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From now on, I'll connect the dots my own way.

quote by Bill Watterson
Added by Lucian Velea
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See The Constellation

I lay my head on the railroad track
Stare at the sky all painted up
Your train is gone, wont be coming back
See the constellation ride across the sky
No cigar, no lady on his arm
Just a guy made of dots and lines
Just a guy made of dots and lines
Two years ago moved from my town
I was looking up past the city lights
But the city lights got in my way
See the constellation ride across the sky
No cigar, no lady on his arm
Just a guy made of dots and lines
Just a guy made of dots and lines
I found my mind on the ground below
I was looking down, it was looking back
I was in the sky all dressed in black
See the constellation ride across the sky
No cigar, no lady on his arm
Just a guy made of dots and lines
Just a guy made of dots and lines
Just a guy made of dots and lines
Can you hear what I see in the sky?
Can you hear what I see in the sky?
Can you hear what I see in the sky?
Notes
The dial-a-song version:
I lay my head on the railroad track
Look at the sky all dressed in black
Your train is gone, wont be coming back
My lone constellation rides across the sky
No cigar, no lady on his arm
Just a guy made from dots and lines
Just a guy made from dots and lines
The city lights think nothings there
No real stars, nothings there
My lone constellation rides across the sky
No cigar, no lady on his arm
Just a guy made from dots and lines
Just a guy made from dots and lines

song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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It's Mine to Own

Just give me my prize!
For a life lived...
Both bold and wise.

Just give me my prize!
Un-itemized it.
It's mine to own.

Just give me my prize.
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
Inside...
I connect it.
Now I can accept.
Those feelings I cried...
With heartache.
Deep in my chest!

I accept it.
Now I can connect.

I accept it.
Now I can connect.

Just give me my prize!
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
Inside...
I accept it.
Now I can connect.

Those feelings I cried...
With heartache.
Deep in my chest!

I accept it.
Now I can connect.
Just give me my prize!
Un-itemized it.
It's mine to own.

I accept it.
Now I can connect.
It's mine to own.
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
It's mine to own.

Just,
Give me my prize I accept it.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Thong Song

This thing right here
Is lettin all the ladies know
What guys talk about
You know
The finer things in life
Hahaha
Check it out
Ooh dat dress so scandalous
And ya know another nigga couldnt handle it
See ya shakin that thang like whos da ish
With a look in ya eye so devilish
Uh
Ya like to dance at all the hip hop spots
And ya cruise to the crews like connect da dots
Not just urban she likes the pop
Cuz she was livin la vida loca
Bridge
She had dumps like a truck truck truck
Thighs like what what what
Baby move your butt butt butt
Uh
I think to sing it again
She had dumps like a truck truck truck
Thighs like what what what
All night long
Let me see that thong
Chorus
I like it when the beat goes da na da na
Baby make your booty go da na da na
Girl I know you wanna show da na da na
That thong th thong thong thong
I like it when the beat goes da na da na
Baby make your booty go da na da na
Girl I know you wanna show da na da na
That thong th thong thong thong
That girl so scandalous
And I know another nigga couldnt handle it
And she shakin that thang like whos da ish
With a look in her eye so devilish
Uh
She like to dance at all the hip hop spots
And she cruise to the crews like connect da dots
Not just urban she likes the pop
Cuz she was livin la vida loca
Bridge
Chorus (2x)
Whoaaa
That dress so scandalous
And I swear another nigga couldnt handle it
See ya shakin that thang like whos da ish

[...] Read more

song performed by Craig David
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tiny Words

Who am I?
What I am?
..dont really know..
Today right now
I think I feel to be
nothingness or
just a minuscule
dot
Almost invisible
in these immensities
can't see myself..
cannot find me..
but hey! ! guess what? !
other minuscule dot I hope
is out there thousand and
thousand miles away
this dot, it seems to me,
does
think and wonders.
of my minuscule heart
my thought my doing
Woww! Awww..
Isn't that amasing? !
here I am!
no more lost

These dots:
are never meant to see
or touch..
each are soo far away..
too far
still
soo close.. sometimes
they stretch a rope
from one to other
become more close
..by closing eyes..
dreaming of
touch smell taste
such a new feel
new spinning dance
new colours
amasingly the world around
transforms
everything
becomes soo small
reduced to dots
and so
two, three, millions dots
tinny, little.. quietly

[...] Read more

poem by Elena Sandu
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Homo Erectus

