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He stopped everything behind the plate and hit everything in front of it.

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Geoffrey Chaucer

Book Of The Duchesse

THE PROEM

I have gret wonder, be this lighte,
How that I live, for day ne nighte
I may nat slepe wel nigh noght,
I have so many an ydel thoght
Purely for defaute of slepe
That, by my trouthe, I take no kepe
Of no-thing, how hit cometh or goth,
Ne me nis no-thing leef nor loth.
Al is y-liche good to me --
Ioye or sorowe, wherso hyt be --
For I have feling in no-thinge,
But, as it were, a mased thing,
Alway in point to falle a-doun;
For sorwful imaginacioun
Is alway hoolly in my minde.
And wel ye wite, agaynes kynde
Hit were to liven in this wyse;
For nature wolde nat suffyse
To noon erthely creature
Not longe tyme to endure
Withoute slepe, and been in sorwe;
And I ne may, ne night ne morwe,
Slepe; and thus melancolye
And dreed I have for to dye,
Defaute of slepe and hevinesse
Hath sleyn my spirit of quiknesse,
That I have lost al lustihede.
Suche fantasies ben in myn hede
So I not what is best to do.
But men myght axe me, why soo
I may not slepe, and what me is?
But natheles, who aske this
Leseth his asking trewely.
My-selven can not telle why
The sooth; but trewely, as I gesse,
I holde hit be a siknesse
That I have suffred this eight yere,
And yet my bote is never the nere;
For ther is phisicien but oon,
That may me hele; but that is doon.
Passe we over until eft;
That wil not be, moot nede be left;
Our first matere is good to kepe.
So whan I saw I might not slepe,
Til now late, this other night,
Upon my bedde I sat upright
And bad oon reche me a book,
A romaunce, and he hit me took

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Cleanness

Clannesse who so kyndly cowþe comende
& rekken vp alle þe resounz þat ho by ri3t askez,
Fayre formez my3t he fynde in for[þ]ering his speche
& in þe contrare kark & combraunce huge.
For wonder wroth is þe Wy3þat wro3t alle þinges
Wyth þe freke þat in fylþe fol3es Hym after,
As renkez of relygioun þat reden & syngen
& aprochen to hys presens & prestez arn called;
Thay teen vnto his temmple & temen to hym seluen,
Reken with reuerence þay rychen His auter;
Þay hondel þer his aune body & vsen hit boþe.
If þay in clannes be clos þay cleche gret mede;
Bot if þay conterfete crafte & cortaysye wont,
As be honest vtwyth & inwith alle fylþez,
Þen ar þay synful hemself & sulped altogeder
Boþe God & His gere, & hym to greme cachen.
He is so clene in His courte, þe Kyng þat al weldez,
& honeste in His housholde & hagherlych serued
With angelez enourled in alle þat is clene,
Boþ withine & withouten in wedez ful bry3t;
Nif he nere scoymus & skyg & non scaþe louied,
Hit were a meruayl to much, hit mo3t not falle.
Kryst kydde hit Hymself in a carp onez,
Þeras He heuened a3t happez & hy3t hem her medez.
Me mynez on one amonge oþer, as Maþew recordez,
Þat þus clanness vnclosez a ful cler speche:
Þe haþel clene of his hert hapenez ful fayre,
For he schal loke on oure Lorde with a bone chere';
As so saytz, to þat sy3t seche schal he neuer
Þat any vnclannesse hatz on, auwhere abowte;
For He þat flemus vch fylþe fer fro His hert
May not byde þat burre þat hit His body ne3en.
Forþy hy3not to heuen in haterez totorne,
Ne in þe harlatez hod, & handez vnwaschen.
For what vrþly haþel þat hy3honour haldez
Wolde lyke if a ladde com lyþerly attyred,
When he were sette solempnely in a sete ryche,
Abof dukez on dece, with dayntys serued?
Þen þe harlot with haste helded to þe table,
With rent cokrez at þe kne & his clutte traschez,
& his tabarde totorne, & his totez oute,
Oþer ani on of alle þyse, he schulde be halden vtter,
With mony blame ful bygge, a boffet peraunter,
Hurled to þe halle dore & harde þeroute schowued,
& be forboden þat bor3e to bowe þider neuer,
On payne of enprysonment & puttyng in stokkez;
& þus schal he be schent for his schrowde feble,
Þa3neuer in talle ne in tuch he trespas more.
& if vnwelcum he were to a worþlych prynce,
3et hym is þe hy3e Kyng harder in her euen;

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Steamheaters

She wants a love...
She can take into her arms.
Hold her with her charms.
And sing love songs,
To allure
And captivate!
Heating...
Without setting off the alarm!

