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The historian is a prophet looking backward.

quote by Karl Wilhelm Friedrich Schlegel
Added by Lucian Velea
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Looking for Water

Still the leaves are spinning 'round
Take my hand as we go down, and down, and down
Looking for water
Well, our light's gone in a New York minute
Don't know about you, but my heart's not in it
(Looking, looking, looking)
I'm looking for water
I'm looking for water
(Looking, looking, looking)
I can't breathe the air, can't raise a fact
'Cause all we've got left is a beat in the night, and I'm
(Looking for water)
Looking for water
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
Take my hand as we go down, and down
Leave it all behind, nothing could be found
(I'm, looking for water)
I'm looking for water
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
(I, looking for water)
Looking everywhere
(Looking for water)
Looking here and there
(I'm looking for water)
I'm looking for water
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I can't live in this cage, I can't eat this candy
The edge of the earth to the spin in my head
The look in your eyes and never means never
The dawn's early light, baby, dark is forever
(Looking, looking)
(Looking, looking)
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for watter)
Looking, looking)
I

[...] Read more

song performed by David Bowie, music by David Bowie, lyrics by David Bowie from Reality
Added by Lucian Velea
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Jonah

Thus sung the king—some angel reach a bough
From Eden's tree to crown the wisest brow;
And now thou fairest garden ever made,
Broad banks of spices, blossom'd walks of shade,
O Lebanon! where much I love to dwell,
Since I must leave thee Lebanon, farewel!

Swift from my soul the fair Idea flies,
A wilder sight the changing scene supplies,
Wide seas come rolling to my future page,
And storms stand ready when I call, to rage.
Then go where Joppa crowns the winding shore,
The prophet Jonah just arrives before,
He sees a ship unmooring, soft the gales,
He pays, and enters, and the vessel sails.

Ah wou'dst thou fly thy God? rash man forbear,
What land so distant but thy God is there?
Weak reason, cease thy voice.—They run the deep,
And the tir'd prophet lays his limbs to sleep.
Here God speaks louder, sends a storm to sea,
The clouds remove to give the vengeance way;
Strong blasts come whistling, by degrees they roar
And shove big surges tumbling on to shore;
The vessel bounds, then rolls, and ev'ry blast
Works hard to tear her by the groaning mast;
The sailors doubling all their shouts and cares
Furl the white canvas, and cast forth the wares,
Each seek the God their native regions own,
In vain they seek them, for those Gods were none.
Yet Jonah slept the while, who solely knew,
In all that number, where to find the true.
To whom the pilot: sleeper, rise and pray,
Our Gods are deaf; may thine do more than they.

But thus the rest: perhaps we waft a foe
To heav'n itself, and that's our cause of woe;
Let's seek by lots, if heav'n be pleas'd to tell;
And what they sought by lots, on Jonah fell:
Then whence he came, and who, and what, and why
Thus rag'd the tempest, all confus'dly cry,
Each press'd in haste to get his question heard,
When Jonah stops them with a grave regard.

An Hebrew man you see, who God revere,
He made this world, and makes this world his care,
His the whirl'd sky, these waves that lift their head,
And his yon land, on which you long to tread.
He charg'd me late, to Nineveh repair,
And to their face denounce his sentence there:

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Parnell
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Oh prophet!

Oh prophet! Oh prophet! get up and flee
The dormant city
Is vicious, merciless without joviality or glee

Oh prophet! Oh prophet get up and run
The dreadful city before the rising sun
The gentle night welcomes with cover and calm

Oh prophet! oh prophet get up and haste your retreat
The night city drums thunder and beat
A place so foul, no man is liberated or free in solitary streets

Oh prophet! oh prophet get up and hide
This city is filled with bigotry and shameful pride
The night is pure with divinity and delight

Oh Prophet! oh Prophet wake up and rise
Large treasure rapture city eyes
Their sins are blotted in shape and size

Oh prophet! oh prophet take a warning heed
Tomorrow God's wrath will over the city take lead
And with fury and fire burns her towers and her peaks

Copy Rights 2010
All rights reserved

poem by Isaac Ziv
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Your (pbuy) Love's Miracles

The space is full of small droplets, delicate
But all of the don't have the same fate,
Only those the colors of the rainbow create
Who are blessed with your love, peace be upon you!
O Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon you!

