All legislative experiments in the way of making forcible distribution of the wealth produced in any country have failed.
quote by Leland Stanford
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Whose Country Is This?
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of snakes;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of many waters;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of thieves! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of people;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of oil;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of earthquakes!
Whose country is this?
it is a land full of lovers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of volcanoes!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of beautiful flowers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of hansome men;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of beautiful women;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of roses;
Whose country is this?
it is a land ruled only by men;
Whose country is this?
It is a land without rainfall;
Whose country is this?
It is a land ruled by a woman;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of corruption!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pirates! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land ruled by law;
Whose country is this?
It is a land controlled by rebels!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of ice;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pregnant women;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of singers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of troubles;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of war! !
[...] Read more
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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- quotes about earthquakes
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- quotes about corruption
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The Golden Age
Long ere the Muse the strenuous chords had swept,
And the first lay as yet in silence slept,
A Time there was which since has stirred the lyre
To notes of wail and accents warm with fire;
Moved the soft Mantuan to his silvery strain,
And him who sobbed in pentametric pain;
To which the World, waxed desolate and old,
Fondly reverts, and calls the Age of Gold.
Then, without toil, by vale and mountain side,
Men found their few and simple wants supplied;
Plenty, like dew, dropped subtle from the air,
And Earth's fair gifts rose prodigal as prayer.
Love, with no charms except its own to lure,
Was swiftly answered by a love as pure.
No need for wealth; each glittering fruit and flower,
Each star, each streamlet, made the maiden's dower.
Far in the future lurked maternal throes,
And children blossomed painless as the rose.
No harrowing question `why,' no torturing `how,'
Bent the lithe frame or knit the youthful brow.
The growing mind had naught to seek or shun;
Like the plump fig it ripened in the sun.
From dawn to dark Man's life was steeped in joy,
And the gray sire was happy as the boy.
Nature with Man yet waged no troublous strife,
And Death was almost easier than Life.
Safe on its native mountains throve the oak,
Nor ever groaned 'neath greed's relentless stroke.
No fear of loss, no restlessness for more,
Drove the poor mariner from shore to shore.
No distant mines, by penury divined,
Made him the sport of fickle wave or wind.
Rich for secure, he checked each wish to roam,
And hugged the safe felicity of home.
Those days are long gone by; but who shall say
Why, like a dream, passed Saturn's Reign away?
Over its rise, its ruin, hangs a veil,
And naught remains except a Golden Tale.
Whether 'twas sin or hazard that dissolved
That happy scheme by kindly Gods evolved;
Whether Man fell by lucklessness or pride,-
Let jarring sects, and not the Muse, decide.
But when that cruel Fiat smote the earth,
Primeval Joy was poisoned at its birth.
In sorrow stole the infant from the womb,
The agëd crept in sorrow to the tomb.
The ground, so bounteous once, refused to bear
More than was wrung by sower, seed, and share.
[...] Read more
poem by Alfred Austin
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- quotes about seduction
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- quotes about paying
- quotes about robbery
- quotes about luck
- quotes about fashion
- quotes about slavery
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- quotes about students
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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The Death Of Adolf Hitler’s Personal Physician
Why was Hilter’s personal physician
sentenced to death Daddy Daddy?
What did he do Daddy Daddy?
Karl Brant Hilter’s personal physician
was sentenced to death by the U.S.
War Crime Tribunal in August 1947!
Brandt was indicted with 22 other Nazi
SS doctors and SS officers! Brandt was
Reich Commissioner for Health and Sanitation!
Brandt was charged found guilty on all four
counts! Brandt was charged with conspiracy:
conspiracy in war crimes, aggressive wars,
membership in the criminal SS organization,
crimes against humanity, criminal acts
including participating in and consenting to
the use of concentration camp inmates;
to be used as test subjects in medical
experiments, including experiments on
women children without any anesthetic,
vivisection cutting up live people
without an anesthetic to reduce raw pain.
SS Medical Corp wore a serpent crest
on the collar patches of SS unit insignia.
From1935 to 1938 SS Medical Corps
began to serve a far more sinister purpose.
