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Movement isn't progress.

quote by Thomas Leonard
Added by Lucian Velea
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Social Netowrking Of Robots

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[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Exodus (Laswell Mix)

[Bob Marley]
Exodus: Movement of Jah people! Oh-oh-oh, yea-eah!
.......
Men and people will fight ya down (Tell me why!)
When ya see Jah light. (Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!)
Let me tell you if you're not wrong; (Then, why?)
Everything is all right.
So we gonna walk - all right! - through de roads of creation:
We the generation (Tell me why!)
(Trod through great tribulation) trod through great tribulation.
Exodus, all right! Movement of Jah people!
Oh, yeah! O-oo, yeah! All right!
Exodus: Movement of Jah people! Oh, yeah!
Yeah-yeah-yeah, well!
Uh! Open your eyes and look within:
Are you satisfied (with the life you're living)? Uh!
We know where we're going, uh!
We know where we're from.
We're leaving Babylon,
We're going to our Father land.
2, 3, 4: Exodus: movement of Jah people! Oh, yeah!
(Movement of Jah people!) Send us another brother Moses!
(Movement of Jah people!) From across the Red Sea!
(Movement of Jah people!) Send us another brother Moses!
(Movement of Jah people!) From across the Red Sea!
Movement of Jah people!
---
/Instrumental break/
---
Exodus, all right! Oo-oo-ooh! Oo-ooh!
Movement of Jah people! Oh, yeah!
Exodus!
Exodus! All right!
Exodus! Now, now, now, now!
Exodus!
Exodus! Oh, yea-ea-ea-ea-ea-ea-eah!
Exodus!
Exodus! All right!
Exodus! Uh-uh-uh-uh!
Move! Move! Move! Move! Move! Move!
Open your eyes and look within:
Are you satisfied with the life you're living?
We know where we're going;
We know where we're from.
We're leaving Babylon, y'all!
We're going to our Father's land.
Exodus, all right! Movement of Jah people!
Exodus: movement of Jah people!
Movement of Jah people!
Movement of Jah people!

[...] Read more

song performed by Bob Marley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Get Some Rest

Getting little rest...
Isn't what's suggested is the best thing.
But...
Once one is committed,
It's difficult to quit.
Like many would would rather sit,
Just to...
Reminisce a bitterness,
Or...
Ignore the taking of those risks,
To...
Excuse the value of it.

And as a bit of a reminder...
Progress isn't made by sitting.
Progress isn't made by quitting.
Progress takes sacrificing,
What is wanted and what one likes.
And...
Progress isn't made by wishing.
Progress isn't made by shrinking...
Away to sneak a taste of cake,
While awaiting for someone else to make.
And...
Progress isn't made by sitting.
No.
Progress isn't made by quitting.
no.
Progress takes sacrificing,
What one wants, prefers and likes.

And,
Getting little rest...
Isn't what's suggested is the best thing.
But...
Once one is committed,
It's difficult to quit.
Like many would would rather sit,
Just to...
Reminisce a bitterness,
Or...
Ignore the taking of those risks,
To...
Excuse the value of it.

And as a bit of a reminder...
Get up and be tough.
Know,
To quit is not the best thing.
But...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Columbiad: Book IX

The Argument

Vision suspended. Night scene, as contemplated from the mount of vision. Columbus inquires the reason of the slow progress of science, and its frequent interruptions. Hesper answers, that all things in the physical as well as the moral and intellectual world are progressive in like manner. He traces their progress from the birth of the universe to the present state of the earth and its inhabitants; asserts the future advancement of society, till perpetual peace shall be established. Columbus proposes his doubts; alleges in support of them the successive rise and downfal of ancient nations; and infers future and periodical convulsions. Hesper, in answer, exhibits the great distinction between the ancient and modern state of the arts and of society. Crusades. Commerce. Hanseatic League. Copernicus. Kepler. Newton, Galileo. Herschel. Descartes. Bacon. Printing Press. Magnetic Needle. Geographical discoveries. Federal system in America. A similar system to be extended over the whole earth. Columbus desires a view of this.

