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We would like to see you departing peacefully.

quote by Desmond Tutu
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Peacefully Delight In Peace

Peacefully delight in peace

Peace be peacefully in peace,
Peacefully to peaceful
Peace seekers on peaceful
Peace missions, who in peaceful peace,
Peacefully ended up peace in peace
Peacefully,

Peacefully, peaceful Peace peacefully in peace is like a peacefully peaceful
Peace piece pinned at a peaceful
Peacefully pitch in Peace, Peered in Peace
Peacefully by every peacefully
Peaceful eye in the name of peace,
Peaceful Peace peacefully in peace peaceful is passed peacefully in Peace, peaceful from peacefully
Peaceful peace believers in peace peacefully to peaceful peace
Peaceful peace seekers,

Peacefully
Peace in peace be peacefully to peaceful
Peace believers of peace who in Peace peacefully peaceful delight in peaceful
Peace.
Peacefully in peaceful peace peacefully delight in peaceful peace peacefully for peace in peace.

poem by Iyamuremye Wilfred
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Salut Au Monde

O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman!
Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds!
Such join'd unended links, each hook'd to the next!
Each answering all--each sharing the earth with all.

What widens within you, Walt Whitman?
What waves and soils exuding?
What climes? what persons and lands are here?
Who are the infants? some playing, some slumbering?
Who are the girls? who are the married women?
Who are the groups of old men going slowly with their arms about each
other's necks?
What rivers are these? what forests and fruits are these?
What are the mountains call'd that rise so high in the mists?
What myriads of dwellings are they, fill'd with dwellers?

Within me latitude widens, longitude lengthens;
Asia, Africa, Europe, are to the east--America is provided for in the
west;
Banding the bulge of the earth winds the hot equator,
Curiously north and south turn the axis-ends;
Within me is the longest day--the sun wheels in slanting rings--it
does not set for months;
Stretch'd in due time within me the midnight sun just rises above the
horizon, and sinks again;
Within me zones, seas, cataracts, plants, volcanoes, groups,
Malaysia, Polynesia, and the great West Indian islands.

What do you hear, Walt Whitman?

I hear the workman singing, and the farmer's wife singing;
I hear in the distance the sounds of children, and of animals early
in the day;
I hear quick rifle-cracks from the riflemen of East Tennessee and
Kentucky, hunting on hills;
I hear emulous shouts of Australians, pursuing the wild horse;
I hear the Spanish dance, with castanets, in the chestnut shade, to
the rebeck and guitar;
I hear continual echoes from the Thames;
I hear fierce French liberty songs;
I hear of the Italian boat-sculler the musical recitative of old
poems;
I hear the Virginia plantation-chorus of negroes, of a harvest night,
in the glare of pine-knots;
I hear the strong baritone of the 'long-shore-men of Mannahatta;
I hear the stevedores unlading the cargoes, and singing;
I hear the screams of the water-fowl of solitary north-west lakes;
I hear the rustling pattering of locusts, as they strike the grain
and grass with the showers of their terrible clouds;
I hear the Coptic refrain, toward sundown, pensively falling on the

[...] Read more

poem by Walt Whitman
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The Libelle of Englyshe Polycye

Here beginneth the Prologe of the processe of the Libelle of Englyshe polycye, exhortynge alle Englande to kepe the see enviroun and namelye the narowe see, shewynge whate profete commeth thereof and also whate worshype and salvacione to Englande and to alle Englyshe menne.

The trewe processe of Englysh polycye
Of utterwarde to kepe thys regne in rest
Of oure England, that no man may denye
Ner say of soth but it is one the best,
Is thys, as who seith, south, north, est and west
Cheryshe marchandyse, kepe thamyralte,
That we bee maysteres of the narowe see.

For Sigesmonde the grete Emperoure,
Whyche yet regneth, whan he was in this londe
Wyth kynge Herry the vte, prince of honoure,
Here moche glorye, as hym thought, he founde,
A myghty londe, whyche hadde take on honde
To werre in Fraunce and make mortalite,
And ever well kept rounde aboute the see.

And to the kynge thus he seyde, 'My brothere',
Whan he perceyved too townes, Calys and Dovere,
'Of alle youre townes to chese of one and other
To kepe the see and sone for to come overe,
To werre oughtwardes and youre regne to recovere,
Kepe these too townes sure to youre mageste
As youre tweyne eyne to kepe the narowe see'.