SS doctors serving in concentration camps
engaging in human medical experiments.
In 1936 SS doctors strengthen the master
race, culling the mentally disabled and
physically handicapped, vital work to assist
purification in Nazi Race Euthanasia Program.
By 1941 elite Waffen-SS doctors were highly
trained both in medical skills and combat
tactics, many receiving high combat awards.
SS doctors achieved such heights through
human medical experiments, notorious
experiments, at Aushwitz and Dachau
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Forms of Wealth
To money is attributed wealth
But the open truth of wealth
Is, It is not the only kind of wealth—
There are also other forms of wealth!
Good health is the best form of wealth
Forging rich links in relationships is wealth
Spontaneous love for all life forms is wealth
To have enthusiasm in life is wealth.
Acquiring life-long learning is wealth
Experience and wisdom in life is wealth
Meeting new people is also wealth
Visiting new places too is authentic wealth.
The quest to explore something is wealth
To have a positive mind-set is wealth
Existence of deep internal peace is wealth
Early morning waking up with joy is wealth.
Possessing high self-respect is wealth
Having strong spiritual connection is wealth
There exist so many types of wealth
Constitute all these and you're with full wealth!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Gone Country
Shes been playing in a room on a strip
For ten years in vegas
Every night she looks in the mirror
But she only ages
Shes been reading about nashville and all
The records that everybodys buying
Says Im a simple girl myself
Grew up on long island
So she packs her bags to try her hand
Says this might be my last chance
Shes gone country, look at them boots
Shes gone country, back to her roots
Shes gone country, a new kind of suit
Shes gone country, here she comes
Well the folk scene is dead
But hes holding out in the village
Hes been writing songs speaking out
Against wealth and privilege
He says i dont believe in money
But a man could make him a killin
Cause some of that stuff dont sound
Much different than dylan
I hear down there its changed you see
Theyre not as backwards as they used to be
Hes gone country, look at them boots
Hes gone country, back to his roots
Hes gone country, a new kind of suit
Hes gone country, here he comes
He commutes to la
But hes got a house in the valley
But the bills are piling up
And the pop scene just aint on the rally
He says honey Im a serious composer
Schooled in voice and composition
But with the crime and the smog these days
This aint no place for children
Lord it sounds so easy it shouldnt take long
Be back in the money in no time at all
Hes gone country, look at them boots
Hes gone country, back to his roots
Hes gone country, a new kind of suit
Hes gone country, here he comes
Yeah hes gone country, a new kind of walk
Hes gone country, a new kind of talk
Hes gone country, look at them boots
Hes gone country, oh back to his roots
Hes gone country
Hes gone country
Everybodys gone country
Yeah weve gone country
[...] Read more
song performed by Alan Jackson
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Eighth Book
ONE eve it happened when I sate alone,
Alone upon the terrace of my tower,
A book upon my knees, to counterfeit
The reading that I never read at all,
While Marian, in the garden down below,
Knelt by the fountain (I could just hear thrill
The drowsy silence of the exhausted day)
And peeled a new fig from that purple heap
In the grass beside her,–turning out the red
To feed her eager child, who sucked at it
With vehement lips across a gap of air
As he stood opposite, face and curls a-flame
With that last sun-ray, crying, 'give me, give,'
And stamping with imperious baby-feet,
(We're all born princes)–something startled me,–
The laugh of sad and innocent souls, that breaks
Abruptly, as if frightened at itself;
'Twas Marian laughed. I saw her glance above
In sudden shame that I should hear her laugh,
And straightway dropped my eyes upon my book,
And knew, the first time, 'twas Boccaccio's tales,
The Falcon's,–of the lover who for love
Destroyed the best that loved him. Some of us
Do it still, and then we sit and laugh no more.
Laugh you, sweet Marian! you've the right to laugh,
Since God himself is for you, and a child!
For me there's somewhat less,–and so, I sigh.
