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I don't think I would be an actor if I was that intelligent.

quote by Peter Boyle
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Two In A One (Pablo & Gunslinger)

Chorus
Intelligent, we chat intelligent
Intelligent, we chat intelligent
Intelligent, we chat intelligent
Intelligent, we chat intelligent
Jackpot is when you win plenty at money
Jail is a place I don't want to go
January the first month of the year
Jealose is when five women fancy
But John is the proper name fe a English man
Jockey is a profisnel horse rider
Me sah June is the sixth mounth of the year
Chorus
An jam is when you caint move in a party
Mi say England is a place that covered in snow
Man we drink the ribeana wi don't no like drink beer
But Jelly fish Jahman mi say them swim in a the sea
Unless you born an bread as a Jamaican
The pirate them a gather round the Jolly Roger
Wi wackad as single but wi deadly as a pair
Chorus
No fe treatment go a hospital
I man pay de rent every Tuesday I man
You a Student if you a go to college
Dat a nuff argoument mi say gunny an Pablo
Cause a two in a one Jah man a two in a one
Two in a one Jah man a two in a one
Two in a one Jah man a two in a one
Two in a one Jah man a two in a one
A say to move from the window
When you come a feh wi dance
But a Babylon pick mi up
And a think to myself
Cause I'm going to jail
Man is what a going to tell
me girl Jah know I man was
So I had to get reckless
Because a two in a one Jah
man a two in a one
Two in a one Jah man a two in a one
Two in a one Jah man a two in a one
Two in a one Jah man a two in a one
Two in a one Jah man a two in a one
Seh daddy Pablo a long with Gunslinger
Seh duw to the Circumstances pirate setah in the area
Listen to the style an when we throw down
Because a murder it name
Intelligent, we chat intelligent
Intelligent, we chat intelligent

song performed by Ub40
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The Rosciad

Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.

Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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Actor Of Love

Hold on
I have found something I longing for
To fill the hollowness of my heart
But why I'm feeling more of sorrow

Before
I am the one who said: 'Oh, I'll control'
But now I realize you are my world
And it's waiting to break apart

I'm an actor of love
I'm trying to perfect
But I'm just fooling around

I'm an actor of love
I want to be your hero
But I've made myself a clown

I'm an actor of love
I need you by my side
But now you leave me alone

I'm an actor of love
I beg your forgiveness
But you refuse me so cold

Sometimes
We wonder why we should be together
Do we really dream of love forever?
Or we afraid to be alone

I'm an actor of love
I want to protect you
But I always hurt you bad

I'm an actor of love
I want to be your shield
But may turn someone you hate

I'm an actor of love
We kiss in the morning
But in night we have a war

I'm an actor of love
We care for each other
But we only circle round

If this love only makes me crazy
Take the story and just let it be
Tragedy or comedy

[...] Read more

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Behind the Scenes

The actor struts his little hour,
Between the limelight and the band;
The public feel the actor's power,
Yet nothing do they understand
Of all the touches here and there
That make or mar the actor's part,
They never see, beneath the glare,
The artist striving after art.
To them it seems a labour slight
Where nought of study intervenes;
You see it in another light
When once you've been behind the scenes.

For though the actor at his best
Is, like a poet, born not made,
He still must study with a zest
And practise hard to learn his trade.
So, whether on the actor's form
The stately robes of Hamlet sit,
Or as Macbeth he rave and storm,
Or plays burlesque to please the pit,

'Tis each and all a work of art,
That constant care and practice means --
The actor who creates a part
Has done his work behind the scenes.

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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0135An informal note to God

In case you were on holiday, this nice sunny weather,
(and may I say, what a great idea the Sun is?)
I thought I'd dropp you a line to say, in case you missed it
that our great President, the Bush
who burns with virtue like an oil well yields,
approves that 'Intelligent Design' should be made
along with the Theory of Evolution
a cornerstone of the education of our great nation.

So just in case you felt a little reduced in function
and come back from holiday to
'Oh, were you away? We hadn't missed you...'
and your new official status, that you were simply around
(around? hmmm) to 'flick the switch'
while two something-or-others got together
to evolve a Creation with its quaint old ideas, like love,
(and by the way, your bright idea
of one, two and three, etc., was cute, too...)

I'd just like to take this opportunity to say
that in your modest role of
Intelligent Design
you certainly flicked the switch on
a pretty spectacular show - including those laws
which, understood by some quite impressive intelligences,
enabled the rather smaller, but impressive
'intelligent design' of the space-shuttle
to.. er.. 'evolve'.. and
to fly a fraction, Icarus-like,
nearer the sun...yep, some show...

