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While I am busy with little things, I am not required to do greater things.

quote by Saint Francis de Sales
Added by Lucian Velea
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Too Busy In a Loop

Too busy in a loop,
Leaving snoopers for a scoop.
To pour upon a separate root,
To then loosen and use!

Too busy in a loop,
Leaving snoopers for a scoop.
To pour upon a root,
To then loosen and use!

Many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Many busy in this loop have also been...

Too busy in a loop,
Leaving snoopers for a scoop.
To pour upon a root,
To then loosen and use!

Although these loopers keep their cool,
No matter who could lose...
Positions in this loop,
To control...
And rule!

Ma-many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Too many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
So many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Many busy in this loop have also been...

Too busy in a loop,
Leaving snoopers for a scoop.
To pour upon a separate root,
To then loosen and use!

But many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Ma-many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Too many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
So many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.

Although these loopers keep their cool,
No matter who could lose...
Positions in this loop,
To control...
And rule!

Too many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Too many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.
Too many busy in this loop have also been used as tools.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Down Down

Getting busy
Cannot stop from calling the groove
Getting busy
Cannot stop from calling the groove
You gotta get down down
(Getting busy)
(Cannot stop from calling the groove)
You gotta get down down
(Getting busy)
(Cannot stop from calling the groove)
You gotta get down down
(Getting busy)
(Cannot stop from calling the groove)
You gotta get down down
(Getting busy)
(Cannot stop from calling the groove)
Feeling sexy, dirty thing got his eyes on me
Walks up close, took a stroke, getting down dirty
This is what you want
I'll make it so it goes on the floor
I'll have him begging for more
What you see's, what you're getting
You for me, you will stick it
It's so hot, in this kitchen
So baby let go
Wind yourself around and grab ahold and ride down
You gotta get down down
You gotta get down down
Feel the rythem driving, everybody's thriving
You gotta get down down
You gotta get down down
You gotta get down down
(Getting busy)
(Cannot stop from calling the groove)
You gotta get down down
(Getting busy)
(Cannot stop from calling the groove)
You gotta get down down
(Getting busy)
(Cannot stop from calling the groove)
You gotta get down down
(Getting busy)
(Cannot stop from calling the groove)
Would I like baggy jeans got the hip hop style
Come and slick my embrace take my number down
Well it's for fun I know it turns you on
Wanna bump and grind with me
Pull it out of the bag, yeah yeah
Wind yourself around and grab ahold and ride down
You gotta get down down (down down)

[...] Read more

song performed by Sugababes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Busy

I am busy
you are busy
we are busy
but the old woman needs help
to find her way home.

I am busy
you are busy
we are busy
but the dove is too slow
to fly out of the way.

I am busy
you are busy
we are busy
but the children crossing the street
are too many.

I am busy
you are busy
we are busy....

I am busy
you are busy
we are...
busy.

poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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I Don't Want to Go

You know I don't love you,
But you made up in your mind I can not go!
And, you won't let me go.

You know I don't love you,
But you made up in your mind I can not go!
And, you won't let me go.

Oh-ooooh-oh
oh...ooooOOHH!
And...
I don't wanna go!

And I know you don't believe this, but...
You know I don't love you,
But you made up in your mind I can not go!
And, you won't let me go.

You know I don't love you,
But you made up in your mind I can not go!
And, you won't let me go.

Oh-ooooh-oh
oh...ooooOOHH!
And...
I don't wanna go!

Being here ain't easy.
And you won't let me go!
Your nose is just too busy.
And you won't let me go!
A busy body busy.
And you won't let me go!
I'd rather 'tip' and 'dizzy'
And, you won't let me go!

Oh-ooooh-oh
oh...ooooOOHH!
And...
I don't wanna go!

Oh-ooooh-oh
oh...ooooOOHH!
And...
I don't wanna go!

