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The human race may well become extinct before the end of the century.

Bertrand Russell in Playboy Interview , 1963
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In The 21st Century

When the river runs dry, what will we say
Na na na na na na na na hey hey
In the 21st century
Oh when the river runs dry, what will we do
Na na na na na na na na oh-hoo
In the 21st century
When the river runs dry, what will we wear
Na na na na na na na na where?
To the 21st century
Now some people sing, some people say
Na na na na na na na na hey hey
Get up off your knees and pray
Pray that the earth dont tire, of the way that were puttin her down
Hope that the universe dont say Im still expanding but your time is up
Some people sing, some people sigh
Na na na na na na na na why?
Why cant we live in peace
Some people sing, some people say
Na na na na na na na na hey hey
In the 21st century
Hope that the earth dont tire, of the way that were puttin her down
Hope the universe dont say - stop spinning around
Hope the world dont say that weve got no place to go
Hope the universe dont say Ill be expanding for a while, you? no!
In the 21st century
In the 21st century
In the 21st century
In the 21st century
In the 21st century
21st century
21st century
21st century
21st century
21st century
In the 21st century
21st century
When the river runs dry, what will we say
Na na na na na na na na hey hey
21st century
The 21st century
The 21st century
The 21st century
Oh when the river runs dry, what will we do
Na na na na na na na na oh-hoo

song performed by Men Without Hats
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Race

Lie down, [fair 1//pheromone], and come away
Till the rain is over and gone
G-g-gimme the beat now (face the music)
Lead line (face the music)
If the air is a little thick in this room 2nite
I reckon its the result of an onslaught of separatist rookies
Overcome by this colorful sight
Talkin so fast that even they
Talkin so fast that even they
Dont know what they mean
Of all the things that base a rhyme
How is it that u everytime
Regurgitate the racist lines that keep us apart?
Thank God this aint monopoly
Ud make us all go back 2 start
Race
In the space I mark human (face the music)
Race
Face the music
We all bones when we dead
Race
In the space I mark human (face the music)
Cut me, cut u
Both the blood is red
I gotcha
Race
Race
Check it
Three seats over theres a lady black
Entrusted 2 her care is a little white girl
And the fact of the matter is
Before her momma or another kid at school
Tells her about the fallacy that 1 race rules over the other
Shed be a much-better-off-left fool (face the music)
If we never heard about the evils that those before us committed
Then how my dear, tell me now how my dear, tell me now how now would we know
And then the band say
Race
In the space I mark human (face the music)
Race
Face the music
We all bones when we dead
Race
In the space I mark human (face the music)
Cut me, cut u
Both the blood is red
I gotcha
Race
Race
(face the music)

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song performed by Prince
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Vision of Columbus – Book 2

High o'er the changing scene, as thus he gazed,
The indulgent Power his arm sublimely raised;
When round the realms superior lustre flew,
And call'd new wonders to the hero's view.
He saw, at once, as far as eye could rove,
Like scattering herds, the swarthy people move,
In tribes innumerable; all the waste,
Beneath their steps, a varying shadow cast.
As airy shapes, beneath the moon's pale eye,
When broken clouds sail o'er the curtain'd sky,
Spread thro' the grove and flit along the glade,
And cast their grisly phantoms thro' the shade;
So move the hordes, in thickers half conceal'd,
Or vagrant stalking o'er the open field.
Here ever-restless tribes, despising home,
O'er shadowy streams and trackless deserts roam;
While others there, thro' downs and hamlets stray,
And rising domes a happier state display.
The painted chiefs, in death's grim terrors drest,
Rise fierce to war, and beat the savage breast;
Dark round their steps collecting warriors pour,
And dire revenge begins the hideous roar;
While to the realms around the signal flies,
And tribes on tribes, in dread disorder, rise,
Track the mute foe and scour the distant wood,
Wide as a storm, and dreadful as a flood;
Now deep in groves the silent ambush lay,
Or wing the flight or sweep the prize away,
Unconscious babes and reverend sires devour,
Drink the warm blood and paint their cheeks with gore.
While all their mazy movements fill the view.
Where'er they turn his eager eyes pursue;
He saw the same dire visage thro' the whole,
And mark'd the same fierce savageness of soul:
In doubt he stood, with anxious thoughts oppress'd,
And thus his wavering mind the Power address'd.
Say, from what source, O Voice of wisdom, sprung
The countless tribes of this amazing throng?
Where human frames and brutal souls combine,
No force can tame them and no arts refine.
Can these be fashion'd on the social plan?
Or boast a lineage with the race of man?
In yon fair isle, when first my wandering view
Ranged the glad coast and met the savage crew;
A timorous herd, like harmless roes, they ran,
Hail'd us as Gods from whom their race began,
Supply'd our various wants, relieved our toil,
And oped the unbounded treasures of their isle.
But when, their fears allay'd, in us they trace
The well-known image of a mortal race;

