There is not a more unhappy being than a superannuated idol.
quote by Joseph Addison
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I'll Be Your Idol Tonight
Rewrite/parody of Whitney Houston's I'm Your Baby Tonight
Inspired By American Idol
From the moment you heard me you all went outta your minds
Thought that you never believed in love at first hearing
But I got a magic that you just can't explain
Well I got a, I got a way that I make you feel
I can do, I can do anything for you baby
I'll go down for you baby
Lay all my best out for you to see and hear tonight
Just vote for me baby
I'll even throw in a little extra cash money
It's your move, so baby decide
Whatever you want from me
I'm givin' you everythang
I'm your idol tonight
I'll be your estasy
I'll be your every fantasy
I'll be your idol tonight
From the second you heard me
You were ready to die
You've never been fatal, I'm your first time
I'm your angel, ready to fly
Well I got, I got a way that I make you feel
Feel I can, sing anything for you baby
I will fly
I will die for you baby
Hold on and enjoy the ride
I'm not in no hurry
Gonna fly for you all night baby
It's your move
It's your vote, now baby, let's fly
Whatever you want from me
I'm givin' you everythang
I'm your idol tonight
I'll be your estasy
I'll be your every fantasy
I'll be your idol tonight
Whatever I sing honey
It's all for you baby
And ain't the truth sugar
You're falling helplessly in love with me
Gonna vote for me everytime baby
[...] Read more
poem by Ramona Thompson
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People Most Unhappy Chase The Money
With that mind that you have,
And all the things that you can do...
Why you only chase,
The money?
Why you only chasing for the money.
Why the money.
Why you only chasing money.
With that mind that you have,
And other things to pursue.
Why you only chase,
The money?
Why you only chasing for the money.
Why the money.
Why you only chasing after money.
People most unhappy chase the money.
People most unhappy find it hard to believe.
They are not the only ones with pockets empty.
And for them it isn't funny when the money stops coming.
People most unhappy chase the money.
Only money.
And those unhappy people find it hard to believe.
They are not the only ones with pockets empty.
And for them it isn't funny when the money stops coming.
People most unhappy chase the money.
People most unhappy find it hard to believe.
They are not the only ones with pockets empty.
And for them it isn't funny when the money stops coming.
People most unhappy chase the money.
Only money.
And those unhappy people find it hard to believe.
They are not the only ones with pockets empty.
And for them it isn't funny when the money stops coming.
People most unhappy chase the money.
Only money.
People most unhappy chase the money.
Only money.
People most unhappy chase the money.
Only money.
People most unhappy chase the money.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Book IV - Part 03 - The Senses And Mental Pictures
Bodies that strike the eyes, awaking sight.
From certain things flow odours evermore,
As cold from rivers, heat from sun, and spray
From waves of ocean, eater-out of walls
Around the coasts. Nor ever cease to flit
The varied voices, sounds athrough the air.
Then too there comes into the mouth at times
The wet of a salt taste, when by the sea
We roam about; and so, whene'er we watch
The wormword being mixed, its bitter stings.
To such degree from all things is each thing
Borne streamingly along, and sent about
To every region round; and Nature grants
Nor rest nor respite of the onward flow,
Since 'tis incessantly we feeling have,
And all the time are suffered to descry
And smell all things at hand, and hear them sound.
Besides, since shape examined by our hands
Within the dark is known to be the same
As that by eyes perceived within the light
And lustrous day, both touch and sight must be
By one like cause aroused. So, if we test
A square and get its stimulus on us
Within the dark, within the light what square
Can fall upon our sight, except a square
That images the things? Wherefore it seems
The source of seeing is in images,
Nor without these can anything be viewed.
Now these same films I name are borne about
And tossed and scattered into regions all.
