Indian relations. Called ‘Panchaseela’ (five restraints) , these principles would later serve as the basis of the Non-Aligned Movement.The five principles were: Mutual respect for each other’s territorial integrity and sovereigntyMutual non-aggression
Mutual non-interference in domestic affairsEquality and mutual benefit
Peaceful co-existence

I hear a sad Bedouin song of an aging Dictator
Who sung with his deep voice for a long period!
Yes, let others to sing and get rid of the power.
Bring the lute and leave the wealth.
Like your younger days remember
You touched the Sri Lankan soil once
As Omar Mukthar the Hero!
At the 5th Non-Alignment Summit, Colombo, Sri Lanka in 1976.
We're old now and leave aside the burden
Watch how they sing with the different pitch?
Companion Camel too old now
And no more desert crossing
Stop at an Oasis!
Take the lute out and sing the oldest song;
'Where we've come from
And where do we go? '
And let the oil flow cheaply!

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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My Friends Back In My Prime Years

My friends back in my prime years I never did disown
It's just that I live far from them and apart we have grown
We drank and played football together but our separate ways we've gone
And we have forged new friendships and life of course goes on.

My friends back in my prime years may now look a bit gray
And they might not know me or I might not know them if by chance we met today
In my memory they have remained young but in reality
The years have left their mark on them as the years have left their mark on me.

Old father time the aloof one to anyone doesn't bow
And some of my friends of my prime years may be grand parents now
Perhaps they now are showing their age and time has left them slow
They could run fast as I recall some twenty years ago.

My friends back in my prime years I may now not recognize
For time leaves it's mark on all of us I've come to realize
I drunk beer with them in the pub and with them played football
And that was many years ago as I can well recall.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Prime Time Of Our Lives

It's the prime time of our lives
And I've never seen us more alive
Now that the night has finally arrived
I'm looking for some fun and to survive

Join hands with me
We'll slow down the time
We'll dance the last song
The prime time of our lives is here in this time for us now

When you reach a certain point in your life
You better push it to the extremes
And that's what we're doing
We're celebrating dreams
We're living dreams
We're creating new dreams
In the prime time of our lives

The time is now
In our choices
In what we thought
In what we bought
In what we've got
Thank god for now
It's the prime time of our lives

poem by Justin Gildow
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Wordfall

Among the dark trees these in autumn prime
rise under empty skies/Let colour leaven
the shadowed woods I wander through in time.

Red oak and bright sweet chestnut spread sublime
rich canopies for jay or squirrel, woven
among the dark trees, these. In autumn prime,

acorns and prickly chestuts challenge rhyme,
pale cases and their gilt-speared leaves enliven
the shadowed woods I wander through. In time,

late summer chills the landscape. As I climb
words dropp like a snow-warning, white as heaven
among the dark trees. These in autumn prime

their measures with the season, pulse and mime
and fall in hasty turbulence, panic driven
from sahdowed words I wander through. In time

drifts of their meaning overwhelm me. I'm
victim and foool of wordall in this haven
among the darkteres, thefse, in autumn, prime
the shadowed woods. I wander through, in time.

From the Great North Road,2007

poem by Sally Evans
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