He wants a love...
No other one has had.
When it is 'his' booty...
He likes it slow not fast!
And he's glad no one has had,
To touch his booty's ass!
If that has to happen,
He knew he would be sad!

And...
'What' they want...
Maybe a bit too soon.
They need more memory moments.
Before beginning to cast eyes on that 'fullmoon'!
As they lay naked on the basement floor...
Sighing and grinding in lovebird swoons!

'WHAT? '

Steamheaters drip...
Just 'getting it'!
They both are wet,
From the basement water!

Steamheaters kiss...
With sexiness.
He sucked her tits,
'Til her husband caught her,
With his best friend...
'getin' it! '

'Uh...
For clarification,
Will you say that again, please? '

You want it sung?

'No,
I just want it heard.
I may have misunderstood!
What I thought your blurted,

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Hit Me With A Rock

When I was a little boy
(when I was just a boy)
And my mother would call my name
(when I was just a boy)
Shed say I had to be in the house by seven
(when I was just a boy)
But Id stay out late at night
(when I was just a boy)
And when Id finally get back in
Oh, I know shed hit me, shed hit me
Shed sit me on her knees and whip me
Oh, shed hit me with a rock
Shed whip me with a rock, oh baby
Shed hit me (hit me with a rock)
Shed hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me
(hit me with a rock)
And when I was grown to be a man
(grown to be a man)
The minute the boss would call my name
(grown to be a man)
And say I had to be in the office by seven
(grown to be a man)
Im a constipated man
(grown to be a man)
And when Id finally get back in
Oh, my bossd hit me, hed hit me
Hed tie me to a chair and whip me
Oh hed hit me with a rock
Hed whip me with a rock, oh baby
Hed hit me (hit me with a rock)
Hed hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me
(hit me with a rock)
When I was grown to be president
(was the president)
The minute the congressd call my name
(was the president)
And said some papers had to be signed by thursday
(had to be signed by thursday)
Id fly away to pakistan
(was the president)
And the second that Id get back home
Oh, I know theyd hit me, theyd hit me
With leather and chains theyd whip me
Oh, theyd hit me with a rock
Theyd whip me with a rock, oh baby
Theyd hit me. (hit me with a rock)
Theyd hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me
(hit me with a rock)
Hit me, hit me, hit me
(hit me with a rock)

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Earthquakes And Tsunami

Some scientists had located a missing geological piece therefore,
They found a puzzle of plate tectonics in the Southwest Pacific Ocean.
East and West Antarctica had spread twenty six million years before.
The rift between them opened one hundred miles due to this motion.

The scientists had clearly described how the Pacific tectonic plate,
The North American plate and others have moved at different points in time.
As one plate moves, the adjoining one is affected and there were adequate
Theories about plate moves, earthquakes, tsunami and changing the clime.


One plate affects the other one because the mantle was planetary pieced
In a plate tectonics jigsaw puzzle, named the 'global plate circuit' mystery.
Zones around the Antarctic Ross Sea and the West rift were imbalanced,
Pushing other plates and this fact has been a mystery for a quarter century.

Knowing about the plate motion around Antarctica is an important key
To understand the motions between the Pacific and North American plate,
To understand better than before the East and West Antarctica geology
And to determine the plate motions in California, until it is not too late.

The West Antarctic rift system is still active as a result of a movement
Along the boundary between East and West therefore, the lack of information
About the seafloor spreading and the plate motions is an advertisement
Because we don’t know what can modify this strong puzzle motion.

The inclusion of this East-West Antarctic motion in the global circuit explains
The gap between Pacific and Australian plates, Adare region, which really
Is the missing plate boundary in the Southwest Pacific, causing the main
Motion and, with the Alpine Fault, modifying the plate motion history.

