We are all human beings with our own little knick-knacks and ways of doing things.
quote by Bernhard Langer
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Related quotes
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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Tibetan Prayer
'om mani padme hung,
om mani padme hung...'
may all beings be freed from suffering.
may all beings breathe as one.
may all beings live in peace.
may all beings learn to give.
may all beings walk in unity.
may all beings walk in forgiveness.
may all beings lay down their weapons.
may all beings be fed and have shelter.
may all beings know they are loved.
may all beings join hands.
may all beings live in awareness.
may all beings be freed from suffering.
'om mani padme hung,
om mani padme hung...'
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Human Beings
Human being beings are strange in being human,
Strange in love and art and vice,
Strange in being nice
Human beings are strangers in the night
Lights shining on a starry night
No sooner blinked out they are gone
A stranger in the human race
Keeping up keeping face,
Moving on
In crowds and queues and buses
Walking alone at ten
Human beings in being human
Make the strangest men
Not easy to be read,
Or clothed or fed
Or put to bed
Each thought entwined
Lives over signed overlapped
Smaller beings kept but not as 'pets'
Sometimes feel 'trapped'
For human beings are best when left at sea
Frantic firey disordered unchained set free
Their limpet souls make rocks their strange security
For love for life for space,
[...] Read more
poem by Yvette Smith
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Human Beings
It is only love I feel
That will give us peace of heart
In my hour of desperate need
I feel closer to the one
Oh but why...
Please
Human being
If you bleed
they will say it was destined
They'll be punchin' tickets
By the minute if you fall out of line
desperate
desperate
Tell me is it death you feel
That will bring you peace of life.
Who wants
Tell me you're one of us
Tell me you're one
Tell me you're one of us
Tell me you're one
When you lose your self esteem
That's when love dies...
Ohhh...
Please human being
If you bleed
They will say that it's destined
They'll be punchin' tickets
By the minute if you fall out of line
We're mere human beings we die
So...
So...destined desperate
Well I feel
When you've reached number one
You look like you're puffing but
Really only blocking the sun...
Blocking the sun
Blocking the sun
We're mere human beings
We die
It's destined
They'll be punchin' tickets
By the minute you fall out of life
We're mere human beings we die
We're mere human beings we die
Desperate
It's destined
We're mere human beings we die
desperate
it's destined
destined
[...] Read more
song performed by Seal from Human Beings
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Natural Powers Of Human Beings
Every human being living on planet earth possess some basic powers
The basic powers include powers to think, select, reason, decide,
Invent, produce, feel, create, construct, write and make choices
All the above powers have their positive and negative manifestations
Those human beings who are spiritually undeveloped exhibit
Some negative powers such as hatred and disgust, jealousy and envy
Hypocrisy and duplicity, selfishness and egotism, as well as insincerity
The spiritually developed human beings display positive powers like
Compassion and kindness, love and affection, charity and philanthropy
Reverence for life, altruism and self-sacrifice, optimism and buoyancy
Some human beings demonstrate extraordinary powers of intuition
Metaphysicians classify the powers of intuition as part of the sixth sense
The power of intuition is the ability to know without thinking
Answers and solutions come naturally to those who have these powers
Few human beings exhibit the astonishing powers of premonition
The power of premonition is the power of forewarning
This is the power to know that something has happened without been told
It is the power to know an event is about to occur before it actually does
Mystics categorize the powers of premonition as part of the sixth sense
As it is popularly said – to be forewarned is to be forearmed
Premonition is one of special powers human beings can possess
A number of individuals display the amazing powers of telepathy
Telepathy is the science of mind-to-mind communication
It is also the power to know what your neighbors are thinking about
Some folks refer to telepathy as a branch of clairvoyance
Few people say telepathy is part of E.S.P – extrasensory perception
Whatever may be your own definition of telepathy
It is an incredible power any human being can possess
All the above mentioned powers are not magical powers
The powers are available to all human beings to access
Please enjoy your life, good luck and happy destiny
poem by Julius Babarinsa
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Two Ways To Play
Somethin' crossed my mind again
You were in my eyes
It was somewhere out by Bombay
And I'm tellin' all those lies
I've been there and you've been there
And there ain't no mistake
We could take it anyway
But the one thing we can't fake
There's just two ways to play
Just two ways to play
And I don't want to stay
There's just two ways to play
And I'm gonna play it right, this time
Yeah
There's always the easy numbers
There's those hard ways too
There's those cheaters blunders
It's either one of two
But fortune telling's mezmorizing
In the game of chance
But rollin' dice ain't sympathizing
When you play romance
There's just two ways to play
Just two ways to play
And I don't want to stay
There's just two ways to play
I can't control the numbers
I can't control your sexy ways
I can't control my inner thunder
It makes me want????????
