Context begins with other artists - seniors and mentors.
quote by Kenneth Noland
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Related quotes
Double Helix Abecedarian - Xylophonic Resonance He Licks Enigmatic
XYLOPHONIC RESONANCE HE LICKS ENIGMATIC
Kindly refer to notes. and see Temptations and Poetic Pizza Extravaganza below :)
Xylophonic Resonance
double helix abecedarian
The first line begins with A and ends with Z
the next line begins with Z and ends with A
The next line begins with B and ends with Y
The next line begins with Y and ends with B
The next line begins with C and ends with X
The next line begins with X and ends with C
A to Z top down A to Z bottom up
All fizzle, finish frazzled, launched with fizZ.
Zero dreams teem when spirit seems at seA
Because most adepts of philosophY
Yearn for zenith seldom dwell on ebB,
Carpe diem value, seeking sea, sun, seX.
Xylem tree of life’s cannibalistiC
Desires corrupt deeds most men seW,
With survival’s urge soon lost indeeD.
Events churn causal patterns, AsimoV
Viewed clearly, took as starship journey cuE
Finding worlds which may appeal to yoU,
Unknown reader from beyond Time’s gulF -
Great divide between those past, those lefT -
Time travellers peruse these lines to sinG
High praise of poets who’ll know no more springS.
Spontaneousl prose poem picks pensive patH
In patter pattern, feet dance to empoweR.
Rhythm harmonious, need no alibI,
Joins sense, style versatile, from mind's H.Q.,
Questions seeks, finds answers. Soujourn’s hadJ
Knowledge acquires to share more than to keeP,
Pipes clear to others drifting through the darK.
Lark sings dawn’s welcome song, and each man’s taO
Opens connections, on life’s sea a-saiL
Ma d, sad, glad, bad, for threescore years and teN
Never certain of his mortal aiM,
Nor sure to gain posthumous fame, acclaiM,
Making ends meet in hope to rise agaiN
On judgement day should trust and faith prevaiL.
Life-spans increase but trite hullabaloO
Prepares too few for winding sheet, corpse starK,
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Z. Comments
CRYSTAL GLOW
Madhur Veena Comment: Who is she? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ....You write good!
Margaret Alice Comment: Beautiful, it stikes as heartfelt words and touches the heart, beautiful sentiments, sorry, I repeat myself, but I am delighted. Your poem is like the trinkets I collect to adorn my personal space, pure joy to read, wonderful! Only a beautiful mind can harbour such sentiments, you have a beautiful mind. I am glad you have found someone that inspires you to such heights and that you share it with us, you make the world a mroe wonderful place.
Margaret Alice Comment: Within the context set by the previous poem, “Cosmic Probe”, the description of a lover’s adoration for his beloved becomes a universal ode sung to the abstract values of love, joy and hope personified by light, colours, fragrance and beauty, qualities the poet assigns to his beloved, thus elevating her to the status of an uplifting force because she brings all these qualities to his attention. The poet recognises that these personified values brings him fulfilment and chose the image of a love relationship to illustrate how this comes about; thus a love poem becomes the vehicle to convey spiritual epiphany.
FRAGRANT JASMINE
Margaret Alice Comment: Your words seem to be directed to a divine entity, you seem to be addressing your adoration to a divinity, and it is wonderful to read of such sublime sentiments kindled in a human soul. Mankind is always lifted up by their vision and awareness of divinity, thank you for such pure, clear diction and sharing your awareness of the sublime with us, you have uplifted me so much by this vision you have created!
Margaret Alice Comment: The poet’s words seem to be directed to a divine entity, express adoration to a divinity who is the personification of wonderful qualities which awakens a sense of the sublime in the human soul. An uplifting vision and awareness of uplifting qualities of innocence represented by a beautiful person.
I WENT THERE TO BID HER ADIEU
Kente Lucy Comment: wow great writing, what a way to bid farewell
Margaret Alice Comment: Sensory experience is elevated by its symbolical meaning, your description of the scene shows two souls becoming one and your awareness of the importance of tempory experience as a symbol of the eternal duration of love and companionship - were temporary experience only valid for one moment in time, it would be a sad world, but once it is seen as a symbol of eternal things, it becomes enchanting.
