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One of the best things to come out of the home computer revolution could be the general and widespread understanding of how severely limited logic really is.

quote by Frank Herbert
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The Interpretation of Nature and

I.

MAN, being the servant and interpreter of Nature, can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature: beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything.


II.

Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left to itself can effect much. It is by instruments and helps that the work is done, which are as much wanted for the understanding as for the hand. And as the instruments of the hand either give motion or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supply either suggestions for the understanding or cautions.

III.

Human knowledge and human power meet in one; for where the cause is not known the effect cannot be produced. Nature to be commanded must be obeyed; and that which in contemplation is as the cause is in operation as the rule.

IV.

Towards the effecting of works, all that man can do is to put together or put asunder natural bodies. The rest is done by nature working within.

V.

The study of nature with a view to works is engaged in by the mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and the magician; but by all (as things now are) with slight endeavour and scanty success.

VI.

It would be an unsound fancy and self-contradictory to expect that things which have never yet been done can be done except by means which have never yet been tried.

VII.

The productions of the mind and hand seem very numerous in books and manufactures. But all this variety lies in an exquisite subtlety and derivations from a few things already known; not in the number of axioms.

VIII.

Moreover the works already known are due to chance and experiment rather than to sciences; for the sciences we now possess are merely systems for the nice ordering and setting forth of things already invented; not methods of invention or directions for new works.

IX.

The cause and root of nearly all evils in the sciences is this -- that while we falsely admire and extol the powers of the human mind we neglect to seek for its true helps.

X.

The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety of the senses and understanding; so that all those specious meditations, speculations, and glosses in which men indulge are quite from the purpose, only there is no one by to observe it.

XI.

As the sciences which we now have do not help us in finding out new works, so neither does the logic which we now have help us in finding out new sciences.

XII.

The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to the errors which have their foundation in commonly received notions than to help the search after truth. So it does more harm than good.

XIII.

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Francis Bacon
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Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)

Introduction

In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.

Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.

Prologue

The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain

mixed with French Huguenots
who left their homes and belongings,
with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
Associate this then with the fact

that these people fought formidable
for seven generations
against every onslaught that they got
from savages en wild animals

becoming marksmen, riding
and taming wild horses
with one bullet per day
to hunt a wild antelope,

who migrated right across the country
over hills in mass protest
and then you have
the most formidable adversary
and then let them fight

in a natural wilderness
where the hunter,
the sniper and horseman excels
and any enemy is at a lost.

Let them then also be patriotic
into their souls,
believe in and read
out of the word of God

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Lubie

I said I, I left my wife and child (Lubie come back home),
I said i, i left my wife and child (lubie come back home),
And lord my conscience is about to drive me wild (Lubie come back home),
And lord my conscience is about to drive me wild (lubie come back home),
A little voice inside my head goes on and on (Lubie come back home),
A little voice inside my head goes on and on (lubie come back home),
Said Lubie Lubie you better go back home.
Said lubie lubie you better go back home.
I said I, I thought I'd make it by myself (Lubie come back home),
I said i, i thought i'd make it by myself (lubie come back home),
And now my baby she got my heart dropped on a shelf (Lubie come back home),
And now my baby she got my heart dropped on a shelf (lubie come back home),
I said I, I still you're my baby now (Lubie come back home),
I said i, i still you're my baby now (lubie come back home),
Said Lubie Lubie you better go back home.
Said lubie lubie you better go back home.
You better go on home (Lubie come back home),
You better go on home (lubie come back home),
I said yeah Lubie go on home (Lubie come back home),
I said yeah lubie go on home (lubie come back home),
I said you better go home girl,
I said you better go home girl,
Ah yeah you go home.
Ah yeah you go home.
Go on home home home home home home,
Go on home home home home home home,
Yeah Lubie go on home home home home home home,
Yeah lubie go on home home home home home home,
Yeah Lubie go on home home home home home home,
Yeah lubie go on home home home home home home,
Little bit soft, everybody go soft,
Little bit soft, everybody go soft,
Go on home to see my baby,
Go on home to see my baby,
Yeah you know that she loves you daddy like crazy.
Yeah you know that she loves you daddy like crazy.
I say my misses I'm gonna stay what I'm gonna do,
I say my misses i'm gonna stay what i'm gonna do,
Gonna buy you a monkey and a new dog too yeah,
Gonna buy you a monkey and a new dog too yeah,
The guys have got yeah to get 'em to see my baby,
The guys have got yeah to get 'em to see my baby,
A little bit louder, everybody go on go louder, yeah yeah yeah yeah.
A little bit louder, everybody go on go louder, yeah yeah yeah yeah.
Now Lubie where you been,
Now lubie where you been,
I said I, I left my wife and child (Lubie come back home),
I said i, i left my wife and child (lubie come back home),
And lord my conscience is about to drive me wild (Lubie come back home),
And lord my conscience is about to drive me wild (lubie come back home),