But since we do perceive alone through eyes,
It follows hence that whitherso we turn
Our sight, all things do strike against it there
With form and hue. And just how far from us
Each thing may be away, the image yields
To us the power to see and chance to tell:
For when 'tis sent, at once it shoves ahead
And drives along the air that's in the space
Betwixt it and our eyes. And thus this air
All glides athrough our eyeballs, and, as 'twere,
Brushes athrough our pupils and thuswise
Passes across. Therefore it comes we see
How far from us each thing may be away,
And the more air there be that's driven before,
And too the longer be the brushing breeze
Against our eyes, the farther off removed
Each thing is seen to be: forsooth, this work
With mightily swift order all goes on,
So that upon one instant we may see
[...] Read more
poem by Lucretius
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Lucky & Unhappy
Do i need?
Destiny
Do i need?
Schedule live
Do i need?
Venus joy
Do i need?
Recess lines
Lucky and unhappy
Vote for a freestyle life
Lucky and unhappy
Driving on the freeway flash line
Lucky and unhappy
Vote for a freestyle life
Lucky and unhappy
Driving on the freeway flash line
Do i feel?
Helium dreams
Do i feel?
Fresh impacts
Do i feel?
Hot joy nights
Do i feel?
Jessica
Lucky and unhappy
Vote for a freestyle life
Lucky and unhappy
Driving on the freeway flash line
Lucky and unhappy
Lucky and unhappy
Lucky and unhappy
Lucky and unhappy
song performed by Air
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ride With The Idol
Try to remember those ancient evenings
When all we had was just enough.
Now the pretender knows why the king is screaming.
The grief was finally just too much.
Im going to ride with the idol
Like a creature on display,
Tied to the bottom of a cage.
Ride with the idol,
But it wont turn out the same.
I know they wont blow out the flame.
Over my shoulder, I know theyre waiting.
Their dirty hands are everywhere.
And as they get closer all the pretense is fading.
The face beneath the skin is bare.
So now I ride with the idol
Like a creature on display,
Tied to the bottom of a cage, oh yeah.
Ride with the idol,
But it wont turn out the same.
I know they wont blow out the flame.
I can never learn to say no.
Wont they ever let me go?
[guitar interlude]
Im going to ride with the idol
Like a creature on display,
Tied to the bottom of a cage. oh yeah, yeah.
Ride with the idol,
But it wont turn out the same.
I know they wont blow out the flame.
Ride with the idol,
Like a creature on display,
Tied to the bottom of a cage. oh yeah, yeah.
Ride with the idol,
But it wont turn out the same.
I know they wont blow out the flame (fade)
song performed by Richard Marx
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ride With Idol
Try to remember those ancient evenings
When all we had was just enough.
Now the pretender knows why the king is screaming.
The grief was finally just too much.
Im going to ride with the idol
Like a creature on display,
Tied to the bottom of a cage.
Ride with the idol,
But it wont turn out the same.
I know they wont blow out the flame.
Over my shoulder, I know theyre waiting.
Their dirty hands are everywhere.
And as they get closer all the pretense is fading.
The face beneath the skin is bare.
So now I ride with the idol
Like a creature on display,
Tied to the bottom of a cage, oh yeah.
Ride with the idol,
But it wont turn out the same.
I know they wont blow out the flame.
I can never learn to say no.
Wont they ever let me go?
[guitar interlude]
Im going to ride with the idol
Like a creature on display,
Tied to the bottom of a cage. oh yeah, yeah.
Ride with the idol,
But it wont turn out the same.
I know they wont blow out the flame.
Ride with the idol,
Like a creature on display,
Tied to the bottom of a cage. oh yeah, yeah.
Ride with the idol,
But it wont turn out the same.