For if this see be kepte in tyme of werre,
Who cane here passe withought daunger and woo?
Who may eschape, who may myschef dyfferre?
What marchaundy may forby be agoo?
For nedes hem muste take truse every foo,
Flaundres and Spayne and othere, trust to me,
Or ellis hyndered alle for thys narowe see.

Therfore I caste me by a lytell wrytinge
To shewe att eye thys conclusione,
For concyens and for myne acquytynge
Ayenst God, and ageyne abusyon
And cowardyse and to oure enmyes confusione;
For iiij. thynges oure noble sheueth to me,
Kyng, shype and swerde and pouer of the see.

Where bene oure shippes, where bene oure swerdes become?
Owre enmyes bid for the shippe sette a shepe.
Allas, oure reule halteth, hit is benome.

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Leave That Noise On The Street

If you want your pains from you,
To go away to stay.
You've got to massage them down.
And give them attention needed.

Massage them done.
And those pains will go away.
If you've got someone who's with you,
And...
A believer!
If you've got someone who's with you,
And...
A believer!
If you've got someone who's with you,
And...
Not uptight.

If you want your pains from you,
To go away to stay...
You've got to massage them down slowly,
Everyday.

You've got to massage them down slowly...
Everyday.
You've got to massage them down slowly...
Without delay.

Muscles in your legs pain,
Everyday.
And the muscles on your back too!
Everyday.
Even the muscles in your neck pain,
Everyday.
Why don't you let me comfort you,
Every-day.
Why don't you let me comfort you,
Every-day.

Muscles in your legs pain,
Everyday.
And the muscles on your back too!
Everyday.
Even the muscles in your neck pain,
Everyday.
Why don't you let me comfort you,
Every-day.
Why don't you let me comfort you,
Every-day.
Why don't you let me comfort you,
Every-day.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dimensions Blending

Dimensions blending.
With a mind bending intending,
New beginnings.

Dimensions blending.
With a mind bending intending,
New beginnings.

And witnessed are dimensions blending in!

Dimensions blending.
With an ending of those limits,
Once defended.
Now seen suspended.
Limits departing.
Limits departing...
As dimensions once unmentioned,
Drop those chins!

And witnessed are dimensions blending in!
Limits departing.
Limits departing...
As dimensions once unmentioned,
Drop those chins!

Dimensions blending.
With a mind bending intending,
New beginnings.

And witnessed are dimensions blending in!
Limits departing.
And,
Witnessed are dimensions blending in!
Limits departing.
And,
Witnessed are dimensions blending in!

Dimensions blending.
And,
Witnessed are dimensions blending in!

Dimensions blending!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lets See Action

Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see freedom, lets see who cares,
Lets see freedom, lets see who cares,
Take me with you when you leave me
Take me with you when you leave me
And my shell behind us there.
And my shell behind us there.
I have learned it, known who burned me,
I have learned it, known who burned me,
Avatar has warmed my feet,
Avatar has warmed my feet,
Take me with you, let me see you,
Take me with you, let me see you,
Time and life can meet.
Time and life can meet.
Nothing is everything, everything is, nothing is,
Nothing is everything, everything is, nothing is,
Please the people, audiences,
Please the people, audiences,
Break the fences,
Break the fences,
Nothing is.
Nothing is.
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see freedom up in the air,
Lets see freedom up in the air,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets be free, lets see who cares.
Lets be free, lets see who cares.
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see freedom up in the air,
Lets see freedom up in the air,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets be free, lets see who cares.
Lets be free, lets see who cares.
Give me a drink boy, wash my feet,
Give me a drink boy, wash my feet,
Im so tired of running from my own heat,
Im so tired of running from my own heat,
Take this package and heres what you do,
Take this package and heres what you do,
Gonna get this information through.
Gonna get this information through.
I dont know where Im going,
I dont know where Im going,

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song performed by Who
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Open Book's Monologue Part 5: Welcome To The Library!