[...] Read more

song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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Peace Proposal

Said General Clay to General Gore really must we fight this silly war
To kill and die in such a bore I quite agree said General Gore
Said General Gore to General Clay we could go to the beach today
And have some icecream on the way a grand idea said General Clay
Said General Clay to General Gore we'll build sand castles on the shore
Said General Gore we'll splash and play let's leave right now said General Clay
Said General Gore to General Clay but what if the sea's closed today
And what if the sand's been blown away the dreadful thought said General Clay
Said General Gore to General Clay I've always feared the ocean's spray
And we may drown it's true we may it chills my blood said General Clay
Said General Clay to General Gore my bathin' suit is slightly tore
We better go on with our war I quite agree said General Gore
The General Clay chanrged General Gore as bullets flew and cannons roared
And now at last there is no more of General Clay or General Gore

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Bug

Mother Earth, can you feed us now?
Feed me now, feed me now
Mother Earth, can you see us now?
Hold me down, hold me down
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Mother Earth, can you feed us now?
Burst the bug, be forever loved
Hold me down, you can't hold me down
Break the bones, throw your stones
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
You gotta fight it, you can fight it, no one else will
You gotta fight it, you can fight it, no one else will
You gotta fight it, you can fight it, no one else will
You gotta fight it, you can fight it, no one else will
Feed me now, see me now
Mother Earth, can you see us now?
Throw the stones, throw the stones
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution

song performed by Feeder
Added by Lucian Velea
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One Star In The Dirty Window