Two ways to play
There's Just two ways to play
There's just two ways to play
There's just two ways to play
I'm gonna play it right this time
There's two ways to play
There's just two ways to play
Two ways to play
There's just two ways to play
And I don't want to stay
There's just two ways to play
song performed by ZZ Top
Added by Lucian Velea
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Saturated In a Marination
'It's a devastating thing...
For one who chooses to think,
And surrounded by mindless human beings! '
Ignorance for what it is,
Is a most difficult thing...
For one to overcome!
Not everyone can resist this pull.
Not all are prone,
To sit alone in isolation.
To satisfy a thinking sensation!
'It's a devastating thing...
For one who chooses to think,
And surrounded by mindless human beings! '
And that's what it takes,
To break from the commonness of it!
Ignorance can be comforting.
Especially when so many,
Have been bred and born to feed on it.
Saturated in a marination...
Seeped with ingredients,
That produce clowns to fool around.
Displaying condoned qualities of misfits.
'It's a devastating thing...
For one who chooses to think,
And surrounded by mindless human beings! '
Is it an illness...
Ever to be cured?
And chased away from its endurance?
Ever to be blocked and knock out...
Never to regain a need for it to remain unchanged?
'It's a devastating thing...
For one who chooses to think,
And surrounded by mindless human beings! '
Ignorance can not be that deep of an affliction!
Why is it so craved?
Why is it chosen...
To wallow in and stay?
'It's a devastating thing...
For one who chooses to think,
And surrounded by mindless human beings! '
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In Your Own Ways
You are smart in your own ways
you are lovely in your own ways
you are beautiful in your own ways
You smile in your own ways
So crazy in your own ways
The madness of your own ways
such mysterious in your own ways
Those eyes of your own ways
You inspire me in your own ways
You talk in you own ways
you love me in your own ways
You suprise me in your own ways
Your kindness of its own kind
Your love of its own loveliness
your touch of its own comfort
And your kisses of its own sweetness
There is nothing so much worth to
treasure in my own ways than the
sweet memories of your own ways
Your life in your own ways
changes mine in its own way
God must have taken His own time
for sush a creation of its own kind
With everything in its own way
I must live your way.
poem by Moffat Mbuzi
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Beowulf
LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings
of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!
Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,
from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,
awing the earls. Since erst he lay
friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:
for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,
till before him the folk, both far and near,
who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate,
gave him gifts: a good king he!
To him an heir was afterward born,
a son in his halls, whom heaven sent
to favor the folk, feeling their woe
that erst they had lacked an earl for leader
so long a while; the Lord endowed him,
the Wielder of Wonder, with world's renown.
Famed was this Beowulf: far flew the boast of him,
son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands.
So becomes it a youth to quit him well
with his father's friends, by fee and gift,
that to aid him, aged, in after days,
come warriors willing, should war draw nigh,
liegemen loyal: by lauded deeds
shall an earl have honor in every clan.
Forth he fared at the fated moment,
sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God.
Then they bore him over to ocean's billow,
loving clansmen, as late he charged them,
while wielded words the winsome Scyld,
the leader beloved who long had ruled….
In the roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel,
ice-flecked, outbound, atheling's barge:
there laid they down their darling lord
on the breast of the boat, the breaker-of-rings,
by the mast the mighty one. Many a treasure
fetched from far was freighted with him.
No ship have I known so nobly dight
with weapons of war and weeds of battle,
with breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay
a heaped hoard that hence should go
far o'er the flood with him floating away.
No less these loaded the lordly gifts,
thanes' huge treasure, than those had done
who in former time forth had sent him
sole on the seas, a suckling child.