I know they wont blow out the flame (fade)
song performed by Richard Marx
Added by Lucian Velea
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Elmer
Ito ay bayan ni juan
Hindi bayan ni run
Dumating pa sa puntong
Ang braso ay may bayanihan
Bago magkalimutan
Wag magsapilitan
Walang papalitan
Hindi 'to katatawanan
(chorus)
Wag kang maniniwala sa paligid mo
(Hindi lahat ay totoo)
Mga naririnig at nakikita mo
(Isa-isang isipin 'to)
Piliin mo ang iniidolo
(Mga ginagawa't binibigkas)
Dahil pag-usad ay hindi ganun kadulas
Kung ika'y makata sa pinas
Kamusta ka na idol
Ako nga pala si Elmer
Ikaw ang aking idol
Ang idol ko na rapper
Mula nang marinig ko
Ang kanta mong simpleng tao
Ako ay nabaliw nung
Nilabas mo pa yung lando
May bago ka bang album
Penge naman ng kopya
Meron ako nung luma
Ang kaso nga lang pirata
Sumusulat din ako
Marunong din akong mag rap
Gusto mo ipadinig ko sa'yo
Wag kang kukurap
Di lang ikaw ang idol ko
Pati rin yung stickfiggas
Bihira lang kasi
Sa pilipinas ang matikas
Mabilis kang magsalita
Pero gangsta ka ba
Meron ka na bang baril
Nakulong ka na ba
Ako rin hindi pa
Pero bukas baka sakali
May gang doon sa amin
Susubukan kong sumali
[...] Read more
poem by Sirius White
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 11
SCARCE had the rosy Morning rais’d her head
Above the waves, and left her wat’ry bed;
The pious chief, whom double cares attend
For his unburied soldiers and his friend,
Yet first to Heav’n perform’d a victor’s vows: 5
He bar’d an ancient oak of all her boughs;
Then on a rising ground the trunk he plac’d,
Which with the spoils of his dead foe he grac’d.
The coat of arms by proud Mezentius worn,
Now on a naked snag in triumph borne, 10
Was hung on high, and glitter’d from afar,
A trophy sacred to the God of War.
Above his arms, fix’d on the leafless wood,
Appear’d his plumy crest, besmear’d with blood:
His brazen buckler on the left was seen; 15
Truncheons of shiver’d lances hung between;
And on the right was placed his corslet, bor’d;
And to the neck was tied his unavailing sword.
A crowd of chiefs inclose the godlike man,
Who thus, conspicuous in the midst, began: 20
“Our toils, my friends, are crown’d with sure success;
The greater part perform’d, achieve the less.
Now follow cheerful to the trembling town;
Press but an entrance, and presume it won.
Fear is no more, for fierce Mezentius lies, 25
As the first fruits of war, a sacrifice.
Turnus shall fall extended on the plain,
And, in this omen, is already slain.
Prepar’d in arms, pursue your happy chance;
That none unwarn’d may plead his ignorance, 30
And I, at Heav’n’s appointed hour, may find
Your warlike ensigns waving in the wind.
Meantime the rites and fun’ral pomps prepare,
Due to your dead companions of the war:
The last respect the living can bestow, 35
To shield their shadows from contempt below.
That conquer’d earth be theirs, for which they fought,
And which for us with their own blood they bought;
But first the corpse of our unhappy friend
To the sad city of Evander send, 40
Who, not inglorious, in his age’s bloom,
Was hurried hence by too severe a doom.”
Thus, weeping while he spoke, he took his way,
Where, new in death, lamented Pallas lay.
Acoetes watch’d the corpse; whose youth deserv’d 45
The father’s trust; and now the son he serv’d
With equal faith, but less auspicious care.
Th’ attendants of the slain his sorrow share.
A troop of Trojans mix’d with these appear,
And mourning matrons with dishevel’d hair. 50
[...] Read more
poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Solomon on the Vanity of the World, A Poem. In Three Books. - Pleasure. Book II.
The Argument
Solomon, again seeking happiness, inquires if wealth and greatness can produce it: begins with the magnificence of gardens and buildings; the luxury of music and feasting; and proceeds to the hopes and desires of love. In two episodes are shown the follies and troubles of that passion. Solomon, still disappointed, falls under the temptations of libertinism and idolatry; recovers his thought; reasons aright; and concludes that, as to the pursuit of pleasure and sensual delight, All Is Vanity and Vexation of Spirit.
Try then, O man, the moments to deceive
That from the womb attend thee to the grave:
For wearied Nature find some apter scheme;
Health be thy hope, and pleasure be thy theme;
From the perplexing and unequal ways
Where Study brings thee from the endless maze
Which Doubt persuades o run, forewarn'd, recede
To the gay field, and flowery path, that lead
To jocund mirth, soft joy, and careless ease:
Forsake what my instruct for what may please:
Essay amusing art and proud expense,
And make thy reason subject to thy sense.