for the occupiers of Wall Street

One star in the window and that’s enough to see me through the darkness for another night. Trying to weave a flying carpet out of a snakepit. Toxic wavelengths of mind. Poison arrowheads that make it worse to be wounded than killed outright. And all over Perth tonight I imagine there are bruised hearts like mine and yours turning cyanotically blue from having drunk from the same tainted wellsprings of life like fish that have no choice. The apples of October have been laced with the razorblades of Halloween by the psychopathic tree that hands them out like treats to the children in the doorway of an upright coffin. And the leaves are burning up in a fever of arsenic. Spiders work the loom like the strings of the system that hooks us by our gills in its seine nets until the great wild seas of our awareness and the dangerous freedom to look for new ungovernable continents within us so we can flee the corporate corruption of this one is reduced to the neurotic dimensions of a fish farm. If you are poor. If you’re worried about how to pay the rent this month. If it’s winter and there are harpies and sprites and ghouls threatening to turn the gas, the lights, the elements of life off like trolls under the bridge your money built to bilk you until it collapses from lack of repair. If you don’t how you’re going to manage to buy your kid a birthday present this year and you’re even more afraid of Christmas. If you’re poor and your prospects are as bleak as this deserted street tonight now all the ladys-in-waiting, princes, jesters, and warring kings have called it a night and emptied their street court like a bar. If you’re chronically tortured by the rags of dignity with the blood of a lost cause upon them like something that cost your mother and father their lives to fight for. And you’re ashamed of the straitjacket you’ve been forced to wear in order to have some overseer raise a spoon to your lips three exact times of the day like banking hours and GST cheques. If you smoulder with rage like a underground cedar fire burning in your roots like fuses of lightning afraid to explode. If you’re poor. If the weight of the world is on your back heavier than any cross the spiritual spin doctors of the complicit church and their political henchmen encourage you to carry like a virtue all the way to a fabricated heaven on the installment plan, but you can’t bear the load as a volunteer stretcher-bearer anymore, carrying your own corpse to the grave, while they rave in the wealth of what they have deprived you of here and now. If you’re poor. If you feel like a subliminal archetype of guilt in the collective unconscious of a society of quisling theosophists and weight-concscious c.e.o.’s sitting down to salads of money they eat out of the skulls of the children they’ve starved to death. If you don’t make enough money in Oregon to appeal to hypocritic oaths that sit on decisive committees to see if your son is worthy of a kidney transplant. An education. Piano lessons. A future that isn’t always an echo worse than the voices we heard yesterday protesting to the vampires that without a free blood bank they didn’t stand a chance of surviving the contributions they’re expected to make at night. If you’re poor in a chilly apartment in Perth tonight and you’re being eaten alive by the eggs that have been laid on your forehead like the living host to sustain the young of the killer bees that have sewn their nettles in the honey of life like the military-industrial complex of the hive. If you’re poor and you don’t get one year’s free subscription to satellite radio on the bus you have to take to work every morning surrounded by ads for the latest Ford-150 pick up truck ready to do a man’s work at the dropp of a hard hat and then go hunting in the country, and the new black paint is trying to imitate the skin of a naked woman, because your sex life depends on what you drive, and the sumptuary laws of the lies you’re allowed to wear like a Roman triumph are too stringent to get the dirt out of the dowdy greens and browns of your serfdom long enough to get laid by the calendar girls who sit like mermaids on a brand new truck, but have never sung to you. If you’re the poor wretch sitting in the doorway of the Bank of Nova Scotia across Foster Street in the small hours of the morning like a bird that gets to pick the parasites off the back of the hippopotamus that keeps rolling over on you in your sleep. For a fee. To hold up your end of a symbiotic relationship whereby you’re expected to eat shit and call it your daily bread. Eat humiliation, a ration of rat meat, and call it a just portion. Eat your education like bitter food for thought when you see how the fascistic ignorance of antediluvian fat men and their gold-digging wives are dignified by the juke-box of the news as if the point of view of a maggot on how to turn base metal into a gold butterfly it will never become were worthy of the same air time they give to eagles. One hundred news outlets with the same six slug lines like the top hits of the day. Catastrophe du jour. With rescued puppy stories for the trimmings. Eat information like the news. It’s Chinese food of the mind. Not very filling. With a fortune-cookie and a fat tape worm of better things to come wrapped around your bowels like the noose of a downed powerline that spared the cost of the rope to lynch you by your large intestine. If you’re poor and you’re always the falling leaf and never the apple. If you’re poor and it’s always autumn to judge by the banks of junkmail and bills that are swept up on your doorsill at all times of the year. If you’re poor and you’re punished for being out on the streets after curfew for having dropped through the cracks of your caste by a neocon leper colony privatized by the messianic lobbyists of free enterprise with one finger on the scales of equal opportunity because there isn’t a feather’s worth of good in them when they go before the jackal god of death and their grubby hearts are found wanting. If you’re poor and you’re listening to the North Carolina state legislature discussing your extermination in the civic minded tones of the Pied Piper of Hamlin and you’re eating your self-respect like the plague rat of why the rich suffer. Because in their creationist myth your womb is the enemy of the state. And you the infectious carrier of the pestilence. If you’re poor and sitting by the window on a warped floor behind the heritage field stones of an upstairs ghetto apartment in Perth feeling like the second coming of the Irish potato famine with no where to emigrate this time to be third in line below the Scotch and English on the food chain. If you’re poor. Tattoo this on your forehead like an Egyptian destiny you and your eyes will live to see fulfilled. It’s not your fault. Even if you’ve given up. Even if you’re gaping like zero, like absolute nothing, between two hissing sibilants of a serpentine medical symbol unravelling. And the dragon’s lost its wings. And the physician doesn’t care enough to heal himself because he’s lost his faith in oaths. Or dangerous hope has given way to futile despair and they’re both siblings of the absurd. It’s not your fault that you were born into a society where even the mirages in this