You know I don't love you,
But you made up in your mind I can not go!
And, you won't let me go.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Call The Law

Step, step 2 the mic, huh
Not yet
Step, step 2 the mic, huh
Step 2 the mic and taste the hype
Its manifested, this blessed gift, I had 2 bring it right
So let me dive right in
Where do I begin? hmm, well, let me...
Call the law (call the law), were gettin busy yall (were gettin busy yall)
Call the law (call the law), were gettin busy yall (were gettin busy yall)
Call the law (call the dogs), were gettin busy yall (were gettin busy yall)
Call the law (call the law), were gettin busy yall (were gettin busy yall)
(ho, ho, ho, ho!) (alright) {repeat}
(ooh) the law, they come around when everyones having a ball
And by the way, that reminds me of a party yall
North side minnie, twin cities, mid-summer on the scene
And my people get busy fryin up the bird (get the chicken, baby)
Word, whoever heard of a party bein ready without a money makin pot of spaghetti (ha ha ha)
Yeah, what u laughin at?
Im sellin liquor plus some plates at $7 a crack
Huh, and thats profitable
And 4 a sucker like u, thats a mouthful
Hmph, u better call the law cuz we gettin extreme
Pick it up p
Call the law (call the law), were gettin busy yall (were gettin busy yall) {x4}
(ho, ho, ho, ho!) (alright) {repeat}
Alright
Yeah
(man, I dont know what the hell yall sellin)
(fellas, yo, what u doin now? ) (what u doin tone? )
Boy, I aint turning down nothing, this is my place
U know what Im sayin?
Homeboy
Back 2 the scene, the basements packed
Buddy at the front door breakin backs
Thats security ensuring thee
The best possible time 4 u and me, yeah
The partys jumpin (ho, ho, ho)
Everybodys bumpin 2 rock creek park when (ho, ho, ho)
Bo and his girl got silly (whatd she do? )
Jumped up on my chandelier and got busy, yeah
He had 2 snatch the ho (what? )
We got geo in the background screamin, here we go, here we go!
Yeah, the tempos upbeat
Hollywood swingin at the end of the bar
He began singin, if I didnt care...
Yeah, u better call the law (call the law)
Were gettin busy yall (were gettin busy yall)
(ho, ho, ho, ho, here we go, here we go!) (alright) {repeat}
Yeah, thats alright
Give it 2 me, come on

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hairdresser On Fire

Here is london, giddy of london
Is it home of the free -
Or what ?
Can you squeeze me
Into an empty page of your diary
And psychologically save me
Ive got faith in you
I sense the power
Within the fingers
Within an hour the power
Could totally destroy me
(or, it could save my life)
Oh, here is london
Home of the brash, outrageous and free
You are repressed
But youre remarkably dressed
Is it real ?
And youre always busy
Really busy
Busy, busy
Oh, hairdresser on fire
All around sloane square
And youre just so busy
Busy, busy
Busy scissors
Oh, hairdresser on fire
(only the other day)
Was a client, over-cautious
He made you nervous
And when he said
Im gonna sue you
Oh, I really felt for you ...mmm...
So can you squeeze me
Into an empty page of your diary;
And supernaturally change me ?
Change me, change
Oh, here in london
Home of the brash, outrageous and free
You are repressed
But youre remarkably dressed
Is it real ?
And youre always busy
Really busy
Busy clippers
Oh, hairdresser on fire
All around sloane square
And youre just too busy
To see me
Busy clippers
Oh, hairdresser on fire

[...] Read more

song performed by Morrissey
Added by Lucian Velea
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Love Toy

