All ideologies are idiotic, whether religious or political, for it is conceptual thinking, the conceptual word, which has so unfortunately divided man.
quote by Jiddu Krishnamurti
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Two Divided By Zero
(two divided by zero, zero)
(two divided by zero, zero, zero)
Lets not go home, well catch the late train
Ive got enough money to pay all the way
When the postman calls, hell deliver the letter
Ive explained everything; its better that way
(divided by, divided by) I think they heard a rumour
(divided by, divided by) or someone tipped them off
(divided by, divided by) its better to go sooner
(divided by, divided by) than call it all off
Well catch a plane to new york, and a cab going down
Cross the bridges and tunnels, straight into town
Tomorrow morning well be miles away
On another continent and another day
(divided by, divided by) lets not go home
(divided by, divided by) or call it a day
(divided by, divided by) you wont be alone
(divided by, divided by) lets run away
(two divided by zero, zero)
(two divided by zero, zero, zero)
(d...d...d...d...d...divided by)
(divided by, divided by)
(z...z...z...z...z...zero, zero)
(divided by)
(turn of that noise...)
(divided by, divided by) someone spread a rumour
(divided by, divided by zero, zero)
(divided by, divided by) better to go sooner
(divided by, divided by) lets run away
So why hang around for the deed to be done
You can give it all up for a place in the sun
When the postman calls well be miles away
On a plane to new york and another day
(divided by, divided by) I think they heard a rumour
(divided by, divided by) or someone tipped them off
(divided by, divided by) better to go sooner
(divided by, divided by) than call it all off
(divided by, divided by) someone spread a rumour
(divided by, divided by) and someone has to pay
(divided by, divided by) lets not go home
(divided by, divided by) lets run away
(divided by, divided by) lets not go home
(divided by, divided by) lets run away
song performed by Pet Shop Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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A cartoon's speech
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
YEllow Grass but conceptual light
popet nyein way
poem by Nyein Way
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Satan Absolved
(In the antechamber of Heaven. Satan walks alone. Angels in groups conversing.)
Satan. To--day is the Lord's ``day.'' Once more on His good pleasure
I, the Heresiarch, wait and pace these halls at leisure
Among the Orthodox, the unfallen Sons of God.
How sweet in truth Heaven is, its floors of sandal wood,
Its old--world furniture, its linen long in press,
Its incense, mummeries, flowers, its scent of holiness!
Each house has its own smell. The smell of Heaven to me
Intoxicates and haunts,--and hurts. Who would not be
God's liveried servant here, the slave of His behest,
Rather than reign outside? I like good things the best,
Fair things, things innocent; and gladly, if He willed,
Would enter His Saints' kingdom--even as a little child.
[Laughs. I have come to make my peace, to crave a full amaun,
Peace, pardon, reconcilement, truce to our daggers--drawn,
Which have so long distraught the fair wise Universe,
An end to my rebellion and the mortal curse
Of always evil--doing. He will mayhap agree
I was less wholly wrong about Humanity
The day I dared to warn His wisdom of that flaw.
It was at least the truth, the whole truth, I foresaw
When He must needs create that simian ``in His own
Image and likeness.'' Faugh! the unseemly carrion!
I claim a new revision and with proofs in hand,
No Job now in my path to foil me and withstand.
Oh, I will serve Him well!
[Certain Angels approach. But who are these that come
With their grieved faces pale and eyes of martyrdom?
Not our good Sons of God? They stop, gesticulate,
Argue apart, some weep,--weep, here within Heaven's gate!
Sob almost in God's sight! ay, real salt human tears,
Such as no Spirit wept these thrice three thousand years.
The last shed were my own, that night of reprobation
When I unsheathed my sword and headed the lost nation.
Since then not one of them has spoken above his breath
Or whispered in these courts one word of life or death
Displeasing to the Lord. No Seraph of them all,
Save I this day each year, has dared to cross Heaven's hall
And give voice to ill news, an unwelcome truth to Him.
Not Michael's self hath dared, prince of the Seraphim.
Yet all now wail aloud.--What ails ye, brethren? Speak!
Are ye too in rebellion? Angels. Satan, no. But weak
With our long earthly toil, the unthankful care of Man.
Satan. Ye have in truth good cause.
Angels. And we would know God's plan,
His true thought for the world, the wherefore and the why
Of His long patience mocked, His name in jeopardy.