Welcome to the library! come one come all
Welcome to the library! come with your brethren on this wall
Welcome to the library! come all you books tattered or new
Welcome to the library! come tired and overdue

Yes welcome to the library the place where you're most mundane
Yes welcome to the library the place where you're to endure most pain
Yes welcome to the library where you'll sit unwanted
Yes welcome to the library where you'll sit haunted
Yes welcome to the library where everyone's just like you
Yes welcome to the library where we're all books too!
Yes welcome to the library where you can take comfort
Yes welcome to the library where In the fact you're no longer unique
Yes welcome to the library You're just pen marks ink

Departing the library? I think not, even if you get out we'll bring you back
Departing the library? Here you rot, but we'll dust you to ease your passing
Departing the library? Don't make me laugh, here you're black and white
Departing the library? Nobody argues on your behalf, look more amassing

Welcome to the library! A place of keeping and safety
Welcome to the library! Take your place you'll like it, just wait and see
Welcome to the library! New books don't mind the old they're disillusioned
Welcome to the library! You've sold your soul... but it's too late for you

so WELCOME

poem by David Knox
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Woman In Me (feat. Destiny's Child)

Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Ohhhhh
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (I see)
As I look in, look in the mirror I see
Life is really here to be with me, oh
I can see myself getting stronger everyday
I'm not the same woman I used to be
So now I tell myself I am thinkin strong
I see the beauty lying within my soul
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (I see)
When I love myself I can do whatever I want
Doesn't matter what you do to me, do to me
Honest people, there's a possibility
To tell you my real reality
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be (I wanna be)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (woman in me baby)
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Doo doo da da da da da
Can you see the woman in me
Do you really wanna see the woman in me
Hahha, let me show you
Don't underestimate the woman I become
The woman I am
So now I tell myself that I'm thinkin I'm strong
And I see the beauty lying within my soul
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be (I wanna be)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (I see)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman that I wanna be (I wanna be)
The face that I see it's the woman in me
It's the woman in me I see (I see)

[...] Read more

song performed by Jessica Simpson
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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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The Georgics

GEORGIC I

What makes the cornfield smile; beneath what star
Maecenas, it is meet to turn the sod
Or marry elm with vine; how tend the steer;
What pains for cattle-keeping, or what proof
Of patient trial serves for thrifty bees;-
Such are my themes.
O universal lights
Most glorious! ye that lead the gliding year
Along the sky, Liber and Ceres mild,
If by your bounty holpen earth once changed
Chaonian acorn for the plump wheat-ear,
And mingled with the grape, your new-found gift,
The draughts of Achelous; and ye Fauns
To rustics ever kind, come foot it, Fauns
And Dryad-maids together; your gifts I sing.
And thou, for whose delight the war-horse first
Sprang from earth's womb at thy great trident's stroke,
Neptune; and haunter of the groves, for whom
Three hundred snow-white heifers browse the brakes,
The fertile brakes of Ceos; and clothed in power,
Thy native forest and Lycean lawns,
Pan, shepherd-god, forsaking, as the love
Of thine own Maenalus constrains thee, hear
And help, O lord of Tegea! And thou, too,
Minerva, from whose hand the olive sprung;
And boy-discoverer of the curved plough;
And, bearing a young cypress root-uptorn,
Silvanus, and Gods all and Goddesses,
Who make the fields your care, both ye who nurse
The tender unsown increase, and from heaven
Shed on man's sowing the riches of your rain:
And thou, even thou, of whom we know not yet
What mansion of the skies shall hold thee soon,
Whether to watch o'er cities be thy will,
Great Caesar, and to take the earth in charge,
That so the mighty world may welcome thee
Lord of her increase, master of her times,
Binding thy mother's myrtle round thy brow,
Or as the boundless ocean's God thou come,
Sole dread of seamen, till far Thule bow
Before thee, and Tethys win thee to her son
With all her waves for dower; or as a star
Lend thy fresh beams our lagging months to cheer,
Where 'twixt the Maid and those pursuing Claws
A space is opening; see! red Scorpio's self
His arms draws in, yea, and hath left thee more
Than thy full meed of heaven: be what thou wilt-
For neither Tartarus hopes to call thee king,

[...] Read more

poem by Virgil
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The Book of Urizen

PRELUDIUM TO THE [FIRST] BOOK OF URIZEN

Of the primeval Priests assum'd power,
When Eternals spurn'd back his religion;
And gave him a place in the north,
Obscure, shadowy, void, solitary.
Eternals I hear your call gladly,
Dictate swift winged words, & fear not
To unfold your dark visions of torment.