But now had Hesper from the Hero's sight
Veil'd the vast world with sudden shades of night.
Earth, sea and heaven, where'er he turns his eye,
Arch out immense, like one surrounding sky
Lamp'd with reverberant fires. The starry train
Paint their fresh forms beneath the placid main;
Fair Cynthia here her face reflected laves,
Bright Venus gilds again her natal waves,
The Bear redoubling foams with fiery joles,
And two dire dragons twine two arctic poles.
Lights o'er the land, from cities lost in shade,
New constellations, new galaxies spread,
And each high pharos double flames provides,
One from its fires, one fainter from the tides.

Centred sublime in this bivaulted sphere,
On all sides void, unbounded, calm and clear,
Soft o'er the Pair a lambent lustre plays,
Their seat still cheering with concentred rays;
To converse grave the soothing shades invite.
And on his Guide Columbus fixt his sight:
Kind messenger of heaven, he thus began,
Why this progressive laboring search of man?
If men by slow degrees have power to reach
These opening truths that long dim ages teach,
If, school'd in woes and tortured on to thought,
Passion absorbing what experience taught,
Still thro the devious painful paths they wind,
And to sound wisdom lead at last the mind,
Why did not bounteous nature, at their birth,
Give all their science to these sons of earth,
Pour on their reasoning powers pellucid day,
Their arts, their interests clear as light display?
That error, madness and sectarian strife
Might find no place to havock human life.

To whom the guardian Power: To thee is given
To hold high converse and inquire of heaven,
To mark untraversed ages, and to trace
Whate'er improves and what impedes thy race.
Know then, progressive are the paths we go
In worlds above thee, as in thine below
Nature herself (whose grasp of time and place
Deals out duration and impalms all space)

[...] Read more

poem by Joel Barlow
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Love Is The Movement

A day in L.A.
And millions of faces
Looking for movement
'Cause everything's stuck
And everything's frozen
And everyone's broken
And nobody moves
And everyone's scared
That the motion will never come
This is the incompletion
Stuck in a line
Love is the movement
Love is a revolution
This is redemption
We don't have to slow back down
The stars are alive
They dance to the music
Of the deepest emotion
And all of the world
Is singing in time
As the heavens are caving in
Mysterious ways
Why God gave His life
To put motion inside my soul
It's bigger than cold religion
It's bigger than life
Love is the movement
Love is a revolution
This is redemption
We don't have to slow back down
We're starting now
We're starting now
We're starting now
We don't have to slow back down
This is a revolution
This is a revolution
Love is the movement
Love is a revolution
This is redemption
We don't have to slow back down
Love is the movement
Love is a revolution
This is redemption
We don't have to slow back down
Love is the movement
Love is a revolution
This is redemption
We don't have to slow back down

song performed by Switchfoot
Added by Lucian Velea
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It's Kinetic

It's kinetic.
Active and lively.
Relating to a motion noticed.
And...
Shown with a focus that can be,
Denoted.

It's kinetic,
And assists in erotic zones.
It's kinetic,
Never isolated or alone.
It's kinetic,
And everyone can say they own it...
A piece of this movement.

It's kinetic,
And assists in erotic zones.
It's kinetic,
Never isolated or alone.
It's kinetic,
And everyone can say they own it...
A piece of this movement.

It's kinetic.
'I don't care what others condone.'
But it's kinetic.
'I just want to be alone.'
Even if it is kinetic?
'You can do it by yourself alone...
THAT movement.'

But it's kinetic.
'I just want to be alone.'
It's kinetic.
'I don't care what others condone.'
Even if it is kinetic?
'You can do it by yourself alone...
THAT movement.'

It's kinetic,
And assists in erotic zones.
It's kinetic,
Never isolated or alone.
It's kinetic,
And everyone can say they own it...
A piece of this movement.