High o'er his head they hoist the standard,
a gold-wove banner; let billows take him,
gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits,
mournful their mood. No man is able
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Almost Human
Ahh, ha
Im almost human, cant help feelin strange
The moon is out, I think Im gonna change
Youre so smooth and tender, a living, breathing dream
Ive got to have you, baby, Im listenin for your scream
Im almost human, Im almost a man
Im almost human, ooh
Im almost human, baby please dont run away
cause wherever you run, Ill be a scream away
Im very hungry and youre what Im thinkin of
Ooh baby, baby, baby, so hungry for your love
Im almost human, oh, almost a man
Im almost human, whoo
Im very hungry and youre what Im thinkin of
Ooh baby, baby, baby, so hungry for your love
Im almost human, Im almost a man
Im almost human, Im almost human
Im almost human, Im almost human
Im almost human, almost, almost, almost a man
Im almost human
Almost, almost, almost, almost, almost, almost human
Im almost human, Im almost human
Im almost human, almost a man
Im almost human, almost, almost, almost
Im almost human
song performed by Kiss
Added by Lucian Velea
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Human Touch
Everybodys talking to computers,
Theyre all dancing to a drum machine
I know Im living on the outside
Scared of getting caught between
Im so cool and calculated alone in the modern world
But sally has a hard time holding back
The alley to her heart is a beaten track
Shes got the love monkey riding on her back
We all need the human touch
We all need the human touch
I need it the human touch
We all need the human touch
We all need it, and I need it too
You know, I got my walls, sally calls them prison cells
Sometimes I need protection, Ive got the chains
I got the warning bells
I sit so snug and isolated alone in the modern world
But sally has a hard time holding back
The alley to her heart is a beaten track
Shes never out of love, yeah shes got the knack
Youve got love I want it, come on girl
We all need the human touch
We all need the human touch
I need it the human touch
We all need the human touch
We all need it, and I need it too
Human touch
Human touch
Human touch
Human touch
Im so scared and isolated in the modern world
We all need
We all need the human touch
We all need the human touch
We all need the human touch
I need it the human touch
We all need human touch
I need it the human touch
We all need it, and I need it too
Human touch
song performed by Rick Springfield
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The Scripture of the Golden Eternity
1
Did I create that sky? Yes, for, if it was anything other than a conception in my mind I wouldnt have said 'Sky'-That is why I am the golden eternity. There are not two of us here, reader and writer, but one, one golden eternity, One-Which-It-Is, That-Which- Everything-Is.
2
The awakened Buddha to show the way, the chosen Messiah to die in the degradation of sentience, is the golden eternity. One that is what is, the golden eternity, or, God, or, Tathagata-the name. The Named One. The human God. Sentient Godhood. Animate Divine. The Deified One. The Verified One. The Free One. The Liberator. The Still One. The settled One. The Established One. Golden Eternity. All is Well. The Empty One. The Ready One. The Quitter. The Sitter. The Justified One. The Happy One.
3
That sky, if it was anything other than an illusion of my mortal mind I wouldnt have said 'that sky.' Thus I made that sky, I am the golden eternity. I am Mortal Golden Eternity.
4
I was awakened to show the way, chosen to die in the degradation of life, because I am Mortal Golden Eternity.
5
I am the golden eternity in mortal animate form.
6
Strictly speaking, there is no me, because all is emptiness. I am empty, I am non-existent. All is bliss.
7
This truth law has no more reality than the world.
8
You are the golden eternity because there is no me and no you, only one golden eternity.
9
The Realizer. Entertain no imaginations whatever, for the thing is a no-thing. Knowing this then is Human Godhood.
10
This world is the movie of what everything is, it is one movie, made of the same stuff throughout, belonging to nobody, which is what everything is.
11
If we were not all the golden eternity we wouldnt be here. Because we are here we cant help being pure. To tell man to be pure on account of the punishing angel that punishes the bad and the rewarding angel that rewards the good would be like telling the water 'Be Wet'-Never the less, all things depend on supreme reality, which is already established as the record of Karma earned-fate.
12
God is not outside us but is just us, the living and the dead, the never-lived and never-died. That we should learn it only now, is supreme reality, it was written a long time ago in the archives of universal mind, it is already done, there's no more to do.
13
This is the knowledge that sees the golden eternity in all things, which is us, you, me, and which is no longer us, you, me.