[...] Read more

poem by Joel Barlow
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The Columbiad: Book II

The Argument

Natives of America appear in vision. Their manners and characters. Columbus demands the cause of the dissimilarity of men in different countries, Hesper replies, That the human body is composed of a due proportion of the elements suited to the place of its first formation; that these elements, differently proportioned, produce all the changes of health, sickness, growth and decay; and may likewise produce any other changes which occasion the diversity of men; that these elemental proportions are varied, not more by climate than temperature and other local circumstances; that the mind is likewise in a state of change, and will take its physical character from the body and from external objects: examples. Inquiry concerning the first peopling of America. View of Mexico. Its destruction by Cortez. View of Cusco and Quito, cities of Peru. Tradition of Capac and Oella, founders of the Peruvian empire. Columbus inquires into their real history. Hesper gives an account of their origin, and relates the stratagems they used in establishing that empire.

High o'er his world as thus Columbus gazed,
And Hesper still the changing scene emblazed,
Round all the realms increasing lustre flew,
And raised new wonders to the Patriarch's view.

He saw at once, as far as eye could rove,
Like scattering herds, the swarthy people move
In tribes innumerable; all the waste,
Wide as their walks, a varying shadow cast.
As airy shapes, beneath the moon's pale eye,
People the clouds that sail the midnight sky,
Dance thro the grove and flit along the glade,
And cast their grisly phantoms on the shade;
So move the hordes, in thickets half conceal'd,
Or vagrant stalking thro the fenceless field,
Here tribes untamed, who scorn to fix their home,
O'er shadowy streams and trackless deserts roam;
While others there in settled hamlets rest,
And corn-clad vales a happier state attest.

The painted chiefs, in guise terrific drest,
Rise fierce to war, and beat their savage breast;
Dark round their steps collecting warriors pour,
Some fell revenge begins the hideous roar;
From hill to hill the startling war-song flies,
And tribes on tribes in dread disorder rise,
Track the mute foe and scour the howling wood,
Loud as a storm, ungovern'd as a flood;
Or deep in groves the silent ambush lay,
Lead the false flight, decoy and seize their prey,
Their captives torture, butcher and devour,
Drink the warm blood and paint their cheeks with gore.

Awhile he paused, with dubious thoughts opprest,
And thus to Hesper's ear his doubts addrest:
Say, to what class of nature's sons belong
The countless tribes of this untutor'd throng?
Where human frames and brutal souls combine,
No force can tame them, and no arts refine.
Can these be fashion'd on the social plan,
Or boast a lineage with the race of man?
When first we found them in yon hapless isle,
They seem'd to know and seem'd to fear no guile;
A timorous herd, like harmless roes, they ran,

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poem by Joel Barlow
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Vision of Columbus – Book 3