I’M INCOMPLETE WITHOUT YOU
Margaret Alice Comment: You elevate the humnan experience of longing for love to a striving for sublimity in uniting with a beloved person, and this poem is stirring, your style of writing is effective, everything flows together perfectly.
Margaret Alice Comment:
'To a resplendent glow of celestial flow
And two split halves unite never to part.'
Reading your fluent poems is a delight, I have to tear myself away and return to the life of a drudge, but what a treasure trove of jewels you made for the weary soul who needs to contemplate higher ideals from time to time!
IN CELESTIAL WINGS
Margaret Alice Comment: When you describe how you are strengthened by your loved one, it is clear that your inner flame is so strong that you need not fear growing old, your spirit seems to become stronger, you manage to convey this impression by your striking poetry. It is a privilege to read your work.
Obed Dela Cruz Comment: wow.... i remembered will shakespeare.... nice poem!
Margaret Alice Comment: The poet has transcended the barriers of time and space by becoming an image of his beloved and being able to find peace in the joy he confers to his beloved.
'You transcend my limits, transcend my soul, I forget my distress in your thoughts And discover my peace in your joy, For, I’m mere image of you, my beloved.'
Margaret Alice Comment: You are my peace and solace, I know, I am, yours too; A mere flash of your thoughts Enlivens my tired soul And fills me with light, peace and solace, A giant in new world, I become, I rise to divine heights in celestial wings. How I desire to reciprocate To fill you with light and inner strength raise you to divine heights; I must cross over nd hold you in arms, light up your soul, Fill you with strength from my inner core, Wipe away your tears burst out in pure joy How I yearn to instill hope and confidence in you we never part And we shall wait, till time comes right. the flame in my soul always seeks you, you transcend my limits, transcend my soul, I forget my distress in your thoughts And discover my peace in your joy, For, I’m mere image of you, my beloved.
RAGING FIRE
[...] Read more
poem by Praveen Kumar
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Social Insecurity
Strapped Seniors use credit cards ‘stead of cash
To stay afloat, after losing their stocks n’ bonds
Yet more victims of another Wall Street crash
“Let them eat cake” is what the Fed responds
ROTMS
From Reuters Article 10/23/2010
Retired and broke: Why retirees are declaring bankruptcy
For more and more seniors, retirement doesn’t mean a debt-free life of leisure. An increasing number of Americans aged 65 and older are declaring bankruptcy, according to a recent study by John Pottow, professor of law at the University of Michigan Law School.
Those aged 65 and older represented seven percent of bankruptcy filers in 2007, a mind-boggling jump from 1991. They are the “fastest-growing age demographic, ” according to Pottow’s study.
What’s the culprit for so much debt? Credit cards. Two-thirds of Americans who filed for bankruptcy said credit cards were the key reason for their financial problems, according to Pottow’s research. Besides having more credit card debt compared with younger bankruptcy filers,44.8 percent of those aged 65 and older also had more plastic in their wallets. “They’re using credit cards as a maladaptive coping mechanism, ” Pottow says.
Stephanie Osterland, a supervisor in the bankruptcy department at GreenPath debt solutions, sees an increasing number of seniors living beyond their means. Says Osterland: “They’re just trying to live off of a fixed income, and that’s usually Social Security. Maybe they have a small pension. We find they’ve used credit cards to supplement that income and expenses or they just end up getting into a lot of medical debt.”
In addition to escalating medical expenses, seniors have seen their portfolios hit hard by the lagging stock market. Carolyn Rodi of Saving Your American Dream says those considering bankruptcy should see a credit counselor at a non-profit organization to get their finances in order.
Credit counselors, such as those at GreenPath, help the elderly deal with a stressful situation. “We try to help them focus on what it’s going to look like” after they get out of debt, Osterland says.
Rodi also recommends that potential bankruptcy filers seek out pro-bono legal aid. “There are a lot of elderly people that are being taken advantage of by bankruptcy attorneys and mortgage brokers who are advising them improperly to pay for the bankruptcy, take out a reverse mortgage or to do things that aren’t in their best interest, ” she says. ”If you have no income, why should you borrow to pay someone when you can get free legal aid? ”
What are the chances of a senior paying off his or her debts? It’s difficult to determine, especially because seniors tend to be on a fixed income. And while finding a job — such as a WalMart greeter — seems like a viable option, it is not necessarily feasible for all seniors to work.