So 'intelligent design' would be, like,
from those two proto-thingies that happened to
to meet across a room crowded with...emptiness? or everything? -
to whatever intelligent design might be needed
from Now, and every new 'invention' in the world
until...well... Then...

That seems something even better than Evolution
and a bit similar to Providence and
well, sort of.. eternal...? And universal too...

So if You are still enjoying your seventh day of rest
this pleasant sunny weather (somewhere
ecologically balanced, like the seaside, may I hope?) ,

thanks.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Ch 08 On Rules For Conduct In Life - Maxim 05

The country is adorned by intelligent and the religion by virtuous men. Padshahs stand more in need of the advice of intelligent men than intelligent men of the proximity of padshahs.

If thou wilt listen to advice, padshah,
There is none better in all books than this:
‘Entrust a business to an intelligent man
Although it may not be his occupation.’

poem by Sa di
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Reality of life...

All those minding the attitude of multitude,
Aren't dragged into the den of solitude,
All those who are at the den of solitude,
Aren't minding the attitude of multitude,
All those who learn to read the mind of people,
Aren't energized to be useful,
All those who are energized to be useful,
Aren't reading the mind of the people,
All those who succeed are not intelligent,
All those who are intelligent are not successful,
All flowers that bloomed will not become seeds,
All those seeds not produce flowers indeed,
All those who succeed in life are not intelligent,
All those who are intelligent are not successful, .

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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An actor is an actor is an actor. The less personality an actor has off stage the better. A blank canvas on which to draw the characters he plays.

quote by Arthur Lowe
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My dad had been an actor... not only had my dad been an actor, but his dad had been an actor, and my great-grandfather had been an actor. And who knows before then?

quote by David Hyde Pierce
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My Cat

Cool cat
Good cat
Pussy cat

When I see him walking
Makes no sense to me
My cat is everywhere
We watch him on TV

My cat is amazing
He can play the guitar
He may not be an actor
But he's a pussy superstar

My cat
Cool cat

My cat is everywhere
Sees what he can see
He may not be an actor
He acts atrociously

My cat is amazing
He can play the guitar
He may not be an actor
But he's a pussy superstar

My cat isn't crazy
He's everything to me
My cat burns the bible
And he thinks it's so funny

He isn't very good
He isn't very smart
He may not be Picasso
But he is a work of art

Hates me as much as I hate you

My cat
Cool cat
Good cat
Pussy cat

When I see him walking
Makes no sense to me
My cat is everywhere
We watch him on TV

My cat is amazing

[...] Read more

song performed by Jack Off Jill from Sexless Demons And Scars
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The Haughty Actor

AN actor - GIBBS, of Drury Lane -
Of very decent station,
Once happened in a part to gain
Excessive approbation:
It sometimes turns a fellow's brain
And makes him singularly vain
When he believes that he receives
Tremendous approbation.

His great success half drove him mad,
But no one seemed to mind him;
Well, in another piece he had
Another part assigned him.
This part was smaller, by a bit,
Than that in which he made a hit.
So, much ill-used, he straight refused
To play the part assigned him.

THAT NIGHT THAT ACTOR SLEPT, AND I'LL ATTEMPT
TO TELL YOU OF THE VIVID DREAM HE DREAMT.

THE DREAM.

In fighting with a robber band
(A thing he loved sincerely)
A sword struck GIBBS upon the hand,
And wounded it severely.
At first he didn't heed it much,
He thought it was a simple touch,
But soon he found the weapon's bound
Had wounded him severely.

To Surgeon COBB he made a trip,
Who'd just effected featly
An amputation at the hip
Particularly neatly.
A rising man was Surgeon COBB
But this extremely ticklish job
He had achieved (as he believed)
Particularly neatly.

The actor rang the surgeon's bell.
"Observe my wounded finger,
Be good enough to strap it well,
And prithee do not linger.
That I, dear sir, may fill again

[...] Read more

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Intelligent Stupidity?

'Intelligent Stupidty' are we not?
weapons we make to kill with one shot?
Intelligent Stupidity is when technology
is not up with our spirituality.
You can be as intelligent as you want,
but what good is it if it destroys what you got?

Written By Christina Sunrise on December 13,2011

poem by Christina Sunrise
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Who wants the intelligent?