Now, twice twelve years, the children of the skies
Beheld in peace their growing empire rise;
O'er happy realms, display'd their generous care,
Diffused their arts and soothd the rage of war;
Bade yon tall temple grace the favourite isle.
The gardens bloom, the cultured valleys smile,
The aspiring hills their spacious mines unfold.
Fair structures blaze, and altars burn, in gold,
Those broad foundations bend their arches high,
And heave imperial Cusco to the sky;
From that fair stream that mark'd their northern sway,
Where Apurimac leads his lucid way,
To yon far glimmering lake, the southern bound,
The growing tribes their peaceful dwellings found;
While wealth and grandeur bless'd the extended reign,
From the bold Andes to the western main.
When, fierce from eastern wilds, the savage bands
Lead war and slaughter o'er the happy lands;
Thro' fertile fields the paths of culture trace,
And vow destruction to the Incan race.
While various fortune strow'd the embattled plain,
And baffled thousands still the strife maintain,
The unconquer'd Inca wakes the lingering war,
Drives back their host and speeds their flight afar;
Till, fired with rage, they range the wonted wood,
And feast their souls on future scenes of blood.
Where yon blue summits hang their cliffs on high;
Frown o'er the plains and lengthen round the sky;
Where vales exalted thro' the breaches run;
And drink the nearer splendors of the sun,
From south to north, the tribes innumerous wind,
By hills of ice and mountain streams confined;
Rouse neighbouring hosts, and meditate the blow,
To blend their force and whelm the world below.
Capac, with caution, views the dark design,
From countless wilds what hostile myriads join;
And greatly strives to bid the discord cease,
By profferd compacts of perpetual peace.
His eldest hope, young Rocha, at his call,
Leaves the deep confines of the temple wall;
In whose fair form, in lucid garments drest,
Began the sacred function of the priest.
In early youth, ere yet the genial sun
Had twice six changes o'er his childhood run,
The blooming prince, beneath his parents' hand,
Learn'd all the laws that sway'd the sacred land;
With rites mysterious served the Power divine,
Prepared the altar and adorn'd the shrine,
Responsive hail'd, with still returning praise,
Each circling season that the God displays,

[...] Read more

poem by Joel Barlow
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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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21st Century War

another little lethal step
another little blatant threat
another political point to score
it’s a 21st century war

Standing here right on the brink
ain't gonna be the first to blink
so absolutely deadly sure
in a 21st century war

no one is innocent don’t pass the blame
don’t dare to shout “not in my name”
wherever you’re going from wherever you came
we’re all players in this deadly game

you can close your eyes but you cannot sleep
got a whirlwind storm to reap
now it’s right at your front door
it’s 21st century war

don’t hope for peace too late for that
come dance the two step tit for tat
now everybody takes the floor
it’s a 21st century war

don’t come crying don’t look sad
you can wish it ain’t so till it drives you mad
it ain’t too good but it ain’t all bad
just count the blessings that you’ve had

one step up two steps back
defend your right to massive attack
might is right in international law
it’s a 21st century war

how hard is it? what’s to learn
people we kill will kill in return
no one is safe anywhere anymore
it’s a 21st century war

get the gear and display the brand
get your head deep in the shifting sand
no need to listen with a gun in your hand
it’s the only language that they understand

no room for doubt no margin of error
who can you trust in the war on terror
say goodbye to the freedoms you’re fighting for
it’s a 21st century war

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poem by Tim Casswell
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The Columbiad: Book III

The Argument

Actions of the Inca Capac. A general invasion of his dominions threatened by the mountain savages. Rocha, the Inca's son, sent with a few companions to offer terms of peace. His embassy. His adventure with the worshippers of the volcano. With those of the storm, on the Andes. Falls in with the savage armies. Character and speech of Zamor, their chief. Capture of Rocha and his companions. Sacrifice of the latter. Death song of Azonto. War dance. March of the savage armies down the mountains to Peru. Incan army meets them. Battle joins. Peruvians terrified by an eclipse of the sun, and routed. They fly to Cusco. Grief of Oella, supposing the darkness to be occasioned by the death of Rocha. Sun appears. Peruvians from the city wall discover Roch an altar in the savage camp. They march in haste out of the city and engage the savages. Exploits of Capac. Death of Zamor. Recovery of Rocha, and submission of the enemy.