In addition, whether or not a person declares Chapter 7 (which involves the liquidation of one’s assets) or Chapter 13 (which allows debt restructuring) bankruptcy can be a significant factor in determining what one’s lifestyle will be. “If you have to file for Chapter 7 bankruptcy, you may be able to find affordable housing that allows you to just get by, ” says Rodi. “Chapter 13 lets you keep your house and doesn’t touch your retirement savings.”
Regardless, filing for bankruptcy is very stressful for anyone. “A lot of our clients in that post-retirement age have a hard time coming to grips with their situation, ” Osterland says. “It’s very emotional for them. We try to focus on the future and see if this debt can be lifted off their shoulders.”
poem by Ray Lucero
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When the Bush Begins to Speak
They know us not in England yet, their pens are overbold;
We're seen in fancy pictures that are fifty years too old.
They think we are a careless race - a childish race, and weak;
They'll know us yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
'The leaders that will be', the men of southern destiny,
Are not all found in cities that are builded by the sea;
They learn to love Australia by many a western creek,
They'll know them yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
All ready for the struggle, and waiting for the change,
The army of our future lies encamped beyond the range;
Australia, for her patriots, will not have far to seek;
They'll know her yet in England when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
We'll find the peace and comfort that our fathers could not find,
Or some shall strike the good old blow that leaves a mark behind.
We'll find the Truth and Liberty our fathers came to seek,
Or let them know in England when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Washed Away Under Work Loads
artists feel frustrated
when achieving not
when producing art not
not realizing images
in shifting vision mind
artists should
be producing art
no time for cooking
no time for cleaning
no time for hair cut
artists should not
not be able to keep up
with fermenting ideas
rain weather changes
haunting wake up calls
not creating art
is wasting artistic souls
is wasting artistic lives
in dry season droughts
withering artistic minds
work income human activities
life necessity farming for wages
dependent on salary climates
fifty sixty wage slave hours
is change devastating for artists
this drought no time for artistic activities
is crop failure starvation of artistic minds
leading to artistic suffering on massive scales
droughts are caused by lack of fertility rains
extended over long periods of wage slave times
slight brief rains slight artistic showers
is normality artistic not enough spring rains
to ground absorb artistic evaporated minds
artist is dehydrated lacking soul rejuvenations
plants animals need sustaining life waters
artists need self generated creativity waters
least art dies death of artistic dehydrations
art is main ingredient in artistic food chains
plants die from lack of water therefore animals
eating these plants will also die in drought cycles
artists true artists deprived of art wither drought dies
in mind soul lacking artistic flowering rejuvenations
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Opposite Begins
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
That one agitated,
Finds an exit and splits.
People known to create conflict,
Seek an attention they don't get...
Until,
The opposite begins.
Opposition steps in.
They pretend a trust to believe,
To have others perceive but...
The opposite begins,
For them.
Wake up and take notice,
That the opposite begins for them.
Those who charade innocence.
The opposite begins for them.
Those masking evil intent.
The opposite begins for them.
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
Well,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
And...
That one agitated,
Finds an exit and splits.
But then,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
That one who's had it,
Splits and runs into love...
To know the opposite begins,
When someone genuine comes in...
To view.
When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
Well,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
And...
That one who's had it,
Splits and runs into love...
To know the opposite begins,
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hieroglyphic Beguile Meant
HIEROGLYPHIC BEGUILE...MEANT
I sought inspiring way to play “beguile”
blood's flood rush-blushing flush, then hibernate,
lush, hid ‘mid hieroglyphics of soft smile.
It dawned that very few can reconcile
emotions' brakes while breaking conscious state,
to draw more definitions for “beguile”.
Most, blind behind closed minds, can’t conjugate
dimensions manifold, unfold, translate,
decypher hieroglyphics of soft smile.
It takes so many lifetimes to compile
right signals light, bright eyes communicate
decoding definitions for “beguile”
into word worlds both varied, versatile,
deep, difficult to truly contemplate -
expanding hieroglyphics of soft smile.
Content observing content, context, style,
expressive inner eyes deliberate,
a worthwhile definition for “beguile”,
hidden in hieroglyphics of soft smile.