It affects the motion between spots in the Pacific and Indo-Atlantic Oceans.
It explains the formation of the Transantarctic Mountains and the puzzling gap
Between the Australian and Pacific plates and it explains some notions
About the deformation of this area, the Pacific Ocean being like a spinal tap.


The earthquake near Christchurch in New Zealand confirmed that a country,
Already riddled with fault lines, has gained another one, which ran below
New Zealand, causing many earthquakes each year and lieing on the boundary
Between Pacific and Australian plates, under the Australian Eastern plateau.

Pacific plate subducts below New Zealand's North Island and the Australian
Plate subducts below the South Island, while between these two subduction
Zones lies the Alpine fault, along the mountainous spine of the South Island.
The quake was a result of a fault activity, in a new tectonic combination.

That fault appeared on September, shaking Darfield, someone tried to relate.
Someone else said that a tsunami in the Atlantic Ocean is a rare event
At the subduction zones in the Atlantic basin, along the the Caribbean Plate

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The Avowyng of Arthur

He that made us on the mulde,
And fair fourmet the folde,
Atte His will, as He wold,
The see and the sande,
Giffe hom joy that will here
Of dughti men and of dere,
Of haldurs that before us were,
That lifd in this londe.
One was Arther the Kinge,
Wythowtun any letting;
Wyth him was mony lordinge
Hardi of honde.
Wice and war ofte thay were,
Bold undur banere,
And wighte weppuns wold were,
And stifly wold stond.

This is no fantum ne no fabull;
Ye wote wele of the Rowun Tabull,
Of prest men and priveabull,
Was holdun in prise:
Chevetan of chivalry,
Kyndenesse and curtesy,
Hunting full warly,
As wayt men and wise.
To the forest thay fare
To hunte atte buk and atte bare,
To the herte and to the hare,
That bredus in the rise.
The King atte Carlele he lay;
The hunter cummys on a day -
Sayd, 'Sir, ther walkes in my way
A well grim gryse.
'He is a balefull bare -
Seche on segh I nevyr are:
He hase wroghte me mycull care
And hurte of my howundes,
Slayn hom downe slely
Wyth feghting full furcely.
Wasse ther none so hardi
Durste bide in his bandus.
On him spild I my spere
And mycull of my nothir gere.
Ther moue no dintus him dere,
Ne wurche him no wowundes.
He is masly made -
All offellus that he bade.
Ther is no bulle so brade
That in frith foundes.

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Patience

Pacience is a poynt, þa33e,
& quo for þro may no3t þole, þe þikker he sufferes.
&Thorn;en is better to abyde þe bur vmbestoundes
&Thorn;en ay þrow forth my þro, þa33e masse,
How Mathew melede þat his Mayster His meyny con teche.
A3t happes He hem hy3t & vcheon a mede,
Sunderlupes, for hit dissert, vpon a ser wyse:
Thay arn happen þat han in hert pouerte,
For hores is þe heuen-ryche to holde for euer;
&Thorn;ay ar happen also þat haunte mekenesse,
For þay schal welde þis worlde & alle her wylle haue;
Thay ar happen also þat for her harme wepes,
For þay schal comfort encroche in kythes ful mony;
&Thorn;ay ar happen also þat hungeres after ry3t,
For þay schal frely be refete ful of alle gode;
Thay ar happen also þat han in hert rauþe,
For mercy in alle maneres her mede schal worþe;
&Thorn;ay ar happen also þat arn of hert clene,
For þay her Sauyour in sete schal se with her y3en;
Thay ar happen also þat halden her pese,
For þay þe gracious Godes sunes schal godly be called;
&Thorn;ay ar happen also þat con her hert stere,
For hores is þe heuen-ryche, as I er sayde.
These arn þe happes alle a3t þat vus bihy3t weren,
If we þyse ladyes wolde lof in lyknyng of þewes:
Dame Pouert, Dame Pitee, Dame Penaunce þe þrydde,
Dame Mekenesse, Dame Mercy, & miry Clannesse,
& þenne Dame Pes, & Pacyence put in þerafter.
He were happen þat hade one; alle were þe better.
Bot [s]yn I am put to a poynt þat pouerte hatte,
I schal me poruay pacyence & play me with boþe,
For in þe tyxte þere þyse two arn in teme layde,
Hit arn fettled in on forme, þe forme & þe laste,
& by quest of her quoyntyse enquylen on mede.
& als, in myn vpynyoun, hit arn of on kynde:
For þeras pouert hir proferes ho nyl be put vtter,
Bot lenge wheresoeuer hir lyst, lyke oþer greme;
& þereas pouert enpresses, þa33tloker hit lyke & her lotes prayse,
&Thorn;enne wyþer wyth & be wroth & þe wers haue.
3if me be dy3t a destyne due to haue,
What dowes me þe dedayn, oþer dispit make?
Oþer 3if my lege lorde lyst on lyue me to bidde
Oþer to ryde oþer to renne to Rome in his ernde,
What grayþed me þe grychchyng bot grame more seche?
Much 3if he me ne made, maugref my chekes,
& þenne þrat moste I þole & vnþonk to mede,
&Thorn;e had bowed to his bode bongre my hyure.
Did not Jonas in Jude suche jape sumwhyle?
To sette hym to sewrte, vnsounde he hym feches.
Wyl 3e tary a lyttel tyne & tent me a whyle,