Doo wop bop
When it comes to boys
Mamma always said
Never let any temptation
Go to your head
Doo wop bop
Oh but its so tempting so delicious
When I kiss your lips
When I feel your fingertips
Cause ooh, you my love toy
No batteries required
Ooh youre my love toy
Wind me up and I start to move
Ooh youre my love toy
No batteries required
No, no, no Id be so ashamed
Beisdes Ive got my reputation to maintain
Must you be so darn persistent
Tryin to make me weak
bout to knock me off my feet
Ooh, you my love toy
No batteries required
Ooh youre my love toy
Wind me up and I start to move
Ooh youre my love toy
No batteries required
Doo wop bop, ooi ooi doo wop, doo wop bop
You are always on the sly
When I see you smiling
With that look in your eyes
Whispering those little secrets
You really turn me on
Doo wop bop
Makes me wanna have more fun
Ooh, you my love toy
No batteries required
Ooh youre my love toy
Wind me up and I start to move
Ooh youre my love toy
No batteries required
Ooh...que rico
Ooi ooi doo wop bop
No batteries required
Ooi ooi doo wop bop
Love toy
Ooi ooi doo wop bop
No batteries required
Ooi ooi doo wop bop
Love toy

song performed by Gloria Estefan
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Bald

I didn’t need shampoo to clean my scalp; instead a glass of tainted
water
could excellently do the job,
On the other hand you required tones of bubbly froth to cleanse your
hair;
evacuate the petulant granules of dandruff neatly entrapped between
your
follicles.

I didn’t need gleaming hair oil to smear on my head; all I had to do
was clap
it loudly with my bohemian palms,
On the other hand you required swanky ointments; antiseptic creams to
keep the
conglomerate of your hair well in place.

I didn’t need scintillating scissors to use on my scalp; it would
appear
wholesomely ludicrous even if I held one in close proximity with it,
On the other hand you required a plethora of sharp instruments; pairs
of
intricate razors; in order to occasionally trim the unruly tentacles of
your
hair.

I didn’t need a brush to part my scalp; as it nimbly obliged to my
scrubbing
it with a dust cloth,
On the other hand you required a luxuriously serrated comb; to
meticulously
entangle the incorrigible knots formed in your long hair.

I didn’t need to camouflage my scalp with a taut piece of cloth every
time I
ventured out; as there was no danger of the wind blowing it away,
On the other hand you required to embellish yourself with a
grandiloquent cap;
a host of flapping sunshades; in order to ensure that the thin wisps of
your
hair didn’t rip apart with the tenacious breeze,

I didn’t need to incessantly browse my hands through my scalp; while
attending
pompous parties,
On the other hand you required to sporadically run your fingers against
your
cuticles; making sure that they remained stringently aligned.

I didn’t need to wash my scalp after bathing in the saline ocean;
instead let

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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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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Busy Bodies

So you think that you have seen her
When youre lying in between her
And you tell me that you dont care
Busy bodies getting nowhere
Evrybodys getting meaner
Busy bodies
Caught in the concertina
You check her outline
Break her regulations
You watch her legs through several
Service stations
Busy bodies
Very busy
Getting nowhere
Nowhere, nowhere, nowhere
Now youre ready for the merger
With the company youre part of
And you do the dirty business
With your latest sleeping partner
Youre becoming
Automatic
Busy bodies
Out playing with the traffic
You want attention
You try my patience
With the best intentions you are nothing but a nuisance
Busy bodies
Busy busy
Getting nowhere
Nowhere, nowhere, nowhere
Now youve given your performance
Though the matinee was idle
And you find that a wave of her right hand
Could seem so tidal
Just a second
Satisfaction
Busy bodies
Temporarily out of action
You wash and brush up
You want to dress up
You want to kiss her
But shes busy with her makeup
Busy bodies
Very busy
Getting nowhere
Nowhere (x6)

song performed by Elvis Costello
Added by Lucian Velea
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No Greater Love

