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Frank Lloyd Wright

Mechanization best serves mediocrity.

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Patrick White

Life's A Genius

Life's a genius.
Not a mediocrity
looking for reasons to live in the morning.
Life's not a plan.
It's a spirit that doesn't need one
whether things go right or wrong.
Life is light and water.
It delights in going everywhere at once.
Mediocrities have genius
but they don't know how
to play with it like a child.
Their eyes peek
through knotholes in the fence
but they sacrifice their longing
on the conventional altars of common-sense
and never throw the ball back over the hills
like the moon coming up
or the sun going down
without worrying about
breaking the neighbours'windows.
Life throws whole mountains around
and turns the cornerstones into quicksand
and goes down with Atlantis
only to come up again like Moby Dick
spewing stars out of its blowhole.
Mediocrity has its feet planted firmly on the ground.
It never goes anywhere it hasn't gone before.
It's the kind of fire
that sleeps with an extinquisher
in case things get too hot to put out.
Mediocrity shares.
But life's the kind of genius
that gives like an apple-tree
that fully expresses itself
through infinitely more
than four seasons
no two alike
without caring if it's of any benefit to anyone.
Mediocrity's stunned by the blossoms.
Genius tastes the fruit.
Life's the kind of fire
that doesn't have a root
you can pull up and take home with you
to add to your garden
like a new word to your vocabulary.
Mediocrity spells it out.
But genius is the dream grammar
of a spiritual alphabet
that isn't used to taking orders.
It doesn't have twenty-six words for inspiration

[...] Read more

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Serves You Right

1st verse
La, da, da, da,
Oooh, oh.
You and I were so in love.
You were all I was thinkin of.
There was so much magic in your eyes.
Then one day you said we were through.
You said you found somebody new.
And then you turned and you walked right out the door.
Baby I told you his love wasnt true.
You didnt hear me, so now I say these words to you..
Chorus:
Serves you right for sayin good-bye.
Now you say youre sorry.
Serves you right for sayin good-bye.
Baby.
Serves you right for sayin good-bye.
Now you see whos sorry now.
Oooh, oh,oh.
2nd verse.
I remember you standin there, sayin to me you didnt care.
And I was begging baby, please dont go.
Now youre crying, telling me what went wrong.
Girl you stayed away too long,
Cant you see Ive got you off my mind.
(change)
Thinkinbout the pain that you put me through.
I cant help you-because it feels good telling you....
Chorus:
Serves you right for sayin good-bye.
Now you say youre sorry.
Serves you right for sayin good-bye.
Baby.
Serves you right for sayin good-bye.
Now you see whos sorry now.
Oooh, oh,oh.
(rap) see mama, what Im tryinto say.
To you is that, Im ,you know, I love ya,
But ya - yaa hurt me so bad, I cant take it no more girl,
I just cant take it, no.....hell no
No! no, no, I dont wanna hear it,
Dont say it anymore, dont talk
No more, Im tired of youre lyin,
Im tired of your cryin girl, tell
Me....dont tell me.
(change)
Thinkin bout the pain that you put me through,
I cant help you-because it feels good telling you....
Chorus:(repeat twice)
Serves you right for sayin good-bye.

[...] Read more

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Memory Pain

It serves me right to suffer
It serves me right to be alone
It serves me right to suffer
It serves me right to be alone
You see i'm living in the memory
Of a day that has passed and gone
Everytime i see a woman
You know it makes me think about mine
Everytime i see a woman
You know it makes me think about mine
You see i'm living in the memory
Of a woman i've left behind
It serves me right to suffer
It serves me right to be alone
It serves me right to suffer
It serves me right to be alone
Now i'm living in the memory
Of a woman that has passed and gone

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I May Well Be A Mediocrity

I MAY WELL BE A MEDIOCRITY


I may well be a mediocrity
One who tries and tries
But never really inspires-

I may well be one of the many
Called but not chosen-

I may be more another small unimportant disturbance
Than one whose work is of real meaning and value-

I may well be a mediocrity
And an ultimate nothing-

Whose words are now saved by a new technology
But will be dust forever -

I may well be a mediocrity
Despite wanting so much not to be-

I may well be a mediocrity
And probably am-

In which case I apologize
To the reader of this
If there is one
For taking your time.