[...] Read more
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Give The Po Man A Break
Give po man a break
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[...] Read more
song performed by Fatboy Slim
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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
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Confessio Amantis. Prologus
Torpor, ebes sensus, scola parua labor minimusque
Causant quo minimus ipse minora canam:
Qua tamen Engisti lingua canit Insula Bruti
Anglica Carmente metra iuuante loquar.
Ossibus ergo carens que conterit ossa loquelis
Absit, et interpres stet procul oro malus.
Of hem that writen ous tofore
The bokes duelle, and we therfore
Ben tawht of that was write tho:
Forthi good is that we also
In oure tyme among ous hiere
Do wryte of newe som matiere,
Essampled of these olde wyse
So that it myhte in such a wyse,
Whan we ben dede and elleswhere,
Beleve to the worldes eere
In tyme comende after this.
Bot for men sein, and soth it is,
That who that al of wisdom writ
It dulleth ofte a mannes wit
To him that schal it aldai rede,
For thilke cause, if that ye rede,
I wolde go the middel weie
And wryte a bok betwen the tweie,
Somwhat of lust, somewhat of lore,
That of the lasse or of the more
Som man mai lyke of that I wryte:
And for that fewe men endite
In oure englissh, I thenke make
A bok for Engelondes sake,
The yer sextenthe of kyng Richard.
What schal befalle hierafterward
God wot, for now upon this tyde
Men se the world on every syde
In sondry wyse so diversed,
That it welnyh stant al reversed,
As forto speke of tyme ago.
The cause whi it changeth so
It needeth nought to specifie,
The thing so open is at ije
That every man it mai beholde:
And natheles be daies olde,
Whan that the bokes weren levere,
Wrytinge was beloved evere
Of hem that weren vertuous;
For hier in erthe amonges ous,
If noman write hou that it stode,
The pris of hem that weren goode
[...] Read more
poem by John Gower
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi
Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society
Epigraph
Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.
I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.
You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning (1871)
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V. Count Guido Franceschini
Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Today... 'The Word
Word of love and the Word made flesh
Word incarnate forever blessed
Word of life and the Word of light
Word of power and Word of might.
Word that was spoken, Word of the Lord
Word of the Law and the Word of God
Word of peace and Word eternal
Word of truth and last Word of all.
Word of wisdom and the Word of healing
Word from heaven, a Word so appealing
Word fulfilling the Word of prophecy
Word of the Spirit and Word of destiny.
Word of exhortation and Word of grace
Word of encouragement and Word of faith
Word of promise and a Word of insight
Word from the beginning and Word of delight.
Word of knowledge and a Word of boldness
Word of peace and the Word of righteousness
Word of the covenant and Word of love
Word of the Father from heaven above.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box)
poem by Roy Allen
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Some Thoughts on Post Modernism
Camus wrote The Stranger and The Plague his last book was the myth of Sisyphus, dealing with the absurdity of rolling a rock up a hill just to have it come back down at the top of the hill. He believed in trying but yet it was hard to find a definitive reason why in a propositional sense. What does it all mean in the midst of the absurd and 'benign indifference of the universe' his last words in The Stranger. How do we have a moral defense if there are no universals? How do we band together against 'The Plague' if our existentialism is so personal that we can back nothing in any dogmatic or religious sense?
The collective becomes a real problem as far as banning together to stand against tyranny and evil when individuality is so amorphous and undefined ethically and morally. When we claim there are no boundaries and we are 'beyond good and evil' it is difficult to make a unified stand.
When the subjective and personal doesn't have any standards that are ostensible it is difficult to move collectively. When the road has no instructions and there is no defined side to drive on it is easy to have problems. When your existentialism doesn't match with mine and there is no referee or standard we both accept how do we agree? ?
When social Darwinism refutes democracy and says' the strong survive' the weak perish' biology and natural selection is ruthless and bug eats bug and we as mammals are subject to these laws of nature, when 'love thy neighbor as thy self' and ' do on too others as you would have them do on too you' are looked at as spiritual maxims but are really not universals in nature, how do we say and define what is oppression, exploitation, and inhumanity with any real authority?