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Geoffrey Chaucer

Anelida and Arcite

Thou ferse god of armes, Mars the rede,
That in the frosty contre called Trace,
Within thy grisly temple ful of drede
Honoured art as patroun of that place;
With thy Bellona, Pallas, ful of grace,
Be present and my song contynue and guye;
At my begynnyng thus to the I crye.

For hit ful depe is sonken in my mynde,
With pitous hert in Englyssh to endyte
This olde storie, in Latyn which I fynde,
Of quene Anelida and fals Arcite,
That elde, which that al can frete and bite,
As hit hath freten mony a noble storie,
Hath nygh devoured out of oure memorie.

Be favorable eke, thou Polymya,
On Parnaso that with thy sustres glade,
By Elycon, not fer from Cirrea,
Singest with vois memorial in the shade,
Under the laurer which that may not fade,
And do that I my ship to haven wynne.
First folowe I Stace, and after him Corynne.


The Story.

Iamque domos patrias Cithice post aspera gentis
Prelia laurigero subeunte Thesea curru
Letifici plausus missusque ad sidera vulgi

When Theseus with werres longe and grete
The aspre folk of Cithe had overcome,
With laurer corouned, in his char gold-bete,
Hom to his contre-houses is he come,
For which the peple, blisful al and somme,
So cry{:e}den that to the sterres hit wente,
And him to honouren dide al her entente.

Beforn this duk, in signe of victorie,
The trompes come, and in his baner large
The ymage of Mars, and in tokenyng of glorie
Men myghte sen of tresour many a charge,
Many a bright helm, and many a spere and targe,
Many a fresh knyght, and many a blysful route,
On hors, on fote, in al the feld aboute.

Ipolita his wif, the hardy quene
Of Cithia, that he conquered hadde,
With Emelye her yonge suster shene,

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Geoffrey Chaucer

The Parliament Of Fowles

Here begynyth the Parlement of Foulys

THE PROEM

The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne,
Thassay so hard, so sharp the conquering,
The dredful Ioy, that alwey slit so yerne,
Al this mene I by love, that my feling
Astonyeth with his wonderful worching
So sore y-wis, that whan I on him thinke,
Nat wot I wel wher that I wake or winke.

For al be that I knowe nat love in dede,
Ne wot how that he quyteth folk hir hyre,
Yet happeth me ful ofte in bokes rede
Of his miracles, and his cruel yre;
Ther rede I wel he wol be lord and syre,
I dar not seyn, his strokes been so sore,
But God save swich a lord! I can no more.

Of usage, what for luste what for lore,
On bokes rede I ofte, as I yow tolde.
But wherfor that I speke al this? not yore
Agon, hit happed me for to beholde
Upon a boke, was write with lettres olde;
And ther-upon, a certeyn thing to lerne,
The longe day ful faste I radde and yerne.