I communed thus: the power of wealth I tried,
And all the various luxe of costly pride;
Artists and plans relieved my solemn hours:
I founded palaces and planted bowers,
Birds, fishes, beasts, of exotic kind
I to the limits of my court confined,
To trees transferr'd I gave a second birth,
And bade a foreign shade grace Judah's earth.
Fish-ponds were made where former forests grew
And hills were levell'd to extend the view.
Rivers, diverted from their native course,
And bound with chains of artificial force,
From large cascades in pleasing tumult roll'd,
Or rose through figured stone or breathing gold.
From furthest Africa's tormented womb
The marble brought, erects the spacious dome,
Or forms the pillars' long-extended rows,
On which the planted grove and pensile garden grows.
The workmen here obey the master's call,
To gild the turret and to paint the wall;
To mark the pavement there with various stone,
And on the jasper steps to rear the throne:
The spreading cedar, that an age had stood,
Supreme of trees, and mistress of the wood,
Cut down and carved, my shining roof adorns,
And Lebanon his ruin'd honour mourns.
A thousand artists show their cunning powers
To raise the wonders of the ivory towers:
A thousand maidens ply the purple loom
[...] Read more
poem by Matthew Prior
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 2
ALL were attentive to the godlike man,
When from his lofty couch he thus began:
“Great queen, what you command me to relate
Renews the sad remembrance of our fate:
An empire from its old foundations rent, 5
And ev’ry woe the Trojans underwent;
A peopled city made a desart place;
All that I saw, and part of which I was:
Not ev’n the hardest of our foes could hear,
Nor stern Ulysses tell without a tear. 10
And now the latter watch of wasting night,
And setting stars, to kindly rest invite;
But, since you take such int’rest in our woe,
And Troy’s disastrous end desire to know,
I will restrain my tears, and briefly tell 15
What in our last and fatal night befell.
“By destiny compell’d, and in despair,
The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war,
And by Minerva’s aid a fabric rear’d,
Which like a steed of monstrous height appear’d: 20
The sides were plank’d with pine; they feign’d it made
For their return, and this the vow they paid.
Thus they pretend, but in the hollow side
Selected numbers of their soldiers hide:
With inward arms the dire machine they load, 25
And iron bowels stuff the dark abode.
In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle
(While Fortune did on Priam’s empire smile)
Renown’d for wealth; but, since, a faithless bay,
Where ships expos’d to wind and weather lay. 30
There was their fleet conceal’d. We thought, for Greece
Their sails were hoisted, and our fears release.
The Trojans, coop’d within their walls so long,
Unbar their gates, and issue in a throng,
Like swarming bees, and with delight survey 35
The camp deserted, where the Grecians lay:
The quarters of the sev’ral chiefs they show’d;
Here Phœnix, here Achilles, made abode;
Here join’d the battles; there the navy rode.
Part on the pile their wond’ring eyes employ: 40
The pile by Pallas rais’d to ruin Troy.
Thymoetes first (’t is doubtful whether hir’d,
Or so the Trojan destiny requir’d)
Mov’d that the ramparts might be broken down,
To lodge the monster fabric in the town. 45
But Capys, and the rest of sounder mind,
The fatal present to the flames designed,
Or to the wat’ry deep; at least to bore
The hollow sides, and hidden frauds explore.
The giddy vulgar, as their fancies guide, 50
[...] Read more
poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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A different point of view.
A different point of view.
Don’t be unhappy with things you cant do,
be happy with the things you can do.
Don’t be unhappy with what you don’t have,
be happy with what you do have.
Don’t be unhappy with the a life you cant live.
Be happy with a life you can live.
Don’t be unhappy with something that don’t matter,
be happy with the something that do matter.
Don’t be unhappy with what you cant be.
Be happy with what you can be.
Don’t be unhappy with people that don’t care.