The heavens were making room to hold the night,
The sevenfold heavens unfolding all their gates
To let the stars out slowly (prophesied
In close-approaching advent, not discerned),
While still the cue-owls from the cypresses
Of the Poggio called and counted every pulse
Of the skyey palpitation. Gradually
The purple and transparent shadows slow
Had filled up the whole valley to the brim,
And flooded all the city, which you saw
As some drowned city in some enchanted sea,
Cut off from nature,–drawing you who gaze,
With passionate desire, to leap and plunge,
And find a sea-king with a voice of waves,
And treacherous soft eyes, and slippery locks
You cannot kiss but you shall bring away
Their salt upon your lips. The duomo-bell
Strikes ten, as if it struck ten fathoms down,
So deep; and fifty churches answer it
The same, with fifty various instances.
Some gaslights tremble along squares and streets
The Pitti's palace-front is drawn in fire:
[...] Read more
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
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Jeane
Jeane
The low-life has lost its appeal
And i'm tired of walking these streets
To a room with its cupboards bare
Jeane
I'm not sure what happiness means
But i look in your eyes
And i know
Oh ...
That it isn't there
Oh, we tried, and we failed
Oh, we tried, and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried
Oh, jeane
There's ice on the sink where we bathe
So how can you call this a home
When you know it's a grave ?
Yet you still have that greedy grace
As you tidy the place
But it will never be clean
Jeane
We tried and we failed
We tried, and we failed
We tried and we failed
We tried and we failed
And we tried
Oh ...
Cash on the nail
It's just a fairytale
Oh ...
And i don't believe in magic anymore
Jeane
But i think you know
I really think you know
Oh ...
Oh yes, i think you know the truth
Jeane
Oh ...
No heavenly choirs
Not for me and not for you
Because i think you know
I really think you know
Oh ...
I think you know the truth
Oh, jeane
We tried, and we failed
We tried, and we failed
We tried and we failed
[...] Read more
song performed by Smiths
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Put Some Drive In Your Country
Well I was raised on country classics
Like Roy Acuff and George Jones
Lord I loved to hear 'em
Sing all them old time country songs
But I really got excited 'bout the time I turned 15
That's the first time I heard Waylon and old Bocephus sing
They put some drive in their country that really turned me on
Yeah, put some drive in your country
Keep country drivin' on
When the music gets you movin'
You know that can't be wrong
Every time I hear that outlaw stuff on my car radio
It makes me wanna drive it just as fast as it will go
Put some drive in your country
Let's keep country drivin' on
We played some shows in Atlanta on Sunday afternoons
The gigs were packed and I was nervous
Cause I wanted folks to like my tunes
The crowds were full of younger people
They were all about my age
So I turned and told the band just before we walked on stage
Put some drive in your country fellas
We turned those people on
Yeah, put some drive in your country
Keep country drivin' on
When the music gets you dancin'
You know that can't be wrong
See I made myself a promise when I was just a kid
I'd mix southern rock and country and that's just what I did
Put some drive in your country
Keep country drivin' on
Put some drive in your country
Hey, let's keep country drivin' on
When the music gets you movin'
You know that can't be wrong
I still love old country
I ain't tryin' to put it down
Damn I miss Duanne Allman
I wish he was still around
Put some drive in the country
Keep country drivin' on
Put some drive in the country
Let's keep country drivin' on
song performed by Travis Tritt
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The Drug's Not Working
I was shooting in the back of the car
When the windows smashed on the police cars
I was swimming through the streets of New York
With my cocaine dagger and throats to cut
And it was making her cry
And it was making her cry
And it was making her cry
But it was making me high
She was a hooker at the age of 16
All she wanted was the money
She didn't need an I.D.
She was a junkie and I know its clich
But then so was her life
I mean, she lived in L.A.