For out of olde feldes, as men seith,
Cometh al this newe corn fro yeer to yere;
And out of olde bokes, in good feith,
Cometh al this newe science that men lere.
But now to purpos as of this matere --
To rede forth hit gan me so delyte,
That al the day me thoughte but a lyte.

This book of which I make of mencioun,
Entitled was al thus, as I shal telle,
`Tullius of the dreme of Scipioun.';
Chapitres seven hit hadde, of hevene and helle,
And erthe, and soules that therinnr dwelle,
Of whiche, as shortly as I can hit trete,
Of his sentence I wol you seyn the grete.

First telleth hit, whan Scipion was come
In Afrik, how he mette Massinisse,
That him for Ioye in armes hath y nome.
Than telleth hit hir speche and al the blisse
That was betwix hem, til the day gan misse;
And how his auncestre, African so dere,

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Drinking my own anger

I couldn’t hit the earth in my bouts of anger; as it
was the one which grew the food necessary for my
survival,

I couldn’t hit the wall in my bouts of anger; as it
was the one which sequestered my scalp against
tumultuous storm and rain; it was the one which constituted and
fortified my dwelling,

I couldn't hit the tree in my bouts of anger; as it
was laden with the fruits I nibbled in my times of
relish; imparted me with velvety breeze in the
sweltering night,

I couldn’t hit the mirror in my bouts of anger; as it
magnificently portrayed to me my pellucid and candid
reflection; and doing so I knew would exacerbate the
situation further; would make my own hand bleed,

I couldn’t hit mothers stomach in my bouts of anger;
for it was the singular pouch which had bore me for 9
months unrelentingly; the very sacred sac which was
responsible for my existence today,

I couldn’t hit the snake in my bouts of anger; for it
guarded my treasury of wealth unflinchingly all night
and day; and would viciously retort back the instant I
raised my fingers to strike,

I couldn’t hit the Sun in my bouts of anger; for it
was the sole source of light which maneuvered me in
the day; lit up my every morning with an enchanting
smile,
I couldn’t hit the child in my bouts of anger; for it
was all the energy I possessed; was the sweetest
little form of God running gleefully on this earth,

I couldn’t hit the waters in my bouts of anger; for
they were the ones who pacified my thirst several
times a day; blended my life with loads of mesmerizing
cool and shade,

I couldn’t hit the silver plate in my bouts of anger;
for it was the one in which I actually consumed my
food three times in a day; and insulting it could
probably result in not getting food even three times a
year,

I couldn’t hit the car in my bouts of anger; for it
was the one which transported me marathon distances;

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Rejected

She says she’s very sorry, as she sees you to the gate;
You calmly say ‘Good-bye’ to her while standing off a yard,
Then you lift your hat and leave her, walking mighty stiff and straight—
But you’re hit, old man—hit hard.
In your brain the words are burning of the answer that she gave,
As you turn the nearest corner and you stagger just a bit;
But you pull yourself together, for a man’s strong heart is brave
When it’s hit, old man—hard hit.

You might try to drown the sorrow, but the drink has no effect;
You cannot stand the barmaid with her coarse and vulgar wit;
And so you seek the street again, and start for home direct,
When you’re hit, old man—hard hit.

You see the face of her you lost, the pity in her smile—
Ah! she is to the barmaid as is snow to chimney grit;
You’re a better man and nobler in your sorrow, for a while,
When you’re hit, old man—hard hit.

And, arriving at your lodgings, with a face of deepest gloom,
You shun the other boarders and your manly brow you knit;
You take a light and go upstairs directly to your room—
But the whole house knows you’re hit.

You clutch the scarf and collar, and you tear them from your throat,
You rip your waistcoat open like a fellow in a fit;
And you fling them in a corner with the made-to-order coat,
When you’re hit, old man—hard hit.

You throw yourself, despairing, on your narrow little bed,
Or pace the room till someone starts with ‘Skit! cat!—skit!’
And then lie blindly staring at the plaster overhead—
You are hit, old man—hard hit.

It’s doubtful whether vanity or love has suffered worst,
So neatly in our nature are those feelings interknit,
Your heart keeps swelling up so bad, you wish that it would burst,
When you’re hit, old man—hard hit.