There are two definitions for “beguile”
one shares, one snares love, fair disguising hate -
what’s truth mid hieroglyphics of Your smile?
What if snare scare replaced rare care to dial
confusion more than loving fusion’s state,
refusal, ersatz aura ringed by rile?
What if those hieroglyphics hid heart vile,
whose slyness surface smiles would compensate
with blushing rushes should “beguile” prove guile.
What would remain of love’s fair sceptered isle?
Who could clear conscience e’er exonerate
from name of blame whose fame would flame defile,
mark Lethe dark, where no stark hopes beguile
lost soul, shade forfeit, damned, banned, intestate
parody pornographic, mercantile.
True torment, false beguilement takes to trial,
ensures despair, bare cell disconsolate,
Cupid's gilt arrows dipped in venom vile -
envy, greed, to feed perversions' weight
with appetites that needs exaggerate,
deform, intentions turned from narrow, straight,
to swift descent from paradise exile,
sharp fall before dupe hieroglyphic smile! ...
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Ragging Menace
How can you ever rag a fresher, say,
When he or she is new to college, aye?
Each life is equally priceless today;
You don’t have right to talk, your hand to lay!
Yes, seniors rag when juniors in fear stay;
They do or say whatever: come what may;
For nasty things, they have a price to pay;
The age-old social evil stays this way!
But ragging is a menace and a crime;
It continues despite new laws with time;
The seniors want a jolly time and clime;
The silly habit is not worth a dime!
But seniors aren’t licensed to do such things;
Their words and actions at times simply stings;
They think freshers are servants; they are kings!
Yes, transient joys and thrills just ragging brings!
Who cares about the freshers’ temperaments?
They cannot keep their hair or wear garments;
They are victims of senior merriments;
Some lives end in gruesome experiments!
Yes, seniors want juniors to them respect;
Their ways are harsh and ill-feelings inject;
If guilty, college can them well eject;
But ragging is something all well reject!
The habit is an evil that must stop;
Arrests can be effected by a cop;
Punished are all from bottom to the top;
Yet, anti-ragging measures sometimes flop!
A change in attitude is needed fast;
The menace is much better than in past;
A mutual love and respect must well last;
Friendship will end this evil that’s aghast!
“Ragging is a crime; ragging is banned for all times! ”
dedicated to all well-behaved college students
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-09-11
poem by John Celes
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Double Helix Abecedarian - 1859 - Xylophonic Resonance
All fizzle, finish frazzled, launched with fizZ.
Zero dreams teem when spirit seems at seA
Because most adepts of philosophY
Yearn for zenith seldom dwell on ebB,
Carpe diem value, seeking sea, sun, seX.
Xylem tree of life's cannibalistiC
Desires corrupt deeds most men seW,
With survival's urge soon lost indeeD.
Events churn causal patterns, AsimoV
Viewed clearly, took as starship journey cuE
Finding worlds which may appeal to yoU,
Unknown reader from beyond Time's gulF -
Great divide between those past, those lefT -
Time travellers peruse these lines to sinG
High praise of poets who'll know no more springS.
Spontaneousl prose poem picks pensive patH
In patter pattern, feet dance to empoweR.
Rhythm harmonious, need no alibI,
Joins sense, style versatile, from mind's H.Q.,
Questions seeks, finds answers. Soujourn's hadJ
Knowledge acquires to share more than to keeP,
Pipes clear to others drifting through the darK.
Lark sings dawn's welcome song, and each man's taO
Opens connections, on life's sea a-saiL
Ma d, sad, glad, bad, for threescore years and teN
Never certain of his mortal aiM,
Nor sure to gain posthumous fame, acclaiM,
Making ends meet in hope to rise agaiN
On judgement day should trust and faith prevaiL.
Life-spans increase but trite hullabaloO
Prepares too few for winding sheet, corpse starK,
Kings, Presidents and crowd condemned to sleeP,
Quest over, in no Shah Jehan's fair TaJ,
Judge! Wonders of the world in tome or FAQ
Remain till flood or earthquake SvengalI
Identitydestroys when come their houR.
Stands Rhodes' Colossus stony eyed and higH?
Hanging Gardens, Babylon's green GrasS?