desert of stars are bundled and sold like real estate. That illusions and diseases apply for patents of ownership. That even the constellations have become the work of surveyors not shepherds on a hillside and the poor are being foreclosed and evicted from the signs of the zodiac because they can’t pay the rent or the mortgage on the house they were born into. Or the hydro on the stars. Even if your spinal cord tinkles like the burnt out filament of a dead lightbulb and the shining’s gone out. It’s not your fault if the universe that was airlifted to you at birth as your portion of life with nothing missing was intercepted and sold at prices that eat their own on the black market of free enterprise for the poor, or they couldn’t afford it, and socialism for the rich because they couldn’t survive without you. You might be like the sea in the lowest place of all but all things flow like rivers down into you. And the depth of the valley of shadows and death you’re walking through alone is a function of the height of the mountain that digs it like a grave it will be buried in. When all the grains of sand like stars come together they make a sea of waves where life thrives in the here and now spontaneously not a pyramid for the sake of a single capstone whose happy afterlife is founded on quicksand.
Saw a huge spiderweb once under a streetlamp at Carleton University thirty-six years ago. Six spiders, their abdomens obese as lightbulbs, six tumours ripening on the panicked cells and neural networks of more frenzied insects drawn to the light out of the dark than their webs were meant to accommodate. The webs were ripping under the weight of the horrified fruits of their gluttony stuck in the powerlines like kites and running shoes and treacherous parachutes. The dew spangled veils of the morning were being torn off like consumerist dream catchers to entice the mob to the artificial radiance of the light that drove them crazy. But the spiders were too satiate to move. And they were being pulled down along with their prey under the massive superflux of their immensely successful catastrophe. Pleonaxia. The disease of more and more and more. And all the insects had to do because the conglomerate spiders were too immobilized by the obscenity of their gigantism to stick an ice-pick in the back of Trotsky’s neck in Cuba was to keep a cool enough head to extricate themselves puppet string by puppet string, spinal cord by spinal cord, straitjacket by straitjacket, wing by wing from the web. But most were paralyzed by their own fear waiting for the fatal moment of the ruinous agenda to come like a budget cutting knife to end their nightmare. And after all these years that terrible insight still provides me with blood-freezing metaphors into the present economic system that preys upon the poor by beading the foodchain with black thoraxes as if they were the ninety-nine names of God and it were a rosary we could all say our novinas on pleading for more lifeboats and happier lifelines than the rigging of this ship of state that’s going down with all of us aboard as the captains of industry jump like rats in Genoa back into the year 1348 when there were corpses galore to feed on.
If you’re poor. Come to the revolution but leave your guillotine at home. Come to the revolution but leave Lenin in Geneva. Come to the revolution like Wat Tyler but don’t believe the promises of the king. Come to the revolution like Spartacus but don’t put your faith in pirates to provide you with the means of escape. Come to the revolution like Toussaint L’Ouverture in Haiti but first drive the fer de lance out of your sugar-cane so that no innocent bystanders get bit as an off-handed matter of population control. Come to the revolution like Aung San Suu Kyi ready to sit down in the teahouses of Burma to pry the fingers of the junta off the throats of the people like the petals of a flower whose time has come to let go. Come to the revolution like Ghandi walking all the way to the sea to turn the pillars of British imperialism to salt without all the fire and brimstone of Sodom and Gomorrah. Come like him to the revolution as a leader who knew how to follow his people. Come to the revolution like Helen Keller who stood up to the Rupert Murdochs of the age who were more in need of signage than she was on behalf of the rights of the working people and declared Oh, ridiculous Brooklyn Eagle! What an ungallant bird it is! Socially blind and deaf, it defends a system that’s intolerable. The Eagle and I are at war. Come to the revolution like Nelson Mandela to an international rugby match in the uniform of a Springbok scrum half to show that over-rated hatred can’t make a comeback over the jubilation of people in play with one another in time enough to win. Come to the revolution like Victor Jara and the Chilean art brigades and bring that guitar and that voice he left us that you’ve been wanting to play for decades with a compassionate feel for the sorrows of others right down to the tips of your social democratic fingerprints as if you weren’t born too late to celebrate a lost cause with a Cinderella story right out the social pages of the mid-sixties into the front page slug lines of msnbc news today. And remember it’s better to sing sincerely than well when you’ve got Bob Dylan for a voice coach. Come to the revolution like Tuwakal Karman of Yemen like the first coffee flower of the Arab Spring to raise her voice against Ali Abdullah Saleh in the name of human rights and freedom of expression. Come to the revolution like Martin Luther to the church door in Wittenburg and post your thirty-three articles of protest but don’t think because you throw inkwells at the devil that’s the same as writing your name in blood on the marble of Wall Street or a war memorial for the dead of Vietnam. Come like George Washington to the American Revolution ready to lay your power down as a sign of complete victory over what satisfies the industrial complexity of the generals’ hearts. Come like Barack Obama to the wellsprings of a cleaner watershed than that which flowed like the corrupt ditches of the tainted bloodstreams of Eden like the four rivers of the running sores of the trickle down economics of the political food chain that ran before him for office by putting a carrot in front of a donkey and all your eggs in one basket in front of a rampaging elephant. Come to the revolution like Emmeline Pankhurst to a hunger strike in a game of cat and mouse with the government who’ll catch you and let you go to fatten you up and keep you from being force fed before they arrest you again for throwing your weight around like Emily Davison at the king’s horse in the name of wanting to run like a candidate at the same race track without the handicap of not being able to vote. Come to the revolution like Dolores Jiminez y Muro with a political plan to give Emiliano Zapata a Mexican classroom of political reform worth dying for. If you’re poor, as Kurt Cobain said, come as you are. And if Jesus doesn’t want you for a sunbeam then come as a cloud. Come as a mountain. Come as a full eclipse of the moon or a loveletter that someone sent back or come as seven come eleven and trust in your luck when the dice are not loaded like skulls with no eyes against you.