Now twenty years these children of the skies
Beheld their gradual growing empire rise.
They ruled with rigid but with generous care,
Diffused their arts and sooth'd the rage of war,
Bade yon tall temple grace their favorite isle,
The mines unfold, the cultured valleys smile,
Those broad foundations bend their arches high,
And rear imperial Cusco to the sky;
Wealth, wisdom, force consolidate the reign
From the rude Andes to the western main.

But frequent inroads from the savage bands
Lead fire and slaughter o'er the labor'd lands;
They sack the temples, the gay fields deface,
And vow destruction to the Incan race.
The king, undaunted in defensive war,
Repels their hordes, and speeds their flight afar;
Stung with defeat, they range a wider wood,
And rouse fresh tribes for future fields of blood.

Where yon blue ridges hang their cliffs on high,
And suns infulminate the stormful sky,
The nations, temper'd to the turbid air,
Breathe deadly strife, and sigh for battle's blare;
Tis here they meditate, with one vast blow,
To crush the race that rules the plains below.
Capac with caution views the dark design,
Learns from all points what hostile myriads join.
And seeks in time by proffer'd leagues to gain
A bloodless victory, and enlarge his reign.

His eldest hope, young Rocha, at his call,
Resigns his charge within the temple wall;
In whom began, with reverend forms of awe,
The functions grave of priesthood and of law,

In early youth, ere yet the ripening sun
Had three short lustres o'er his childhood run,
The prince had learnt, beneath his father's hand,
The well-framed code that sway'd the sacred land;
With rites mysterious served the Power divine,
Prepared the altar and adorn'd the shrine,
Responsive hail'd, with still returning praise,
Each circling season that the God displays,

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poem by Joel Barlow
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The Four Seasons : Spring

Come, gentle Spring! ethereal Mildness! come,
And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud,
While music wakes around, veil'd in a shower
Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend.
O Hertford, fitted or to shine in courts
With unaffected grace, or walk the plain
With innocence and meditation join'd
In soft assemblage, listen to my song,
Which thy own Season paints; when Nature all
Is blooming and benevolent, like thee.
And see where surly Winter passes off,
Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts:
His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill,
The shatter'd forest, and the ravaged vale;
While softer gales succeed, at whose kind touch,
Dissolving snows in livid torrents lost,
The mountains lift their green heads to the sky.
As yet the trembling year is unconfirm'd,
And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze,
Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets
Deform the day delightless: so that scarce
The bittern knows his time, with bill ingulf'd,
To shake the sounding marsh; or from the shore
The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath,
And sing their wild notes to the listening waste
At last from Aries rolls the bounteous sun,
And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more
The expansive atmosphere is cramp'd with cold
But, full of life and vivifying soul,
Lifts the light clouds sublime, and spreads then thin,
Fleecy, and white, o'er all-surrounding heaven.
Forth fly the tepid airs: and unconfined,
Unbinding earth, the moving softness strays.
Joyous, the impatient husbandman perceives
Relenting Nature, and his lusty steers
Drives from their stalls, to where the well used plough
Lies in the furrow, loosen'd from the frost.
There, unrefusing, to the harness'd yoke
They lend their shoulder, and begin their toil,
Cheer'd by the simple song and soaring lark.
Meanwhile incumbent o'er the shining share
The master leans, removes the obstructing clay,
Winds the whole work, and sidelong lays the glebe
While through the neighbouring fields the sowe stalks,
With measured step, and liberal throws the grain
Into the faithful bosom of the ground;
The harrow follows harsh, and shuts the scene.
Be gracious, Heaven! for now laborious Man
Has done his part. Ye fostering breezes, blow!
Ye softening dews, ye tender showers, descend!