Countless flowers smile in parks and valleys
Not for months and years but some dailies
Only those give forth sweet smell in rallies
Who want to see you, peace be upon you!
O Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon you!

A large variety of herbs spreads on the ground
Some with ease and some with hardship found
Only those for good health are the most sound
That want to kiss your feet, peace be upon you!
O Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon you!

Numberless particles lie down on earth's face
Humility stays with them in close, fast embrace
Only those shine with marvelous, high grace
Who wait for you, o dear peace be upon you!
O Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon you!

Countless oysters live in the lap of ocean
Pearls are not found in the same proportion
But in those who have your love's passion
Are blessed with pearls, peace be upon you!
O Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon you!

Countless stars roam about in endless heaven
All the time, in all seasons, round the days seven
But only those flames dark night does enliven
That pray for you o dear, peace be upon you!
O Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon you!

Homeless clouds float in the sea of sky
Some crawl low some move on high
Only those quench the thirst of earth dry
That saturate with your love, peace be upon you!
O Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon you!

Countless breaths come to us and depart
With them moves ahead life's slow cart
But only those give life to the beating heart
That are filled with your love, peace be upon you!
O Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon you!

Endless tears trickle down the walls of eyes
Along with repeated sobs and fast sighs

[...] Read more

poem by Prof Niamat Ali Murtazai
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Looking Up

Looking up, again
Im coming back to life
Im coming back to life
Looking up, to you
If was really up to you
You had to pull me through
Looking up
Looking up, a change is
Coming over me
I know now that Im free
Looking up, I find
Im walking tall and proud
And happy all the time
Looking up
Im looking up
Looking up
I see my troubles far behind
Looking up
(Im looking up)
Looking up
I feel Im rising to the top
Looking up
Looking up, a change is
Coming over me
I know now that Im free
Looking up, I find
Im walking tall and proud
And happy all the time
Looking up
Im looking up
Looking up
I see my troubles far behind
Looking up
(Im looking up)
Looking up
I feel Im rising to the top
Looking up
Someone that understands
Is there until the end
To hold the light for me
The light that help me see
And in my darkest hours
Will come with sunny showers
To help me to forget
Oh I so glad we met
And since that rainy day
The clouds just stay away
You chase them with your love
The greatest love Ive known
cause in the darkest hour

[...] Read more

song performed by Donna Summer
Added by Lucian Velea
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Looking At The Many People

Looking at the many people.
Looking at the many people,
Waiting to live a life they like.
The many people...
In a luxurized hype.

Looking at the people,
Waiting for a life they like.
The many people.
Looking at the many people.

Embittered and lamenting.
Looking at the many people.
Living venting and resenting.
Looking at the many people.

Condescending and offending.
Looking at the many people.
Expressing their sad sentiments...
And in their minds they're losing sense.

Looking at the many people.
Looking at the many people.
Waiting for a life they like.
The many people.
Looking at the many people.

Looking at the many people.
Waiting for a life they like.
The many people.
Looking at the many people.

Embittered and lamenting.
Looking at the many people.
Living venting and resenting.
Looking at the many people.

Condescending and offending.
Looking at the many people.
Expressing their sad sentiments...
And in their minds they're losing sense.

Looking at the many people.
Looking at the many people.
Expressing their sad sentiments...
And in their minds they're losing sense.

Looking at the many people.
Looking at the many people.
Expressing their sad sentiments...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Causes of Anger and Its Medicine

Know, O dear readers, that the medicine of a disease is to remove the
root cause of that disease. Isa (Jesus Christ) -peace be upon him-
was once asked: 'What thing is difficult?' He said: 'God's wrath.'
Prophet Yahya (John the Baptist) -peace be upon him- then asked:
'What thing takes near the wrath of God?' He said:'Anger'. Yahya -
peace be upon him- asked him:'What thing grows and increases anger?'
Isa -peace be upon him- said:'Pride, prestige, hope for honour and
haughtiness'

The causes which cause anger to grow are self-conceit, self-praise,
jests and ridicule, argument, treachery, too much greed for too much
wealth and name and fame. If these evils are united in a person, his
conduct becomes bad and he cannot escape anger.