poem by Patrick White
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Love Revolution

This is gettin old baby
Time for a real change
Time to turn our whole world around
cause I been getting restless now
Wondering whats up between you and me
Is gettin me down
Weve been hangin on for far too long
Somehow everything went wrong
Were in a place we dont belong anymore
You know that its true baby
So Ill see you around
Just walk away until you can make
A love revolution (love revolution)
And come back to me
Just do whatever it takes
Whatever you need to make
A love revolution (love revolution)
For you baby, for me baby
I said love, love revolution
I said love, love revolution
Hey Im not afraid to change
Inside and out baby
With or without you by my side
Its time to scream and shout
Let all these feelings out
Find out whats happening inside
Take away the borders inside your head
And youll see other things instead
Realize the life weve led is all over now
You know that its true baby
So Ill see you around
Just walk away until you can make
A love revolution (love revolution)
And come back to me
Just do whatever it takes
Whatever you need to make
A love revolution (love revolution)
For you baby, for me baby
I said love, love revolution
I said love, love revolution
If were gonna turn the world around
Its time that we get down to it
If were gonna turn the world around
Its time that we get down to it
Now I know that theres another way
And Im not waiting one more day
To make love revolution
For you baby, for me baby
And I wanna be around
When your walls come tumbling down

[...] Read more

song performed by Belinda Carlisle
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Back Home

Yeah yeah yeah
Well Im going back this summer to ohio
Im gonna seek out all my friends Ive always known
Im goin back to that farm that I remember
Well Im goin to spend this summer back home
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Im gonna get up every morning before the roosters
Ill run downstairs fix my breakfast all alone
Ill milk those cows feed the chickens and the horses
Well Im gonna spend this summer back home
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Ill eat everything that ma puts on the table
When I get back you wont believe how Ive grown
Ill hit the sack early everynight thinkin bout tomorrow whoa oh
Well Im gonna spend this summer back home
Back home, back home, back home
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Thats what Im gonna do thats where Im gonna be, thats this summer
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Gonna get up, gonna get up, gonna get up every morning
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Hey woo feels okay back home
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Generals

Said General Clay to General Gore,
'Oh must we fight this silly war?
To kill and die is such a bore.'
'I quite agree,' said General Gore.
Said General Gore to General Clay,
'We could go to the beach today
And have some ice cream on the way.'
'A grand idea,' said General Clay.
Said General Gore to General Clay,
'But what if the sea is closed today?
And what if the sand's been blown away?'
'A dreadful thought,' said General Clay.
Said General Gore to General Clay,
'I've always feared the ocean's spray,
And we may drown!' 'It's true, we may.
It chills my blood,' said General Clay.
Said General Clay to General Gore,
'My bathing suit is slightly tore.
We'd better go on with our war.'
'I quite agree,' said General Gore.
Then General Clay charged General Gore
As bullets flew and cannons roared.
And now, alas! there is no more
Of General Clay or General Gore.

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Revolution Calling

For a price Id do about anything
Except pull the trigger
For that Id need a pretty good cause
Then I heard of dr. x
The man with the cure
Just watch the television
Yeah, youll see theres something going on
Got no love for politicians
Or that crazy scene in d.c.
Its just a power mad town
But the time is ripe for changes
Theres a growing feeling
That taking a chance on a new kind of vision is due
I used to trust the media
To tell me the truth, tell us the truth
But now Ive seen the payoffs
Everywhere I look
Who do you trust when everyones a crook?
Revolution calling
Revolution calling
Revolution calling you
[theres a] revolution calling
Revolution calling
Gotta make a change
Gotta push, gotta push it on through
Im tired of all this bullshit
They keep selling me on t.v.
About the communist plan
And all the shady preachers
Begging for my cash
Swiss bank accounts while giving their
Secretaries the slam
Theyre all in penthouse now
Or playboy magazine, million dollar stories to tell
I guess warhol wasnt wrong
Fame fifteen minutes long
Everyones using everybody, making the sale
I used to think
That only americas way, way was right
But now the holy dollar rules everybodys lives
Gotta make a million doesnt matter who dies
Revolution calling
Revolution calling
Revolution calling you
[theres a] revolution calling
Revolution calling
Gotta make a change
Gotta push, gotta push it on through
I used to trust the media
To tell me the truth, tell us the truth

[...] Read more

song performed by Queensryche
Added by Lucian Velea
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Revolution