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This Wheels On Fire

(dylan)
This wheels on fire
This wheels on fire
This wheels on fire
If your memory serves you well
Were gonna meet again and wait
So Im gonna pack all my things
And sit there for it gets to late
No my ? ? ? will come to you
With another tale to tell
And you know that we shall meet again
If your memory serves you well
Wheels on fire
Rollin down the road
Lets notify my next of kin
This wheel shall explode
If your memory serves you well
I was gonna confiscate your lace
And wrap it up in a sailors knot
And hide it in your case
If I knew for sure that it was yours
But it was so hard to tell
And you know that we shall meet again
If your memory serves you well
Chorus
This wheels on fire
This wheels on fire
This wheels on fire
If your memory serves you well
Youll remember youre the one
That called on me to call on them
To get your favours done
And after every ? ? ? I failed
And there was nothin more to tell
You knew that we should meet again
If your memory serves you well
This wheels on fire
This wheels on fire
This wheels on fire

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I Am Not Proud Of Being A Mediocrity

I AM NOT PROUD OF BEING A MEDIOCRITY

I am not proud of being a mediocrity-
But if I am
Does this mean
I should stop writing forever?

Does it mean I should spend the rest of my life
In bitter angry lament?

If I am a mediocrity
And chances are good that I am
Then perhaps I should just try to live with it
And understand
The only one who's time will be wasted
And who will give attention to all this writing I have done
Is me.

Mediocrity or not,
I can still try to be a fairly decent human being.

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A Land Fit For Zeros

Hold hands with the person to your right
Hold hands and try to look sincere-o
Tell them, though you don't know their name
That you still can feel their pain
Yeah you still can feel their pain
We'll sing "Jerusalem" now boys
As we build a land fit for zeros
It's all that I can do to stop
Fake tears from welling up
Fake tears from welling up
If you thought this was your country
You can just forget it
You're too old, you're too poor
You're too posh
You'll never get in here wearing that my dear
Don't smoke, don't smack
Don't eat red meat
This is a tolerant land fit for zeros
And if you're lost just hear my call
"Mediocrity is all. Mediocrity is all"
If you thought this was your country
You can just forget it
You're too old, you're too poor
You're too posh
You'll never get in here wearing that my dear
The past is all forgotten now
This is a young, modern land
Fit for zeros
And if we fight, it's only when
We're guaranteed to win
And should you, just stray
Just hear my call
"Mediocrity is all. Mediocrity is all

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This Wheels On Fire

If your memry serves you well,
We were goin to meet again and wait,
So Im goin to unpack all my things
And sit before it gets too late.
No man alive will come to you
With another tale to tell,
But you know that we shall meet again
If your memry serves you well.
This wheels on fire,
Rolling down the road,
Best notify my next of kin,
This wheel shall explode!
If your memry serves you well,
I was goin to confiscate your lace,
And wrap it up in a sailors knot
And hide it in your case.
If I knew for sure that it was yours . . .
But it was oh so hard to tell.
But you knew that we would meet again,
If your memry serves you well.
This wheels on fire,
Rolling down the road,
Best notify my next of kin,
This wheel shall explode!
If your memry serves you well,
Youll remember youre the one
That called on me to call on them
To get you your favors done.
And after evry plan had failed
And there was nothing more to tell,
You knew that we would meet again,
If your memry served you well.
This wheels on fire,
Rolling down the road,
Best notify my next of kin,
This wheel shall explode

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Mediocrity

Mediocrity is the cursed of the damned!
Failure to great men
Who set their bows
And aim skywards
To strike their starry targets.

Mediocrity is success though
For lesser mortals...............
Short sighted non-visionaries
Who always hope for lady luck
To bail them out
Of their misfortune recurrent.

So then, for many
Mediocrity is success!
To a select few......
An abject failure!