So these things should be removed by their opposites. Self-praise is
to be removed by modesty. Pride is to be removed by one's own origin
and birth, greed is to be removed by remaining satisfied with
necessary things, and miserliness by charity.

The prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said: 'A strong man is not
he who defeats his adversary by wrestling, but a strong man is he who
controls himself at the time of anger.'

We are describing below the medicines of anger after one gets angry.
The medicine is a mixture of knowledge and action. The medicine based
on knowledge is of six kinds:

(1) The first medicine of knowledge is to think over the rewards of
appeasing anger, that have come from the verses of the Quran and the
sayings of the Prophet (pbuh). Your hope for getting rewards of
appeasing anger will restrain you from taking revenge.

(2) The second kind of medicine based on knowledge is to fear the
punishment of God and to think that the punishment of God upon me is
greater than my punishment upon him. If I take revenge upon this man
for anger, God will take revenge upon me on the Judgement Day.

(3) The third kind of medicine of anger based on knowledge is to take
precaution about punishment of enmity and revenge on himself. You
feel joy in having your enemy in your presence in his sorrows, You
yourself are not free from that danger. You will fear that your enemy
might take revenge against you in this world and in the next.

(4) Another kind of medicine based on knowledge is to think about the
ugly face of the angry man, which is just like that of the ferocious
beast. He who appeases anger looks like a sober and learned man.

(5) The fifth kind of medicine based on knowledge is to think that the
devil will advise by saying: ' You will be weak if you do not get
angry!' Do not listen to him!

[...] Read more

poem by Al-Ghazali Abu Hamid
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Paradise Regained

THE FIRST BOOK

I, WHO erewhile the happy Garden sung
By one man's disobedience lost, now sing
Recovered Paradise to all mankind,
By one man's firm obedience fully tried
Through all temptation, and the Tempter foiled
In all his wiles, defeated and repulsed,
And Eden raised in the waste Wilderness.
Thou Spirit, who led'st this glorious Eremite
Into the desert, his victorious field
Against the spiritual foe, and brought'st him thence 10
By proof the undoubted Son of God, inspire,
As thou art wont, my prompted song, else mute,
And bear through highth or depth of Nature's bounds,
With prosperous wing full summed, to tell of deeds
Above heroic, though in secret done,
And unrecorded left through many an age:
Worthy to have not remained so long unsung.
Now had the great Proclaimer, with a voice
More awful than the sound of trumpet, cried
Repentance, and Heaven's kingdom nigh at hand 20
To all baptized. To his great baptism flocked
With awe the regions round, and with them came
From Nazareth the son of Joseph deemed
To the flood Jordan--came as then obscure,
Unmarked, unknown. But him the Baptist soon
Descried, divinely warned, and witness bore
As to his worthier, and would have resigned
To him his heavenly office. Nor was long
His witness unconfirmed: on him baptized
Heaven opened, and in likeness of a Dove 30
The Spirit descended, while the Father's voice
From Heaven pronounced him his beloved Son.
That heard the Adversary, who, roving still
About the world, at that assembly famed
Would not be last, and, with the voice divine
Nigh thunder-struck, the exalted man to whom
Such high attest was given a while surveyed
With wonder; then, with envy fraught and rage,
Flies to his place, nor rests, but in mid air
To council summons all his mighty Peers, 40
Within thick clouds and dark tenfold involved,
A gloomy consistory; and them amidst,
With looks aghast and sad, he thus bespake:--
"O ancient Powers of Air and this wide World
(For much more willingly I mention Air,
This our old conquest, than remember Hell,
Our hated habitation), well ye know
How many ages, as the years of men,

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
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Bo Weevil