14
What name shall we give it which hath no name, the common eternal matter of the mind? If we were to call it essence, some might think it meant perfume, or gold, or honey. It is not even mind. It is not even discussible, groupable into words; it is not even endless, in fact it is not even mysterious or inscrutably inexplicable; it is what is; it is that; it is this. We could easily call the golden eternity 'This.' But 'what's in a name?' asked Shakespeare. The golden eternity by another name would be as sweet. A Tathagata, a God, a Buddha by another name, an Allah, a Sri Krishna, a Coyote, a Brahma, a Mazda, a Messiah, an Amida, an Aremedeia, a Maitreya, a Palalakonuh, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 would be as sweet. The golden eternity is X, the golden eternity is A, the golden eternity is /\, the golden eternity is O, the golden eternity is [ ], the golden eternity is t-h-e-g-o-l-d-e-n-e-t-e-r- n-i-t-y. In the beginning was the word; before the beginning, in the beginningless infinite neverendingness, was the essence. Both the word 'god' and the essence of the word, are emptiness. The form of emptiness which is emptiness having taken the form of form, is what you see and hear and feel right now, and what you taste and smell and think as you read this. Wait awhile, close your eyes, let your breathing stop three seconds or so, listen to the inside silence in the womb of the world, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, re-recognize the bliss you forgot, the emptiness and essence and ecstasy of ever having been and ever to be the golden eternity. This is the lesson you forgot.
15
The lesson was taught long ago in the other world systems that have naturally changed into the empty and awake, and are here now smiling in our smile and scowling in our scowl. It is only like the golden eternity pretending to be smiling and scowling to itself; like a ripple on the smooth ocean of knowing. The fate of humanity is to vanish into the golden eternity, return pouring into its hands which are not hands. The navel shall receive, invert, and take back what'd issued forth; the ring of flesh shall close; the personalities of long dead heroes are blank dirt.
16
The point is we're waiting, not how comfortable we are while waiting. Paleolithic man waited by caves for the realization of why he was there, and hunted; modern men wait in beautified homes and try to forget death and birth. We're waiting for the realization that this is the golden eternity.
17
It came on time.
[...] Read more
poem by Jack Kerouac
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Conversation with Lord Krishna - VIII (Fiction)
I: Some are engaged in the refurbishing of culture, religion etc., and feel but for them nothing happens and feel they are superior to ordinary folks like me and they many times completely forget You and take credit for all their achievements and also are hijacking Indian culture for selfish purposes. Why are You allowing this and are not ridding them of their illusion and uncultured acts?
Lord Krishna: All actions are inspired by rajo guna. Such persons will have such tendencies. I will enter when they are completely masked by illusion, and I shall do the needful for the society.
I: You said that you know all subjects, skills, fine arts and languages? How is it possible?
Lord Krishna: Know that I am saastra yoni, the womb of all knowledge. Know that I am silence, the essence of all the languages. Languages in the form of meanings, sentences, words and expressions originate and dissolve in silence thus enabling you to know, cognize, perceive, intuit, experience, understand and become knowledgeable, scholars and intellectuals.
I: Numerous sects are available in Hindu religion believing in many Gods and Goddesses. How You reconcile them and maintain harmonious relationship among them? Is there a superior sect in Hinduism?
Lord Krishna: As God it is my duty to keep harmony in society, creation and universe. Not only We, the Gods and Goddesses, manage Hindu sects, but also all religions together.
I: Do You all Gods of all religions meet regularly?
Lord Krishna: Yes We meet and try to reconcile through humane human beings. We will be continuously striving and trying for peaceful coexistence of all human beings of all denominations, nature, other living beings and the whole Universe as a whole.
I: Why You have created caste system? You so clearly claimed about it in Bhagawadgita saying “mayaa srustam..” and took the credit for that.
Lord Krishna: A seer like you put those words in my mouth.
I: Did You not create caste system?
Lord Krishna: When human being is clouded with ego and illusive identity with body and social status, creates and sees these differences; when becomes spiritual, does not see these differences.
I: You again turned vedantic.
Lord Krishna: No, not at all. You have studied and are teaching physics. Can same substance be solid and liquid simultaneously? At a particular time and space it is solid. At the same space or another space at a different time it is liquid. When solid is there liquid ceases to exist and is absent. When liquid is present solid ceases to exist and is absent. Same substance transforms both ways under the influence of energy available and environment. Energy changes and transforms. Delusion as superior or otherwise is influence of maya, the virtual form of mental energy.
Similarly in a particular phase of mind and perception, one is discriminative. The same person in a different phase of mind with insight is above discrimination.
I termed such persons as samadarsinaha in the stanza:
Vidyaa vinaya sampanne
Braahmane gavi hastini
Sunichaiva swapake cha
Panditaaha samadarnihana
Meaning: Learned spiritual people treat great scholars, the realized seers, the cow, the elephant, the dog and the dog eater with same respect.