And it was making her cry
And it was making her cry
And it was making her cry
But it was making her high
And it was making her cry
And it was making her cry
And it was making her cry
But it was making her high
And it was making her cry
And it was making her cry
(Riot in my skull, demons are coming)
And it was making her cry
(Los Angeles is dead, the drugs ain't working)
And it was making her cry
(Painted it all black, the chains are jerking)
And it was making her cry
(Los Angeles is dead, the drugs ain't working)
And it was making her cry
(Riot in my skull, demons are coming)
And it was making her cry
(Los Angeles is dead, the drugs ain't working)
And it was making her cry
(Los Angeles is dead, the drugs ain't working)
Riot in my skull, demons are coming
L.A. your dead, the drugs ain't working
Painted it all black, the chains are jerking
L.A. is dead, the drugs ain't working
L.A. your dead, the drugs ain't working
L.A. your dead, the drugs ain't working
The drugs ain't working
The drugs ain't working
song performed by Ryan Adams
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Country Aint Country
He was raised on a tractor in overalls and boots
Been to college and then law school since leaving his roots
Came home in a lexus,he left in a ford
Country aint country no more
He told his daddy catch up with the times
He said now a days people trade heifers online
Dad aint selling deals with a handshake like before
Country aint country no more
No,country aint country no more
The back forty was sold to make up for hard times
Then sold by the half acre lot overnight
The houses went up and the trees were cut down
And there went the finest deer hunting around
Lord everyones locking their doors
cause country aint country no more
Now his dad sits in traffic looking round at the change
Watching crews turn the county road into four lanes
The old sunday drive has turned into a chore
Country aint country no more
Lord,country aint country no more
The back forty was sold to make up for hard times
Then sold by the half acre lot overnight
The houses went up and the trees were cut down
And there went the finest deer hunting around
Lord everyones locking their doors
cause country aint country no more
Theres no turning back
And you just cant ignore
That country aint country no more
No,country aint country no more
song performed by Travis Tritt
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Country Woman
Country women now, what you gonna do with your life
Country women now, why dont you get out of this life
Leave my life alone
The first time I met you I knew you were the devils daughter
You came on like a river , doin all the things you oughta
Youre a self made women ,baby, not a made-to-order
If you had your way , I know youd make me stay
And that would only bring me down
Country women now, what you gonna do with your life
Country women now, why dont you get out of this life
Leave my life alone
(break)
Country women , country women ,country women
Country women, country women , ahh....
Country women now, what you gonna do with your life
Country women now, why dont you get out of this life
Leave my life alone
Leave my life alone
Country women now , country women now, country women now,
Country women now , country women now, country women now, (fade)
song performed by Bee Gees
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Thank God Im A Country Boy
This song appears on thirteen albums, and was first released on the back home again album. it has also been released on the greatest hits vol 2, favourites, voice of america, the rocky mountain
Ction, the country roads collection and changes albums. it has been recorded for the love again album. live versions appear on the an evening with john denver, live in london, country classics,
Ery best of john denver (double cd) and live at the syney opera house albums.
Well life on the farm is kinda laid back
Aint much an old country boy like me cant hack
Its early to rise, early in the sack
Thank God Im a country boy
Well a simple kinda life never did me no harm
A raisin me a family and workin on a farm
My days are all filled with an easy country charm
Thank God Im a country boy
Well I got me a fine wife I got me a fiddle
When the suns comin up I got cakes on the griddle
Life aint nothin but a funy funny riddle
Thank God Im a country boy
When the works all done and the suns settlin low
I pull out my fiddle and I rosin up the bow
The kids are asleep so I keep it kinda low
Thank God Im a country boy
Id play sally goodin all day if I could
But the lord and my wife wouldnt take it very good
So I fiddle when I could, work when I should
Thank God Im a country boy
Well I got me a fine wife I got me a fiddle
When the suns comin up I got cakes on the griddle
Life aint nothin but a funy funny riddle