Chap: I

1. Lo, a shadow of horror is risen
In Eternity! Unknown, unprolific!
Self-closd, all-repelling: what Demon
Hath form'd this abominable void
This soul-shudd'ring vacuum? — Some said
"It is Urizen", But unknown, abstracted
Brooding secret, the dark power hid.

2. Times on times he divided, & measur'd
Space by space in his ninefold darkness
Unseen, unknown! changes appeard
In his desolate mountains rifted furious
By the black winds of perturbation

3. For he strove in battles dire
In unseen conflictions with shapes
Bred from his forsaken wilderness,
Of beast, bird, fish, serpent & element
Combustion, blast, vapour and cloud.

4. Dark revolving in silent activity:
Unseen in tormenting passions;
An activity unknown and horrible;
A self-contemplating shadow,
In enormous labours occupied

5. But Eternals beheld his vast forests
Age on ages he lay, clos'd, unknown
Brooding shut in the deep; all avoid
The petrific abominable chaos

6. His cold horrors silent, dark Urizen
Prepar'd: his ten thousands of thunders
Rang'd in gloom'd array stretch out across
The dread world, & the rolling of wheels
As of swelling seas, sound in his clouds
In his hills of stor'd snows, in his mountains

[...] Read more

poem by William Blake (1794)
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I Can See For Miles

I know you've deceived me, now here's a surprise
I know you've deceived me, now here's a surprise
I know that you have 'cause there's magic in my eyes
I know that you have 'cause there's magic in my eyes
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles
Oh yeah
Oh yeah
If you think that I don't know about the little tricks you've played
If you think that i don't know about the little tricks you've played
And never see you when deliberately you put things in my way
And never see you when deliberately you put things in my way
Well, here's a poke at you
Well, here's a poke at you
You're gonna choke on it too
You're gonna choke on it too
You're gonna lose that smile
You're gonna lose that smile
Beacuse all the while
Beacuse all the while
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles
Oh yeah
Oh yeah
You took advantage of my trust in you when I was so far away
You took advantage of my trust in you when i was so far away
I saw you holding lots of other guys and now you've got the nerve to say
I saw you holding lots of other guys and now you've got the nerve to say
That you still want me
That you still want me
Well, that's as may be
Well, that's as may be
But you gotta stand trial
But you gotta stand trial
Because all the while
Because all the while
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles
I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles
Oh yeah
Oh yeah
I know you've deceived me, now here's a surprise
I know you've deceived me, now here's a surprise

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song performed by Styx
Added by Lucian Velea
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Song Of The Redwood-Tree

A CALIFORNIA song!
A prophecy and indirection--a thought impalpable, to breathe, as air;
A chorus of dryads, fading, departing--or hamadryads departing;
A murmuring, fateful, giant voice, out of the earth and sky,
Voice of a mighty dying tree in the Redwood forest dense.

Farewell, my brethren,
Farewell, O earth and sky--farewell, ye neighboring waters;
My time has ended, my term has come.

Along the northern coast,
Just back from the rock-bound shore, and the caves, 10
In the saline air from the sea, in the Mendocino country,
With the surge for bass and accompaniment low and hoarse,
With crackling blows of axes, sounding musically, driven by strong
arms,
Riven deep by the sharp tongues of the axes--there in the Redwood
forest dense,
I heard the mighty tree its death-chant chanting.

The choppers heard not--the camp shanties echoed not;
The quick-ear'd teamsters, and chain and jack-screw men, heard not,
As the wood-spirits came from their haunts of a thousand years, to
join the refrain;
But in my soul I plainly heard.

Murmuring out of its myriad leaves, 20
Down from its lofty top, rising two hundred feet high,
Out of its stalwart trunk and limbs--out of its foot-thick bark,
That chant of the seasons and time--chant, not of the past only, but
the future.

You untold life of me,
And all you venerable and innocent joys,
Perennial, hardy life of me, with joys, 'mid rain, and many a summer
sun,
And the white snows, and night, and the wild winds;
O the great patient, rugged joys! my soul's strong joys, unreck'd by
man;
(For know I bear the soul befitting me--I too have consciousness,
identity,
And all the rocks and mountains have--and all the earth;) 30
Joys of the life befitting me and brothers mine,
Our time, our term has come.