You think and think, and think, and think, till you go mad almost;
Across your sight the spectres of the bygone seem to flit;
The very girl herself seems dead, and comes back as a ghost,
When you’re hit, like this—hard hit.

You know that it’s all over—you’re an older man by years,
In the future not a twinkle, in your black sky not a split.
Ah! you’ll think it well that women have the privilege of tears,
When you’re hit, old man—hard hit.

You long and hope for nothing but the rest that sleep can bring,

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Homer

The Iliad: Book 5

Then Pallas Minerva put valour into the heart of Diomed, son of
Tydeus, that he might excel all the other Argives, and cover himself
with glory. She made a stream of fire flare from his shield and helmet
like the star that shines most brilliantly in summer after its bath in
the waters of Oceanus- even such a fire did she kindle upon his head
and shoulders as she bade him speed into the thickest hurly-burly of
the fight.
Now there was a certain rich and honourable man among the Trojans,
priest of Vulcan, and his name was Dares. He had two sons, Phegeus and
Idaeus, both of them skilled in all the arts of war. These two came
forward from the main body of Trojans, and set upon Diomed, he being
on foot, while they fought from their chariot. When they were close up
to one another, Phegeus took aim first, but his spear went over
Diomed's left shoulder without hitting him. Diomed then threw, and his
spear sped not in vain, for it hit Phegeus on the breast near the
nipple, and he fell from his chariot. Idaeus did not dare to
bestride his brother's body, but sprang from the chariot and took to
flight, or he would have shared his brother's fate; whereon Vulcan
saved him by wrapping him in a cloud of darkness, that his old
father might not be utterly overwhelmed with grief; but the son of
Tydeus drove off with the horses, and bade his followers take them
to the ships. The Trojans were scared when they saw the two sons of
Dares, one of them in fright and the other lying dead by his
chariot. Minerva, therefore, took Mars by the hand and said, "Mars,
Mars, bane of men, bloodstained stormer of cities, may we not now
leave the Trojans and Achaeans to fight it out, and see to which of
the two Jove will vouchsafe the victory? Let us go away, and thus
avoid his anger."
So saying, she drew Mars out of the battle, and set him down upon
the steep banks of the Scamander. Upon this the Danaans drove the
Trojans back, and each one of their chieftains killed his man. First
King Agamemnon flung mighty Odius, captain of the Halizoni, from his
chariot. The spear of Agamemnon caught him on the broad of his back,
just as he was turning in flight; it struck him between the
shoulders and went right through his chest, and his armour rang
rattling round him as he fell heavily to the ground.
Then Idomeneus killed Phaesus, son of Borus the Meonian, who had
come from Varne. Mighty Idomeneus speared him on the right shoulder as
he was mounting his chariot, and the darkness of death enshrouded
him as he fell heavily from the car.
The squires of Idomeneus spoiled him of his armour, while
Menelaus, son of Atreus, killed Scamandrius the son of Strophius, a
mighty huntsman and keen lover of the chase. Diana herself had
taught him how to kill every kind of wild creature that is bred in
mountain forests, but neither she nor his famed skill in archery could
now save him, for the spear of Menelaus struck him in the back as he
was flying; it struck him between the shoulders and went right through
his chest, so that he fell headlong and his armour rang rattling round
him.
Meriones then killed Phereclus the son of Tecton, who was the son of

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All I Want For Christmas (Is My Two Front Teeth)

(Donald Yetter Gardner)
All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth
My two front teeth, My two front teeth
Gee, if I could only have my two front teeth
Then I could wish you, "Merry Christmas"
It seems so long since I could say
"Sister, Susie sitting on a thistle!"
Gosh, oh gee, how happy Id be, if I could only whistle
All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth
My two front teeth, My two front teeth
Gee, if I could only have my two front teeth
Then I could wish you, "Merry Christmas"
All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth
My two front teeth, My two front teeth
Gee, if I could only have my two front teeth
Then I could wish you, "Merry Christmas"
It seems so long since I could say
"Sister, Susie sitting on a thistle!"
Gosh, oh gee, how happy Id be, if I could only whistle
(All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth)
(Two front teeth), (two front teeth)
Gee, if I could only have my two front teeth
Then I could wish you, "Merry Christmas"
--- Instrumental ---
It seems so long since I could say
"Sister, Susie sitting on a thistle!"
Gosh, oh gee, how happy Id be, if I could only whistle
All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth
Two front teeth, My two front teeth
Gee, if I could only have my two front teeth
Then I could wish you, "Merry Christmas"...