As long as egos exist so long exist these discriminations.
Even now you are all not treating all human beings equally. White skinned people discriminate against black and brown skinned people. Political parties, regional group leaders and caste champions, all have their own unchallenged reverse discriminations.
Trade union leaders are behaving as caste leaders and created new caste system and are exploiting you.
Even now University teachers, bank employees, daily wage laborers, are all not living equally. And all of them have their own egos and identities. They do not agree all of them are equal. They feel superior or inferior.
And observe nature, you will realize that equality is a myth and nature possesses all kinds of stuff which are not equal but are different and diverse.
Only NGOs and politicians talk about and profess equality even though they breach their own lecturing in action.
[...] Read more
poem by Varanasi Ramabrahmam
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Wednesday's Child (Sheffield Wednesday Soccer Club)
It eats soccer. It breathes soccer. It lives soccer. It fades when it's team fades and it blooms when it's team blooms. It has the letters S.W. permanently etched upon it's brain and it probably even arranges it's Monopoly money in S.W. formations. What is it, you ask? It's a soccer fan. You knew that, didn't you? But it isn't just any soccer fan. It is specifically a Sheffield Wednesday soccer fan. Or addict, for want of a better word.
Yes, of course, even I know about Liverpool, Everton, Arsenal and Man. United fans. They're the normal, run-of-the-mill type but Owls supporters are really Something Else!
I have had the somewhat dubious good fortune of becoming rather well acquainted with one of these strange 'animals' but until today, I'd managed to evade any one-to-one discourse on the merits or demerits of one man's passion for his team. On the face of it, you could say I asked for it. In a weak moment, I queried how his team had fared over the past week or so. It was like asking a hypochondriac the state of his health.
Well, there I was, supposedly having a cup of tea with his wife, my friend Sheila. But Sheila knew the signs and, together with two equally clued-up daughters, had opportunely beaten a hasty retreat into the garden. They had long since paid their dues. Now, it was my turn.
It was a reasonably tentative beginning. It is more than probable that Ken, the addict, suspected I would never stay the course but feeling somewhat emotionally trapped by the knowledge that he had no sons with whom to share his enthrallment of the game, what else could I do but don my interested-looking mask, take a deep breath and settle back to hear him out. By tacit consent, we both knew that I was a victim of sorts. Destiny rides again!
My heart sunk a little when I realised that he was starting from scratch. From the actual day when his team first started playing. His enthusiasm was boundless but somehow I found myself becoming absorbed in what he was saying. His eyes took on a bright, azure sparkle and his mouth was motoring at twice the speed of sound as it travelled back and forth in time. I stared in mute fascination. This was for real! This was the guy's life. Dear Lord, where was I when enthusiasm for anything was dished out? I raised my eyes Heavenwards and found myself looking straight into those of a grey, woolly owl who was peering down at me from a built-in show-case. The Sheffield Wednesday Football Club mascot. I knew I was a gonner when I found myself asking how the Club had come to be so named.
Sheffield Wednesday, as we know it today, Ken told me, came into being in 1867 as the football section of the Wednesday Cricket Club, which had been in existence since 1820. The cricket club had been the creation of a group of Sheffield craftsmen who gave it the name 'Wednesday' for the simple reason that that was the day when they took regular afternoons off to pursue their sporting enthusiasms.
Not surprisingly, perhaps, the meeting at which the football section was formed took place on a Wednesday and this, at a local sporting pub, The Adelphi. Members of the cricket club called the meeting because they wanted a way of keeping everybody together during the winter months but the step was probably partly inspired by the dramatic increase in football's popularity in the town over the previous ten years.
Ken's eyes misted over somewhat as he proudly told me that it had been Sheffield who had led the way in organised football even before the birth of the national FA in 1863. So Wednesday no doubt felt it appropriate to have their own football section. At the very least, it would mean that their players would not be tempted to drift off to other clubs at the end of the summer and forget to return in the following spring.
The founders could not have imagined that the infant football section would become the dominant partner. So strong, in fact, that within sixteen years it would break free and Wednesday Football Club would become one of the most famous names in English football - and a force in the professional game to boot (no pun intended!) Would they also have believed that the Cricket Club would survive only until 1924 and then die through lack of support, so that today, it is all but forgotten.