You may talk about the ladies
The ladies of your own
These boweevils they'll rub you up at home
They're all looking for a home
They're all looking for a home
The first time I seen a bo weevil
He was sitting on the stair
The next time I seen a boweevil
He had his own family there
They're all looking for a home
They're all looking for a home
They're all looking for a home
They're all looking for a home
They're all looking for a home
They're all looking for a home
The farmer he took the boweevil
And put him on the ice
The boweevil said to the farmer
You treat me mighty nice
They're all looking for a home
They're all looking for a home
Alright
They're all looking for a home
They're all looking for a home
They're all looking for a home
They're all looking for a home
Alright now this next verse
Is about myself, and when im done I hope
You'll all sing along with me on 'he's looking for a home'
I said if anybody asks you people
Who sang you this song
You tell 'em its Jackie White
He's just been here and gone
They're all looking for a home
They're all looking for a home
Alright
They're all looking for a home
They're all looking for a home
They're all looking for a home
They're all looking for a home

song performed by White Stripes
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Anointing

The moon had risen.—Light was o'er the world
With all the freshness of the early day.
The feathery clouds that floated in the east,
Wore a faint tinge of crimson, and the voice
Of forest music; and a scented breath,
Of dewy flowers, came onward through the air.
The men of Bethlehem were gather'd round
The altar of their God; and the deep tones
Of Samuel's voice arose in solemn prayer;
The smoke curl'd upwards from the sacrifice,
In cloudy volumes first, then thin and slow,
Until the last faint wreath had disappear'd.
The prophet rose, and standing in the midst,
Stretch'd out his hands and bless'd them—and then spake—
“Thou, Jesse, son of Obed, of the tribe
Of lion Judah—hearken to my voice:
“Thus saith the Lord: ‘From Saul's anointed brow,
And from his hand, and those of all his sons,
The kingly sceptre and the crown shall pass,
As though he was not chosen of the Lord.'
So cause thy sons to pass before mine eyes,
That I may consecrate whom God hath chosen
To gift with Judah's kingly diadem.”
Then came Eliab forth, the first, and stood
Before the Prophet. His proud head was bow'd,
And his cross'd hands were folded on his breast,
In mute unwonted reverence; yet even thus,
His haughty brow above the mightiest tower'd,
As he were born to be a conqueror.
There was a speaking beauty in his face,
And the bright glorious eye that flash'd beneath
His clustering curls of sable seem'd to tell
Of a high spirit that could plan bold deeds,
Which that strong arm would joy to execute.
The Prophet gazed, and said within his heart,
“Surely, the Lord's anointed is before him!”
But in the still small voice Jehovah spake
Unto the Prophet's ear.—“Regard not thou
The beauty of his countenance, nor yet
His stature, nor the majesty thereof;
For him have I rejected. The Most High
Sees not as mortal; but the secret heart
Is open all before him, and its sins,
And its infirmities, he knoweth all.”
Then came Eliab's brethren, one by one,
And Samuel look'd upon them, but he knew
The chosen from the people was not there.
Then David came, e'en from his fleecy charge,
Himself as innocent, and knelt him down
Before the Prophet. He, that young fair boy,

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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David

My thought, on views of admiration hung,
Intently ravish'd and depriv'd of tongue,
Now darts a while on earth, a while in air,
Here mov'd with praise and mov'd with glory there;
The joys entrancing and the mute surprize
Half fix the blood, and dim the moist'ning eyes;
Pleasure and praise on one another break,
And Exclamation longs at heart to speak;
When thus my Genius, on the work design'd
Awaiting closely, guides the wand'ring mind.

If while thy thanks wou'd in thy lays be wrought,
A bright astonishment involve the thought,
If yet thy temper wou'd attempt to sing,
Another's quill shall imp thy feebler wing;
Behold the name of royal David near,
Behold his musick and his measures here,
Whose harp Devotion in a rapture strung,
And left no state of pious souls unsung.

Him to the wond'ring world but newly shewn,
Celestial poetry pronounc'd her own;
A thousand hopes, on clouds adorn'd with rays,
Bent down their little beauteous forms to gaze;
Fair-blooming Innocence with tender years,
And native Sweetness for the ravish'd ears,
Prepar'd to smile within his early song,
And brought their rivers, groves, and plains along;
Majestick Honour at the palace bred,
Enrob'd in white, embroider'd o'er with red,
Reach'd forth the scepter of her royal state,
His forehead touch'd, and bid his lays be great;
Undaunted Courage deck'd with manly charms,
With waving-azure plumes, and gilded arms,
Displaid the glories, and the toils of fight,
Demanded fame, and call'd him forth to write.
To perfect these the sacred spirit came,
By mild infusion of celestial flame,
And mov'd with dove-like candour in his breast,
And breath'd his graces over all the rest.
Ah! where the daring flights of men aspire
To match his numbers with an equal fire;
In vain they strive to make proud Babel rise,
And with an earth-born labour touch the skies.
While I the glitt'ring page resolve to view,
That will the subject of my lines renew;
The Laurel wreath, my fames imagin'd shade,
Around my beating temples fears to fade;
My fainting fancy trembles on the brink,
And David's God must help or else I sink.