The angels can sing, but they don't know it all.
Heaven may have, streets made of gold,
But they don't have you like I have you to hold.
And like a prayer, you're everywhere!
That's how I know there's
No greater love!
When it's just you and me
That's how it's meant to be, and I know
There's no greater love!
We'll always be together,
On both sides of forever, I know
There's no greater love!
Ohhh Oh Oh
The touch of your fingers, on my skin,
I want to lay down beside you again.
The taste of your lips, pressed against mine,
Lost in this moment, way beyond time.
And like a prayer, you're everywhere!
That's how I know there's
No greater love!
When it's just you and me,
That's how it's meant to be, and I know
There's no greater love!
We'll always be together,
On both sides of forever I know
There's no greater love!
I would lay down my life for you,
And you would do the same for me,
I know it's true.
With every breath I breathe,
Baby, I believe,
There's no greater love!
When it's just you and me,
That's how it's meant to be and I know
There's no greater love!
We'll always be together,
On both sides of forever, I know
There's no greater love!
No greater love.

song performed by Lonestar
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Diction Addiction

Busy wizzy likes to move it
Busy wizzy likes to prove it

‘I want to make a figure to hail
I want to make a mast to sail
To sail and sing a hymn or chant
I’ll evenly rhyme or slightly slant

Cause I’m busy wizzy I like to move it
I’m busy wizzy I like to prove it’

Busy wizzy likes to paint it
Pedant precise with a masking tape
You think it’s cool, so cool ain’t it
To sit on a die with an ode to an ape?

‘I’ll rape some locks Alexander style
Fairy full cushions for a dame or two
Just sit on a die and wait a while
With verses and cations sitting too.

Cause I’m busy wizzy I like to move it
I’m busy wizzy I like to prove it’

Busy wizzy likes to make it
To look so nice anyone can get it
But it’s not cool not cool to fake it
So please if busy don’t be at it.

©Miroslava Odalović

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Hind And The Panther, A Poem In Three Parts : Part III.

Much malice, mingled with a little wit,
Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ;
Because the muse has peopled Caledon
With panthers, bears, and wolves, and beasts unknown,
As if we were not stocked with monsters of our own.
Let Æsop answer, who has set to view
Such kinds as Greece and Phrygia never knew;
And Mother Hubbard, in her homely dress,
Has sharply blamed a British lioness;
That queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep,
Exposed obscenely naked, and asleep.
Led by those great examples, may not I
The wonted organs of their words supply?
If men transact like brutes, 'tis equal then
For brutes to claim the privilege of men.
Others our Hind of folly will indite,
To entertain a dangerous guest by night.
Let those remember, that she cannot die,
Till rolling time is lost in round eternity;
Nor need she fear the Panther, though untamed,
Because the Lion's peace was now proclaimed;
The wary savage would not give offence,
To forfeit the protection of her prince;
But watched the time her vengeance to complete,
When all her furry sons in frequent senate met;
Meanwhile she quenched her fury at the flood,
And with a lenten salad cooled her blood.
Their commons, though but coarse, were nothing scant,
Nor did their minds an equal banquet want.
For now the Hind, whose noble nature strove
To express her plain simplicity of love,
Did all the honours of her house so well,
No sharp debates disturbed the friendly meal.
She turned the talk, avoiding that extreme,
To common dangers past, a sadly-pleasing theme;
Remembering every storm which tossed the state,
When both were objects of the public hate,
And dropt a tear betwixt for her own children's fate.
Nor failed she then a full review to make
Of what the Panther suffered for her sake;
Her lost esteem, her truth, her loyal care,
Her faith unshaken to an exiled heir,
Her strength to endure, her courage to defy,
Her choice of honourable infamy.
On these, prolixly thankful, she enlarged;
Then with acknowledgments herself she charged;
For friendship, of itself an holy tie,
Is made more sacred by adversity.
Now should they part, malicious tongues would say,
They met like chance companions on the way,

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
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The Farewell XXVIII

And now it was evening.

And Almitra the seeress said, "Blessed be this day and this place and your spirit that has spoken."

And he answered, Was it I who spoke? Was I not also a listener?

Then he descended the steps of the Temple and all the people followed him. And he reached his ship and stood upon the deck.

And facing the people again, he raised his voice and said:

People of Orphalese, the wind bids me leave you.