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poem by James Thomson
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20 Century Boy

Friends say its fine, friends say its good
Everybody says its just like robin hood
I move like a rat, talk like a cat, sting like a bee
Babe Im gonna be your man
And its plain to see you were meant for me, yeah
Im your toy your twentieth century boy
Friends says its fine, friends says its good
Everybody says its just like robin hood
Fly like a plane, drive like a car, hold out your hand
Babe Im gonna be your man
And its plain to see you were meant for me, yeah
Im your boy your twentieth century toy
Twentieth century boy
I wanna be your toy
Twentieth century boy
I wanna be your toy
Twentieth century boy
I wanna be your toy
Twentieth century boy
I wanna be your toy
Friends say its fine, friends say its good
Everybody says its just like rock n roll
I move like a cat, talk like a rat, sting like a bee
Babe Im gonna be your man
And its plain to see you were meant for me, yeah
Im your toy your twentieth century boy
Twentieth century boy
I wanna be your toy
Twentieth century boy
I wanna be your toy
Twentieth century boy
I wanna be your toy
Twentieth century boy
I wanna be your toy

song performed by Placebo
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Century City

Sometimes I wanna leave you
Sometimes I wanna go
Right back where I came from
Back where I belong
But it never lasts for too long
Always goes away
Well I s till dont look for reasons
Thats much too hard these days
Why worry about the rain?
Why worry about the problem?
Honey century citys got everything covered
Well your mama gave you lovin
Mama held you near
Baby mam a cant do nothin
Honey mama just aint here
And you can pretend all you want to
But that wont work no more
No you cant run back to daddy
Yeah you tried that once before
Why worry about your father?
Why worry about your mother?
Honey century citys got everything covered
Were gonna live in century city
Go ahead and give in, century city
Like modern men, modern girls
Were gonna live in the modern world
Were gonna live in century city
Go ahead and give in, century city
Like modern men, modern girls
Were gonna live in the modern world
Sometimes I get discouraged
Sometimes I feel so down
Sometimes I get so worried
But I dont know what about
But it w orks out in the long run
Always goes away
And Ive come now to accept it
As a reoccurring phase
Dont worry about the rain
Dont worry about the problem
Honey century citys got everything covered
Were gonna live in century city
Were gonna live in century city
Were gonna live in century city
Were gonna live in century city

song performed by Tom Petty
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Liberation Seeker

The following poem is the translation of my hindi poem Mumukhshu from the book Sab Rang
.--0-

Twentieth century
at the fag end of life
standing & waiting
to turn into history
still in two minds
thinking what to say
and to gift
twenty-first century
on its birthday.

Nuclear holocaust & nuclear proliferation?
warning on depletion of ozone?
class and color struggle?
devalued or hollow speeches
on environmental degradation?
or
the human race
which has lost its sense
in the murky world of
separatism, terrorism & extremism
playing into the hand of cancer, AIDS and drugs
yet wearing a mask of humanity and concern
weeping for fellow human beings.

Suddenly
twentieth century smiled
an aura surrounded it
springing new hope
why? why?
after all why?
twenty-first century be birthed by it
why it shouldn’t allow 21st century
to stand on it own foundation
let 21st century build itself de-novo
without the crutches of 20th century.