Thank God Im a country boy
Well I wouldnt trade my life for diamonds and jewels
I never was one of them money hungry fools
Iid rather have my fiddle and my farmin tools
Thank God Im a country boy
Yeah, city folk drivin in a black limousine
A lotta sad people thinkin thats mighty keen
Son, let me tell ya now exactly what I mean
Thank God Im a country boy
Well I got me a fine wife I got me a fiddle
When the suns comin up I got cakes on the griddle
Life aint nothin but a funy funny riddle
Thank God Im a country boy
Well, my fiddle was my daddys till the day he died
And he took me by the hand and held me close to his side
Said, live a good life and play my fiddle with pride
And thank God youre a country boy
My daddy taught me young how to hunt and how to whittle
Taught me how to work and play a tune on the fiddle
Taught me how to love and how to give just a little
Thank God Im a country boy
Well I got me a fine wife I got me a fiddle
When the suns comin up I got cakes on the griddle
Life aint nothin but a funy funny riddle
[...] Read more
song performed by John Denver
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Don't Be Fooled
When my twin brother was dying of cancer the insurance company pulled his insurance then the bank foreclosed his house. i hate them! I hate the right wing of today and corporate insurance companies and the rich get richer off the middle class and the union busting etc. i will always fight them no matter what happens. I love people with empathy and compassion and courage and real love. We are in a very bad chapter in American history and even if we do not pull out of it I still will fight because I am a universalist with spiritual ethics based on God is love and love thy neighbor as thyself. I know both parties are in the hands of money and lobby dollars but the right wing is way worse and the tea party even crazier. They won't tax the rich back to the Clinton years while they watch tuitions going up so the rich get to send their kids to school and the poor or lower middleclass can't send their kids to college. The tea party sides with banks and the oil companies and tax breaks for the wealthy not the working class and poor. The Congressional Budget Office (CBO) just came out with a report showing that since 1979 the top 1 percent increased wages and wealth a staggering 275%. This inequality and massive distribution of wealth is ruining our economy. The right wing spins this and blames the victims, accuses people of being lazy etc when the truth is they take from the poor to give to the rich and then they turn around and accuse everyone of starting class warfare. They are the class warefare oppressors! These mobsters and political cronies for the rich use evangelicals. Side with the poor and the working class. Remember in the feast of Jubilee the land went back to the original tribe every 50 years in Israel. The fields were to remain fallow and unplowed every seven years for one year and the poor only could glean. During harvest the fields could only be gone over once then the poor could go in. There was always justice and social justice and distribution of wealth. Jesus healed them all. Today we have cattle that don't graze but are fed on corn filled with growth hormones and antibiotics, chickens never seeing the sun with broken legs after a few months because of rapid growth for profit, pigs that never stand up though they are smarter than dogs all for the food industries. The grain companies feed these animals and it all goes for MONEY while corporate Christianity is more worried about the rapture and Armageddon then love and justice. Regulations let down increase lead, mercury, toxic chemicals and cancers and the evangelicals get used by the republican gangsters and rhetoric. GMO’s everywhere that are being questioned by more and more scientist and the right wing church is mum. Ministers preaching right out in the open, vote for these right wing gang leaders and not loosing their tax exempt status! Don't be fooled. It is the rich and major companies that have shipped the jobs out of here; it is not the poor and the middle class. They won’t tax the rich and still give exemptions to the OIL COMPANIES! C’mon folks! ! ! Don’t be fooled!
Big Oil just posted multibillion-dollar profits – AGAIN – and what are Republicans doing? Filibustering a jobs bill. Refusing to make billionaires pay their fair share. Basically anything they can do for the benefit of their wealthy buddies in the top 1% - and at the expense of the middle class. They don't want the middle class strengthened in any way as to give any credit to the left because they don't love their country. They love their power, the rich, the elite and all they do is grandstand and block help for hurting people.