The intelligent one is ungrateful.
His eyes are on steps ahead
Not on the ones trodden.
The intelligent one is unreliable.
His eyes are on the steps ahead
Not on the one he is on.
He reaches the end by bending the means..
Who wants intelligent people?
24.09.2006

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Mr. U.F.O. Man

Dear God it's me transmittin' from
This tiny place I live in Harlem
Oh heaven we have a problem
Cuz we lost all correspondence
And there's no more prophets
They've all been replaced with politics
And they have your people hostage
That's why I'm sending you this postage
If you're listening Mr. UFO man
Speak to Jesus tell him we're on earth and
Things are worse than they have ever been now
Father, it's urgent we need u
Come down
Hey now
You're my father
And I don't know what's out there
So many of us are scared
Hey now
We got people shooting people
We live in warface
I'm not talking nuclear
I ain't got there yet
Why we got intelligent mouths
on Larry King with religious doubts
While the rabbi and minister fuss
Shit, another one bites the dust
So the yellow red black and white
Send missiles in the dark of night
Probably wanna stop but don't know how
That's why Lord, we really need you now
If you're listening Mr. UFO man
Speak to Jesus tell him we're on earth and
Things are worse than they have ever been now
Father, it's urgent we need u
Come down
People around if you feel our vibe ride
Come on aboard there's enough room inside
We're flying high where heaven hides
Hope I see you on the other side
If you're listening Mr. UFO man
Speak to Jesus tell him we're on earth and
Things are worse than they have ever been now
Father, it's urgent we need u
Come down
Why we got intelligent mouths (intelligent mouths)
on Larry King with religious doubts
While the rabbi and minister fuss (while they got fuss)
Shit, another one bites the dust (another one bites the dust)
So the yellow red black and white
Send missiles in the dark of night

[...] Read more

song performed by Kelis
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Mr U.F.O. Man (feat. John Ostby)

(feat. John Ostby)
Dear God it's me transmittin' from
This tiny place I live in Harlem
Oh heaven we have a problem
Cuz we lost all correspondence
And there's no more prophets
They've all been replaced with politics
And they have your people hostage
That's why I'm sending you this postage
If you're listening Mr. UFO man
Speak to Jesus tell him we're on earth and
Things are worse than they have ever been now
Father, it's urgent we need u
Come down
Hey now
You're my father
And I don't know what's out there
So many of us are scared
Hey now
We got people shooting people
We live in warface
I'm not talking nuclear
I ain't got there yet
Why we got intelligent mouths
on Larry King with religious doubts
While the rabbi and minister fuss
Shit, another one bites the dust
So the yellow red black and white
Send missiles in the dark of night
Probably wanna stop but don't know how
That's why Lord, we really need you now
If you're listening Mr. UFO man
Speak to Jesus tell him we're on earth and
Things are worse than they have ever been now
Father, it's urgent we need u
Come down
People around if you feel our vibe ride
Come on aboard there's enough room inside
We're flying high where heaven hides
Hope I see you on the other side
If you're listening Mr. UFO man
Speak to Jesus tell him we're on earth and
Things are worse than they have ever been now
Father, it's urgent we need u
Come down
Why we got intelligent mouths (intelligent mouths)
on Larry King with religious doubts
While the rabbi and minister fuss (while they go

song performed by Kelis
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Me So Stupid

I could have been a brain surgeon
I could have been a pharmacist
I gave a shot at radio revivalist
With the bossman I'd have never been missed
Me so stupid
Me so stupid
Me so stupid
What is my IQ?
What is my intelligent quotiant
I could have built the Golden Gate Bridge
Or Einstein's nemesis
I could have been a derby jockey
But it's all come down to this
Me so stupid
Me so stupid
Me so stupid
What is my IQ?
What is my intelligent quotiant
I could have built Las Vegas
I could have built a drumsized Rolls Royce
I could have been President of the world
Could have had Ali on the ropes
Could have had Miss August
Again
Could have had Miss May
Again
Could have had Miss September
Again
But I waited till December
Me so stupid
Me so stupid
Me so stupid
What is my IQ?
What is my intelligent quotiant?
That's so wrong.............

song performed by ZZ Top
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I Hear The Annual Rhetoric

My ears I keep open.
And I hear the annual rhetoric.
Spoken by some in glorious tones...
About uplifting the quality of life of those,
Of our brothers and sisters...
Who have done their best,
Avoiding to get stuck...
In cracks wrapped around loopholes.
The ones...
Many have accepted to address their unhappiness.
With a lack of discipline and purpose self confessed.

I hear the annual rhetoric.

Yet a slow slipping done,
Into a fissure has grown to become an abyss.
And 'annually' I've been approached and asked...
To express an intelligent response about this!

However...
As I have aged to confront my own obstacles,
I have forced myself not to dismiss.
With a determination to calm my outrage,
With a mind blessed to be at peace...
With the unballing of my fists!

I wonder,
Why you request me to give you an intelligent response?
Concerning an activity that has taken place,
And achieved totally on the merits of conscious ignorance.
Served and accepted as if this was a blessing,
Many wish and want to keep.
As those slandered and defamed were chased away.