What makes 'might equals right' wrong when it is endorsed by natural law? ? How does ethical and moral authority survive when we really don't have a conscience? ? If a human being is 'atoms' bio-chemistry' molecules and the laws of physics' When he is nothing more or less than a material being subject to the laws of nature and he has a myth of conscience where does it stop and what and who gains the power? ? THE STATE, THE SUPERMAN, THE WILL TO POWER, Stalin, Hitler, Major corporations, Global economies, States with nuclear weapons!
We are in troubled times and past ideologies go hand in hand with how and why we got here. Camus, Sartre, Jaspers and many other not so well known existentialists owe there background from Soren Kierkegaard from Denmark who wrote against Hegel's collectivism and State power and was one of the first to really point out what Europe and western civilization was heading for with the new rationalism and definitions from the age of reason and the enlightenment. Faith and conscience go hand and hand and they both transcend organized religion and traditional institutions.
Kierkegaard died in 1855 right around the time Dostoevsky moved to St. Petersburg and started to write 'Notes from the Underground'. Dostoevsky fought the coming religions which he and Nietzsche both knew as 'political ideologies'. Marx and Engel's published the communist manifesto in 1847, six years after Hegel died. They definitely were greatly influenced by Hegel and the belief that the state is the height of collective immanence of culture.
They broke from Hegel in several major ways especially over any spiritual mystical Christian religious viewpoints.
They believed it was all 'NATURE". Feuerbach was a Hegelist that was a minister's son who rebelled against Christianity and said all theology has to become anthropology and religious conversation should become 'political conversation'. He greatly influenced Marx and Engel's. Kierkegaard was aware of all this new collectivistic thinking and adamantly opposed it. Dostoevsky was a Marxist for awhile and after he was sent to a Siberian camp he changed and became a Christian. He was a well read man and new of many of the issues of the day. Charles Darwin published "Origin of the Species' in 1857 and social Darwinism immediately began to be written about.
The strong survive and the weak perish begin to be viewed in political ideologies and Dostoevsky begin to stand up for Christian and Platonic perspectives in his writings. This is when he wrote 'Notes from the Underground" He recognized that secularization was in process based on 2 plus 2 logic and freedom was going to be defined without spirituality and conscience. He saw 'The Herd man' coming in the arms of the STATE with a compromised church system embracing the secular with religious robes.
I see post modernism as a world below collapsing into chaos that eventually will result in a great totalitarian state replacing universals with its own steel agenda.
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Seeking the Universal beyond Ideology
Seeking the Universal beyond Ideology
When I teach the Great Tribulation period is coming I must teach it as I see the Bible teaches it. If I see the killing of innocent children in their mothers womb is injustice I am going to say it; if I see USA corporations exploiting third world peoples for sweat shop labor and low environmental standards and that this injustice is wrong I am going to say it. The ideologues and political people who see the world through their systems of indoctrination don't want me too. They want their cake and eat it too. Their party partisan world views do not want to be disrupted but they clap so loudly when their so called enemies from the other side are rebuked or stumble. The church is to back the universal not parties and ideologies. We all are tainted and see through our own backgrounds with our own a priori. I understand this but we must make a real effort to leave all parties in our hearts and put the eternal kingdom of God first.
The Bible openly condemns the practice of homosexuality yet there are people who will talk health care and social justice until they are blue in the face and back gay marriage and call themselves Christians. Their Christianity rationalizes the Scriptures and claims science and scholarship equal with Scripture and they pick and choose what Scripture they call real. I don't care if someone backs up civil liberties thus gays but the true church cannot try to justify sin and go against Scripture. Their rabbits foot Christ is an existential projection with a transit modern basis ever changing because they have given up Sola Scriptura. Their liberation theology is full of Marxist and secular ideologies. Jesus is a placard for their cause against imperialism, colonialism, racism, feminism etc. They replace revelation with reasoning yet can't figure out death so hold onto portions of the Bible. Their message is a bit mystical but mostly social gospel and political. Many many left wingers are into this who want some religion to go with their politics. I totally reject this position and will never be card carrying anything. I am a universalist and as a Christian can see their good statements without belonging to their groups in away that taints my thinking. I will never accept gay marriage or gays adapting children etc. Much of what they say about greed and capitalism is true but that truth to me is universal and transcends secular schools. They also reject Bible prophecy and eschatology. The won't accept Israel as a nation as apart of prophecy and the coming of the anti-christ, false church and wars of the Great Tribulation culminating in the battle of Armageddon. They equate modern theology equal with Scripture in many ways. Their Jesus is a socialist and their message is basically man and movements can bring in the eternal kingdom by our own hands and efforts. The world continues to get progressively worse while they hide in their bubble and utopian womb. Without eschatology and God eventually changing things they have the weight of the world on their shoulders so they struggle to change a world that is actually decaying worse than ever. Their position