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Parnell
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Salomé

The play was called Salomé, and we
Thought it was an omen when
The girl that played the leading part
Was stricken with the mumps,
So we had to get a new one, and we
Called on Mrs. Newman, who was
Thirty, going forty, and too
Large around the rump.

There was little we could choose from
In the cast, if we should lose one,
So the stand-ins were recruited from
The Geriatric Home,
There was Barney, who'd gone missing
On a trip to Little Gissing, though
His body had returned, he'd left
His faculties to roam.

Then Madge and Mavis Murray were
Recruited in a hurry to
Supply their famous curry
To the audience, at the break.
When we asked them of the Matron
She said, 'go ahead and take them! '
For the ulcers of our Patron had
Been keeping her awake.

The rehearsals were exciting, and
The changes rung like lightning
'Til the player playing Herod slipped
And fell right off the stage.
So we had to bring on Barney, who'd
Been in the British Army, but
Who didn't like the guy who played
The Prophet in the play.

They had been out there with Rommel,
One a Private, one a Colonel,
In the Regimental Journal
Barney didn't get his say.
Now he got to play King Herod who
Would see this Prophet buried
When Salomé asked the Prophet's head
Delivered on a tray.

I was worried about Barney, who
I thought a little barmy,
Then the printer spelt - 'Salami'
On the program for the play.
I was livid, I was raging,

[...] Read more

poem by David Lewis Paget
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Hezekiah

From the bleak Beach and broad expanse of sea,
To lofty Salem, Thought direct thy way;
Mount thy light chariot, move along the plains,
And end thy flight where Hezekiah reigns.

How swiftly thought has pass'd from land to land,
And quite outrun Time's meas'ring glass of sand,
Great Salem's walls appear and I resort
To view the state of Hezekiah's court.

Well may that king a pious verse inspire,
Who cleans'd the temple, who reviv'd the choir,
Pleas'd with the service David fix'd before,
That heav'nly musick might on earth adore.
Deep-rob'd in white, he made the Levites stand
With Cymbals, Harps, and Psaltries in their hand;
He gave the Priests their trumpets, prompt to raise
The tuneful soul, by force of sound to praise.
A skilful master for the song he chose,
The songs were David's these, and Asaph's those.
Then burns their off'ring, all around rejoice,
Each tunes his instrument to join the voice;
The trumpets sounded, and the singers sung,
The People worship'd and the temple rung.
Each while the victim burns presents his heart,
Then the Priest blesses, and the People part.

Hail sacred musick! since you know to draw
The soul to Heav'n, the spirit to the law,
I come to prove thy force, thy warbling string
May tune my soul to write what others sing.

But is this Salem? this the proms'd bliss,
These sighs and groans? what means the realm by this?
What solemn sorrow dwells in ev'ry street?
What fear confounds the downcast looks I meet?
Alas the King! whole nations sink with woe,
When righteous Kings are summon'd hence to go;
The King lies sick, and thus to speak his doom,
The Prophet, grave Isaiah, stalks the room:
Oh Prince thy servant sent from God, believe,
Set all in order for thou can'st not live.
Solemn he said, and sighing left the place,
Deep prints of horror furrow'd ev'ry face,
Within their minds appear eternal glooms,
Black gaping marbles of their monarchs tombs,
A King belov'd deceas'd, his offspring none,
And wars destructive e'er they fix the throne.
Strait to the wall he turn'd with dark despair,
('Twas tow'rds the temple, or for private pray'r,)

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Parnell
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Calling All Girls