I wonder,
Why you request me to give you an intelligent response?
Did you expect something glowing and profound?
Full of reflective self righteousness?
We are all in this abyss.
I just prefer to keep reaching,
To experience the higher consciousness of it!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Give Intelligent Life a Bad Name

You give intelligent life a bad name.
Your behavior is quite ignorant...
And you display it without any shame.
A daily deposit of snide comments,
Seems a trend you send with ease.
And those you subject,
To disrespect unsuspectedly...
Aren't amused and far from pleased.

At least in public...
Your actions aren't received!

You give intelligent life a bad name...
For attention that's obviously apparent.
But no one who observes you,
Acting with such disgust...
Find fault at all with your parents?

They probably waited until you slept,
Packed their bags and left,
You alone!
Who made you believe
An attitude like yours
Was ever acceptable or condoned?

You give intelligent life a bad name.

Are you an experiment...
From another time unknown?
Or have you been around
Being an obnoxious clown,
Reflecting social patterns
No one admits...
In this 'town'
Are quite like our own! ?

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Their Little Existence

In ‘Mars Mystery' Graham Hancock represents
the sentiments of alternative scientists, though
he seems far from the lunatic fringe - he asks
the reader to imagine a dead universe with
only the earth as the last outpost of life since
both Mars and Venus have been killed, and
I sighed; happy to be free from complying with
such requests, this is where spiritualists are
worth their weight in gold

Whereas materialists, bless their lonely souls,
think of this as a dumb lifeless universe in which
only they, brilliant materialist thinkers, are alive
and intelligent - and the intricate, complicated
universe in which electricity, magnetism & radar
are used by animals - how exceedingly dumb,
n'est-ce pas - cannot keep anything safe and
so they already lament their own likely demise,
so dead universe will be dead forever

Spiritualists teach awareness exists everywhere,
sensory life is but a variation on the theme of
eternal, intelligent, benevolent consciousness
seeking to express itself; while the self-important
scientists gibber in fear of destruction thinking they
are the only example of self-aware existence; the
universe is an intelligent energy experimenting -
there is no dead, un-alive universe: ALL is life,
it is surprising that scientists

Can imagine their own lowly being as the be-all
and end-all of everything - how infinitely small
and limited their world - how fearful their
little existence…

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Introductory 03

I was one night meditating on the time which had elapsed, repenting of the life I had squandered and perforating the stony mansion of my heart with adamantine tears. 1 I uttered the following verses in conformity with the state of mind:

Every moment a breath of life is spent,
If I consider, not much of it remains.
O thou, whose fifty years have elapsed in sleep,
Wilt thou perhaps overtake them in these five days?
Shame on him who has gone and done no work.
The drum of departure was beaten but he has not made his load.
Sweet sleep on the morning of departure
Retains the pedestrian from the road.
Whoever had come had built a new edifice.
He departed and left the place to another
And that other one concocted the same futile schemes
And this edifice was not completed by anyone.
Cherish not an inconstant friend.
Such a traitor is not fit for amity.
As all the good and bad must surely die,
He is happy who carries off the ball of virtue.
Send provision for thy journey to thy tomb.
Nobody will bring it after thee; send it before.
Life is snow, the sun is melting hot.
Little remains, but the gentleman is slothful still.
O thou who hast gone empty handed to the bazar,
I fear thou wilt not bring a towel filled.
Who eats the corn he has sown while it is yet green,
Must at harvest time glean the ears of it.
Listen with all thy heart to the advice of Sa’di.
Such is the way; be a man and travel on.
The capital of man’s life is his abdomen.
If it be gradually emptied there is no fear
But if it be so closed as not to open
The heart may well despair of life;
And if it be open so that it cannot be closed,
Go and wash thy hands of this world’s life.
Four contending rebellious dispositions
Harmonize but five days with each other.
If one of these four becomes prevalent,
Sweet life must abandon the body
Wherefore an intelligent and perfect man
Sets not his heart upon this world’s life.

After maturely considering these sentiments, I thought proper to sit down in the mansion of retirement to fold up the skirts of association, to wash my tablets of heedless sayings and no more to indulge in senseless prattle:

To sit in a corner, like one with a cut tongue, deaf and dumb,
Is better than a man who has no command over his tongue.

I continued in this resolution till a friend, who had been my companion in the camel-litter of misery and my comrade in the closet of affection, entered at the door, according to his old custom with playful gladness, and spread out the surface of desire; but I would give him no reply nor lift up my head from the knees of worship. He looked at me aggrieved and said:

‘Now, while thou hast the power of utterance,
Speak, O brother, with grace and kindness

[...] Read more

poem by Sa di
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