Be happy with people that do care.
At least consider the size of the importance in life.
Cause It’s the small thing in life that matter the most.
Val.19-05-2008
poem by Valentino Montanna
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My Unhappy Anniversary
You ask me, how am I?
Well I'm still standing, aren't I?
That's something, that's one thing , that's gone my way
It's so hard, to go out, like everything ok now
When inside, I still cry for yesterday
This is my unhappy anniversary! !
But I lie, saying it's just another day
This is my unhappy anniversary! !
I know it's so stupid to feel brokenhearted
I wonder if you know just how much I hurt
I drink up and think up a toast to numb the hours
To get through without you is so hard today
Cause it's unhappy anniversary! !
And now it's near midnight, a few minutes and I
Return to get back to my former life
Pretending our ending was not so bad, I know that
It's time to escape you until next year
When it's unhappy anniversary! !
This is my unhappy anniversary
But I smile like it's just another day
It's just my unhappy anniversary
poem by Vivek Khanna
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The Dream
It was the morning; through the shutters closed,
Along the balcony, the earliest rays
Of sunlight my dark room were entering;
When, at the time that sleep upon our eyes
Its softest and most grateful shadows casts,
There stood beside me, looking in my face,
The image dear of her, who taught me first
To love, then left me to lament her loss.
To me she seemed not dead, but sad, with such
A countenance as the unhappy wear.
Her right hand near my head she sighing placed;
'Dost thou still live,' she said to me, 'and dost
Thou still remember what we _were_ and are?'
And I replied: 'Whence comest thou, and how,
Beloved and beautiful? Oh how, how I
Have grieved, still grieve for thee! Nor did I think
Thou e'er couldst know it more; and oh, that thought
My sorrow rendered more disconsolate!
But art thou now again to leave me?
I fear so. Say, what hath befallen thee?
Art thou the same? What preys upon thee thus?'
'Oblivion weighs upon thy thoughts, and sleep
Envelops them,' she answered; 'I am dead,
And many months have passed, since last we met.'
What grief oppressed me, as these words I heard!
And she continued: 'In the flower of youth
Cut off, when life is sweetest, and before
The heart that lesson sad and sure hath learnt,
The utter vanity of human hope!
The sick man may e'en covet, as a boon,
That which withdraws him from all suffering;
But to the young, Death comes, disconsolate;
And hard the fate of hope, that in the grave
Is quenched! And yet, how vain that knowledge is,
That Nature from the inexperienced hides!
And a blind sorrow is to be preferred
To wisdom premature!'--'Hush, hush!' I cried,
'Unhappy one, and dear! My heart is crushed
With these thy words! And art thou dead, indeed,
O my beloved? and am I still alive?
And was it, then, in heaven decreed, that this,
Thy tender body the last damps of death
Should feel, and my poor, wretched frame remain
Unharmed? Oh, often, often as I think
That thou no longer livest, and that I
Shall never see thee on the earth again,
Incredible it seems! Alas, alas!
What _is_ this thing, that they call death? Oh, would
That I, this day, the mystery could solve,
And my defenceless head withdraw from Fate's
[...] Read more
poem by Count Giacomo Leopardi
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 7
AND thou, O matron of immortal fame,
Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name;
Cajeta still the place is call’d from thee,
The nurse of great Æneas’ infancy.
Here rest thy bones in rich Hesperia’s plains; 5
Thy name (’t is all a ghost can have) remains.
Now, when the prince her fun’ral rites had paid,
He plow’d the Tyrrhene seas with sails display’d.
From land a gentle breeze arose by night,
Serenely shone the stars, the moon was bright, 10
And the sea trembled with her silver light.
Now near the shelves of Circe’s shores they run,
(Circe the rich, the daughter of the Sun,)
A dang’rous coast: the goddess wastes her days
In joyous songs; the rocks resound her lays: 15
In spinning, or the loom, she spends the night,
And cedar brands supply her father’s light.
From hence were heard, rebellowing to the main,
The roars of lions that refuse the chain,
The grunts of bristled boars, and groans of bears, 20
And herds of howling wolves that stun the sailors’ ears.