Less hasty am I than the wind, yet I must go.

We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way, begin no day where we have ended another day; and no sunrise finds us where sunset left us.

Even while the earth sleeps we travel.

We are the seeds of the tenacious plant, and it is in our ripeness and our fullness of heart that we are given to the wind and are scattered.

Brief were my days among you, and briefer still the words I have spoken.

But should my voice fade in your ears, and my love vanish in your memory, then I will come again,

And with a richer heart and lips more yielding to the spirit will I speak.

Yea, I shall return with the tide,

And though death may hide me, and the greater silence enfold me, yet again will I seek your understanding.

And not in vain will I seek.

If aught I have said is truth, that truth shall reveal itself in a clearer voice, and in words more kin to your thoughts.

I go with the wind, people of Orphalese, but not down into emptiness;

And if this day is not a fulfillment of your needs and my love, then let it be a promise till another day. Know therefore, that from the greater silence I shall return.

The mist that drifts away at dawn, leaving but dew in the fields, shall rise and gather into a cloud and then fall down in rain.

And not unlike the mist have I been.

In the stillness of the night I have walked in your streets, and my spirit has entered your houses,

And your heart-beats were in my heart, and your breath was upon my face, and I knew you all.

Ay, I knew your joy and your pain, and in your sleep your dreams were my dreams.

And oftentimes I was among you a lake among the mountains.

[...] Read more

poem by Khalil Gibran
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A Northern Soul

This is a tale of a northern soul
This is a tale of a northern soul
Looking to find his way back home
Looking to find his way back home
Hes coming from that same old road
Hes coming from that same old road
You know the one your folds dont know
You know the one your folds dont know
I want to see if you know me
I was born in a rented room
I want to see if you know me
My mother didnt get no flowers
I was born in a rented room
Dad didnt approve of me, do you?
My mother didnt get no flowers
Dad didnt approve of me, do you?
Im alive with something inside of me
And I dont think Im coming back
So come on come in inside of me
Im alive with something inside of me
Lets spread it all around
And I dont think Im coming back
So come on come in inside of me
Give me your powder and pills
Lets spread it all around
I want to see if they cure my ills
Ive no time for love and devotion
Give me your powder and pills
No time for old fashioned potion
I want to see if they cure my ills
Ive no time for love and devotion
Take a look into my eyes
I tell you so many lies and then Ill let you go into the night
And I dont think Im coming down
No time for old fashioned potion
Im alive with something inside of me
And I cant seem to get it out
Take a look into my eyes
Im gonna die alone in bed
I tell you so many lies and then Ill let you go into the night
This is a tale of a northern soul
And I dont think Im coming down
Looking for his way back home
Im alive with something inside of me
And my friend said, come in side of me
And I cant seem to get it out
And your speakers are telling the truth
Coming through and into your room on a river of sound
This is a tale of a northern soul looking for his way back home
Im gonna die alone in bed

[...] Read more

song performed by Verve
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Pharsalia - Book IX: Cato

Yet in those ashes on the Pharian shore,
In that small heap of dust, was not confined
So great a shade; but from the limbs half burnt
And narrow cell sprang forth and sought the sky
Where dwells the Thunderer. Black the space of air
Upreaching to the poles that bear on high
The constellations in their nightly round;
There 'twixt the orbit of the moon and earth
Abide those lofty spirits, half divine,
Who by their blameless lives and fire of soul
Are fit to tolerate the pure expanse
That bounds the lower ether: there shall dwell,
Where nor the monument encased in gold,
Nor richest incense, shall suffice to bring
The buried dead, in union with the spheres,
Pompeius' spirit. When with heavenly light
His soul was filled, first on the wandering stars
And fixed orbs he bent his wondering gaze;
Then saw what darkness veils our earthly day
And scorned the insults heaped upon his corse.
Next o'er Emathian plains he winged his flight,
And ruthless Caesar's standards, and the fleet
Tossed on the deep: in Brutus' blameless breast
Tarried awhile, and roused his angered soul
To reap the vengeance; last possessed the mind
Of haughty Cato.

