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There is an awful lot of what I call recreational jazz going on, where people go out and learn a particular language or style and become real sharks on somebody else's language.

quote by Steve Lacy
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Style

(style) style, uh!
(yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Style, dig it
(style) style, come on
Uh, style
Style is not something that comes in a bottle
Style is more like jackie o. when she was doin aristotle
Style is not a logo that sticks 2 the roof of ones ass
Style is like a second cousin 2 class
U got it! - style, come on
U got it! - style, say what?
U got it! - style, come on
U got it! - style, check it
Style aint sittin court side with the owner of the team
Style is owning the court and charging em all a fee
Style is not lusting after someone because theyre cool
Style is loving yourself til everyone else does 2
U got it! - style, come on
U got it! - style, maybe
U got it! - style, well well
U got it! - style
Bridge:
Style dont get drunk on a saturday night
Try 2 dress up every sunday mornin bright
Style dont get married then break the vow in a year
Style is keepin a promise
Raise your hand yall if u hear me
(style) {x2}
Style is not biting style when u cant find the funk
Style is the face u make on a michael jordon dunk
Style aint the jeep u bought when u know your broke ass got bills
Style is lettin your lover drive while u talk on the phone and chill
U got it! - style
U got it! - style, maybe
U got it! - style, come on
U got it! - style
Bridge:
Style is a gold-tooth smile with an attitude
Style is a peaceful wild postin the rude
Style is growing your own food
Style is a non-violent march
Style is an accurate account of whats inside every heart (style)
Style is not a lie
Style is a man that cries
Style is the glow in a pregnant womans eyes
(style) {x4}
U got it! - style, come on
U got it! - style, do that, do that
U got it! - style, got it?
U got it! - style, mad, come on

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Blues, The Jazz, The City

The city is jazz under neon lights
The jazz is blues stoned
And the city never forgets this
Like the heart never forgets to pulse
And the stars never forget to shine in the night
But it takes jazz to move it, to move it all
So the jazz is the beat that always burns
So the heavens continue to shine on and shine all

The jazz soothes the souls of the children
Though the city is old, the jazz is young
Thus the jazz, fast and heavy, radiates the city
She returns her to her ember glow in night

The city is high on the hill and low in the valley
She is the heart, the blessed nectar, the blossom shower
The jazz glows in prosperous tombs
She serves the crashing wave of the monsoon, to the city's bay, to the ancient harbor, across bold rivers, to lakes nestled in the safety of moors and battlefields, and sings to the forest and soaks the timber and every reborn city is cloaked in the fingertip of jazz
Since jazz destroys and creates, it is the fire, and so the smoke rises higher
Hark the newborn guff of jazz
The baptized funeral pyre

Hench jazz is the gospel, the good news
She returns though, always to the blues
Love the blue lady, her old cracked voice
The blues, the jazz, and the lady unite
To the bravery of her song she sang to the evil eyes of the Kodak dragon whose hair in the hiding bear under masks of hatred
The jealous lair, the haunt of despair
And jazz shines on, they can't stop her
The lady of the city sings to the farm
No choir can match the timbre of the lady
My first love,
She shines on for me when I am sad, through me in melancholy
And we join in joy, the lady sees all, feels all, and sings on
Rambunctious be the lady, the city, the blues
Who beat for hearts at night

From the slide trombone, the tut-tut-tut of the mighty snare
The brass milieu for brighter days and neon lights
The whimper
The whimper of the stand-up bass, who carries the beat, the jazz, the blues, the night
In your arms I am safe and sound, the sounds who hold me tight
And above all, upon the highest peak, the great black giants, the black hands and breath of jazz, food for the soul and fodder, who inspire all in the world
But the two giants upon the highest mountain compete for the night and walk away friends as we do
They too are the shine, the noble sheen, and while the lady sings, they dance, the boozers hound and prance, the lovers kneel and romance and the giants push the pebbles from beneath their mountain feet

Who knows how many souls the jazz saved, but I know she saved mine
The giants, trumpet and sax, and even the sweet other of New Orleans, a trumpet and voice, a demigod, and every other band and face and time
So the jazz soothed them too to be saved, as they played, we all played, and jazz shines for the night
And Jack drew the map in sketches, he saw the jazz, but the jazz sees all, and saves all who smile upon her because she loves all, but can only save those who hear her call because she is human