So without notice
20th century found solace into oblivion
into time and history
allowing 21st century to emerge
with a new dawn
liberation seeker
waiting to liberate itself
from its previous deeds
------------.
Copyright 2010 Tribhawan Kaul

poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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Slave To The Wage

Run away from all your boredom
Run away from all your whoredom and wave
Your worries and cares
Goodbye
All it takes is one decision
A lot of guts, a little vision to wave
Your worries and cares
Goodbye
Its a maze for rats to try
Its a maze for rats to try
Its a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die
Its a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die
Sick and tired of maggies farm
Shes a bitch with broken arms to wave
Your worries and cares
Goodbye
Its a maze for rats to try
Its a maze for rats to try
Its a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die
Its a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die
Its a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die
Its a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die
Burn away
Run away, run away
Run away, run away
Run away, run away
Run away, run away

song performed by Placebo
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Twentieth Century

Oh, the Twentieth Century wasn't all that bad
It was a time like no one else has ever had
We learned to drive, we learned to fly
We sent a man into the sky
When he walked on the moon, we were so glad
Yeah, the Twentieth Century wasn't all that bad
Yeah, the Twentieth Century was quite a ride
We had to learn to see the other side
We had demonstrations and liberations
Great depressions and good vibrations
And doors that once were closed were opened wide
Oh, the Twentieth Century was quite a ride
We had movin' pictures and radio
And Broadway, country, rock and roll
In 1900, who'd a bet we'd all be surfing on the internet
Yeah, the Twentieth Century was a heck of a show
We all had our fifteen minutes, don't you know
Assembly lines, celebrities,
the spotlight shined on you and me
And everybody got a standin' O
Yeah, the Twentieth Century was a heck of a show
From blocks of ice to air condition
Telegraph to television
In 1900, who'd a known we all wind up
with pocket phones
The Twentieth Century wasn't all that long
Just a hundred years has come and gone
We can't go back even if we try
So I'll just smile and wave goodbye
To see it leavin' makes me kinda sad
It was a time like no one else has ever had
Oh, the Twentieth Century wasn't all that bad
The Twentieth Century
Bye-bye
The Twentieth Century
Goodbye

song performed by Alabama
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The Four Seasons : Autumn

Crown'd with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,
While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain,
Comes jovial on; the Doric reed once more,
Well pleased, I tune. Whate'er the wintry frost
Nitrous prepared; the various blossom'd Spring
Put in white promise forth; and Summer-suns
Concocted strong, rush boundless now to view,
Full, perfect all, and swell my glorious theme.
Onslow! the Muse, ambitious of thy name,
To grace, inspire, and dignify her song,
Would from the public voice thy gentle ear
A while engage. Thy noble cares she knows,
The patriot virtues that distend thy thought,
Spread on thy front, and in thy bosom glow;
While listening senates hang upon thy tongue,
Devolving through the maze of eloquence
A roll of periods, sweeter than her song.
But she too pants for public virtue, she,
Though weak of power, yet strong in ardent will,
Whene'er her country rushes on her heart,
Assumes a bolder note, and fondly tries
To mix the patriot's with the poet's flame.
When the bright Virgin gives the beauteous days,
And Libra weighs in equal scales the year;
From Heaven's high cope the fierce effulgence shook
Of parting Summer, a serener blue,
With golden light enliven'd, wide invests
The happy world. Attemper'd suns arise,
Sweet-beam'd, and shedding oft through lucid clouds
A pleasing calm; while broad, and brown, below
Extensive harvests hang the heavy head.
Rich, silent, deep, they stand; for not a gale
Rolls its light billows o'er the bending plain:
A calm of plenty! till the ruffled air
Falls from its poise, and gives the breeze to blow.
Rent is the fleecy mantle of the sky;
The clouds fly different; and the sudden sun
By fits effulgent gilds the illumined field,
And black by fits the shadows sweep along.
A gaily chequer'd heart-expanding view,
Far as the circling eye can shoot around,
Unbounded tossing in a flood of corn.
These are thy blessings, Industry! rough power!
Whom labour still attends, and sweat, and pain;
Yet the kind source of every gentle art,
And all the soft civility of life:
Raiser of human kind! by Nature cast,
Naked, and helpless, out amid the woods
And wilds, to rude inclement elements;
With various seeds of art deep in the mind

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poem by James Thomson
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Vision Of Columbus - Book 8