It's kinetic.
Active and lively.
Relating to a motion noticed.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Old Bob Blair

I got so down to it last night,
With longin' for what could not be,
That nothin' in the world seemed right
Or everything was wrong with me.
My house was just a lonely hole,
An' I had blisters on my soul.

Top of my other worries now
The boys are talkin' strike, an' say
If we put up a sudden row
We're sure of forcin' up our pay.
I'm right enough with what I get;
But some wants more, an' then more yet.

Ben Murray's put it up to me:
He says I got some influence
Amongst them, if I agree
'Which I will do if I have sense'
We'll make the boss cough up a bit.
That's how Ben Murray looks at it.

I don't know that the old boss can.
I've heard he's pushed to make ends meet.
To me he's been a fair, straight man
That pays up well an' works a treat.
But if I don't get in this game,
Well, 'blackleg' ain't a pretty name.

This thing has got me thinkin' hard,
But there is worse upon my mind.
What sort of luck has broke my guard
That I should be the man to find
A girl like that? . . . The whole world's wrong!
Why was I born to live and long?

I get so down to it last night
With broodin' over things like this,
I said 'There's not a thing in sight
Worth havin' but I seem to miss.'
So I go out and get some air
An' have a word with old Bob Blair.

Bob's livin' lonely, same as me;
But he don't take to frettin' so
An' gettin' megrims after tea.
He reads a lot at night, I know;
His hut has books half up the wall
That I don't tumble to at all.

Books all about them ancient blokes

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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What For Them Was Isn't

What for them was isn't.
Like the taste of a lollipop,
That has faded from one's memory.
The activity is remembered.
But the flavor of it is gone.
And many are trying to hold onto it.
With a savor craved...
That brings them to the edge,
Of a tantrum fit!

Since what sits in their minds from yesterday,
Hasn't for them really gone away.
They want it returned!
They want it to stay!
They feel betrayed by an enslavement made!

What for them 'was'
ISN'T anymore.
Or will be again.
For anyone else to be explored!

Those heard droaning in a whining moan...
Are lost and locked in a consciousness,
Soon to be all their own.

What for them was isn't.
It's never coming back!
That's a fact they wished attacked.

But from a clock that has stopped its tick tocking...
The hands on it sit!
And there is no movement witnessed from this.
There is no movement witnessed from this.
And there is no movement witnessed from this.
There is no movement witnessed from this.
No movement,
Is witnessed from this!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Eroica, Eroica, Eroica

Beethoven Third Symphony
A Beethoven master piece
The First Movement
The music starts softly and sweet
Picks soon with full force
In charm awakening
With the orchestra in full display
Loud with majestic power
We are overwhelmed
No place to go
We are exhausted
He relieves us now
With soft melody that follows
He has master command
The music comes quick in flurry
with persistent repetition
We are whipped with emotions
The music comes back again and again
In fresh successive succession
Like a boy coming hurriedly in the field
The tunes comes back
Haunting us in familiar rhythm
It is over and over again
Filling and nourishing our soul
Some sound comes again
From far away
Like someone we knew
Calling us softly,
Gently and beautifully
Racing and touching our heart
The old familiar tune
Comes back and back again
Teasing us
With power
Hurriedly closing on us
The music casts some sadness
The familiar tune comes back
Full of charm

Second Movement
A faint sad sound
So sad
Like funeral procession
The same tune comes back
dressed in sadness
So sad
Revival the music comes strong

Third Movement

[...] Read more

poem by Sherif Monem
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Work In Progress