I am for the party that distributes the wealth, that helps kids get to college, that supports women, that supports the mentally ill and doesn’t cut funding, that doesn’t allow companies to pollute and ruin the environment, that is green and wanting clean technology for our children, that leaves the rivers and lakes and wilderness in tact for future generations, that supports unions and good wages for working people with good benefits and a future, that believes is social security, that wants healthcare for every single citizen. Love thy neighbor as thyself. Do onto others as you would want them to do unto you. Do you want healthcare for you and yours, do you want college for your children, do you want clean water, do you want a good job for you and your children? ? ? Then fight these greedy, evil republicans of today who support the 1% of the filthy rich while they dismantle and take away the middle class in a horrible battle of class warfare. See what the Bible preaches about the rich and oppressors. The Scriptures constantly lift up the poor and working people and condemn the rich and those that do not share the wealth. I don’t care about names or tags but as a Christian I cannot see the 1% have all the marbles and allow our country to be taken over by these gangsters and liars. These right-wingers of today support the rich. Powerful and greedy and they are trying for the evangelical vote and bubba while taking bread off everyone’s table except their own. DON’T BE FOOLED
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The Farewell
_P_. Farewell to Europe, and at once farewell
To all the follies which in Europe dwell;
To Eastern India now, a richer clime,
Richer, alas! in everything but rhyme,
The Muses steer their course; and, fond of change,
At large, in other worlds, desire to range;
Resolved, at least, since they the fool must play,
To do it in a different place, and way.
_F_. What whim is this, what error of the brain,
What madness worse than in the dog-star's reign?
Why into foreign countries would you roam,
Are there not knaves and fools enough at home?
If satire be thy object--and thy lays
As yet have shown no talents fit for praise--
If satire be thy object, search all round,
Nor to thy purpose can one spot be found
Like England, where, to rampant vigour grown,
Vice chokes up every virtue; where, self-sown,
The seeds of folly shoot forth rank and bold,
And every seed brings forth a hundredfold.
_P_. No more of this--though Truth, (the more our shame,
The more our guilt) though Truth perhaps may claim,
And justify her part in this, yet here,
For the first time, e'en Truth offends my ear;
Declaim from morn to night, from night to morn,
Take up the theme anew, when day's new-born,
I hear, and hate--be England what she will,
With all her faults, she is my country still.
_F_. Thy country! and what then? Is that mere word
Against the voice of Reason to be heard?
Are prejudices, deep imbibed in youth,
To counteract, and make thee hate the truth?
'Tis sure the symptom of a narrow soul
To draw its grand attachment from the whole,
And take up with a part; men, not confined
Within such paltry limits, men design'd
Their nature to exalt, where'er they go,
Wherever waves can roll, and winds can blow,
Where'er the blessed sun, placed in the sky
To watch this subject world, can dart his eye,
Are still the same, and, prejudice outgrown,
Consider every country as their own;
At one grand view they take in Nature's plan,
Not more at home in England than Japan.
_P_. My good, grave Sir of Theory, whose wit,
Grasping at shadows, ne'er caught substance yet,
'Tis mighty easy o'er a glass of wine
On vain refinements vainly to refine,
To laugh at poverty in plenty's reign,
To boast of apathy when out of pain,
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poem by Charles Churchill
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Soccer–Passion Song
Soccer–Passion Song
Soccer in the evening;
Soccer in the morning;
Soccer in spring and fall.
Soccer in the raining;
Soccer in the snowing;
Soccer in winter and summer.
Soccer in between my feet,
where I walk;
Soccer in my heart and mind,
how I live;
Soccer my love and life.
Soccer I wake up and play;
Soccer I hold it to sleep;
Soccer my work and rest.
Soccer I sing a new song;
Soccer I dance the magic steps;
Soccer my tears and joy.
Soccer my Mom buys it for me to play;
Soccer my Dad brings me to the game;
Soccer my dear Love watches me to score.
Soccer I dribble and shoot;
Soccer I pass and fall;
Soccer my glory and downfall.
Soccer I strike to attack;
Soccer I tackle to defend;
Soccer my struggle and survival.
Soccer I receive the flags and the whistles;
Soccer I get the yellow and red card;
Soccer my moves and stop.
Soccer I meet my friends;
Soccer I make my enemies;
Soccer my conflict and peace.
Soccer I play and watch;
Soccer I watch but cannot play;
Soccer my dream and reality.
Soccer I learn the rights;
Soccer I confess the fouls;
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poem by Laijon Liu
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The four Monarchyes, the Assyrian being the first, beginning under Nimrod, 131. Years after the Floo
When time was young, & World in Infancy,
Man did not proudly strive for Soveraignty:
But each one thought his petty Rule was high,
If of his house he held the Monarchy.