during the 30's through the 70's turned some ears but today they have little relevance and are a laughing stock to most realists. Those that try to believe stumble with higher criticism and post modernism and their loss of real faith in the Jesus of the Scriptures is exchanged for a heavy weighty philosophy, theology, dialectical materialism, sociology and so called science and rational reasoning faith causes them to always be evolving and never arriving at a solid position. They are marginalized into their own little frustrated circles and many are depressed and neurotic with a position so heavy even they can't bare it let alone teach it. They have to stay small because they have no structure so they blog and try to feel important but they are lost in a wilderness going in circles. There is no peace in this kind of position and they lack joy outside of nature and the everyday things God has given to all men. They don't believe in the fall of the devil with a third of the angels so they beat the air and shadow box in their fight while they idealize Scandinavia. Their intellectualism from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil leads them into covering themselves with works of the law and in many ways they are the new legalism. Many have never ever voted for another party so they are truly entrenched. I feel sorry for these angst ridden neurotics and many are alcoholics with addictive personalities. Ever learning but never able to come to the knowledge of the truth. When you loose the simplicity of Christ according to the Scriptures you head for a horrible wilderness. They will dropp names all day long and use great swelling words then go home and take their anti-depressants. Heresy has no peace!
The next group are Pan American right wingers who believe in America as an idol and mix nationalism in their religion to the point of craziness, Roe V Wade caused a lot of evangelicals to consolidate behind the republican party and the Bible Belt Christianity of today is full of militarism, Civil religion, backing of the rich, corporations are wonderful, capitalism is God ordained and America is the greatest country in the world and should protect its interests with its military around the world. This culture of right wing ideology forebodes many evangelical churches. You will constantly hear about the evil over there, the evil in Islam and 9'11 sermons while not hearing a word about American Corporate power oppressing the world and backing national guards in third world countries to get cheap labor and goods and maximum corporate profits. The rebellions to these situations are looked at like Castro's and Che Guevara's. Movies like 'The Patriot' make them cry. They will interrupt a Bible study when it goes against their party political burnt out minds. They actually stand up against health care while pouring trillions of wasted dollars on military spending. PROTECT OUR COUNTRY is their mantra while letting an insurance company dropping a pre-existing illness in a child. They had both houses under Clinton's last term and George Bush and never passed anything against the insurance companies. My twin brother died of cancer in 2006 and the insurance company dropped him though he worked his entire life and was never unemployed and my father was wounded twice in world war two with two purple hearts. These right wing Christians are so hypnotized and full of a priori they stand for the ultra rich and they call the poor lazy while the jobs were shipped to sweat shop labor with horrible environmental standards. Some are so shot they have never voted another party and now as Christians they bring their political religion into everything. They will preach against homosexuality but stand up for ruining the environment by lowering standards every where. The extreme tea party house won't even allow GMO's to be labelled. They back up corporate power, prisons for profit, a failed war on drugs, the corrupt pharmaceutical industries. Everything is the communists are coming! ! ! ! Let the rich kids go to school we don't want anything socialized yet the police and the fire stations are a kind of socialized effort. I meet these evangelicals all the time. Why are you taking the humanity courses and sociology and not a business course to make money they will tell their kids? I have been told so many times...Why don't you leave this country if you don't like it? I laugh at these shills and bubba Christians of the me, I and mine mentality tied into the dumbing of America so they can be apart of the union busting right to work culture of the cattle right. I am going to teach the tribulation and not America. Sin is here not just over in Islam. Greed and unfair laws are here. Monsanto and other corporations are getting away with murder. The entire food industry is being taken over by corporate powers that are using carcinogens and genetically modifying our food. Chickens and cattle were meant to graze. The cruelty to animals of our times is a total sin by these industries and the evil is not just over in Iran. These right wingers are something out of George Orwell's 1984 and Animal Farm. The war and evil over there is like a scape goat so they don't have to look at the evil right in their own back yard and homes. They are bloated with right wing politics to keep them blind.they are puffed up with nationalism and right wing propaganda. They block the universal of God's justice and mercy with their ideology and politics. They think a Great Tribulation is coming because we head toward socialism not seeing that corporate socialism is already in play like the Tower of Babel and is reinforced by their minds. They mix religion and politics and see through rose colored glasses. Jesus said my Kingdom is not of this world - the people of God are his Holy Nation not the USA. Someone from Ukraine or France should be proud of their country just like someone here but as Christians we are suppose to put his kingdom first and like Abraham of old leave our background and become sojourners and strangers looking for a city not built by the hands of man. I am so tired of this phony idolatrous nationalism that is so jingoistic and arrogant; so condescending and patronizing.