Thus earth all swallows, as the changes rinG
Glut or famine, leaves the rich berefT,
Upsets regimes, and redefines itselF.
Fresh or stale, hale, halt, Huns, Goths, AinU,
Vandals, Franks, forgotten, vain their strifE, -
Eternity mocks Boris KasparoV
When chess game lasts millenia whose speeD
Defies time travel's role-reversal floW.
Xanthic parchments, works iconographiC
Crumble! What Tyrannosaurus reX
Yet rules blue planet? Will ant, spider weB,
Be as extinct as world wide web one daY?
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Two Ogres
Good children, list, if you're inclined,
And wicked children too -
This pretty ballad is designed
Especially for you.
Two ogres dwelt in Wickham Wold -
Each TRAITS distinctive had:
The younger was as good as gold,
The elder was as bad.
A wicked, disobedient son
Was JAMES M'ALPINE, and
A contrast to the elder one,
Good APPLEBODY BLAND.
M'ALPINE - brutes like him are few -
In greediness delights,
A melancholy victim to
Unchastened appetites.
Good, well-bred children every day
He ravenously ate, -
All boys were fish who found their way
Into M'ALPINE'S net:
Boys whose good breeding is innate,
Whose sums are always right;
And boys who don't expostulate
When sent to bed at night;
And kindly boys who never search
The nests of birds of song;
And serious boys for whom, in church,
No sermon is too long.
Contrast with JAMES'S greedy haste
And comprehensive hand,
The nice discriminating taste
Of APPLEBODY BLAND.
BLAND only eats bad boys, who swear -
Who CAN behave, but DON'T -
Disgraceful lads who say "don't care,"
And "shan't," and "can't," and "won't."
Who wet their shoes and learn to box,
And say what isn't true,
Who bite their nails and jam their frocks,
And make long noses too;
[...] Read more
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Ballad: The Two Ogres
Good children, list, if you're inclined,
And wicked children too -
This pretty ballad is designed
Especially for you.
Two ogres dwelt in Wickham Wold -
Each TRAITS distinctive had:
The younger was as good as gold,
The elder was as bad.
A wicked, disobedient son
Was JAMES M'ALPINE, and
A contrast to the elder one,
Good APPLEBODY BLAND.
M'ALPINE - brutes like him are few -
In greediness delights,
A melancholy victim to
Unchastened appetites.
Good, well-bred children every day
He ravenously ate, -
All boys were fish who found their way
Into M'ALPINE'S net:
Boys whose good breeding is innate,
Whose sums are always right;
And boys who don't expostulate
When sent to bed at night;
And kindly boys who never search
The nests of birds of song;
And serious boys for whom, in church,
No sermon is too long.
Contrast with JAMES'S greedy haste
And comprehensive hand,
The nice discriminating taste
Of APPLEBODY BLAND.
BLAND only eats bad boys, who swear -
Who CAN behave, but DON'T -
Disgraceful lads who say "don't care,"
And "shan't," and "can't," and "won't."
Who wet their shoes and learn to box,
And say what isn't true,
Who bite their nails and jam their frocks,
And make long noses too;
[...] Read more
poem by WS Gilbert
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Bestowers Of Transformative Vision
pathos suffering passion
ripe within bodily experience
pathos of culture artistic expression
artists the 'I give birth to'
shape shifters people creators
bestowers of transformative vision
sentence seen is life vibration alteration
passionate in artistic creation expression
enrichers of web strand seekers beholders
artists hung upon vision quests
artists hung upon life beat heart beats
artists hung upon eyes burning in soul flame
artists historical now you see them now you don’t
poem by Terence George Craddock
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When a Consciousness Begins to Lift
When a consciousness begins to lift...
To leave behind foolishness that exists.
There seems to be an acceptance of it.
As if one realizes,
A birth has been committed.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
A release of limitations,
Easily takes a shift.
No longer is one concerned,
About winning conflicts with enemies burned.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
It becomes easier to observe,
Those disturbed and their afflictions addicted.
Enjoyed and unrestricted.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
It is best to rest.
And let it accept the truth,
That comes with it.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
Expect a shock and some loneliness.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
Those experiencing this,
Are left to feel estranged!
Alienated,
From that...
Which one had thought,
Was sane!