This was the golden Age, but after came
The boisterous son of Chus, Grand-Child to Ham,
That mighty Hunter, who in his strong toyles
Both Beasts and Men subjected to his spoyles:
The strong foundation of proud Babel laid,
Erech, Accad, and Culneh also made.
These were his first, all stood in Shinar land,
From thence he went Assyria to command,
And mighty Niniveh, he there begun,
Not finished till he his race had run.
Resen, Caleh, and Rehoboth likewise
By him to Cities eminent did rise.
Of Saturn, he was the Original,
Whom the succeeding times a God did call,
When thus with rule, he had been dignifi'd,
One hundred fourteen years he after dy'd.
Belus.
Great Nimrod dead, Belus the next his Son
Confirms the rule, his Father had begun;
Whose acts and power is not for certainty
Left to the world, by any History.
But yet this blot for ever on him lies,
He taught the people first to Idolize:
Titles Divine he to himself did take,
Alive and dead, a God they did him make.
This is that Bel the Chaldees worshiped,
Whose Priests in Stories oft are mentioned;
This is that Baal to whom the Israelites
So oft profanely offered sacred Rites:
This is Beelzebub God of Ekronites,
Likewise Baalpeor of the Mohabites,
His reign was short, for as I calculate,
At twenty five ended his Regal date.
Ninus.
His Father dead, Ninus begins his reign,
Transfers his seat to the Assyrian plain;
And mighty Nineveh more mighty made,
Whose Foundation was by his Grand-sire laid:
Four hundred forty Furlongs wall'd about,
On which stood fifteen hundred Towers stout.
The walls one hundred sixty foot upright,
So broad three Chariots run abrest there might.
Upon the pleasant banks of Tygris floud
This stately Seat of warlike Ninus stood:
This Ninus for a God his Father canonized,
To whom the sottish people sacrificed.
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poem by Anne Bradstreet
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Pharsalia - Book IX: Cato
Yet in those ashes on the Pharian shore,
In that small heap of dust, was not confined
So great a shade; but from the limbs half burnt
And narrow cell sprang forth and sought the sky
Where dwells the Thunderer. Black the space of air
Upreaching to the poles that bear on high
The constellations in their nightly round;
There 'twixt the orbit of the moon and earth
Abide those lofty spirits, half divine,
Who by their blameless lives and fire of soul
Are fit to tolerate the pure expanse
That bounds the lower ether: there shall dwell,
Where nor the monument encased in gold,
Nor richest incense, shall suffice to bring
The buried dead, in union with the spheres,
Pompeius' spirit. When with heavenly light
His soul was filled, first on the wandering stars
And fixed orbs he bent his wondering gaze;
Then saw what darkness veils our earthly day
And scorned the insults heaped upon his corse.
Next o'er Emathian plains he winged his flight,
And ruthless Caesar's standards, and the fleet
Tossed on the deep: in Brutus' blameless breast
Tarried awhile, and roused his angered soul
To reap the vengeance; last possessed the mind
Of haughty Cato.
He while yet the scales
Were poised and balanced, nor the war had given
The world its master, hating both the chiefs,
Had followed Magnus for the Senate's cause
And for his country: since Pharsalia's field
Ran red with carnage, now was all his heart
Bound to Pompeius. Rome in him received
Her guardian; a people's trembling limbs
He cherished with new hope and weapons gave
Back to the craven hands that cast them forth.
Nor yet for empire did he wage the war
Nor fearing slavery: nor in arms achieved
Aught for himself: freedom, since Magnus fell,
The aim of all his host. And lest the foe
In rapid course triumphant should collect
His scattered bands, he sought Corcyra's gulfs
Concealed, and thence in ships unnumbered bore
The fragments of the ruin wrought in Thrace.