Okay, I forgot about the trash,
I didn't trim the long hairs on my moustache.
I did buy you a ring; I believe it was back in '93.
Alright, I admit it; I forgot our anniversary.
I did pick up the baby this morning at the nursery.
That ain't no big thing; It's a gold star for me.
You get tired and disgusted with me,
When I can't be just what you want me to be.
I still love you and I try real hard.
I swear, one day, you'll have a brand new car.
I even asked the Lord to try to help me:
He looked down from Heaven, said to tell you please;
Just be patient, I'm a work in progress.
I'm sorry I got mad, waitin' in the truck;
It seemed like hours, you gettin' all dressed up,
Just to go to Shoney's on a Wednesday night.
I read that book you gave me about Mars and Venus;
I think it's sinkin' in but I probably need to re read it,
But I'm starting to see now, what you been saying is right.
You get tired and disgusted with me,
When I can't be just what you want me to be.
I still love you and I try real hard.
I swear, one day, you'll have a brand new car.
I even asked the Lord to try to help me:
He looked down from Heaven, said to tell you please;
Just be patient, I'm a work in progress.
Instrumental Break.
I know you meant well when you bought gave me those clogs,
But my heels get hot down by the muffler on my hog.
I'm sure they're stylish, but I'll take my boots.
I try to do that health thing like you want me to do,
That low-fat, no fat's gettin' hard to chew.
Now, I love your cookin', honey,
But sometimes, I need some real food.
You get tired and disgusted with me,
When I can't be just what you want me to be.
I still love you and I try real hard.
I swear, one day, you'll have a brand new car.
I even asked the Lord to try to help me:
He looked down from Heaven, said to tell you please;
Just be patient, I'm a work in progress.
Oh honey, just be patient, now,
I'm a work in progress.
Oh, I need a major tune up.
Maybe a full, body-off, restoration.

song performed by Alan Jackson
Added by Lucian Velea
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These Wooden Ideas

Its a better way to feel
Dont be real, be post modern
(Its not that one dimensional, its not the only thought)
Its a better way to feel
When youre not real, youre post modern
(Its not that one dimensional, its not the only thought)
I stopped and waited for progress
I stopped and waited for progress
I stopped and waited
But Im not willing to accept it all
This wooden idea is your method of repetition
This wooden idea is how you sell reduction x 2
Its the best way to feel
Dont be real, its post modern
(Its not that one dimensional, its not the only thought)
Its a better way to feel
When youre not real, youre post modern
(Its not that one dimensional, its not the only thought)
You cant keep waiting for progress
You cant keep waiting for progress
You cant keep waiting
And Im not willing to accept it all
This wooden idea is your method of repetition
This wooden idea is how you sell reduction
I bet you dont know how to spell contradiction
I bet you dont know how to sell conviction
I bet you dont know how to spell contradiction
I bet you dont know how to sell conviction
This wooden idea is your method of repetition
This wooden idea is how you sell reduction

song performed by Idlewild
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The March

In early, prehistoric days, before the reign of Man,
When neolithic Nature fashioned things upon a plan
That was large as it was rugged, and, in truth, a trifle crude,
There arose a dusky human who was positively rude.

Now, this was in the days when lived the monster kangaroo;
When the mammoth bunyip gambolled in the hills of Beetaloo;
They'd owned the land for centuries, and reckoned it their own;
For might was right, and such a thing as 'law' was quite unknown.

But this dusky old reformer in the ages long ago,
One morning in the Eocene discovered how to 'throw';
He studied well and practised hard until he learned the art;
Then, having planned his Great Campaign, went forth to make a start.

'See here,' he said - and hurled a piece of tertiary rock,
That struck a Tory bunyip with a most unpleasant shock -
'See here, my name is Progress, and your methods are too slow,
This land that you are fooling with must be cut up. Now go!'

They gazed at him in wonder, then they slowly backed away;
For 'throwing' things was novel in that neolithic day;
'Twas the prehistoric 'argument,' the first faint gleam of 'art.'
Yet those mammoths seemed to take it in exceedingly bad part.

Then a hoary, agéd bunyip rose, and spluttered loud and long;
He said the balck man's arguments were very, very wrong;
'You forget,' he said, indignantly 'the land is ours by right,
And to seek to wrest it from us would be - well, most impolite.'