Nor yield we mournfully, majestic brothers,
We who have grandly fill'd our time;
With Nature's calm content, and tacit, huge delight,

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poem by Walt Whitman
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Book of Urizen: Chapter III

1. The voice ended, they saw his pale visage
Emerge from the darkness; his hand
On the rock of eternity unclasping
The Book of brass. Rage siez'd the strong

2. Rage, fury, intense indignation
In cataracts of fire blood & gall
In whirlwinds of sulphurous smoke:
And enormous forms of energy;
All the seven deadly sins of the soul
In living creations appear'd
In the flames of eternal fury.

3. Sund'ring, dark'ning, thund'ring!
Rent away with a terrible crash
Eternity roll'd wide apart
Wide asunder rolling
Mountainous all around
Departing; departing; departing:
Leaving ruinous fragments of life
Hanging frowning cliffs & all between
An ocean of voidness unfathomable.

4. The roaring fires ran o'er the heav'ns
In whirlwinds & cataracts of blood
And o'er the dark desarts of Urizen
Fires pour thro' the void on all sides
On Urizens self-begotten armies.

5. But no light from the fires. all was darkness
In the flames of Eternal fury

6. In fierce anguish & quenchless flames
To the desarts and rocks He ran raging
To hide, but He could not: combining
He dug mountains & hills in vast strength,
He piled them in incessant labour,
In howlings & pangs & fierce madness
Long periods in burning fires labouring
Till hoary, and age-broke, and aged,
In despair and the shadows of death.

7. And a roof, vast petrific around,
On all sides He fram'd: like a womb;
Where thousands of rivers in veins
Of blood pour down the mountains to cool
The eternal fires beating without
From Eternals; & like a black globe
View'd by sons of Eternity, standing
On the shore of the infinite ocean

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poem by William Blake
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Blissful Queen

Blissful queen
Magazine
Making art
Stuck between
Limosines
Break my heart
You've got me running but I cant see you coming baby
You've got me running but I cant see you coming baby
You've got me running but I cant see you coming
Can't see you coming
Can't see you coming
You've got me running but I cant see you coming baby
You've got me running but I cant see you coming baby
You've got me running but I cant see you coming
Can't see you coming
Can't see you coming
Blissful queen
Sweet sixteen
Brand new car
Hit machine
Keep her clean
Razor sharp
You've got me running but I cant see you coming baby
You've got me running but I cant see you coming baby
You've got me running but I cant see you coming
Can't see you coming
Can't see you coming
You've got me running but I cant see you coming baby
You've got me running but I cant see you coming baby
You've got me running but I cant see you coming
Can't see you coming
Can't see you coming
Blissful queen
Velveteen
Shining star
Glistening
Wedding ring
Gone too far
You've got me running but I cant see you coming baby
You've got me running but I cant see you coming baby
You've got me running but I cant see you coming
Can't see you coming
Can't see you coming
You've got me running but I cant see you coming baby
You've got me running but I cant see you coming baby
You've got me running but I cant see you coming
Can't see you coming
Can't see you coming
You've got me running but I cant see you coming baby
You've got me running but I cant see you coming baby

[...] Read more

song performed by Veruca Salt
Added by Lucian Velea
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Courtship of Miles Standish, The

I
MILES STANDISH

In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims
To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling,
Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cordovan leather,
Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Captain.
Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands behind him, and pausing
Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons of warfare,
Hanging in shining array along the walls of the chamber, --
Cutlass and corselet of steel, and his trusty sword of Damascus,
Curved at the point and inscribed with its mystical Arabic sentence,
While underneath, in a corner, were fowling-piece, musket, and matchlock.
Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,
Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;
Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already
Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November.
Near him was seated John Alden, his friend and household companion,
Writing with diligent speed at a table of pine by the window:
Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon complexion,
Having the dew of his youth, and the beauty thereof, as the captives
Whom Saint Gregory saw, and exclaimed, "Not Angles, but Angels."
Youngest of all was he of the men who came in the Mayflower.