He while yet the scales
Were poised and balanced, nor the war had given
The world its master, hating both the chiefs,
Had followed Magnus for the Senate's cause
And for his country: since Pharsalia's field
Ran red with carnage, now was all his heart
Bound to Pompeius. Rome in him received
Her guardian; a people's trembling limbs
He cherished with new hope and weapons gave
Back to the craven hands that cast them forth.
Nor yet for empire did he wage the war
Nor fearing slavery: nor in arms achieved
Aught for himself: freedom, since Magnus fell,
The aim of all his host. And lest the foe
In rapid course triumphant should collect
His scattered bands, he sought Corcyra's gulfs
Concealed, and thence in ships unnumbered bore
The fragments of the ruin wrought in Thrace.
Who in such mighty armament had thought
A routed army sailed upon the main
Thronging the sea with keels? Round Malea's cape
And Taenarus open to the shades below
And fair Cythera's isle, th' advancing fleet

[...] Read more

poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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Palamon And Arcite; Or, The Knight's Tale. From Chaucer. In Three Books. Book III.

The day approached when Fortune should decide
The important enterprise, and give the bride;
For now the rivals round the world had sought,
And each his number, well appointed, brought.
The nations far and near contend in choice,
And send the flower of war by public voice;
That after or before were never known
Such chiefs, as each an army seemed alone:
Beside the champions, all of high degree,
Who knighthood loved, and deeds of chivalry,
Thronged to the lists, and envied to behold
The names of others, not their own, enrolled.
Nor seems it strange; for every noble knight
Who loves the fair, and is endued with might,
In such a quarrel would be proud to fight.
There breathes not scarce a man on British ground
(An isle for love and arms of old renowned)
But would have sold his life to purchase fame,
To Palamon or Arcite sent his name;
And had the land selected of the best,
Half had come hence, and let the world provide the rest.
A hundred knights with Palamon there came,
Approved in fight, and men of mighty name;
Their arms were several, as their nations were,
But furnished all alike with sword and spear.

Some wore coat armour, imitating scale,
And next their skins were stubborn shirts of mail;
Some wore a breastplate and a light juppon,
Their horses clothed with rich caparison;
Some for defence would leathern bucklers use
Of folded hides, and others shields of Pruce.
One hung a pole-axe at his saddle-bow,
And one a heavy mace to stun the foe;
One for his legs and knees provided well,
With jambeux armed, and double plates of steel;
This on his helmet wore a lady's glove,
And that a sleeve embroidered by his love.

With Palamon above the rest in place,
Lycurgus came, the surly king of Thrace;
Black was his beard, and manly was his face
The balls of his broad eyes rolled in his head,
And glared betwixt a yellow and a red;
He looked a lion with a gloomy stare,
And o'er his eyebrows hung his matted hair;
Big-boned and large of limbs, with sinews strong,
Broad-shouldered, and his arms were round and long.
Four milk-white bulls (the Thracian use of old)
Were yoked to draw his car of burnished gold.

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poem by John Dryden
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Lara. A Tale

The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain,
And slavery half forgets her feudal chain;
He, their unhoped, but unforgotten lord--
The long self-exiled chieftain is restored:
There be bright faces in the busy hall,
Bowls on the board, and banners on the wall;
Far chequering o'er the pictured window, plays
The unwonted fagots' hospitable blaze;
And gay retainers gather round the hearth,
With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth.

II.
The chief of Lara is return'd again:
And why had Lara cross'd the bounding main?
Left by his sire, too young such loss to know,
Lord of himself;--that heritage of woe,
That fearful empire which the human breast
But holds to rob the heart within of rest!--
With none to check, and few to point in time
The thousand paths that slope the way to crime;
Then, when he most required commandment, then
Had Lara's daring boyhood govern'd men.
It skills not, boots not, step by step to trace
His youth through all the mazes of its race;
Short was the course his restlessness had run,
But long enough to leave him half undone.