But the savage shook his woolly head and smiled a savage smile,
And went on hurling prehistoric missiles all the while,
Till the bunyip and the others couldn't bear the argument,
And they said, 'You are a Socialist.' But, all the same - they went.

Some centuries - or, maybe, it was aeons - later on,
When the bunyip and the mammoth kangaroo had passed and gone;
While the black man slowly profited by what his fathers saw,
While he learned to fashion weapons and establish tribal law.

There came a band of pale-faced men in ships, from oversea,
Who viewed the land, then shook their heads and sadly said, 'Dear me!'
Then they landed with some rum and Bibles and a gun or two,
And started out to 'civilize,' as whites are apt to do.

They interviewed the black man and remarked, 'It's very sad,
But the use you make of this great land is postively bad;
Why, you haven't got a sheep or cow about the blessed place!
Considering the price of wool, it's simply a disgrace!'

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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There will never be peace

As long as
someone can pull out a gun
to shoot someone dead
as long as
someone can dropp a bomb
on some strangers head

there will never be peace
no there will never be peace
in this world

as long as
someone can start a war
based on a pack of lies
as long as
someone ignores the truth
when they look deep in your eyes

there will never be peace
no there will never be peace
in this world

if this is progress
we haven't come too far
if this is progress
we don't know who we are

if this is progress
we are worlds apart
if this is progress
we'd better go back to the start

as long as
someone stabs you in the back
and sticks the knife in good
as long as
someone walks without shame
in streets paved with blood

there will never be peace
no there will never be peace
in this world

poem by Ian Clark
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The Interpretation of Nature and

I.

MAN, being the servant and interpreter of Nature, can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature: beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything.


II.

Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left to itself can effect much. It is by instruments and helps that the work is done, which are as much wanted for the understanding as for the hand. And as the instruments of the hand either give motion or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supply either suggestions for the understanding or cautions.

III.

Human knowledge and human power meet in one; for where the cause is not known the effect cannot be produced. Nature to be commanded must be obeyed; and that which in contemplation is as the cause is in operation as the rule.

IV.

Towards the effecting of works, all that man can do is to put together or put asunder natural bodies. The rest is done by nature working within.

V.

The study of nature with a view to works is engaged in by the mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and the magician; but by all (as things now are) with slight endeavour and scanty success.

VI.

It would be an unsound fancy and self-contradictory to expect that things which have never yet been done can be done except by means which have never yet been tried.

VII.

The productions of the mind and hand seem very numerous in books and manufactures. But all this variety lies in an exquisite subtlety and derivations from a few things already known; not in the number of axioms.

VIII.

Moreover the works already known are due to chance and experiment rather than to sciences; for the sciences we now possess are merely systems for the nice ordering and setting forth of things already invented; not methods of invention or directions for new works.

IX.

The cause and root of nearly all evils in the sciences is this -- that while we falsely admire and extol the powers of the human mind we neglect to seek for its true helps.

X.

The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety of the senses and understanding; so that all those specious meditations, speculations, and glosses in which men indulge are quite from the purpose, only there is no one by to observe it.

XI.

As the sciences which we now have do not help us in finding out new works, so neither does the logic which we now have help us in finding out new sciences.

XII.

The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to the errors which have their foundation in commonly received notions than to help the search after truth. So it does more harm than good.

XIII.

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Francis Bacon
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Ode to the Mother

Two angels sit in your womb,
& in their rosy chamber
They weigh your name
Like rhyming treasures:

“If there were a word, mightier
Than Love, ‘Mother’
Would be mightier, & far more
Loyal. & if a single word
Can command from Kings
A pause or tear, what word
Is greater, & far more dear? ’”

“A word far loftier
Than that humble praise, ”
The other angel plays.
“’Fate’ hangs high above
This cradle in which we stir,
& concurs all kings, both vile
& sincere. Fate concurs all,
‘Fate’ is the word.”