Suddenly breaking the silence, the diligent scribe interrupting,
Spake, in the pride of his heart, Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth.
"Look at these arms," he said, "the war-like weapons that hang here
Burnished and bright and clean, as if for parade or inspection!
This is the sword of Damascus I fought with in Flanders; this breastplate,
Well I remember the day! once save my life in a skirmish;
Here in front you can see the very dint of the bullet
Fired point-blank at my heart by a Spanish arcabucero.
Had it not been of sheer steel, the forgotten bones of Miles Standish
Would at this moment be mould, in their grave in the Flemish morasses."
Thereupon answered John Alden, but looked not up from his writing:
"Truly the breath of the Lord hath slackened the speed of the bullet;
He in his mercy preserved you, to be our shield and our weapon!"
Still the Captain continued, unheeding the words of the stripling:
"See, how bright they are burnished, as if in an arsenal hanging;
That is because I have done it myself, and not left it to others.
Serve yourself, would you be well served, is an excellent adage;
So I take care of my arms, as you of your pens and your inkhorn.
Then, too, there are my soldiers, my great, invincible army,
Twelve men, all equipped, having each his rest and his matchlock,
Eighteen shillings a month, together with diet and pillage,
And, like Caesar, I know the name of each of my soldiers!"
This he said with a smile, that danced in his eyes, as the sunbeams
Dance on the waves of the sea, and vanish again in a moment.
Alden laughed as he wrote, and still the Captain continued:
"Look! you can see from this window my brazen howitzer planted

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Courtship of Miles Standish

I
MILES STANDISH

In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims
To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling,
Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cordovan leather,
Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Captain.
Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands behind him, and pausing
Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons of warfare,
Hanging in shining array along the walls of the chamber, --
Cutlass and corselet of steel, and his trusty sword of Damascus,
Curved at the point and inscribed with its mystical Arabic sentence,
While underneath, in a corner, were fowling-piece, musket, and matchlock.
Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,
Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;
Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already
Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November.
Near him was seated John Alden, his friend and household companion,
Writing with diligent speed at a table of pine by the window:
Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon complexion,
Having the dew of his youth, and the beauty thereof, as the captives
Whom Saint Gregory saw, and exclaimed, "Not Angles, but Angels."
Youngest of all was he of the men who came in the Mayflower.

Suddenly breaking the silence, the diligent scribe interrupting,
Spake, in the pride of his heart, Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth.
"Look at these arms," he said, "the war-like weapons that hang here
Burnished and bright and clean, as if for parade or inspection!
This is the sword of Damascus I fought with in Flanders; this breastplate,
Well I remember the day! once save my life in a skirmish;
Here in front you can see the very dint of the bullet
Fired point-blank at my heart by a Spanish arcabucero.
Had it not been of sheer steel, the forgotten bones of Miles Standish
Would at this moment be mould, in their grave in the Flemish morasses."
Thereupon answered John Alden, but looked not up from his writing:
"Truly the breath of the Lord hath slackened the speed of the bullet;
He in his mercy preserved you, to be our shield and our weapon!"
Still the Captain continued, unheeding the words of the stripling:
"See, how bright they are burnished, as if in an arsenal hanging;
That is because I have done it myself, and not left it to others.
Serve yourself, would you be well served, is an excellent adage;
So I take care of my arms, as you of your pens and your inkhorn.
Then, too, there are my soldiers, my great, invincible army,
Twelve men, all equipped, having each his rest and his matchlock,
Eighteen shillings a month, together with diet and pillage,
And, like Caesar, I know the name of each of my soldiers!"
This he said with a smile, that danced in his eyes, as the sunbeams
Dance on the waves of the sea, and vanish again in a moment.
Alden laughed as he wrote, and still the Captain continued:
"Look! you can see from this window my brazen howitzer planted

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Tell Me When

Tell me when
Will i?
Tell me when
Will i?
Tell me when
Will I see you again?
Tell me when
Kelly took a lifetime
Searching for the bottom line
I wasnt into searching
cause I was doing fine
I wasnt into fighting, chasing,
Sweating, slaving, fretting, racing
Any waste of effort
Isnt part of my design
Billy was an inspiration,
Positive and kind
Until he let confusion
Overcome his youthful mind
Common sense dictated
I could never be so blind
And then
Then I see you
Tell me when
Will I see you again?
Tell me when
Will I see you again?
Tell me when
Will I see you again?
Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah
Happenstance an episode unplanned,
Alone in time
Coincidence, the second chance
Re-sounding like a rhyme
How paths may cross against the odds
To wreck the plans you made
Among the crowd a face that smiles
To melt your masquerade
If only I could see you
Says the stranger deep inside
And lets you know that when you were
So sure you really lied
If only I could see you
Says the voice within your brain
And quietly, insistently
It says it once again
And then, I really need to know
It wouldnt seem so lonely
If only I could see you
Baby, you can be free

[...] Read more

song performed by Human League
Added by Lucian Velea
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