[...] Read more

poem by Jay Bradley
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Style (Pablo)

Now here comes a musical shack attack
Really on truly design to make you rock
Whether you white or black
In a pants or frock
Round a front or back
Down an bottom or on top
Is Pablo Ranks round the microphone a chat
On the musical shack attack seen (Dreadlocks)
Here them style ya now star
Ca me say if a don't Patton then a style
A me say is a don't Patton them a style (Smile)
A mi say if a don't patton them a style (Wicked on wile)
Say if a don't Patton them a style
Mi young a say strong Jah know mi well virile
True mi eant everything them a say that spwile
Man mi run way left mi yard them a say that mi wile
Say mi lock the education but mi versatile, true mi
Sell the callie weel on them mi collect the kile
Babylon want fi hold mi it is just for a while
Say mi break out a jail a man use a file
Say mi head in a the mountain - under low profile
Mi say if a don't Patton them a style (right)
A me say if a don't Patton them a style (Flashitta)
Ca me say if a don't Patton then a style (Bubble)
A mi say if a don't Patton then a style
But a true say Pablo cool Pablo wasn't hostile
Mi rub down fi mi skin yes in a coconut oil
Me rap ip fi mi weed in a bacofile
Mi chat the rub a dub fi make the girls them smile
The blood in a them body (man) me want it fi boil
With swet a run them back like a engine oil
With the lyrics them a fire like any missile
Pablo Ranks around the mic as your disciplin child
Well mi fire fi mi lyrics for a million mile
All the girls them in the dance say him dea under profile
Ca me say if a don't Patton them a style
A me say if a don't Patton them astyle (wicked and wile)
Say if a don't Patton then a style (Gwan)
Ca me say if a don't them a style
You know say Pablo Ranks him a you cullicked yard child
A tell you that Patton that a Patton
Me say style a style
But a snake on a lizard on a crocodile
But a them dea creature me say call reptile
But anywhere you go, you know those a pure style
But a Pablo Rankin dea ya cause him wicked and wile
Come fi run down the rubadub in a yard style
Make the girls them in the dance hall feel fi smile
Make the blood in a them body (just) starte fi boil
Make the swet a run them back like a engine oil

[...] Read more

song performed by Ub40
Added by Lucian Velea
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Virginia's Story

Elizabeth Gates-Wooten is my Grand mom.

She was born in Canada with her father and brothers.
They owned a Barber Shoppe.
I don't remember exactly where in Canada.
I believe it was right over the border like Windsor or Toronto.
I never knew exactly where it was.

When she was old enough she got married.

First, she married a man by the name of Frank Gates.
He was from Madagascar.
He fathered my mom and her brother and sister.
The boy's name was Frank Gates, Jr.
Two girls name were Anna and Agnes.

Agnes was my mother.

Frank Gates went crazy after the war
He drank a lot and died
Then grandma Elizabeth married a man by the name of Mr. Wooten.
He had a German name, but I don't think he was German.
She took his last name after they got married.

Then they moved to West Virginia in the United States.

Their son, Frank Gates Jr. Became a delegate in the democratic party.
He use to get into a lot of trouble because he liked to fight.
He was a delegate from the 1940's to 1970's.
He died of gout in the 1970's.

Anna was a maid and cook.

She baked cakes and stuff for people as a side line.
She had a hump on her back (scoliosis) .
She had to walk with a cane.
She could cook good though.
She did this kind of work all of her life, just like her mom, Elizabeth

They were both good cooks

They had a lot of money because they had these skills
Especially when people had parties.
Because they would make all of this food and then they would have left-overs.
We got to eat a lot of stuff we normally wouldn't get because of that.
When they cooked, they didn't use no measuring stuff, they would just use there hand.

My moms name was Agnes Barrie Gates.

She married James Wright and moved to Cleveland.

[...] Read more

poem by Talile Ali
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A Map Of Culture

Culture

Contents

What is Culture?

The Importance of Culture

Culture Varies

Culture is Critical

The Sociobiology Debate

Values, Norms, and Social Control

Signs and Symbols

Language

Terms and Definitions

Approaches to the Study of Culture

Are We Prisoners of Our Culture?

What is Culture?

I prefer the definition used by Ian Robertson: 'all the shared products of society: material and nonmaterial' (Our text defines it in somewhat more ponderous terms- 'The totality of learned, socially transmitted behavior. It includes ideas, values, and customs (as well as the sailboats, comic books, and birth control devices) of groups of people' (p.32) .