By now, there was no doubt that Ken knew he had my attention for I was leaning forward in my chair, hanging onto every word. Vortex-like, my concentration was being pulled and drawn into the centre of what could only be described as the secret world of the soccer-addict; a passionate and breathtaking intensity which would encompass anything related thereto, from a humble soccer boot to a moth-eaten ticket to some long-ago and memorable match played.
'Look! ' he said, paging through a well-thumbed book, 'here's a picture of Wednesday's first match at Olive Grove. This site was bought from the Duke of Norfolk. Did you know that? ' As if I would! But no reply was necessary as he pressed on regardless to tell me about how officials at the time were unable to persuade either Preston or Aston Villa to provide the opposition for a match but Blackburn Rovers did decide to accept the invitation to play. Things weren't going too well but I wanted to fall off my chair to show him how thrilled I was too when Wednesday recovered from a three-goal deficit to draw 4-4 but he wouldn't have noticed. He was in another world.
And then he was down in the depths again as he showed me pictures of headlines proclaiming how Dooley had broken his leg at Deepdale way back in 1953. It was to be the end of the big centre-forward's career. Oh, shame, Ken, I said. And I really meant it.
1954-55 proved to be a disastrous season with Wednesday finishing bottom of the table, nine points below relegation companions Leicester City. The Owls won only 8 games, losing 24 and conceding 100 goals. However, Ken assured me, they won the Second Division Championship in 1955-56 with three points to spare and in the following season they finished mid-table. But, oh dear, by 1957-58 they were down again. The Addict's voice faded and I thought he had been called by the angels.
'And then....? ' I encouraged. Momentarily, he seemed to surface.
'Go on, get along with you, ' he said with a half-smile, 'you're not really interested.'
'Oh, I am, I am, ' I protested gamely, whereupon he went on to tell me all about the so-called bribes scandal or betting-coup revelations which broke in the Sunday newspapers of 1964. Not only did Wednesday suffer in terms of its reputation but it also lost two of its best players.
The situation sounded sufficiently grave for me to try my mournful-look but no, it wasn't necessary as The Addict changed course and went on to tell me the good news about how in 1971, that bloke Dooley, (who'd broken his leg 18 years or so earlier and subsequently had to have it amputated) had been made manager of the club. He was still an idol in the city and the folk-hero of Hillsborough. But his magic was limited and he proved that he was as human as anyone else in his lack of anticipated performance.
But Sheila was rattling crockery in the kitchen and the thought of a nice cup of tea was becoming more and more enticing. Escape was out of the question. We still had about twenty years more to work through! There's a limit to a body's endurance and a feminine mind's appreciation of a predominantly masculine interest.
So, a little less stoically now, I went 'up' with the Owls and 'down' with the Owls as we travelled through from one Division to another over a timespan of many years. But much of their pain was to dissolve in relief when in 1985, they reached their highest position for 25 years by coming fifth in the FA Cup semi-Final. Even if they did lose to Everton.
In that same year, Wednesday were to equalise in the dying seconds of the match with Chelsea. They were 3-O up at half-time and I can well imagine how Ken had nearly fallen off his chair when hearing on the BBC World Service later that evening that the game had ended at 4-4. He still hasn't got over the sheer horror of it all.
There was no stopping him now and I just had to give in and hear about how the next time round, Chelsea lost the toss with the Owls' Chairman tossing the coin and the replay going to Stamford Bridge. Wednesday lost 2-1 proving that the Chelsea bogey had struck again. 'We can't even beat a bunch of pensioners, ' the Addict grinned. I was impressed by his ability not to take himself and his beloved team too seriously.
'And last year, you actually visited the Club, didn't you? ' I asked, determined to hastily gobble up the few remaining years so that I could go and have my tea. I knew of course that the highlight of his addicthood had been when Wednesday were promoted to First Division by beating Man. United in the Rumbelows League Cup Final at Wembley and didn't want to go into all that lot again. Like I said, there's a limit........
'Ah yes, ' he replied dreamily. Even he was beginning to tire. But no, not yet. I had a feeling we were about to move into extra time. More like injury-time, one would say.
'Come, ' he said, leading me towards a cupboard filled with everything and anything that could have any association whatsoever with his team. I'd seen it all before and I would see it again, but there's an indisputable thrill of sharing both old-time and current mementoes and memorabilia of a soccer club, some six thousand miles away, right here in the living room of one of its most ardent supporters.
[...] Read more
poem by Margaret Kollmer
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When hearts are near, people whisper!