I will never be apart of this. When I teach I will teach what I truly feel the Bible says and there are enough rainbow churches and right wing churches for people to go too who don't want to work with me. All of these organizations and ideologies are not going in the rapture of the church. Come out from among them and be a separate people and let the world die to the eternal Kingdom. Move with the cloud over the tabernacle in the wilderness and leave worldly politics in the sense that we stand for the universal and truth. Admit when evil is on the left or right or in any organization. Quit backing and rationalizing for parties and ideologies. This time period is the last days of the church age and we are soon to see this world go into the great tribulation period and no party, movement, ideology is going to prevent it. Take off the blinders!
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The Iliad: Book 2
Now the other gods and the armed warriors on the plain slept
soundly, but Jove was wakeful, for he was thinking how to do honour to
Achilles, and destroyed much people at the ships of the Achaeans. In
the end he deemed it would be best to send a lying dream to King
Agamemnon; so he called one to him and said to it, "Lying Dream, go to
the ships of the Achaeans, into the tent of Agamemnon, and say to
him word to word as I now bid you. Tell him to get the Achaeans
instantly under arms, for he shall take Troy. There are no longer
divided counsels among the gods; Juno has brought them to her own
mind, and woe betides the Trojans."
The dream went when it had heard its message, and soon reached the
ships of the Achaeans. It sought Agamemnon son of Atreus and found him
in his tent, wrapped in a profound slumber. It hovered over his head
in the likeness of Nestor, son of Neleus, whom Agamemnon honoured
above all his councillors, and said:-
"You are sleeping, son of Atreus; one who has the welfare of his
host and so much other care upon his shoulders should dock his
sleep. Hear me at once, for I come as a messenger from Jove, who,
though he be not near, yet takes thought for you and pities you. He
bids you get the Achaeans instantly under arms, for you shall take
Troy. There are no longer divided counsels among the gods; Juno has
brought them over to her own mind, and woe betides the Trojans at
the hands of Jove. Remember this, and when you wake see that it does
not escape you."
The dream then left him, and he thought of things that were,
surely not to be accomplished. He thought that on that same day he was
to take the city of Priam, but he little knew what was in the mind
of Jove, who had many another hard-fought fight in store alike for
Danaans and Trojans. Then presently he woke, with the divine message
still ringing in his ears; so he sat upright, and put on his soft
shirt so fair and new, and over this his heavy cloak. He bound his
sandals on to his comely feet, and slung his silver-studded sword
about his shoulders; then he took the imperishable staff of his
father, and sallied forth to the ships of the Achaeans.
The goddess Dawn now wended her way to vast Olympus that she might
herald day to Jove and to the other immortals, and Agamemnon sent
the criers round to call the people in assembly; so they called them
and the people gathered thereon. But first he summoned a meeting of
the elders at the ship of Nestor king of Pylos, and when they were
assembled he laid a cunning counsel before them.
"My friends," said he, "I have had a dream from heaven in the dead
of night, and its face and figure resembled none but Nestor's. It
hovered over my head and said, 'You are sleeping, son of Atreus; one
who has the welfare of his host and so much other care upon his
shoulders should dock his sleep. Hear me at once, for I am a messenger
from Jove, who, though he be not near, yet takes thought for you and
pities you. He bids you get the Achaeans instantly under arms, for you
shall take Troy. There are no longer divided counsels among the
gods; Juno has brought them over to her own mind, and woe betides
the Trojans at the hands of Jove. Remember this.' The dream then
[...] Read more
poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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Confessio Amantis. Explicit Liber Secundus
Incipit Liber Tercius
Ira suis paribus est par furiis Acherontis,
Quo furor ad tempus nil pietatis habet.
Ira malencolicos animos perturbat, vt equo
Iure sui pondus nulla statera tenet.