More calm than a heartbeat that flat lines
Quiet like a dark street under the moonlight
A phrase of action that's been screamed from the guts of men
Ever since they're first experienced
Injustice, prejudice, discrimination
A word louder than a gunshot
And softer than a baby's laugh, it will pass
Just like it always has. Until it spits off the lips of
The next man who's had it up to here.
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head?
Is that what it takes to make a solution
solution
not the first or the last to imagine it
Acknowledge the concepts, question and grasp it
Rebel against the I, and bring down the self.
Mutiny me! overthrow you
Rebellion starts within, the time is now
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head?
Is that what it takes to make a solution, solution
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head?
Is that what it takes to make a solution
Your Revolution
Purple skies, Devil eyes, Hypnotize
Little lies, Compromise, Fireflies
Samurias, Parasite, Fly by night, After light, Materialize,
Look alive, Stereotype, Do with die, lullaby, black and white
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or is it all in my head? your revolution
Is that what it takes to make a solution, solution, your revolution
Did somebody say a Revolution?
Or at least it's been said, your revolution
Is that what it takes to make a solution?
Your Revolution
No resolution -Your Revolution
what's your solution? -Your Revolution
And no substitution -Your Revolution
And no resolution -Your Revolution
not your solution

song performed by P.O.D.
Added by Lucian Velea
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Revolution

Intro(bob marley)
Within 2000 years christ shall return and when I return I goin to be king of
Kings...
Marley brothers
Thats rev...thats rev...thats rev...thats rev...
Krayzie get up...my soldiers, ride...
Bob marley
Revolution in my heart/ oh, they tearin us apart/ we been wastin so much time/
Revolution on
My mind/ everyday problems in the world they maximize/ now tell me how much
Blood must be shed, oh realize things
And times get drastic; a revolution is the only way/ stop this internal warfare,
Yeah...
Marley brothers thats rev...thats for the revolution {repeatedly}
Bob marley roll in a bomb-drop cry...soldiers all positions.
Krayzie
I wanna talk about a revolution/ should we talk about a revolution, a
Revolution? come on, I think its time
Its already 1999/ this is real; we ready for revolution/ we said that we tired,
We ready tonight, and we gon ride, ride, ride
With the warriors; we makin a push on babylon the great, better hurry up/ we
Doin it like that; combat on contact
So the police get bombed back/ that gunpowder from my gun got my palms black/ as
We roll and we hit up the rest we chase
The police; we done flipped the script and set a new record/ we send em to
Fire, to flames, we heat and we hot/ cussin
While they flossin shots/ marchin double barrels buckin/ mark the target,
Aint for talkin/ squashin every enemy walkin
And bomb em/ we need to suit up in boots/ recruit us some troops to start
Mashin/ Im packin my sawed off and Im called off
Im called off...
Bob marley
Revolution on my mind(krayzie yeah) we been wastin so much time/ revolution in
My heart/ they been tearin us apart
Everyday problems in the world they maximize/ and tell me how much blood must be
Shed, oh realize things and times get
Drastic/ a revolution is the only way/ stop this internal warfare, yeah...
Marley brothers thats rev...thats for the revolution {repeatedly}
Bob marley soldiers all positions...green beret cover formation....roll in a
Bomb-drop cry and bomb down that institution
Krayzie get up...my soldiers, ride...
Marley brothers thats rev...thats for the revolution {repeatedly}
Bob marley soldiers all positions...green beret cover formation

song performed by Krayzie Bone
Added by Lucian Velea
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Revolution (feat. The Marley Brothers)

Intro(Bob Marley)
Within 2000 years Christ shall return "and when I return I goin' to be king of
kings...
Marley Brothers
That's rev...that's rev...that's rev...that's rev...
Krayzie Get up...my soldiers, ride...
Bob Marley
Revolution in my heart/ Oh, they tearin' us apart/ We been wastin' so much time/
Revolution on
my mind/ Everyday problems in the world they maximize/ Now tell me how much
blood must be shed, oh realize things
And times get drastic; A revolution is the only way/ Stop this internal warfare,
yeah...
Marley Brothers That's rev...That's for the revolution {repeatedly}
Bob Marley Roll in a bomb-drop cry...Soldiers all positions.
Krayzie
I wanna talk about a revolution/ Should we talk about a revolution, a
revolution? Come on, I think it's time
It's already 1999/ This is real; we ready for revolution/ We said that we tired,
we ready tonight, and we gon' ride, ride, ride
With the warriors; We makin' a push on Babylon The Great, better hurry up/ We
doin' it like that; combat on contact
So the police get bombed back/ That gunpowder from my gun got my palms black/ As
we roll and we hit up the rest we chase
the police; we done flipped the script and set a new record/ We send 'em to
fire, to flames, we heat and we hot/ Cussin'
while they flossin' shots/ Marchin' double barrels buckin'/ Mark the target,
ain't for talkin'/ Squashin' every enemy walkin'
And bomb 'em/ We need to suit up in boots/ Recruit us some troops to start
mashin'/ I'm packin' my sawed off and I'm called off
I'm called off...
Bob Marley
Revolution on my mind(Krayzie Yeah) We been wastin' so much time/ Revolution in
my heart/ They been tearin' us apart
Everyday problems in the world they maximize/ And tell me how much blood must be
shed, oh realize things and times get
drastic/ A revolution is the only way/ Stop this internal warfare, yeah...
Marley Brothers That's rev...That's for the revolution {repeatedly}
Bob Marley Soldiers all positions...Green Beret cover formation....Roll in a
bomb-drop cry and bomb down that institution
Krayzie Get up...my soldiers, ride...
Marley Brothers That's rev...That's for the revolution {repeatedly}
Bob Marley Soldiers all positions...Green Beret cover formation