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It's Hard To Be Me

You see me everywhere, in my underwear
You may wonder what I'm here to sell
But underneath my stare, I'm so naked there
There are secrets I'm dying to tell
It's Hard to be Me
Nobody knows what it's like to be
The envy of mediocrity
If you could see
All my depth and complexity
I'd think you'd agree
It's Hard to be Me; It's Hard to be Me
I am up here alone, on my glamorous throne
Want to thank all you people down there
I was once an unknown, like you but I've grown
I have so much I'm hoping to share
It's Hard to be Me
Nobody knows what it's like to be
The envy of mediocrity
If you could see
All my depth and complexity
I'd think you'd agree
It's Hard to be Me, It's Hard to be Me
I guess you think that it's hard for you
Walking 'round in your little shoes
You don't know how I've sacrificed
To live this life, to look so nice
It's Hard to be Me
Nobody knows what it's like to be
The envy of mediocrity
If you could see
All my depth and complexity
I'd think you'd agree
It's Hard to be Me, It's Hard to be Me
Me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me

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Respect the doer of mean works

Respect them who do works
That demand no respects
More than them who do works
That command reverence.

Not prepared for such works
That are held low or mean,
You must at least respect
Them who do men works to you.

As a doctor serves you
A barber too serves you.
As a teacher serves you
A sweeper too serves you.
06.02.2012

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Pharsalia - Book VII: The Battle

Ne'er to the summons of the Eternal laws
More slowly Titan rose, nor drave his steeds,
Forced by the sky revolving, up the heaven,
With gloomier presage; wishing to endure
The pangs of ravished light, and dark eclipse;
And drew the mists up, not to feed his flames,
But lest his light upon Thessalian earth
Might fall undimmed.

Pompeius on that morn,
To him the latest day of happy life,
In troubled sleep an empty dream conceived.
For in the watches of the night he heard
Innumerable Romans shout his name
Within his theatre; the benches vied
To raise his fame and place him with the gods;
As once in youth, when victory was won
O'er conquered tribes where swift Iberus flows,
And where Sertorius' armies fought and fled,
The west subdued, with no less majesty
Than if the purple toga graced the car,
He sat triumphant in his pure white gown
A Roman knight, and heard the Senate's cheer.
Perhaps, as ills drew near, his anxious soul,
Shunning the future wooed the happy past;
Or, as is wont, prophetic slumber showed
That which was not to be, by doubtful forms
Misleading; or as envious Fate forbade
Return to Italy, this glimpse of Rome
Kind Fortune gave. Break not his latest sleep,
Ye sentinels; let not the trumpet call
Strike on his ear: for on the morrow's night
Shapes of the battle lost, of death and war
Shall crowd his rest with terrors. Whence shalt thou
The poor man's happiness of sleep regain?
Happy if even in dreams thy Rome could see
Once more her captain! Would the gods had given
To thee and to thy country one day yet
To reap the latest fruit of such a love:
Though sure of fate to come! Thou marchest on
As though by heaven ordained in Rome to die;
She, conscious ever of her prayers for thee
Heard by the gods, deemed not the fates decreed
Such evil destiny, that she should lose
The last sad solace of her Magnus' tomb.
Then young and old had blent their tears for thee,
And child unbidden; women torn their hair
And struck their bosoms as for Brutus dead.
But now no public woe shall greet thy death
As erst thy praise was heard: but men shall grieve

[...] Read more

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Ralph Waldo Emerson

Ode

Inscribed to W.H. Channing


Though loath to grieve
The evil time's sole patriot,
I cannot leave
My honeyed thought
For the priest's cant,
Or statesman's rant.

If I refuse
My study for their politic,
Which at the best is trick,
The angry Muse
Puts confusion in my brain.

But who is he that prates
Of the culture of mankind,
Of better arts and life?
Go, blindworm, go,
Behold the famous States
Harrying Mexico
With rifle and with knife!

Or who, with accent bolder
Dare praise the freedom-loving mountaineer?
I found by thee, O rushing Contoocook!
And in thy valleys, Agiochook!
The jackals of the Negro-holder.

The God who made New Hampshire
Taunted the lofty land
With little men;--
Small bat and wren
House in the oak:--
If earth-fire cleave
The upheaved land, and bury the folk,
The southern crocodile would grieve.
Virtue palters; Right is hence;
Freedom praised, but hid;
Funeral eloquence
Rattles the coffin lid.

What boots thy zeal,
O glowing friend,
That would indignant rend
The northland from the south?
Wherefore? to what good end?
Boston Bay and Bunker Hill
Would serve things still;--

[...] Read more

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Ralph Waldo Emerson

Ode To William H. Channing

Though loth to grieve
The evil time's sole patriot,
I cannot leave
My buried thought
For the priest's cant,
Or statesman's rant.