(kinky friedman & panama red)
I left barber college
Searchin for knowledge,
Went to the university.
I must confess, sir
This lady professor
She turned me on to anthropology.
Now Im a homo erectus
Got to connect this
Bone that I discovered yesterday.
Tyrannosaurus
Lived in the forest,
Died because its heart got in the way.
Dear doctor howard
Come down from your tower
And join me for lunch at the y.
Although youre thirty
I still think youre pretty
Lets give it that good ole college try.
cause Im a homo erectus
Got to connect this
Bone that I discovered yesterday.
Tyrannosaurus
Lived in the forest,
Died because its heart got in the way.
Ok!
Hey jomo kenyatta
No, no, youre not a
Australopithecine boogieman.
Its took us a jillion
But were all still here, been
Boogeyin since boogeyin began.
And Im a homo erectus
Got to connect this
Bone that I discovered yesterday.
Tyrannosaurus
Lived in the forest,
Died because its heart got in the way.
You know Im a homo erectus
Got to connect this
Bone that I discovered yesterday.
Tyrannosaurus lived in the forest,
Died because its heart got in the way.
You know that Im a homo erectus
Got to connect this
Bone that I discovered yesterday.
Tyrannosaurus
Lived in the forest,
Died because its heart got in the way.
Im but a homo erectus

[...] Read more

song performed by Kinky Friedman
Added by Lucian Velea
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It's a Feeling Deeper

There is a certain meaning to it.
For people who are born to do this.
It's not on the surface to depict.
With an easy category to assign to it.

It's a feeling deeper.

There is a certain meaning to it.
For people who are born to do this.
It's just not what it appears to exist.
This 'thing' is deeper.
Below a surface reached for 'it'.

It's a feeling deeper.
That's deep.

Deeper,
And from below a surface that must be exposed.
This 'thing' gets deeper,
And those knowing it want it shown not kept unknown.

It's a feeling deeper that's deep.
Deeper that's deep.
It's a feeling deeper.
It's not on the surface to depict.
With an easy category to assign to it.

It's a feeling deeper that's deep.
Deeper that's deep.
It's just not what it appears to exist.
This 'thing' is deeper.
Below a surface reached for 'it'.
It's a feeling deeper that's deep.
Deeper that's deep.

It's a feeling deeper.
That's deep.
Deeper that's deep.
Deeper.
Deeper.

It's a feeling deeper.
That's deep.
Deeper that's deep.
Much deeper.

How can anyone connect it.
Deeper.
How can anyone connect it.
Deeper!

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Polka Dots And Moon Beams

(BurkeVan Heusen)
A country dance was being held in a garden. I felt a bump and heard an "Oh, beg you pardon."
Suddenly I saw polka dots and moonbeams all around a pug-nosed dream.
The music started and was I the perplexed one.
I held my breath and said "May I have the next one?"
In my frightened arms, polka dots and moonbeams sparkled on a pug-nosed dream.
There were questions in the eyes of other dancers as we floated over the floor.
There were questions but my heart knew all the answers and perhaps a few things more.
Now in a cottage made of lilacs and laughter, I know the meaning of the words "ever after."
And I'll always see polka dots and moonbeams when I kiss my pug-nosed dream.
There were questions in the eyes of other dancers as we floated over the floor.
There were questions but my heart knew all the answers and perhaps a few things more.
Now in a cottage made of lilacs and laughter, I know the meaning of the words "ever after."
And I'll always see polka dots and moonbeams when I kiss my pug-nosed dream,
when I kiss my pug-nosed dream.

song performed by John Denver
Added by Lucian Velea
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The garden in the hillocks (Tartoum)

Against the rocky slope lies the old white house,
there are roses, lilies and irises that are flowering
between blocks of rock stacked together.

There are roses, lilies and irises that are flowering,
succulents, aloes, torch lilies grow
like tongues of flaming exuberance.

Succulents, aloes, torch lilies grows
as red dots against the rocks that are flaming
as if nature is singing about God’s creation.

As red dots against the rocks that are flaming,
as God’s own lovely garden
proteas, wild wormwood and every wild flower blooms.

As God’s own lovely garden,
as dots full of gleaming fire allows flower
while doves, finches and bush shrikes sing with joy.

As dots full of gleaming fire allows flower
between blocks of rock stacked together
like tongues of flaming exuberance,
as if nature is singing about God’s creation
proteas, wild wormwood and every wild flower blooms
while doves, finches and bush shrikes sing with joy.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Women's Greatest Assets

Voluptuous, round, soft, and plump,
Breasts- the ultimate source of pleasure
For babies and for men, alike.

Babies, burying their heads in their mama’s bosoms,
Say bye bye to dangers, say bye bye to insecurities,
They wrap their plump lips around the little pink dots.
And voilà, they suck!

Sfuuuuuuuup~ sfuuuuuuup~
Slurrrrrrrrrrp~ slurrrrrrrrrp~
Hunger, desire, yearning,
Lust (in its most primitive form) ,
Overwhelm these babies, as they suck fervently
On the little pink dots of their mama.