Back to Contents

[...] Read more

poem by Nyein Way
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JAZZ and RAINBOWS

What is Jazz - What is a Rainbow?
You can ask the questions - don't expect answers

Jazz is free and yet constrained
Rainbows come and go as they please

Jazz is wild and yet restrained
Rainbow can't exist without rain

Jazz is open and yet contained
Rainbows always have red at the top

Jazz is unscored and yet maintained
Rainbows can be single - double - triple

Just as Jango Rheinhardt said to Segovia
Senor it ees all in ze 'ed
The same is true of rainbows
Zey are all inside my 'ed!

It takes all the colours of pure white sound
To create jazz.
It takes all the colours of pure white light
To create a rainbow.

Jazz and rainbows operate on the same principle
In jazz the tone colours are separated by the players
In a rainbow the visible colours are separated by a raindrop
Jazz and rainbows are boh equally beautiful.

After the rain there are stll some drops in the atmosphere
They refract the white light into R O Y G B I V,
In the same way the 'Jazz Combo' is able to dissect.
The white sound of music is disected by the musicains

On a sunny day - the white light hits the raindrop
The colours are dispersed forming the rainbow.
In jazz - each member if the Combo has a colour!
The double bass has red - the saxaphone is orange!

The percussion is yellow - the brass is green
The clarinet is blue - trhe banjo is indigo
The guitar is violet and the piano is striped!
The combo plays and whiite sound is re-produced.

Because we are humans our senses of life are acute.
Our eyes for colour and our ears for sound.
The quality of this provision enables us to distinguish colour
And to distinguish between all the tones and semi-tones.

[...] Read more

poem by John Knight
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Canto the Second

I
Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations,
Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain,
I pray ye flog them upon all occasions,
It mends their morals, never mind the pain:
The best of mothers and of educations
In Juan's case were but employ'd in vain,
Since, in a way that's rather of the oddest, he
Became divested of his native modesty.

II
Had he but been placed at a public school,
In the third form, or even in the fourth,
His daily task had kept his fancy cool,
At least, had he been nurtured in the north;
Spain may prove an exception to the rule,
But then exceptions always prove its worth -—
A lad of sixteen causing a divorce
Puzzled his tutors very much, of course.

III
I can't say that it puzzles me at all,
If all things be consider'd: first, there was
His lady-mother, mathematical,
A—never mind; his tutor, an old ass;
A pretty woman (that's quite natural,
Or else the thing had hardly come to pass);
A husband rather old, not much in unity
With his young wife—a time, and opportunity.

IV
Well—well, the world must turn upon its axis,
And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails,
And live and die, make love and pay our taxes,
And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails;
The king commands us, and the doctor quacks us,
The priest instructs, and so our life exhales,
A little breath, love, wine, ambition, fame,
Fighting, devotion, dust,—perhaps a name.

V
I said that Juan had been sent to Cadiz -—
A pretty town, I recollect it well -—
'T is there the mart of the colonial trade is
(Or was, before Peru learn'd to rebel),
And such sweet girls—I mean, such graceful ladies,
Their very walk would make your bosom swell;
I can't describe it, though so much it strike,
Nor liken it—I never saw the like:

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Victor Should Have Been A Jazz Musician

I went to a concert, to see nina, simone,
The concert was over, there was still a band playing, the rap up,
The booguh played with his hands, I close my eyes, and look at him,
Victor should have been a jazz musician,
I said to myself, victor should have been a jazz musician,
I looked at his face, and I saw victor, looked at his smile, and I saw victor,
I looked at his hair, and thought,
Victor should have been a jazz musician,
Victor should have been a jazz musician,
And the people dancing on the floor, dancing on the floor, were so high,
You should have seen victor smile, you should have seen victor smile,
As they danced all the while all around on the floor, and he laughed,
Victor should have been a jazz musician,
Oh, victor should have been a jazz musician,
He was playing so nice, the jazz musician,
Ah, ah,
Hes living in a fast beat, in a city thats hot,
Telling all the latinos and puerto ricans, victor seems happy, but he doesnt even know himself, hes gotta look inside to know his first love,
Victor was a jazz musician, he was playing so nice, victor was a jazz musician, (? ) victor was a jazz musician,
Victor loves his music, he loves his music, somewhere, he plays his music, somewhere,
Victor is a jazz musician,
Jazz.

song performed by Grace Jones
Added by Lucian Velea
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Canto the First

I
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,
The age discovers he is not the true one;
Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,
I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan—
We all have seen him, in the pantomime,
Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time.