These from their caverns, at the close of night,
Fill the sad isle with horror and affright.
Darkling they mourn their fate, whom Circe’s pow’r,
(That watch’d the moon and planetary hour,) 25
With words and wicked herbs from humankind
Had alter’d, and in brutal shapes confin’d.
Which monsters lest the Trojans’ pious host
Should bear, or touch upon th’ inchanted coast,
Propitious Neptune steer’d their course by night 30
With rising gales that sped their happy flight.
Supplied with these, they skim the sounding shore,
And hear the swelling surges vainly roar.
Now, when the rosy morn began to rise,
And wav’d her saffron streamer thro’ the skies; 35
When Thetis blush’d in purple not her own,
And from her face the breathing winds were blown,
A sudden silence sate upon the sea,
And sweeping oars, with struggling, urge their way.
The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood, 40
Which thick with shades and a brown horror stood:
Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course,
With whirlpools dimpled; and with downward force,
That drove the sand along, he took his way,
And roll’d his yellow billows to the sea. 45
About him, and above, and round the wood,
The birds that haunt the borders of his flood,
That bath’d within, or basked upon his side,
To tuneful songs their narrow throats applied.
The captain gives command; the joyful train 50
[...] Read more
poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Unhappy Birthday
Ive come to wish you an unhappy birthday
Ive come to wish you an unhappy birthday
cause youre evil
And you lie
And if you should die
I may feel slightly sad
(but I wont cry)
Loved and lost
And some may say
When usually its nothing
Surely youre happy
It should be this way ?
I say no, Im gonna kill my dog
And : may the lines sag, may the lines sag heavy and deep tonight
Ive come to wish you an unhappy birthday
Ive come to wish you an unhappy birthday
cause youre evil
And you lie
And if you should die
I may feel slightly sad
(but I wont cry)
Loved and lost
And some may say
When usually its nothing
Surely youre happy
It should be this way ?
I said no
And then I shot myself
So, drink, drink, drink
And be ill tonight
From the one you left behind
From the one you left behind
From the one you left behind
From the one you left behind
Behind
Behind
Behind
Behind
Behind
Behind
Oh, unhappy birthday
Behind
Behind
Behind
song performed by Smiths
Added by Lucian Velea
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Unhappy Anniversary
You ask me, how am i?
Well Im still standing, arent i?
Thats something, thats one thing thats gone my way
Its so hard, to go out, like everything ok now
When inside, I still cry for yesterday
1:
This is my unhappy anniversary
But I lie, saying its just another day
This is my unhappy anniversary, oh
I know its so stupid to feel brokenhearted
I wonder if you know just how much I hurt
I drink up and think up a toast to numb the hours
To get through without you is so hard today
Cause its
Repeat 1
And now its near midnight, a few minutes and i
Return to get back to my former life
Pretending our ending was not so bad, I know that
Its time to escape you until next year
When its
Repeat 1
This is my unhappy anniversary
But I smile like its just another day
Its just my unhappy anniversary
Its just my unhappy anniversary
song performed by Vitamin C
Added by Lucian Velea
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Politicize Theosophy
It is with true love in China, as it is with the apparition
of spirits everyone talks about both & few people have
seen either. Can we come together, can we unite together
Can we love one another, can we heal one another There use to be unhappy people in Germany
in every kind of home and in every walk of life
Unhappy with their conditions and unhappy with their values
Unhappy with the war of the end of the world]
Unhappy with the revolt of the masses. Can we come together, can we unite together
Can we love one another, can we heal one another] Before such a great need in France, our efforts are useless
Our true values to obtain something greater for everyone. Can we come together, can we unite together
Can we love one another, can we heal one another In Spain, you will still call me
Many times and I shall
Always respond to you In America, China, Germany, France and Spain
are Heroic nations that have fought together
and who stand together nevertheless will always
be together.
poem by Daphne Mia Bell
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Samson Agonistes (excerpts)
[Samson's Opening Speech]
A little onward lend thy guiding hand
To these dark steps, a little further on;
For yonder bank hath choice of sun or shade,
There I am wont to sit, when any chance
Relieves me from my task of servile toil,
Daily in the common prison else enjoin'd me,
Where I a prisoner chain'd, scarce freely draw
The air imprison'd also, close and damp,
Unwholesome draught: but here I feel amends,
The breath of Heav'n fresh-blowing, pure and sweet,
With day-spring born; here leave me to respire.