III.
And Lara left in youth his fatherland;
But from the hour he waved his parting hand
Each trace wax'd fainter of his course, till all
Had nearly ceased his memory to recall.
His sire was dust, his vassals could declare,
'Twas all they knew, that Lara was not there;
Nor sent, nor came he, till conjecture grew
Cold in the many, anxious in the few.
His hall scarce echoes with his wonted name,
His portrait darkens in its fading frame,
Another chief consoled his destined bride,
The young forgot him, and the old had died;
'Yet doth he live!' exclaims the impatient heir,
And sighs for sables which he must not wear.
A hundred scutcheons deck with gloomy grace
The Laras' last and longest dwelling-place;
But one is absent from the mouldering file,
That now were welcome to that Gothic pile.

IV.
He comes at last in sudden loneliness,
And whence they know not, why they need not guess;

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poem by Byron
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She Just Wants To Be

Its not that she walked away,
Her world got smaller.
All the usual places, the same destinations,
Only somethings changed.
Its not that she wasnt rewarded
With pomegranate afternoons
And mingus, chet baker and chess.
Its not the stampede and fortune
Of prim affectations
Shes off on a right and she knows now
Its greater than the whole
Of the past
Its greater
And now she knows.
She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be.
She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be.
Its not that the transparency
Of earlier incarnations
Now were back on, were enriched
And loaded
With beautiful vulnerability
And now she knows.
Now is greater
And she knows that.
She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be.
She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be.
Now is greater
Now is greater
And she knows that
She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be.
She just wants to be somewhere
She just wants to be.
Its not like the angels
Could truly look down
Stir up the trappings
And light on the ground.
Remind us of what, when,
Why or who?
The hows up to us, me and you
And now is greater than the whole
Of the past
Is greater and now she knows that.
Now she knows.

song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Greater Love Unanswered

The greater love unanswered; it could only end this way,
a star without planets shining into the inhuman solitude
that receives everything without distinction or caste
like mountains toppling into the valleys that shadowed their rising
or the luminous myriads of the night
into the visionary cauldron of the dawn
that drowns them in their own beginnings, an excess of light
that drew too near to read the fading scrawl
of disenfranchised love letters
from a god fashionably unfaced. And I have seen birds
disappearing into the quiescent dusk like prayers
that fold their wings in an unknown grove
to wait for a morning that rarely comes, a song
that would hurl them back into the light, redeemed,
because the greater love unanswered,
it could only end this way. This world, a scintillance of dust
in the gaping darkness of implacable aeons
whose indifference to mind and matter alike
is worse than any judgment, grows lonelier with the truth.
A smile and a wound, one heart nudged toward another
in the frenzy of mad water
drawn out by the poultice of the moon, life is a cannibal
that wolfs its own, eats the candle and the flame
to pursue a scheme of persistence
shuffling the portfolios of proven minerals
to maximize the largesse of its living issue
with intensified affinities of blood and vision.
Bless the modern man who has sloughed his life
like a skin of chrome for an aimless longevity
that cannot grow older than the eternity he is.
The greater love unanswered; it could only end this way.
He passes away like a pore on the cheek
of someone he never met.
Without going anywhere everything passes,
spring buds on the branches and Jupiter
flashing its tiny plinths of lightning
at the cradles of the elm in the upper boughs
sweeping the sky of stars,
and love, and friendship, and family,
and arrayed in the veils of its own enigma, beauty,
the only acceptable apology
for the serial distortions of time.
Transformations of the orthodoxy I call myself
keep turning the mirror inside out
so that one word of enlightenment
might be poised on my tongue when I die, but
until then, I am bound by a serpent of doubt
to drink from its fountains of fire
a martyr to my own desire. The greater love unanswered;
it could only end this way, a creature

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poem by Patrick White
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