Smile at me, when I return from work
Don't smell at me and turn in sulk
I may build the wall out of brick,
I may fix the pipe as a trick,
I may drive the multi ton trucks,
I may plough the field in bare feet,
I may walk around to sell the knick knacks,
I may go into the drain to remove the clogs,
I may wear the protective suit in oil rigs,
I may wear the gloves to wash the dirt,
When I return home, please smile at me,
For I do this work for the children and you.
Look at me as the flowers in your garden,
Look at me as you look at our children,
Look at me as a human, who is in need,
Yes, I need you and your love,
Don't scare me with your shouting,
We are very near and our hearts are very dear,
I am simply very tired and know your fear,
Wipe away your suspicious tear,
Smile at me dear, I can hear your whisper,
Don't treat me as a stranger,
When the hearts are near, people whisper,
When the hearts are afar, people shout.
Smile at me, when I return from work.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Canto the Fourth
I
Nothing so difficult as a beginning
In poesy, unless perhaps the end;
For oftentimes when Pegasus seems winning
The race, he sprains a wing, and down we tend,
Like Lucifer when hurl'd from heaven for sinning;
Our sin the same, and hard as his to mend,
Being pride, which leads the mind to soar too far,
Till our own weakness shows us what we are.
II
But Time, which brings all beings to their level,
And sharp Adversity, will teach at last
Man, -- and, as we would hope, -- perhaps the devil,
That neither of their intellects are vast:
While youth's hot wishes in our red veins revel,
We know not this -- the blood flows on too fast;
But as the torrent widens towards the ocean,
We ponder deeply on each past emotion.
III
As boy, I thought myself a clever fellow,
And wish'd that others held the same opinion;
They took it up when my days grew more mellow,
And other minds acknowledged my dominion:
Now my sere fancy "falls into the yellow
Leaf," and Imagination droops her pinion,
And the sad truth which hovers o'er my desk
Turns what was once romantic to burlesque.
IV
And if I laugh at any mortal thing,
'T is that I may not weep; and if I weep,
'T is that our nature cannot always bring
Itself to apathy, for we must steep
Our hearts first in the depths of Lethe's spring,
Ere what we least wish to behold will sleep:
Thetis baptized her mortal son in Styx;
A mortal mother would on Lethe fix.
V
Some have accused me of a strange design
Against the creed and morals of the land,
And trace it in this poem every line:
I don't pretend that I quite understand
My own meaning when I would be very fine;
But the fact is that I have nothing plann'd,
Unless it were to be a moment merry,
A novel word in my vocabulary.
[...] Read more
poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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Don Juan: Canto The Fourth
Nothing so difficult as a beginning
In poesy, unless perhaps the end;
For oftentimes when Pegasus seems winning
The race, he sprains a wing, and down we tend,
Like Lucifer when hurl'd from heaven for sinning;
Our sin the same, and hard as his to mend,
Being pride, which leads the mind to soar too far,
Till our own weakness shows us what we are.
But Time, which brings all beings to their level,
And sharp Adversity, will teach at last
Man,- and, as we would hope,- perhaps the devil,
That neither of their intellects are vast:
While youth's hot wishes in our red veins revel,
We know not this- the blood flows on too fast;
But as the torrent widens towards the ocean,
We ponder deeply on each past emotion.
As boy, I thought myself a clever fellow,
And wish'd that others held the same opinion;
They took it up when my days grew more mellow,
And other minds acknowledged my dominion:
Now my sere fancy 'falls into the yellow
Leaf,' and Imagination droops her pinion,
And the sad truth which hovers o'er my desk
Turns what was once romantic to burlesque.
And if I laugh at any mortal thing,
'T is that I may not weep; and if I weep,
'T is that our nature cannot always bring
Itself to apathy, for we must steep
Our hearts first in the depths of Lethe's spring,
Ere what we least wish to behold will sleep:
Thetis baptized her mortal son in Styx;
A mortal mother would on Lethe fix.
Some have accused me of a strange design
Against the creed and morals of the land,
And trace it in this poem every line:
I don't pretend that I quite understand
My own meaning when I would be very fine;
But the fact is that I have nothing plann'd,
Unless it were to be a moment merry,
A novel word in my vocabulary.