“Fate may steer
Happiness we bestow,
& so I bow
With respect
For your word.
But can this ‘fate’ collapse
Three allied gods
Of love, faith,
& moral dynasty?
Can this word you hold so dear,
Quake immortality
With pathless fears?
‘Mother’ can combat
This drifting shadow,
My word is armed with love.
‘Fate’
Can breed & die with work,
But love is the child of mother.
& mother is saved by child.
As mother cradles
The child in youth,
The child shines her name
With proof…
Above the ‘fated’
Eclipse of death.
This vital truth of ‘Mother’
Weighs far greater
Than the common

[...] Read more

poem by Masiela Lusha
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Love Is Like The Wind

love is like the wind
in constant movement

constant movement
love is like the wind
centuries after centuries
love repeats itself
in the vagueness of this universe

constant movement
in this incomprehensible universe
love is like the wind
invisible intouchable in
this fascinating world

fascinating invincible
attraction destruction
happyness sadness
its love that carries
this constant movement
like the wind

poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
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Points of contact

We travel and keep moving
Each time you move ahead
You should have stepped at a point
Ensuring the grip of the point
You might have pushed ahead
And you make your next step
After reaching the next point of contact
You push ahead
Exerting the force of the push
On the point of contact

The more frequently you
Meet the points of contact
The faster is your movement and going ahead

The point of contact acts as fulcrum
That ensures your push becomes a movement
Thus, you will agree,
Points of contact
Help you move
Regardless of the direction
And regardless of the destination

Quality of your movement
Depends a lot on the
Quality of the points of contact
A slippery, less firm point of contact
Makes you slip
And end up with failure
Your journey terminating not
Helping you reach the destination
Despite all your skills
And efforts towards pushing ahead

You understand that
Points of contact need your attention
They need nourishment
Maintenance and care

The Point of contact need not be
Just a material or stone
Or a step in a ladder or staircase
It can also be a person
Who helped you in your movement
Some time, some where and some how

It is also a requirement
That you be in touch with them
Demonstrating your care and love for them

[...] Read more

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Fishing For Carp (Hybridanelle)

Fishing for carp, with a six-pack cooling in the river
and the ringhals till now with eyes brown and unaware
something makes a sound, a movement making you shiver

when on your right a banded spitting cobra appears
with the woman leaving to prepare sausage
when it immediately rears

and girly is ready with the food, ready to deliver
and it gives her a great scare.
Fishing for carp, with a six-pack cooling in the river

and in your mind you are crunching gears
and you wish for her to be anywhere, but right there,
with the woman leaving to prepare sausage

and you are angry at the old deceiver
while she brings a tray full of goodies with loving care,
something makes a sound, a movement making you shiver

luckily she freezes behind you somewhere
and the snake only half alert senses something testing the air
and you wish for her to be anywhere, but right there,

and a nearby tree looks like a quiver
and you are looking for a kind of snare.
Fishing for carp, with a six-pack cooling in the river

and this is now a dangerous affair
and using the rod in your hands you slam with all your might,
and the snake only half alert senses something testing the air

slamming down on the snake like with golf driver
and this is it, you have had your share of luck, but still you dare,
something makes a sound, a movement making you shiver

she screams in fright, while you slam to your right
with your rod whistling
and using the rod in your hands you slam with all your might,

and the water shines like silver
and you cuddle her and there's a smile that you share.
Fishing for carp, with a six-pack cooling in the river
something makes a sound, a movement making you shiver

and you think: not again that spitting thing with its deadly sting,
when on your right a banded spitting cobra appears,
with your rod whistling
when it immediately rears.

poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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People tend to think that life really does progress for everyone eventually, that people progress, but actually only some people progress. The rest of the people don't.

quote by Alice Walker
Added by Lucian Velea
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If virtue promises happiness, prosperity and peace, then progress in virtue is progress in each of these for to whatever point the perfection of anything brings us, progress is always an approach toward it.

quote by Epictetus
Added by Lucian Velea
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