Who in such mighty armament had thought
A routed army sailed upon the main
Thronging the sea with keels? Round Malea's cape
And Taenarus open to the shades below
And fair Cythera's isle, th' advancing fleet
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poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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Thurso’s Landing
I
The coast-road was being straightened and repaired again,
A group of men labored at the steep curve
Where it falls from the north to Mill Creek. They scattered and hid
Behind cut banks, except one blond young man
Who stooped over the rock and strolled away smiling
As if he shared a secret joke with the dynamite;
It waited until he had passed back of a boulder,
Then split its rock cage; a yellowish torrent
Of fragments rose up the air and the echoes bumped
From mountain to mountain. The men returned slowly
And took up their dropped tools, while a banner of dust
Waved over the gorge on the northwest wind, very high
Above the heads of the forest.
Some distance west of the road,
On the promontory above the triangle
Of glittering ocean that fills the gorge-mouth,
A woman and a lame man from the farm below
Had been watching, and turned to go down the hill. The young
woman looked back,
Widening her violet eyes under the shade of her hand. 'I think
they'll blast again in a minute.'
And the man: 'I wish they'd let the poor old road be. I don't
like improvements.' 'Why not?' 'They bring in the world;
We're well without it.' His lameness gave him some look of age
but he was young too; tall and thin-faced,
With a high wavering nose. 'Isn't he amusing,' she said, 'that
boy Rick Armstrong, the dynamite man,
How slowly he walks away after he lights the fuse. He loves to
show off. Reave likes him, too,'
She added; and they clambered down the path in the rock-face,
little dark specks
Between the great headland rock and the bright blue sea.
II
The road-workers had made their camp
North of this headland, where the sea-cliff was broken down and
sloped to a cove. The violet-eyed woman's husband,
Reave Thurso, rode down the slope to the camp in the gorgeous
autumn sundown, his hired man Johnny Luna
Riding behind him. The road-men had just quit work and four
or five were bathing in the purple surf-edge,
The others talked by the tents; blue smoke fragrant with food
and oak-wood drifted from the cabin stove-pipe
And slowly went fainting up the vast hill.
Thurso drew rein by
a group of men at a tent door
And frowned at them without speaking, square-shouldered and
heavy-jawed, too heavy with strength for so young a man,
He chose one of the men with his eyes. 'You're Danny Woodruff,
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poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Last Instructions to a Painter
After two sittings, now our Lady State
To end her picture does the third time wait.
But ere thou fall'st to work, first, Painter, see
If't ben't too slight grown or too hard for thee.
Canst thou paint without colors? Then 'tis right:
For so we too without a fleet can fight.
Or canst thou daub a signpost, and that ill?
'Twill suit our great debauch and little skill.
Or hast thou marked how antic masters limn
The aly-roof with snuff of candle dim,
Sketching in shady smoke prodigious tools?
'Twill serve this race of drunkards, pimps and fools.
But if to match our crimes thy skill presumes,
As th' Indians, draw our luxury in plumes.
Or if to score out our compendious fame,
With Hooke, then, through the microscope take aim,
Where, like the new Comptroller, all men laugh
To see a tall louse brandish the white staff.
Else shalt thou oft thy guiltless pencil curse,
Stamp on thy palette, not perhaps the worse.
The painter so, long having vexed his cloth--
Of his hound's mouth to feign the raging froth--
His desperate pencil at the work did dart:
His anger reached that rage which passed his art;
Chance finished that which art could but begin,
And he sat smiling how his dog did grin.
So mayst thou pérfect by a lucky blow
What all thy softest touches cannot do.
Paint then St Albans full of soup and gold,
The new court's pattern, stallion of the old.
Him neither wit nor courage did exalt,
But Fortune chose him for her pleasure salt.
Paint him with drayman's shoulders, butcher's mien,
Membered like mules, with elephantine chine.
Well he the title of St Albans bore,
For Bacon never studied nature more.
But age, allayed now that youthful heat,
Fits him in France to play at cards and treat.
Draw no commission lest the court should lie,
That, disavowing treaty, asks supply.
He needs no seal but to St James's lease,
Whose breeches wear the instrument of peace;
Who, if the French dispute his power, from thence
Can straight produce them a plenipotence..
Nor fears he the Most Christian should trepan
Two saints at once, St Germain, St Alban,
But thought the Golden Age was now restored,
When men and women took each other's word.
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poem by Andrew Marvell
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