This day a solemn feast the people hold
To Dagon, their sea-idol, and forbid
Laborious works; unwillingly this rest
Their superstition yields me; hence with leave
Retiring from the popular noise, I seek
This unfrequented place to find some ease;
Ease to the body some, none to the mind
From restless thoughts, that like a deadly swarm
Of hornets arm'd, no sooner found alone,
But rush upon me thronging, and present
Times past, what once I was, and what am now.
O wherefore was my birth from Heaven foretold
Twice by an angel, who at last in sight
Of both my parents all in flames ascended
From off the altar, where an off'ring burn'd,
As in a fiery column charioting
His godlike presence, and from some great act
Of benefit reveal'd to Abraham's race?
Why was my breeding order'd and prescrib'd
As of a person separate to God,
Design'd for great exploits; if I must die
Betray'd, captiv'd, and both my eyes put out,
Made of my enemies the scorn and gaze;
To grind in brazen fetters under task
With this Heav'n-gifted strength? O glorious strength
Put to the labour of a beast, debas'd
Lower than bondslave! Promise was that I
Should Israel from Philistian yoke deliver;
Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him
Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves,
Himself in bonds under Philistian yoke.
Yet stay, let me not rashly call in doubt
Divine prediction; what if all foretold
Had been fulfill'd but through mine own default,
Whom have I to complain of but myself?
Who this high gift of strength committed to me,
In what part lodg'd, how easily bereft me,
Under the seal of silence could not keep,
[...] Read more
poem by John Milton
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Idolatory
idolatory
many commit it
even without a trace
of an idol
for in their heart
god has become
an idol itself
day in and day out
they pray
to him for favours
and when
they are not forthcoming
god is put
in a corner
of the heart
unfit even for idols
- forgotten
and loathed
- as they look
to another idol
for favours
the devil
sure knows
the best place
to make an idol
out of god
Lot is one in
a trillion
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Idols
An Ode
Luce intellettual, piena d' amore
Prelude
Lo, the spirit of a pulsing star within a stone
Born of earth, sprung from night!
Prisoned with the profound fires of the light
That lives like all the tongues of eloquence
Locked in a speech unknown!
The crystal, cold and hard as innocence,
Immures the flame; and yet as if it knew
Raptures or pangs it could not but betray,
As if the light could feel changes of blood and breath
And all--but--human quiverings of the sense,
Throbs of a sudden rose, a frosty blue,
Shoot thrilling in its ray,
Like the far longings of the intellect
Restless in clouding clay.
Who has confined the Light? Who has held it a slave,
Sold and bought, bought and sold?
Who has made of it a mystery to be doled,
Or trophy, to awe with legendary fire,
Where regal banners wave?
And still into the dark it sends Desire.
In the heart's darkness it sows cruelties.
The bright jewel becomes a beacon to the vile,
A lodestar to corruption, envy's own:
Soiled with blood, fought for, clutched at; this world's prize,
Captive Authority. Oh, the star is stone
To all that outward sight,
Yet still, like truth that none has ever used,
Lives lost in its own light.
Troubled I fly. O let me wander again at will
(Far from cries, far from these
Hard blindnesses and frozen certainties!)
Where life proceeds in vastness unaware
And stirs profound and still:
Where leafing thoughts at shy touch of the air
Tremble, and gleams come seeking to be mine,
Or dart, like suddenly remembered youth,
Like the ache of love, a light, lost, found, and lost again.
Surely in the dusk some messenger was there!
But, haunted in the heart, I thirst, I pine.--
Oh, how can truth be truth
Except I taste it close and sweet and sharp
As an apple to the tooth?
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Laurence Binyon
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