II
Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke,
Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe,
Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk,
And fill'd their sign posts then, like Wellesley now;
Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk,
Followers of fame, "nine farrow" of that sow:
France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumourier
Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.

III
Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau,
Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette,
Were French, and famous people, as we know:
And there were others, scarce forgotten yet,
Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Desaix, Moreau,
With many of the military set,
Exceedingly remarkable at times,
But not at all adapted to my rhymes.

IV
Nelson was once Britannia's god of war,
And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd;
There's no more to be said of Trafalgar,
'T is with our hero quietly inurn'd;
Because the army's grown more popular,
At which the naval people are concern'd;
Besides, the prince is all for the land-service,
Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis.

V
Brave men were living before Agamemnon
And since, exceeding valorous and sage,
A good deal like him too, though quite the same none;
But then they shone not on the poet's page,
And so have been forgotten:—I condemn none,
But can't find any in the present age
Fit for my poem (that is, for my new one);
So, as I said, I'll take my friend Don Juan.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Learn

when broken
learn
when happy
learn
when bored
learn
when you float and does not know what to do
learn just the same
when filled with idealism
learn
when fed with what you cannot swallow
learn again
when the times get rough and you want to kill yourself
learn, learn, learn
you still have many things to learn
faces of life
bodies of life
learn, learn, learn everything
do not surrender

for in truth, you do not do what you only want
you will also do what you are told to do
no questions asked
or you will be left out
or you will be not a part of the picture
this life
learn, learn, learn, always learn
do not surrender
live, learn, live, learn
you will soon do all that others will tell you
learn, learn and learn again

and sooner you will have learned everything
and then do what you want to do
with firm conviction
you know now what is right
and that is what you will do,

now without even being told
you have become yourself

but still learn, learn, and learn again
because

you might be wrong,
try thinking some more, learn
relearn, learn, learn, learn, forevermore....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Pleasures of Imagination: Book The Second

When shall the laurel and the vocal string
Resume their honours? When shall we behold
The tuneful tongue, the Promethéan hand
Aspire to ancient praise? Alas! how faint,
How slow the dawn of beauty and of truth
Breaks the reluctant shades of Gothic night
Which yet involve the nations! Long they groan'd
Beneath the furies of rapacious force;
Oft as the gloomy north, with iron-swarms
Tempestuous pouring from her frozen caves,
Blasted the Italian shore, and swept the works
Of liberty and wisdom down the gulph
Of all-devouring night. As long immur'd
In noon-tide darkness by the glimmering lamp,
Each muse and each fair science pin'd away
The sordid hours: while foul, barbarian hands
Their mysteries profan'd, unstrung the lyre,
And chain'd the soaring pinion down to earth.
At last the muses rose, and spurn'd their bonds,
And wildly warbling, scatter'd, as they flew,
Their blooming wreaths from fair Valclusa's bowers
Arno's myrtle border and the shore of soft Parthenope.

But still the rage of dire ambition and gigantic power,
From public aims and from the busy walk
Of civil commerce, drove the bolder train
Of penetrating science to the cells,
Where studious ease consumes the silent hour
In shadowy searches and unfruitful care.
Thus from their guardians torn, the tender arts
Of mimic fancy and harmonious joy,
To priestly domination and the lust
Of lawless courts, their amiable toil
For three inglorious ages have resign'd,
In vain reluctant: and Torquato's tongue
Was tun'd for slavish pæans at the throne
Of tinsel pomp: and Raphael's magic hand
Effus'd its fair creation to enchant
The fond adoring herd in Latian fanes
To blind belief; while on their prostrate necks
The sable tyrant plants his heel secure.