Men, placing their hands on their women’s bosoms,
Say bye bye to self-discipline, say bye bye to dignity,
They circle their fingers around the little pink dots.
And voilà, they caress!

Shhhhhhhhhh~ chhhhhhhhh~
Shhhhhhhhhh~ chhhhhhhhh~
Hunger, desire, yearning,
Lust (in its most mature form) ,
Overwhelm these men, as they caress passionately
Around the little pink dots of their women.

Voluptuous, round, soft, and plump,
Breasts- the ultimate source of pleasure
For babies and for men, alike.

poem by Irene Pang
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Mud Throwing Grudgeons

It is incredulous to me,
The number of people I had regarded...
As having some mental stability.
With an ability to connect dots...
And a fitting of pieces to put them together.
Find it safer to allow themselves to be dumbdowned.

I can accept being labelled ignorant.
Among other choice names I have been called.
I can accept having been told I live in my own world,
With a perspective on life that drips with cynicisms...
And sarcastic trimmings interpreted to faultfind.
I am a writer choosing to use that as my creative license.

However...
What excuses are left for people to make,
Not to see the forest for the trees?
When it is obvious they hop over falling branches,
Like unseen obstacles.
And the ones who point this out to have others cautioned,
Are said to be disgruntled and embittered...
Mud throwing grudgeons pivoting themselves to disrupt.

By what?
A jealousy to refuse,
To beat their heads up against tree trunks?
And a refusal to do this is shown as a sign of envy?
Who is spiking the tea these nuts drink?

It is incredulous to me,
The number of people I had regarded...
As having some mental stability.
With an ability to connect dots...
And a fitting of pieces to put them together.
Find it safer to allow themselves to be dumbdowned.

If a brick wall is constructed to be just what it is,
Why do those persisent in their protest,
Make declarations with demands and wishes...
To have those bricks replaced with cushions?
And grant with allowances to have their intelligence,
Abused.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Slow Chemical

The wonder of the world is gone and old for sure
All the wonder that I would have found in her
As a hole becomes another strike to burn
An old flame returns
Every intuition fails to find it's way
One more table turned around I'm back again
Finding I'm a lost and found when she's not around
When she's not around I feel it coming down
Get me what I could never ask for
Connect me and you could be my chemical NOW
Give me the drug you know I'm after
Connect me and you could be my chemical
When everybody wants (the chemical of) your soul
When everybody wants (the chemical of) your soul
Slow and
Everybody wants you
So
Slow and
Everybody wants your soul
Give me what I could never ask for
connect me and you could be my chemical NOW
Give me the drug you know I'm after
Connect me and you could be the chemical
You could be the chemical
You could be the chemical
You could be the chemical
You could be the chemical

song performed by Finger Eleven
Added by Lucian Velea
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I discovered about 150 dots is the minimum number of dots to make a specific recognizable person. You can make something that looks like a head, with fewer dots, but you won't be able to give much information about who it is.

quote by Chuck Close
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Latter Days

We
Are
Dots

And
We're
Beautiful

And
Funny

And
Good

We
Are
Dots

We
Are
Dots

We
Are
Loved

July 2012

poem by Judith Gerstenkorn
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Polka Dots & Moonbeams

This song appears on three albums, and was first released on the spirit album, and has also been released on the reflections and the country roads collection albums.
A country dance was being held in a garden
I felt a bump and heard an oh, beg your pardon
Suddenly I saw polka dots and moonbeams
All around a pug-nosed dream
The music started and was I the perplexed one
I held my breath and said may I have the next one
In my frightrnrd arms, polka dots and moonbeams
Sparkled on a pug-nosed dream
There were questions in the eyes of other dancers
As we floated over the floor
There were questions but my heart knew all the answers
And perhaps a few things more
Now in a cottage made of lilacs and laughter
I know the meaning of the words ever after
And Ill always see polka dots and moonbeams
When I kiss my pug-nosed dream
Words by johnny burke, music by jimmy van heusen

song performed by John Denver
Added by Lucian Velea
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Above The Shed On The Winter Porch

Above the shed, the winter porch
a young wild dove
continually calls its mate
and when the door slides open
I see dots on its breast
and at the pond it quenches its thirst
and I see dots
and I see dots
that shines; when it is frightened it becomes sullen.

Above the shed, the winter porch
the oak tree rustles
and then my mother coughs badly from croup
where sometimes she sits and dream
as the sunshine flames up hot
and I watch her caringly
as the sunshine flames up
as the sunshine flames up
as if a field fire runs past.