And now the Angel, from the trembling sight,
Veil'd the wide world–when sudden shades of night
Move o'er the ethereal vault; the starry train
Paint their dim forms beneath the placid main;
While earth and heaven, around the hero's eye,
Seem arch'd immense, like one surrounding sky.
Still, from the Power superior splendors shone,
The height emblazing like a radiant throne;
To converse sweet the soothing shades invite,
And on the guide the hero fix'd his sight.
Kind messenger of Heaven, he thus began,
Why this progressive labouring search of man?
If man by wisdom form'd hath power to reach
These opening truths that following ages teach,
Step after step, thro' devious mazes, wind,
And fill at last the measure of the mind,
Why did not Heaven, with one unclouded ray,
All human arts and reason's powers display?
That mad opinions, sects and party strife
Might find no place t'imbitter human life.
To whom the Angelic Power; to thee 'tis given,
To hold high converse, and enquire of heaven,
To mark uncircled ages and to trace
The unfolding truths that wait thy kindred race.
Know then, the counsels of th'unchanging Mind,
Thro' nature's range, progressive paths design'd,
Unfinish'd works th'harmonious system grace,
Thro' all duration and around all space;
Thus beauty, wisdom, power, their parts unroll,
Till full perfection joins the accordant whole.
So the first week, beheld the progress rise,
Which form'd the earth and arch'd th'incumbant skies.
Dark and imperfect first, the unbeauteous frame,
From vacant night, to crude existence came;
Light starr'd the heavens and suns were taught their bound,
Winds woke their force, and floods their centre found;
Earth's kindred elements, in joyous strife,
Warm'd the glad glebe to vegetable life,
Till sense and power and action claim'd their place,
And godlike reason crown'd the imperial race.
Progressive thus, from that great source above,
Flows the fair fountain of redeeming love.
Dark harbingers of hope, at first bestow'd,
Taught early faith to feel her path to God:
Down the prophetic, brightening train of years,
Consenting voices rose of different seers,
In shadowy types display'd the accomplish'd plan,
When filial Godhead should assume the man,
When the pure Church should stretch her arms abroad,
Fair as a bride and liberal as her God;

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poem by Joel Barlow
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Fairy Tale Time

Man is extinct
Monotone of cruelty breaks
Trees rejoice
The noises die
Songs of nature
Awaken
And echo gently
It’s a fairy tale time.

Man is extinct
Water-falls are happy
Jumping and falling
In merriment
Over pure rocks
No careless plastic covers
To choke the fishes
It’s a fairy tale time.

Man is extinct
Smell of woods
Warmth of sunlight
Light up every moment
Wheels are stand-still
It’s a fairy-tale time.

Man is extinct
Stars shine
Nature sleeps
And all its riches
No soul can steal
It’s a fairy-tale time.

Man is extinct
Seasons come and go
Through peaceful times
No gun shots
No war
No helpless cries
No haunting fears
Oh! Yes.
It’s a fairy tale time.

Man is extinct
He chose to plunder, not abide
And thus his death was so befitting
Ending by his own committing
Universal suicide.

poem by Roopa Menon
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Hush! Hush! A LONELY RAT with a Human Hat Chokes in Silence!

Lo! A lonely flower in the garden of the east,
Look! A lonely star in the night sky of the west!
Ugh! A lonely cow faces the heat in the north,
So is a lonely boy admits his defeat in the south.
Yet we say we all belong to one race – the human race!
Hush-hush! A lonely rat with a human hat chokes in silence!

Each day someone wakes up with a frown,
To make up the loss with a groan and a drown,
For rumors keep flying like houseflies in the town,
That keeps one tormented in the hell - a mental breakdown.
Yet we say we all belong to one race – the human race!
Hush-hush! A lonely rat with a human hat chokes in silence!

One is a loner as he builds walls instead of bridges,
Others are loners – shriveled up inside the nut, no repair;
Some others are broken hearts in despair,
All the others are related yet separated by egos and ridges.
Yet we say we all belong to one race – the human race!
Hush-hush! A lonely rat with a human hat chokes in silence!