But now behold! the radiant æra dawns,
When freedom's ample fabric, fix'd at length
For endless years on Albion's happy shore
In full proportion, once more shall extend
To all the kindred powers of social bliss
A common mansion, a parental roof.
There shall the virtues, there shall wisdom's train,
Their long-lost friends rejoining, as of old,

[...] Read more

poem by Mark Akenside
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Style

Style must not be underrated
Style is often overlooked
Style is never in the papers
I read it like an open book
Style
If you cant see the substance
Style shows how its organized
Style is looking for your money
Its in the way you paint your eyes
There is always a way
A way things are done
Ive been learning my abcs
I know what is 10, I know what is 1 in
Style is a naked look
Underneath your style
Style of a different place
Talking through your style
Even the way you hide it
Reveals the thing you hide
Your style may never cause a riot
Its still a style to have no style
There is always a way
To light up a lamp
Its been a crazy year all around
The check never came
I cant let it cramp my
Style is a world for sale
You cant buy this style
Style that you cant resist
You wont cramp my style

song performed by Utopia
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Sidewinder Sleep Tonight

This here is the place I will be staying.
There isn't a number. You can call the pay phone.
Let it ring a long, long, long, long time.
If I don't pick up, hang up, call back, let it ring some more.
If I don't pick up, pick up... The sidewinder sleeps, sleeps, sleeps in a coil
Call me when you try to wake her up. Call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. Call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. Call me when you try to wake her.
There are scratches all around the coin slot
like a heartbeat, baby trying to wake up,
but this machine can only swallow money.
You can't lay a patch by computer design.
It's just a lot of stupid, stupid signs.
Tell her,
tell her she can kiss my ass, then laugh and say that you were only kidding.
That way she'll know that it's really, really, really, really me.
Call me when you try to wake her up. Call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. Call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. Call me when you try to wake her.
Baby, instant soup doesn't really grab me.
Today I need something more sub-sub-sub-substantial.
A can of beans or blackeyed peas, some Nescafe and ice,
a candy bar, a falling star, or a reading of Doctor Seuss;
Call me when you try to wake her up. Call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. Call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. Call me when you try to wake her.
The cat in the hat came back, wrecked a lot of havoc on the way,
always had a smile and a reason to pretend.
But their world has flat backgrounds and little need to sleep but to dream.
The sidewinder sleeps on his back.
Call me when you try to wake her up. Call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. Call me when you try to wake her.
I can always sleep standing up. Call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. Call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. Call me when you try to wake her.
I can always sleep standing up. Call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. Call me when you try to wake her.
I can always sleep standing up. Call me when you try to wake her.
I can always sleep standing up. Call me when you try to wake her.
We've got to moogie, moogie, move on this one

song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonight

This here is the place I will be staying.
There isnt a number. you can call the pay phone.
Let it ring a long, long, long, long time.
If I dont pick up, hang up, call back, let it ring some more.
If I dont pick up, pick up... the sidewinder sleeps, sleeps, sleeps in a coil
Call me when you try to wake her up. call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. call me when you try to wake her.
There are scratches all around the coin slot
Like a heartbeat, baby trying to wake up,
But this machine can only swallow money.
You cant lay a patch by computer design.
Its just a lot of stupid, stupid signs.
Tell her,
Tell her she can kiss my ass, then laugh and say that you were only kidding.
That way shell know that its really, really, really, really me.
Call me when you try to wake her up. call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. call me when you try to wake her.
Baby, instant soup doesnt really grab me.
Today I need something more sub-sub-sub-substantial.
A can of beans or blackeyed peas, some nescafe and ice,
A candy bar, a falling star, or a reading of doctor seuss;
Call me when you try to wake her up. call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. call me when you try to wake her.
The cat in the hat came back, wrecked a lot of havoc on the way,
Always had a smile and a reason to pretend.
But their world has flat backgrounds and little need to sleep but to dream.
The sidewinder sleeps on his back.
Call me when you try to wake her up. call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. call me when you try to wake her.
I can always sleep standing up. call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. call me when you try to wake her.
I can always sleep standing up. call me when you try to wake her.
Call me when you try to wake her up. call me when you try to wake her.
I can always sleep standing up. call me when you try to wake her.
I can always sleep standing up. call me when you try to wake her.
Weve got to moogie, moogie, move on this one.

song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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An Essay on Criticism

Part I

INTRODUCTION. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them.

'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But of the two less dangerous is th'offence
To tire our patience than mislead our sense:
Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
A fool might once himself alone expose;
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In Poets as true Genius is but rare,
True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share;
Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well;
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
But are not Critics to their judgment too?

Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right:
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
Is by ill col'ring but the more disgraced,
So by false learning is good sense defaced:
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools:
In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn Critics in their own defence:
Each burns alike, who can or cannot write,
Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite.
All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
There are who judge still worse than he can write.

Some have at first for Wits, then Poets pass'd;
Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools at last.
Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass,
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle,
As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,

[...] Read more

poem by Alexander Pope
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You Learn

I recommend getting your heart trampled on to anyone
I recommend walking around naked in your living room
Swallow it down (what a jagged little pill)
It feels so good (swimming in your stomach)
Wait until the dust settles

You live you learn
You love you learn
You cry you learn
You lose you learn
You bleed you learn
You scream you learn

I recommend biting off more then you can chew to anyone
I certainly do
I recommend sticking your foot in your mouth at any time
Feel free
Throw it down (the caution blocks you from the wind)
Hold it up (to the rays)
You wait and see when the smoke clears

You live you learn
You love you learn
You cry you learn
You lose you learn
You bleed you learn
You scream you learn

Wear it out (the way a three-year-old would do)
Melt it down (you're gonna have to eventually anyway)
The fire trucks are coming up around the bend

You live you learn
You love you learn
You cry you learn
You lose you learn
You bleed you learn
You scream you learn

You grieve you learn
You choke you learn
You laugh you learn
You choose you learn
You pray you learn
You ask you learn
You live you learn

song performed by Alanis Morissette from Jagged Little Pill
Added by Lucian Velea
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Learn

Learn, learn, learn,—
Our beautiful world is not a field for sheep;
Not just a place wherein to laugh and weep,
To eat and drink, to dance and sigh and sleep,
And then to moulder into senseless dust.

Learn, learn, learn,—
Look up and learn—you cannot look too high!
Not for the earthly wealth which brains can buy,
Not for the sake of gold and luxury—
Treasures corrupted by the moth and rust.

Learn, learn, learn,—
As one in whom the Lord has breathed His breath,
And aye redeemèd from the power of death—
Not as the dumb brute-beast that perisheth,
Not as a soulless, thoughtless, thankless clod.

Learn, learn, learn,—
With love and awe and patience—not in haste;
Drink deeply,—do not pass by with a taste;
O make your land a garden, not a waste!—
Your mind bright, to reflect the face of God.

Learn, learn, learn,—
The mystic beauty and the truth of life;
Search out the treasures whereof earth is rife,
Search on all sides, with pain and prayer and strife;
Search even into darkness. Do not fear.

Learn, learn, learn,—
With a true, steadfast heart, lay up your hoard;
God will sort out the treasures you have stored,
And set them in His bright light, afterward.
He will make all your difficulties clear.

Learn, learn, learn,—
Death is no breaking at a certain place;
We only pause there for a little space.
And then—you would not shame Him to His face?—
You, in His Image and own Likeness made!

Learn, learn, learn,—
Walk with wide-open eyes and reverent heart.
Worship as God the beautiful in art.
Though you see now but dimly, and in part,
All shall be clear in time. Be not afraid.

poem by Ada Cambridge
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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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Body Language

Words and music by freddie mercury
Give me body give me body body
Give me your body
Dont talk dont talk dont talk dont talk
Baby dont talk
Body language body language body language
Give me your body
Just give me yeah your body
Give me yeah your body
Dont talk
Body language huh huh
Body language body language
You got red lips snakes in your eyes
Long legs great thighs
You got the cutest ass Ive ever seen
Knock me down for a six any time
Look at me I gotta case of body language
Look at me I gotta case of body language
Look at me I gotta case of body language
Look at me I gotta case of body language
Of body language of body language
Yeah sexy body sexy sexy body
I want your body
Baby youre hot
Body language body language body language
Body language body language body language
Body language body language body language

song performed by Queen
Added by Lucian Velea
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House Of Jazz

Humdinger
Bell ringer
Got a nasty stinger
To slow you down
Mud slinger
Gold digger
Who point the finger
And do you down
Kickin' and a fightin' on a TV show
Lightin' blindin' in the middle of the road
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in

I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz

Ball stripper
Big tipper
Got a slap 'n' tickler
To make you growl
Spitin' and bitin' on a TV show
Tightenin' frightenin' givin' out a load
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in

I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz

Are you comin' in
Come on in

Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said into the house of jazz

[...] Read more

song performed by AC/DC from Stiff Upper Lip
Added by Lucian Velea
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