When a consciousness begins to lift...
Enjoy it as a gift.
Unveiling an abundance of understanding.
Connecting a peace that can be reached.
With a wish to share and treat.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
From those taught they should live,
With lives accepted in self defeat!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Forever Begins
VERSE 1
Her eyes they glisten in the sun
As she watches the day become night
As the dark draws in
And then she takes a flute and plays a song
Melodies from days that have gone by
BRIDGE
And as she looks in the water
He's smiling back at her
And in her heart she knows
The time is close
For her soul to move on from this Earth
CHORUS
It's been a long time waiting
To see his face and
To feel his love again
No more crying
Soon you'll be flying
To a place where forever begins
Flying to forever, forever
To a place where forever begins
VERSE 2
She remembers a time when he was there
They were blissfully unaware
That their time was near
For the man that she loved was to go away
He'd been called to a better place
Far away from here
BRIDGE
And as she looks in the water
He's smiling back at her
And in her heart she knows
Her eyes they show
The dreams of the way things once were
CHORUS
It's been a long time waiting
To see his face and
To feel his love again
No more crying
Soon you'll be flying
To a place where forever begins
MIDDLE 8
Two lovers, they can meet again on the other side
She feels no pain, she's strong again where the angels fly
BRIDGE
And as she looks in the water
He's smiling back at her
And in her heart she knows
Her eyes they show
The dreams of the way things once were
[...] Read more
song performed by 411
Added by Lucian Velea
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Forever Begins Right Now
Oh I, Im so happy that youre mine
From now til the end of time
Forever begins right now
Everybody thought that we
Were doomed from the start
But nobody knows what I see
When I look in your heart
They said we didnt equal
Now were writing us a sequel
And Im giving you the starring role
And I know they dont believe it
But I swear Im never leaving Ill be here
Until the credits role
Nothing they can do
No matter what they say
On top of the world
Cause shes with me
Oh I, Im so happy that youre mine
From now til the end of time
Forever begins right now
The way you look at me
I see my world in your eyes
And even though its shattered
It doesnt really matter
Its just you and I
Everything is better when
Its you and me together
And were proving everybody wrong
The motor is revin
Were rolling through heaven
And the angles are singing our song
Oh I, Im so happy that youre mine
From now til the end of time
Forever begins right now
Bright as the morning
You light up the night
Were so far from normal
And it feels so right
It feels so right, Im so happy that youre mine
From now til the end of time
Forever begins right now
Oh I, Im so happy that youre mine
From now til the end of time
Forever begins right now
Forever begins right now
Forever begins right now
song performed by Lit
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Bucolics
Ladies and gentlemen: I take this opportunity
To introduce myself and mention that, much as we may deplore the fact, we are
essentially an agricultural community
Altho' in our metropolitan centres, millions may live and toil.
Most of us, directly or indirectly, exist by, thro', on and for the soil;
Our outlook is largely directed upon crops, prices, profits and 'The Main Chance,'
So that we rarely discover time or opportunity to glance
At the fine arts and higher culture of this and older lands, and gather unto
ourselves the satisfaction such contemplation lends
Therefore our guides, philosophers, mentors, leaders, teachers, and friends
Declare that, amongst the toilers of our race,
Such contemplation is utterly out of place.
And (altho' this may seem rather funny)
One cannot definitely enjoy 'culchaw' unless one is - now - possessed of
leisure and money.
To encourage it in the Common People is a vain and profitless thing.
Wherefore, I sing:-
The plough's in the furrow,
The cow's at the bail;
We delve and we burrow,
For nought may avail
Save toil thro' the seasons,
Material joy;
These, these be the reasons
For all our employ.
The mute Mona Lisa,
Praxiteles' art,
Such trifles as these are
Things quite, quite apart.
On, on with life's battle;
Wring sweat from the brow.
What's culture to cattle?
What's art to a cow?
To resume, ladies and gentlemen, the more comprehensible form of discourse I
had temporarily forsaken,
Is it not possible that our mentors, censors et al. may be sadly mistaken?
Or, stay, is it conceivable that they would lock and bar our halls of art and
culture at night
Lest the Common People might,
By some strange chance, absorb so much of the capacity for appreciation that
they would, in time, be able to patronise us?