Omnibus in causis grauat Ira, set inter amantes,
Illa magis facili sorte grauamen agit:
Est vbi vir discors leuiterque repugnat amori,
Sepe loco ludi fletus ad ora venit.
----------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------
If thou the vices lest to knowe,
Mi Sone, it hath noght ben unknowe,
Fro ferst that men the swerdes grounde,
That ther nis on upon this grounde,
A vice forein fro the lawe,
Wherof that many a good felawe
Hath be distraght be sodein chance;
And yit to kinde no plesance
It doth, bot wher he most achieveth
His pourpos, most to kinde he grieveth,
As he which out of conscience
Is enemy to pacience:
And is be name on of the Sevene,
Which ofte hath set this world unevene,
And cleped is the cruel Ire,
Whos herte is everemore on fyre
To speke amis and to do bothe,
For his servantz ben evere wrothe.
Mi goode fader, tell me this:
What thing is Ire? Sone, it is
That in oure englissh Wrathe is hote,
Which hath hise wordes ay so hote,
That all a mannes pacience
Is fyred of the violence.
For he with him hath evere fyve
Servantz that helpen him to stryve:
The ferst of hem Malencolie
Is cleped, which in compaignie
An hundred times in an houre
Wol as an angri beste loure,
And noman wot the cause why.
Mi Sone, schrif thee now forthi:
Hast thou be Malencolien?
Ye, fader, be seint Julien,
Bot I untrewe wordes use,
I mai me noght therof excuse:
And al makth love, wel I wot,
[...] Read more
poem by John Gower
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Second Book
TIMES followed one another. Came a morn
I stood upon the brink of twenty years,
And looked before and after, as I stood
Woman and artist,–either incomplete,
Both credulous of completion. There I held
The whole creation in my little cup,
And smiled with thirsty lips before I drank,
'Good health to you and me, sweet neighbour mine
And all these peoples.'
I was glad, that day;
The June was in me, with its multitudes
Of nightingales all singing in the dark,
And rosebuds reddening where the calyx split.
I felt so young, so strong, so sure of God!
So glad, I could not choose be very wise!
And, old at twenty, was inclined to pull
My childhood backward in a childish jest
To see the face of't once more, and farewell!
In which fantastic mood I bounded forth
At early morning,–would not wait so long
As even to snatch my bonnet by the strings,
But, brushing a green trail across the lawn
With my gown in the dew, took will and way
Among the acacias of the shrubberies,
To fly my fancies in the open air
And keep my birthday, till my aunt awoke
To stop good dreams. Meanwhile I murmured on,
As honeyed bees keep humming to themselves;
'The worthiest poets have remained uncrowned
Till death has bleached their foreheads to the bone,
And so with me it must be, unless I prove
Unworthy of the grand adversity,–
And certainly I would not fail so much.
What, therefore, if I crown myself to-day
In sport, not pride, to learn the feel of it,
Before my brows be numb as Dante's own
To all the tender pricking of such leaves?
Such leaves? what leaves?'
I pulled the branches down,
To choose from.
'Not the bay! I choose no bay;
The fates deny us if we are overbold:
Nor myrtle–which means chiefly love; and love
Is something awful which one dare not touch
So early o' mornings. This verbena strains
The point of passionate fragrance; and hard by,
This guelder rose, at far too slight a beck
Of the wind, will toss about her flower-apples.
Ah–there's my choice,–that ivy on the wall,
That headlong ivy! not a leaf will grow
[...] Read more
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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VII. Pompilia
I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.
All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.
Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Experiencia Religiosa (remix)
Un poco de ti para sobrevivir
Esta noche ue viene fria y sola
Un aire de extasis en la ventana
Para vestirme de fiesta y ceremonia
Cada vez que estoy contigo
Yo descubro el infinito
Tiembla el suelo
La noche se ilumina
El silencio se vuelve melodia
Y es casi un
experiencia religiosa
Sentir que resucito si me tocas
Subir al firmamento prendido de tu
cuerpo
es un experiencia religiosa
Casi una experiencia religiosa
Contigo cada instante en cada cosa
Besar la boca tuya merece
un aleluya
Es una experiencia religiosa
Vuelve pronto mi amor
te necesito ya
Porque esta noche tan honda
me da miedo
Necesito la musica de tu alegria
Para callar los demonios que
llevo dentro
Cada vez que estoy contigo
Yo descubro el infinito
Tiembla el suelo
La noche se ilumina
El silencio se vuelve melodia
Y es casi un
experiencia religiosa
Sentir que resucito si me tocas
Subir al firmamento prendido de tu
cuerpo
es un experiencia religiosa
Casi una experiencia religiosa
Contigo cada instante
en cada cosa
Besar la boca tuya merece
un aleluya
Es una experiencia religiosa
Y es casi un
experiencia religiosa
Sentir que resucito si me tocas
Subir al firmamento
prendido de tu cuerpo
Es un experiencia religiosa
[...] Read more
song performed by Enrique Iglesias
Added by Lucian Velea
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Divided
You are divided
For now, for now
You are divided
For now, for now
You are divided
I have a wish, I want to learn
I wish to see, and I want to affirm
That what I see in reflection day to day
Isnt all I am
Say what you see
When you close your eyes and glide
The only shell who could
Circumvent the tide
Sheds of himself
That tells us what he knows
And a piece of him will stay
When the rest of him
Goes
You are divided
For now, for now
You are divided
You are divided
For now, for now
You are divided
I have a wish, I want to learn
I wish to see, and I want to affirm
That what is here, broken record everyday
Isnt all there is
Say what you see, when you close your eyes and glide
The only shell, to circumvent the tide
Shells out himself, and tells us what he knows
A piece of him will stay
A piece of him to stay, helps me grow
The piece of you
That makes you, you
That part stays
You are divided
The piece of you
That makes you, you
That part stays
You are divided
Ahhhhh, ahhhh
Youre only divided
The piece of you
That makes you, you
That piece stays
You are divided
The piece of you
That makes you, you
Dont be afraid
song performed by Incubus
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cant Stop Thinking About You
Cant stop thinking about you
Cant stop thinking about you
Its no good living without you
I cant stop thinking about you
Cant stop thinking about you
Cant stop thinking about you
And its no good living without you
I cant stop thinking about you
When the night-time comes around
Daylight has left me, i
I cant take it if I dont see you no more
I cant help it, I need your loving so much more
And I cant stop thinking about you
Cant stop thinking about you
And its no good living without you
I cant stop thinking about
I cant stop thinking about
I cant stop thinking about you, ooh
Cant stop thinking about
Cant stop thinking about
Cant stop thinking about you
When the morning comes around
And the daylight gets to me, i
I cant take it if I dont see you no more
I cant help it, I need your loving so much more
And I cant stop thinking about you, oh yeah
I cant stop thinking about you
And its no good living without you
I cant stop thinking about
I cant stop thinking about
I cant stop thinking about you
I cant stop thinking about
Cant stop thinking about
Cant stop thinking about you
(repeat and fade:)
I cant stop thinking about
I cant stop thinking about
I cant stop thinking about you
song performed by George Harrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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2u
2u
I hope that youve been thinking about me
Chorus
I hope that you have been thinking of me too
The way that I have been thinking of you
I hope that you have been thinking of me too
The way that I have been thinking of you
Pick up the phone to call you
But I hung up cause Im so afraid
Afraid of rejection
Or another woman in your face
Hopin all day that you would call me
And that youre thinkin of me too
Well in my case with the game of love
If I played I would probably lose
Chorus
I hope that you have been thinking of me too
The way that I have been thinking of you
I hope that you have been thinking of me too
The way that I have been thinking of you
I hope that youre thinkin of me
And I pray every night you love me
I dont ever want what we have to end
And Ill always be your friend
Dont you feel me calling from afar
If you dont know Ive been there from the start
As sure as my name is what it is
Youll always have a place in my heart
Chorus
I hope that you have been thinking of me too
The way that I have been thinking of you
I hope that you have been thinking of me too
The way that I have been thinking of you
Ooh, ooh, ooh....
I hope that you have been thinking of me
The way that I have been thinking of you
When I pray every night
That its me in your dreams when your sleepin
I really hope that Im the that youre thinking about
Yeah, yeah, yeah...
Chorus
I hope that you have been thinking of me too (I hope that, I hope that youve
Been thinkin)
The way that I have been thinking of you (all the time, cant get you off my
Mind baby)
I hope that you have been thinking of me too
The way that I have been thinking of you
See I hope that its you
And I hope that you are baby
Thinking of me too
[...] Read more
song performed by Mary J Blige
Added by Lucian Velea
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