She was insatiable, you know the type
And she was young, but she was ripe
And she was vicious, and she took a bite
Baby dont wanna feel this pain anymore
Ive got a message, put it through emergency
I wanna hear it on the radio tonight
Calling all girls, if youre looking for love (you got it)
Calling all girls, if youre looking for a hot time
Calling all girls, if youre looking for fun
Calling all girls, if youre looking for a good time tonight
Seems all the good girls are home in bed
Were gonna party to raise the dead
Im gonna love that girl right out of my head
Baby dont wanna feel this pain anymore
Ive got a message, put it through emergency
I wanna see it on the video tonight
Calling all girls, if youre looking for love
Calling all girls, if youre looking for a hot time
Calling all girls, if youre looking for fun
Calling all girls, if youre looking for a good time tonight
Calling all girls, calling all girls
Calling all girls, calling all girls
Calling all girls, calling all girls
Baby dont wanna feel this pain anymore
Ive got a message, put it through emergency
I wanna hear it on the radio tonight
Calling all girls, if youre looking for love (youve got it)
Calling all girls, if youre looking for a hot time
Calling all girls, if youre looking for fun
Calling all girls, if youre looking for a good time tonight
Calling all girls, if youre looking for love
Calling all girls, if youre looking for a hot time
Calling all girls, if youre looking for fun
Calling all girls, if youre looking for a good time tonight
Calling all girls, if youre looking for love
Calling all girls, if youre looking for a hot time
Calling all girls, if youre looking for fun
Calling all girls, if youre looking for a good time tonight

song performed by Rick Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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A New Decade

A new decade
A new decade
The radio plays the sounds we made
The radio plays the sounds we made
And everything seems to feel just right
And everything seems to feel just right
Coming through your lonely mind
Coming through your lonely mind
Well Ive seen things
Well Ive seen things
That scarred and bruised and left me blind
That scarred and bruised and left me blind
So come on, listen along with me
So come on, listen along with me
I think you need a little company
I think you need a little company
And how long will I run for?
Who am I running from?
And how long will I run for?
Who am I running from?
And it makes sense
The youth coming up and making you dance
cause Ive got some living inside of me
And it makes sense
So come on I could use the company
The youth coming up and making you dance
cause Ive got some living inside of me
And how long will I run for?
So come on I could use the company
Who am I running from?
But now Ive seen my face in a cardboard wall
Nobody comes, nobody calls
And how long will I run for?
Who am I running from?
How long will I run for?
But now Ive seen my face in a cardboard wall
Who am I running from?
Nobody comes, nobody calls
Teenage tears sting my eyeballs
In a town where I wasnt born
And I will never suffer
How long will I run for?
So come on, come on, come on
Who am I running from?
But now I see my face in a cardboard wall
Teenage tears sting my eyeballs
Nobody comes, nobody calls
In a town where I wasnt born
And I will never suffer
If youre looking for me

[...] Read more

song performed by Verve
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Saw It Myself (Short Verse Drama)

Dramatis Personae: Adrian, his wife Ester, his sisters Rebecca and Johanna, his mother Elizabeth, the high priest Chiapas, the disciple Simon Peter, the disciple John, Mary Magdalene, worshipers, priests, two angels and Jesus Christ.

Act I

Scene I.- Adrian’s house in Jerusalem. Adrian has just returned home after a business journey in Galilee, in time to attend the Passover feast. He sits at the table with his wife Ester and his sisters, Rebecca and Johanna. It’s just before sunset on the Friday afternoon.

Adrian. (Somewhat puzzled) Strange things are happening,
some say demons dwell upon the earth,
others angelic beings, miracles take place
and all of this when they had put a man to death,
had crucified a criminal. Everybody knows
the cross is used for degenerates only!

Rebecca. (With a pleasant voice) Such harsh words used,
for a good, a great man brother?
They say that without charge
he healed the sick, brought back sight,
cured leprosy, even made some more food,
from a few fishes and loafs of bread…

Adrian. (Somewhat harsh) They say many things!
That he rode into Jerusalem
to be crowned as the new king,
was a rebel against the state,
even claimed to be
the very Son of God,
now that is blasphemy
if there is no truth to it!