Nay, even to advise us?
On certain aesthetic matters which - Perish the thought! For who would have
the heart
To vulgarise all Art?
For, consider; how were it possible to feel superior
When none remains any longer who, as one comfortably recognises, is inferior.
[...] Read more
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Alcoholics Unanimous
ALCOHOLICS UNANIMOUS
The head of blended Spirits
saw his future looking bleak.
The case sales for Scotch Whiskey
trended downward week to week
What was the cause of this decline?
Why were sales weak as water?
To find out he relied upon
his party loving daughters.
When they reported back to him
He nearly died from shock:
Folks weren’t merely “buying down”
because they were in hock.
Instead they met in basement clubs
And sat on folding chairs
Pouring out their troubles
To such strangers as were there.
They told him of a program
That sounded like a cult:
Twelve steps to salvation-
Start with putting down the cup.
They said the former customers
Had mentors they could call
To talk them out of drinking
if they longed for alcohol.
The head of blended spirits
Hatched a bold and daring plan-
ALCOHOLICS UNANIMOUS
“The Friends of Old Grand Dad”
They’d meet in clubs and taverns
As you might surmise
And sponsored “beer pong” tournaments
with Whiskey as the prize.
The new club had its mentors too
Conveniently right in town
To talk folks into drinking
And to join them in a round.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Intelligence Without a Mentor Original 10 03 22010
INTELLIGENCE WITHOUT A MENTOR:
Original 10 03 2010
Intelligence without a mentor
Funny how time just keeps ticking
Right on away -is a play righting as
Orientated divinely thought to say
Written as Comedy -as intended
To be portrayed -it’s the soup of
Plasticity of a mind gone astray
Marked by the staining of bloody
Aneurisms seeping into the gray -the
Silence of pain and forgotten brain
Curious temperament humility and
The evil inspired disdain -within
Guided by inquisition lightning –fear
Forbade following the imperatives
Leading all the mentors to the left
And to the right –down the slippery
Slopes onto terrace after terrace
Of the names of lands with their
Rubrics in decline -gravestone
Sanctimony to a peoples’ generation
In due time -stand and watch the
Veil of shell as technology mentors and
Students grow -enclosed in electric
Tracking outside the embryo inside
Quantum and macro heuristics at play
Down cross county aside throughways by
University Boulevards and El Camino Real
Mission paths and ghetto alleys –inside
Mounds of mined data –mummies seven
Times seventy days prepared -grave stone
Says E = MC2 -birth stone is Employment =
Money times Currency Squared –God’s will
All formula show themselves pre-prepared.
poem by Lee B. Mack
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Unincorporated Insights
What context contributes toward meaning?
What illusive patterns outline our thoughts?
What process prevents mindless careening
Into tangles of intangible knots—
Into the depths of deeply-rooted seeds
Of imponderable definition?
And what flower does theodicy breed
By the threat of holistic omission?
What cryptic mysteries do we express,
Though in traces of vagrant memories—
Perhaps causing us to hide and repress
Them beneath our transient reveries?
What codex—so voiceless—do we create?
What emergent grammar elucidates?
What emergent grammar elucidates
The syntax of our juxtaposition?
Why must we meander and gravitate
Toward the pull of blank exposition?
We speak in indefinite articles,
Communicating as a formality?
Our dreams are overlapping particles,
Transposed over strips of reality.
Our intellects are woven by conflict,
Disproportionate threads that braid our lives.
Ideas coalesce to contradict
Where what we call logic attempts to thrive.
We design ignorance, always preening
The language that has been intervening.
The language that has been intervening
Interrupts the words we would like to say,
Mercilessly and stringently cleaning
Our voice, removing what viewpoints convey.
Therefore, we conjure the chiffon lexis:
A vagary of coded expressions
That dilute our colloquial axis—
Our terminology of discretion.
We relinquish comprehension and
Dilapidate whatever we might learn
In the grip of the Invisible Hand
Which guides us to our tenuous concerns.
All the while, idiocy saturates
With our illocutionary mandates.
With our illocutionary mandates,
Why does anyone make sense anymore?
Verbally, our tongue only translates
All the talk that has been spoken before.
We erase our culture with social platforms.
[...] Read more
poem by Tim Stensloff
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