Lonesome man talks alone at night;
Lonely man walks alone in the broad daylight;
Lonely man speaks when I'm with you,
Lonely man cranks when my heart's untrue.
Yet we say we all belong to one race – the human race!
Hush-hush! A lonely rat with a human hat chokes in silence!

For a crowd is not company just appearance in the show!
And faces are but a gallery of pictures in the showcase,
Talks but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love just a show!
Separate we come, and separate we go in any case,
Yet we say we all belong to one race – the human race!
Hush-hush! A lonely rat with a human hat chokes in silence!
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>
(With heart and soul dedicated to my fellow poet AMIT RAY)

poem by Harindhar Reddy
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Solomon on the Vanity of the World, A Poem. In Three Books. - Knowledge. Book I.

The bewailing of man's miseries hath been elegantly and copiously set forth by many, in the writings as well of philosophers as divines; and it is both a pleasant and a profitable contemplation.
~
Lord Bacon's Advancement of Learning.

The Argument

Solomon, seeking happiness from knowledge, convenes the learned men of his kingdom; requires them to explain to him the various operations and effects of Nature; discourses of vegetables, animals and man; proposes some questions concerning the origin and situation of the habitable earth: proceeds to examine the system of the visible heaven: doubts if there may not be a plurality of worlds; inquires into the nature of spirits and angels, and wishes to be more fully informed as to the attributes of the Supreme Being. He is imperfectly answered by the Rabbins and Doctors; blames his own curiosity: and concludes that, as to human science, All Is Vanity.

Ye sons of men with just regard attend,
Observe the preacher, and believe the friend,
Whose serious muse inspires him to explain
That all we act and all we think is vain:
That in this pilgrimage of seventy years,
O'er rocks of perils and through vales of tears
Destined to march, our doubtful steps we tend,
Tired with the toil, yet fearful of its end:
That from the womb we take our fatal shares
Of follies, passions, labours, tumults, cares;
And at approach of death shall only know
The truths which from these pensive numbers flow,
That we pursue false joy and suffer real wo.

Happiness! object of that waking dream
Which we call life, mistaking; fugitive theme
Of my pursuing verse: ideal shade,
Notional good; by fancy only made,
And by tradition nursed; fallacious fire,
Whose dancing beams mislead our fond desire;
Cause of our care, and error of our mind:
Oh! hadst thou ever been by Heaven design'd
To Adam, and his mortal race, the boon
Entire had been reserved for Solomon;
On me the partial lot had been bestow'd,
And in my cup the golden draught had flow'd.

But, O! ere yet original man was made,
Ere the foundations of this earth were laid,
It was opponent to our search ordain'd,
That joy still sought should never be attain'd:
This sad experience cites me to reveal,
And what I dictate is from what I feel.

Born, as I as, great David's favourite son,
Dear to my people on the Hebrew throne,
Sublime my court, with Ophir's treasures bless'd.
My name extended to the farthest east,
My body clothed with every outward grace,
Strength in my limbs, and beauty in my face,

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poem by Matthew Prior
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Twentieth Century Fox

Well, shes fashionably lean, and shes fashionably late
Shell never wreck a scene, shell never break a date
But shes no drag, just watch the way she walks
Shes a twentieth century fox, shes a twentieth century fox
No tears, no fears, no ruined years, no clocks
Shes a twentieth century fox, oh yeah
Shes the queen of cool, and shes the lady who waits
Sent to manless school, it never hesitates
She wont waste time, on elementary talk
cause shes a twentieth century fox, shes a twentieth century fox
Got the world locked up, inside a plastic box
Shes a twentieth century fox, oh yeah
Twentieth century fox, oh yeah
Twentieth century fox
Shes a twentieth century fox

song performed by Doors
Added by Lucian Velea
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