Johanna. I met him once.
He’s not the man
that you make him, brother.
There was a strange tranquilly to Him.
Some would say a divine presence,
while He spoke of love that is selfless,
visited the sick, the poor
and even the destitute, even harlots.

Adrian. (Looks up) There you have it!
Harlots! Tax collecting thieves!
A man is know by his friends,
or so they say and probably
there is some truth to it.

Ester. Husband, do not be so quick to judge.
I have seen Him myself, have seen
Roman soldiers marching Him to the hill
to take His life, with a angry crowd
following and mocking Him.

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poem by Gert Strydom
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Metamorphoses: Book The Third

WHEN now Agenor had his daughter lost,
He sent his son to search on ev'ry coast;
And sternly bid him to his arms restore
The darling maid, or see his face no more,
But live an exile in a foreign clime;
Thus was the father pious to a crime.
The Story of The restless youth search'd all the world around;
of Cadmus But how can Jove in his amours be found?
When, tir'd at length with unsuccessful toil,
To shun his angry sire and native soil,
He goes a suppliant to the Delphick dome;
There asks the God what new appointed home
Should end his wand'rings, and his toils relieve.
The Delphick oracles this answer give.
"Behold among the fields a lonely cow,
Unworn with yokes, unbroken to the plow;
Mark well the place where first she lays her down,
There measure out thy walls, and build thy town,
And from thy guide Boeotia call the land,
In which the destin'd walls and town shall stand."
No sooner had he left the dark abode,
Big with the promise of the Delphick God,
When in the fields the fatal cow he view'd,
Nor gall'd with yokes, nor worn with servitude:
Her gently at a distance he pursu'd;
And as he walk'd aloof, in silence pray'd
To the great Pow'r whose counsels he obey'd.
Her way thro' flow'ry Panope she took,
And now, Cephisus, cross'd thy silver brook;
When to the Heav'ns her spacious front she rais'd,
And bellow'd thrice, then backward turning gaz'd
On those behind, 'till on the destin'd place
She stoop'd, and couch'd amid the rising grass.
Cadmus salutes the soil, and gladly hails
The new-found mountains, and the nameless vales,
And thanks the Gods, and turns about his eye
To see his new dominions round him lye;
Then sends his servants to a neighb'ring grove
For living streams, a sacrifice to Jove.
O'er the wide plain there rose a shady wood
Of aged trees; in its dark bosom stood
A bushy thicket, pathless and unworn,
O'er-run with brambles, and perplex'd with thorn:
Amidst the brake a hollow den was found,
With rocks and shelving arches vaulted round.
Deep in the dreary den, conceal'd from day,
Sacred to Mars, a mighty dragon lay,
Bloated with poison to a monstrous size;
Fire broke in flashes when he glanc'd his eyes:
His tow'ring crest was glorious to behold,

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poem by Ovid
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Can I Play With Madness

Give me the sense to wonder
To wonder if Im free
Give me a sense of wonder
To know I can be me
Give me the strength to hold my head up
Spit back in their face
Dont need no key to unlock this door
Gonna break down the walls
Break out of this bad place
Can I play with madness
The prophet stared at his crystal ball
Can I play with madness
Theres no vision there at all
Can I play with madness
The prophet looked and he laughed at me
Can I play with madness
He said youre blind too blind to see
I screamed aloud to the old man
I said dont lie dont say you dont know
I say you pay for your mischief
In this world or the next
Oh and then he fixed me with a freezing glance
And the hellfires raged in his eyes
He said do you wanna know the truth son
Ill tell you the truth
Your souls gonna burn in a lake of fire
Can I play with madness
The prophet stared at his crystal ball
Can I play with madness
Theres no vision there at all
Can I play with madness
The prophet looked and he laughed at me
Can I play with madness
He said youre blind too blind to see
Can I play with madness
The prophet stared at his crystal ball
Can I play with madness
Theres no vision there at all
Can I play with madness
The prophet looked and he laughed at me
Can I play with madness
He said youre blind too blind to see

song performed by Iron Maiden
Added by Lucian Velea
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The pilgrimage to Mecca

What holy rites Mohammed's laws ordain,
What various duties bind his faithful train,--
What pious zeal his scatter'd tribes unites
In fix'd observance of these holy rites,--
At Mecca's shrine what votive crowds surround
With annual pomp the consecrated ground,--
The muse shall tell:--revolving years succeed,
And Time still venerates Mohammed's creed.