Above the shed, the winter porch
a swarm of swallows peck,
sometimes doves land in a group,
and at times I hear my mother sneezing
while I am caught with a kind of hope,
but I know that time is running out
while I am caught,
while I am caught
and my life at times feels sold out.

poem by Gert Strydom
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The March of Ivan

Are you coming, Ivan, coming?—Ah, the ways are long and slow,
In the vast land that we know not—and we never sought to know.
We are watching through the daybreak, when the anxious night is done,
For the dots upon the skyline—black against the rising sun;
We are watching through the morning haze, and waiting through the night,
For the long, dark, distant columns that proclaim the Muscovite!
Are you coming, Ivan, coming? (Oh! the world is growing gray
With the terror of the future and the madness of to-day!)
Are you marching, Ivan—forward? (Oh! the world is dark’ning fast,
For the crimes of greater nations ’gainst the small ones in the past.)
Yours, in part, to make atonement, so remember what you are!
Ivan! Sing!—“The Slav is coming! On for Russia and the Czar!”

Ivan’s Song

“Yes, I’m coming, Ivan, coming—I am marching out again
On the weary roads of Russia, past the forest, marsh and plain;
Past the field and past the village, in the shine and in the rain—
By the cart-rut and the grass-track and the jolting cattle-train.
(And, maybe, some gleam of glory penetrates my sluggish brain)
I am marching out for Russia, and for Europe and for you—
But, maybe, I’m mainly marching just because they told me to.

“I have marched to many frontiers, in the pregnant days gone by,
When they told us where to march to, but they did not tell us why.
And they showed us whom to fight with, and they told us where to die.
I have seen our grey battalions to their Heaven—or Hades—hurled—
’Twas enough it was for Russia!—what cared we about the world?

“Did one moan of Ivan’s mother penetrate to other lands?
Did one prayer of Ivan’s father—with his old and knotted hands?
Did one sob from Ivan’s sweetheart, or one cry from Ivan’s wife?
Or a wail from Ivan’s children, for the loss of Ivan’s life?
Marching with the Wolf of Hunger—marching with the Bear of Strength!
We have marched for many winters—but the end is near at length!

“’Tis a long, long march from Plevna, when the Bear went to his den.
It is far from the Crimea; Oh! you did not want us then!
From the shambles of Port Arthur, ’twas a weary way and slow—
And our track was always dotted with the black dots on the snow.
By black dots and crimson splashes you may trace poor Ivan’s track—
And I think that Ivan’s banner should be red, and white and black.

“Ne’er was Present-blinded tyrant who learnt wisdom from the Past,
And there’s one forgot the errand that brought Ivan this way last!
‘To the frontier, and no further’ seemed our motto and our vow,
Since we marched from burning Moscow—but we’re marching further now!
Neighbour’s burning house—or city!—they are easy to forget;
But we lit a light for Europe that shall be rekindled yet!

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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Time & Motion

Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Time and motion
Wind and sun and rain
Days connect like boxcars in a train
Fill them up with precious cargo
Squeeze in all that you can find
Spontaneous elation
And the long-enduring kind
Time and motion
Flesh and blood and fire
Lives connect in webs of gold and razor wire
Spin a thread of precious contact
Squeeze in all that you can find
Spontaneous relations
And the long-enduring kind
The mighty ocean
Dances with the moon
The silent forest
Echoes with the loon
Time and motion
Live and love and dream
Eyes connect like interstellar beams
Superman in supernature
Needs all the comfort he can find
Spontaneous emotion
And the long enduring kind

song performed by Rush
Added by Lucian Velea
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Connect Me To You Heart

Connect me to your heart, my friend
it is this heart that gives until it hurts
The heart that hears your voice
Deep from the tranquil ocean
Learning to ride the waves
And see the beauty in each magnificence

If today you will hear my voice
Harden not, just connect me to your heart
Learn to live and feel this heart beat
That says..all is well..keep on doing
What is right, have no fear of tomorrow.
There must be no turning. back...just be focused..

You have so much for everything
To give, to share, to love, to live
Take one day at a time, and enjoy
Your candle must be lighted
So you will not stumble in the dark
Connect me..to your heart..my friend.

poem by Meggie Gultiano
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Leopard

Leopards with their spots
Four legged polka dots
Jaguars too have spots
Leopard have densely spots
Jaguars have central spots
You and I call them spots
But Zoologist calls them
'Rosettes' which doesn't rhyme with spots.
Better to call them 'spots'
because it rhymes with 'dots.'

poem by Philo Yan
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Is It True?

for after all
is it true that a good poem
does not teach?
or preach?
or even tell something
so important
is it true that it simply
makes you feel?
logic is for
mathematics and
any exhortation on
how we live
and why
must be archived
in the ethics department.
this one must make sense
in the color and in the scent
and in the sweetness
or bitterness of its
words

it is more of a comma
than a period,
and some dots,
lots of dots.......

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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