If I refuse
My study for their politique,
Which at the best is trick,
The angry muse
Puts confusion in my brain.

But who is he that prates
Of the culture of mankind,
Of better arts and life?
Go, blind worm, go,
Behold the famous States
Harrying Mexico
With rifle and with knife.

Or who, with accent bolder,
Dare praise the freedom-loving mountaineer,
I found by thee, O rushing Contoocook!
And in thy valleys, Agiochook!
The jackals of the negro-holder.

The God who made New Hampshire
Taunted the lofty land
With little men.
Small bat and wren
House in the oak.
If earth fire cleave
The upheaved land, and bury the folk,
The southern crocodile would grieve.

Virtue palters, right is hence,
Freedom praised but hid;
Funeral eloquence
Rattles the coffin-lid.

What boots thy zeal,
O glowing friend,
That would indignant rend
The northland from the south?
Wherefore? To what good end?
Boston Bay and Bunker Hill
Would serve things still:
Things are of the snake.

[...] Read more

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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,

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A Dainty Thing's The Villanelle

A DAINTY thing's the Villanelle,
Sly, musical, a jewel in rhyme,
It serves its purpose passing well.

A double-clappered silver bell
That must be made to clink in chime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;

And if you wish to flute a spell,
Or ask a meeting 'neath the lime,
It serves its purpose passing well.

You must not ask of it the swell
Of organs grandiose and sublime--
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;

And, filled with sweetness, as a shell
Is filled with sound, and launched in time,
It serves its purpose passing well.

Still fair to see and good to smell
As in the quaintness of its prime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle,
It serves its purpose passing well.

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Villanelle

A dainty thing's the Villanelle.
Sly, musical, a jewel in rhyme,
It serves its purpose passing well.

A doublc-clappered silver bell
That must be made to clink in chime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;

And if you wish to flute a spell,
Or ask a meeting 'neath the lime,
It serves its purpose passing well.

You must not ask of it the swell
Of organs grandiose and sublime-
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;

And, filled with sweetness, as a shell
Is filled with sound, and launched in time,
It serves its purpose passing well.

Still fair to see and good to smell
As in the quaintness of its prime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle,
It serves its purpose passing well.

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Federico Garcia Lorca

Besides black art, there is only automation and mechanization.

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Energy

Omnipresent is energy,
The whole of cosmos infinitely,
All pervasive is energy,
Even in a blade of grass subtly.

It has a thumping ware,
In the surrounding air;
It has a smug seat,
Even in the latent heat.

It has a space,
‘Midst the water's pace;
It surely exists,
In electricity's precincts.

It is certainly present,
In chemicals nascent;
It is in abundance,
In light's radiance.

It is in mechanization,
Of to-day's modernization;
It is now the resultant,
Of nucleus' bombardment.

When stored ‘tis potential energy,
When dynamic 'tis kinetic energy;
From one form or the other,
Energy can be transformed thither.

It can neither be created,
Nor can it be eradicated;
Energy has existed always,
In one form or the other ways.

Mankind has harnessed energy,
Depleting Earth of it's bounty;
Unbridled use of this holding,
Is depriving our progeny's belonging.

Let this energy song,
Loudly strike a gong;
For us to conserve energy,
And preserve it with synergy.

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A Greatest Instrument Of Sun!

Sun gives light and life to the world for the survival of all;
Powered by Sun leaves grew to be Trees to save all beings!
Sun gives energy to everything through Trees in the world;
Without Trees there is no shadow or shelter for all creatures!

Leaves, fruits and flowers of Trees give food and energy to all!
Sun gives energy directly to plants to supply energy as food
For all living beings to maintain ecological balance in the world;
So, cultivation, preservation and maintenance of Trees save world!

Deforestation and exploitation of natural resources endanger world!
Pollution by industrialization and mechanization shorten the life span
Sooner or later of Mother Earth that survives and sustains all beings
And gives warnings by droughts, storms and floods now and then!

Sun is not only the giver of life and light but also destroyer of all,
If the greatest instrument of Sun, the Tree is meddled with by man!

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