Nor faint the glory shed o'er Mecca's brow:
Land of the Prophet! known to fame art thou.
Here first in peace his infant hopes were known,
Here fix'd the Chief his Temple and his Throne:
Though from thy gates opposing factions here
With stern defiance drove the gifted Seer;
Yet, sacred City of his love! 'twas thine
To heap the earliest incense on his shrine;
To own the terrors of his conq'ring blade,
And hail with joy the Exile thou hadst made.
Yes--thou art known to fame! to thee, 'tis said,
A voice divine the wand'ring Abram led:
Within thy courts, at his command restor'd,
Blaz'd the pure altars of Creation's Lord.
And hence thy race, for ancient faith renown'd,
Surpassing favour with Mohammed found;
His seat of Empire hence thy walls became,
And shar'd, for sanctity, Mohammed's fame,
Nor strange that hence, with pious gifts array'd,
Thy shrine rever'd the Moslem tribes invade;
Such duteous zeal the Prophet's laws demand,
And fabled raptures of his promis'd land.
For woe to him, who ne'er with awe profound,
At Mecca's shrine, hath kiss'd the holy ground:
For him, denied celestial joys to share,
No blooming Houris shall his couch prepare;
But his the doom, where countless horrors reign,
To feel a dark eternity of pain;
Of deep remorse the bitter tear to shed,
Each hope of Paradise for ever fled.

Behold! one impulse every heart enthralls;
Wide spreads the fervour 'mid Byzantium's walls:--
Where, proudly soaring, frown from Europe's coast
Her regal tow'rs o'er Asia's subject host,
With mingling crowds behold the darken'd lands,
And the wild tumult of assembling bands;
So vast the force, 'twould seem, with ire renew'd,
His warrior train Byzantium's Lord review'd;

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poem by George Canning
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Habakkuk

Now leave the Porch, to vision now retreat,
Where the next rapture glows with varying heat;
Now change the time, and change the Temple scene,
The following Seer forewarns a future reign.
To some retirement, where the Prophets sons
Indulge their holy flight, my fancy runs,
Some sacred College built for praise and pray'r
And heav'nly dream, she seeks Habakkuk there.
Perhaps 'tis there he moans the nation's sin,
Hears the word come, or feels the fit within,
Or sees the vision fram'd with Angels hands,
And dreads the judgments of revolted lands,
Or holds a converse if the Lord appear,
And, like Elijah, wraps his face for fear.
This deep recess portends an act of weight,
A message lab'ring with the work of fate.

Methinks the Skies have lost their lovely blue,
A storm rides fiery, thick the clouds ensue.
Fall'n to the ground with prostrate face I lye,
Oh! 'twere the same in this to gaze and dye!
But hark the Prophet's voice: my pray'rs complain
Of labour spent, of Preaching urg'd in vain;
And must, my God, thy sorrowing servant still
Quit my lone joys to walk this world of ill?
Where spoiling rages, strife and wrong command,
And the slack'd laws no longer curb the land?

At this a strange and more than human sound
Thus breaks the cloud and daunts the trembling ground.
Behold the Gentiles, wond'ring all behold,
What scarce ye credit tho' the work be told,
For lo the proud Chaldean troops I raise,
To march the breadth and all the region seize,
Fierce as the proling wolves at close of day,
And swift as eagles in pursuit of prey.
As eastern winds to blast the season blow,
For blood and rapine flies the dreadful foe;
Leads the sad captives countless as the sand,
Derides the princes and destroys the land.
Yet these triumphant grown offend me more,
And only thank the Gods they chose before.

Art thou not holiest, here the prophet cries,
Supream, Eternal, of the purest eyes?
And shall those eyes the wicked realms regard,
Their crimes be great yet vict'ry their reward?
Shall these still ravage more and more to reign,
Draw the full net, and cast to fill again?
As watch-men silent sit, I wait to see

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poem by Thomas Parnell
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