song performed by Krayzie Bone
Added by Lucian Velea
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Computer Age

Cars and trucks
Fly by me on the corner
But Im all right
Standin proud before the signal
When I see the light
I know Im more than just a number.
And I stand before you
Or else we just dont see the other
Computer age computer age
Computer age.
Bikes and vans
Fly by me on the desert
But Im all right
Standing out here in the hot sun
When I see the light
I feel like more than just a number
And I stand before you
Or else we just dont see the other
Computer age computer age
Computer age.
Precious metal lines
Molded into highways
Running through me
So microscopically
Days and nights
Weeks and months and seasons
Rolling through me
So chronologically.
Computer age computer age
Computer age.
I need you
To let me know that theres a heartbeat
Let it pound and pound
And Ill be flying like a free bird
And you need me
Like ugly needs a mirror
And day by day
This horizons getting clearer
Computer age computer age
Computer age.

song performed by Neil Young
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tear Off Your Own Head (It's A Doll Revolution)

Who dries your eyes when you cry real tears?
Who knows or cares what imitation is?
Only you do
You can paint his nails
Make him wear high heels
Why waste time altering the hemline?
Or do you?
Tear of your own head
Tear of your own head
It's a doll revolution
You can bat your lashes
You can cut your strings
Pull out his hair with your moveable fingers
It looks so real
But one won't do, so collect the set
Dress him in pink ribbons
Put him in a kitchenette
How does this feel?
Tear of your own head
Tear of your own head
It's a doll revolution
What's that sound?
It'll turn you around
It's a doll revolution
They're taking over
And they're tearing it down
It's a doll revolution
You can pull and pinch him
'Til he cries and squeals
You can twist his body
'Til it faces backwards
Plastic features
Could make somebody a pretty little wife
But don't let anybody tell you
How to live your life
Broken pieces
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
Tear off your own head
Tear off your own head
It's a doll revolution
What's that sound?
It'll turn you around
It's a doll revolution
They're taking over
And they're tearing it down
It's a doll revolution
It's a doll revolution
Revolution (revolution)

[...] Read more

song performed by Bangles
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lead Them Home My Dreams

Intro:
Lead them home
Lead them home my dreams,
My dreams
Verse 1:
Some people stand
Some choose not to understand
Some people fight (fight, fight)
Some people dream
Some people wake up
In the middle of the night
With the eyes of a tiger and a childs curiosity
Cant turn from my conscience when its starin at me
Chorus:
Lead them home
Lead them home my dreams
You can hear
When you disguise whispers as screams
(lead them home my, lead them home my...dreams)
Verse 2:
Some people climb
Some people wait for time to pass
Looking for a miracle (a miracle)
Some people could care less
Some people dwell on the impossible
And I always remember the times I let myself slide
And I put all the bad things like money
Far lower on the list than pride
Bring me home
Bring them home my dreams (lead the home)
Bring them home my dreams
(bring the home my, lead them home my)
You can hear, you can hear (you can hear)
When you disguise whispers as screams
(lead them home my, lead them home my)
Bring them home (bring them home, bring them home)
Bring them home my dreams
(lead them home my, bring them home my)
You can hear, you can hear when you
Disguise whispers as screams
(lead them home my, bring them home my...dreams)
Verse 3:
Wait a lifetime
Then my wish will drag on slowly
Come into ones own
At the time of conception (ooooo...)
Give in over time
You may as well change your mind
Now is when I see the light (I see it)
Im gonna touch it, grab it -

[...] Read more

song performed by Debbie Gibson
Added by Lucian Velea
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Canto the Eighth

I
Oh blood and thunder! and oh blood and wounds!
These are but vulgar oaths, as you may deem,
Too gentle reader! and most shocking sounds:
And so they are; yet thus is Glory's dream
Unriddled, and as my true Muse expounds
At present such things, since they are her theme,
So be they her inspirers! Call them Mars,
Bellona, what you will -- they mean but wars.