To the kind reader of our sober clime
This way of writing will appear exotic;
Pulci was sire of the half-serious rhyme,
Who sang when chivalry was more Quixotic,
And revell'd in the fancies of the time,
[...] Read more
Book Eighth: Retrospect--Love Of Nature Leading To Love Of Man
WHAT sounds are those, Helvellyn, that are heard
Up to thy summit, through the depth of air
Ascending, as if distance had the power
To make the sounds more audible? What crowd
Covers, or sprinkles o'er, yon village green?
Crowd seems it, solitary hill! to thee,
Though but a little family of men,
Shepherds and tillers of the ground--betimes
Assembled with their children and their wives,
And here and there a stranger interspersed.
They hold a rustic fair--a festival,
Such as, on this side now, and now on that,
Repeated through his tributary vales,
Helvellyn, in the silence of his rest,
Sees annually, if clouds towards either ocean
Blown from their favourite resting-place, or mists
Dissolved, have left him an unshrouded head.
Delightful day it is for all who dwell
In this secluded glen, and eagerly
They give it welcome. Long ere heat of noon,
From byre or field the kine were brought; the sheep
Are penned in cotes; the chaffering is begun.
The heifer lows, uneasy at the voice
Of a new master; bleat the flocks aloud.
Booths are there none; a stall or two is here;
A lame man or a blind, the one to beg,
The other to make music; hither, too,
From far, with basket, slung upon her arm,
Of hawker's wares--books, pictures, combs, and pins--
Some aged woman finds her way again,
Year after year, a punctual visitant!
There also stands a speech-maker by rote,
Pulling the strings of his boxed raree-show;
And in the lapse of many years may come
Prouder itinerant, mountebank, or he
Whose wonders in a covered wain lie hid.
But one there is, the loveliest of them all,
Some sweet lass of the valley, looking out
For gains, and who that sees her would not buy?
Fruits of her father's orchard are her wares,
And with the ruddy produce she walks round
Among the crowd, half pleased with, half ashamed
Of, her new office, blushing restlessly.
The children now are rich, for the old to-day
Are generous as the young; and, if content
With looking on, some ancient wedded pair
Sit in the shade together; while they gaze,
'A cheerful smile unbends the wrinkled brow,
The days departed start again to life,
And all the scenes of childhood reappear,
[...] Read more
poem by William Wordsworth
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Andy at Studio 205
Andy sits in Studio 205
that has many gifts on shelves inside
-like a scope that does collide.
Andy has every occasion greeting cards
-to send happy thoughts or your best regards.
He has spell books, and colored candles too
-interesting knick knacks, even voodoo.
Yes, a voodoo doll that is really cool.
Voodoo doll has the fantastic price of $9.99
place needles in pressure points on body so fine.
He has an armless chicken with a bikini on-
She looks respectful because she's not wearing a thong
-unlike the room with the colorful dongs.
Andy helps people with problems no matter what day-
He is filled with wisdom and knows the right thing to say.
On my Birthday he gave me a mermaid Dora doll
-he knew I didn't want a black & white stuffed cow.
I performed by reading Sarah's Special Birthday
with my doll Melodie Mezoree'.
I was promoting my show in front of his store-
with Barnes & Noble reading flyers once more.
Andy supports local Artist and I remember him say-
"It's all about you—not me today"
Andy just ran for City Commissioner
-in this Lake Worth town-
Andy gets the people's vote-he won the crown!
Written by Suzae Chevalier on March 9,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Beyond life span! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Tracing features of your face from memory,
Could see time deeply engraved its footprints.
When we met, your luminous deep set eyes
Crinkled as we laughed at most mundane things.
Who can look time in the eye and defy It.?
Does one manage to go unscathed through life?
I remember, just married, you carved desk
From a wooden carton, decorated with white paint.
Not to forget the brass knob and knick knacks.
And mounted it on wall, with my books stacked.
I forgot to say how pampered I felt.
But I rushed to you with both arms outstretched.
You held me, where was there any need for words…
Your stubble and the warmth of cheeks rubbed.
Today as dusk fell, I like, birds smelt rain.
You handed me paper and fountain pen.
After love died, we tried to live a lie.
But the knots were so tight, it snapped the tie.
Corpse of our marriage began to stink.
And I wanted to push it off the brink.
It was like sitting in cremation ground
Watching loved one go beyond earthly bonds.
I stepped out; it was full moon night in March.
Bright moon light showed me the cobbled path…
I felt hungry for a Banana split and sundae.
Mumbai comes out alive at night, must say.
A lone woman was walking the causeway.
We nodded, as I stepped into a café.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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