II
All was prepared -- the fire, the sword, the men
To wield them in their terrible array.
The army, like a lion from his den,
March'd forth with nerve and sinews bent to slay, --
A human Hydra, issuing from its fen
To breathe destruction on its winding way,
Whose heads were heroes, which cut off in vain
Immediately in others grew again.

III
History can only take things in the gross;
But could we know them in detail, perchance
In balancing the profit and the loss,
War's merit it by no means might enhance,
To waste so much gold for a little dross,
As hath been done, mere conquest to advance.
The drying up a single tear has more
Of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore.

IV
And why? -- because it brings self-approbation;
Whereas the other, after all its glare,
Shouts, bridges, arches, pensions from a nation,
Which (it may be) has not much left to spare,
A higher title, or a loftier station,
Though they may make Corruption gape or stare,
Yet, in the end, except in Freedom's battles,
Are nothing but a child of Murder's rattles.

V
And such they are -- and such they will be found:
Not so Leonidas and Washington,
Whose every battle-field is holy ground,
Which breathes of nations saved, not worlds undone.
How sweetly on the ear such echoes sound!
While the mere victor's may appal or stun
The servile and the vain, such names will be
A watchword till the future shall be free.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Never Never Love

La-la-la-la-la,
La-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la,
La-la-la-la-la
So now weve got our independence ooh,
What are we gonna do with it
Learning to play different games
Already using different names
cause now our love bears no resemblance ooh,
To what we had before
When our love was good it was all that we saw
When our love was good it blinded us before
This real revolution baby
Where youre not below me anymore
Never never love
Can never be enough
Never be enough,
Just aint good enough,
Yeah never never love
Can never be enough now
Never be enough, oh no
So now weve got our independence ooh,
What are we gonna with it
Building the houses, claiming back the land
Burning the bridges, cleaning up your hands
cause now our love bears no resemblance ooh,
To what we had before
Now our love has something for the future
Now our love will grow the seeds to sow this real revolution
This good revolution baby
Where youre not below me anymore
Never never love will never be enough
Could never be enough,
Just aint good enough,
Yeah never never
Love will never be enough
Never be enough, oh no no no
La-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la-la
When our love is good we have something for the future
Now our love will grow the seeds to sow this real revolution
This good revolution baby where youre not below me anymore
(real revolution, yeah) oh yeah, oh no no no no no,
Its a (real revolution) so good oh no no no no no
(real revolution, yeah) so real, this revolution now
(real revolution) so real, this revolution now, oh no no no so real, so real oh no no no

song performed by Simply Red
Added by Lucian Velea
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Annus Mirabilis, The Year Of Wonders, 1666

1
In thriving arts long time had Holland grown,
Crouching at home and cruel when abroad:
Scarce leaving us the means to claim our own;
Our King they courted, and our merchants awed.

2
Trade, which, like blood, should circularly flow,
Stopp'd in their channels, found its freedom lost:
Thither the wealth of all the world did go,
And seem'd but shipwreck'd on so base a coast.

3
For them alone the heavens had kindly heat;
In eastern quarries ripening precious dew:
For them the Idumaean balm did sweat,
And in hot Ceylon spicy forests grew.

4
The sun but seem'd the labourer of the year;
Each waxing moon supplied her watery store,
To swell those tides, which from the line did bear
Their brimful vessels to the Belgian shore.

5
Thus mighty in her ships, stood Carthage long,
And swept the riches of the world from far;
Yet stoop'd to Rome, less wealthy, but more strong:
And this may prove our second Punic war.

6
What peace can be, where both to one pretend?
(But they more diligent, and we more strong)
Or if a peace, it soon must have an end;
For they would grow too powerful, were it long.

7
Behold two nations, then, engaged so far
That each seven years the fit must shake each land:
Where France will side to weaken us by war,
Who only can his vast designs withstand.

8
See how he feeds the Iberian with delays,
To render us his timely friendship vain:
And while his secret soul on Flanders preys,
He rocks the cradle of the babe of Spain.

9
Such deep designs of empire does he lay

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
Added by Poetry Lover
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Gotta Go Home

Headin for the islands
Were ready man and packed to go
When we hit those islands
Theres gonna be a big hello
Diggin all the sunshine
Its easy not to say goodbye
Bye bye bye
Headin for the islands
Heyeah, were really flyin high
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home
Walkin down the beaches
Tomorrow mornin well be there
Golden sandy beaches
Say, I can smell the breezy air
One more celebration
And then were ready for goodbye
Bye, bye,bye
Walkin down the beaches
Heyeah, were really flyin high
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home
...
Going back home
Going back home
Going back home
Going back home
...
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home, home, home
Gotta go home

song performed by Boney M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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