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Homer

The Iliad: Book 13

Now when Jove had thus brought Hector and the Trojans to the
ships, he left them to their never-ending toil, and turned his keen
eyes away, looking elsewhither towards the horse-breeders of Thrace,
the Mysians, fighters at close quarters, the noble Hippemolgi, who
live on milk, and the Abians, justest of mankind. He no longer
turned so much as a glance towards Troy, for he did not think that any
of the immortals would go and help either Trojans or Danaans.
But King Neptune had kept no blind look-out; he had been looking
admiringly on the battle from his seat on the topmost crests of wooded
Samothrace, whence he could see all Ida, with the city of Priam and
the ships of the Achaeans. He had come from under the sea and taken
his place here, for he pitied the Achaeans who were being overcome
by the Trojans; and he was furiously angry with Jove.
Presently he came down from his post on the mountain top, and as
he strode swiftly onwards the high hills and the forest quaked beneath
the tread of his immortal feet. Three strides he took, and with the
fourth he reached his goal- Aegae, where is his glittering golden
palace, imperishable, in the depths of the sea. When he got there,
he yoked his fleet brazen-footed steeds with their manes of gold all
flying in the wind; he clothed himself in raiment of gold, grasped his
gold whip, and took his stand upon his chariot. As he went his way
over the waves the sea-monsters left their lairs, for they knew
their lord, and came gambolling round him from every quarter of the
deep, while the sea in her gladness opened a path before his
chariot. So lightly did the horses fly that the bronze axle of the car
was not even wet beneath it; and thus his bounding steeds took him
to the ships of the Achaeans.
Now there is a certain huge cavern in the depths of the sea midway
between Tenedos and rocky Imbrus; here Neptune lord of the
earthquake stayed his horses, unyoked them, and set before them
their ambrosial forage. He hobbled their feet with hobbles of gold
which none could either unloose or break, so that they might stay
there in that place until their lord should return. This done he
went his way to the host of the Achaeans.
Now the Trojans followed Hector son of Priam in close array like a
storm-cloud or flame of fire, fighting with might and main and raising
the cry battle; for they deemed that they should take the ships of the
Achaeans and kill all their chiefest heroes then and there.
Meanwhile earth-encircling Neptune lord of the earthquake cheered on
the Argives, for he had come up out of the sea and had assumed the
form and voice of Calchas.
First he spoke to the two Ajaxes, who were doing their best already,
and said, "Ajaxes, you two can be the saving of the Achaeans if you
will put out all your strength and not let yourselves be daunted. I am
not afraid that the Trojans, who have got over the wall in force, will
be victorious in any other part, for the Achaeans can hold all of them
in check, but I much fear that some evil will befall us here where
furious Hector, who boasts himself the son of great Jove himself, is
leading them on like a pillar of flame. May some god, then, put it
into your hearts to make a firm stand here, and to incite others to do

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Gone Is the Whoopie Goosed From You

Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down,
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'

Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down,
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'

Gone is the whoopie goosed from you!
Tingled were sensations,
A few dollars had amused.
Now you're quite upset.
Regrets are now your pets.

Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down.
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'

Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down.
'Yeah! '
With your knuckles scraped.
'Yeah.'
And nothing on your plate,
'Yeah.'

Gone is the whoopie goosed from you!
Ooo...
And there's no debate,
Which side to lick your plate!

Morning and noon too,
You feel you've been screwed.
And nobody's there...
To give a damn or care!

Have you found the turnaround
Has come to beat you down.

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The Powerful Japan Earthquake

Because one Tectonic plate was sliding under the other plate
The powerful Japan earthquake shifted the earth's axis position
Deforming it and that temblor already had caused Earth to rotate
Faster than before when Hawaii reached these waves transmission.

This temblor may have affected the length of the Earth's days
So, each day may be quite two microseconds shorter than before.
Some parts of this country were moved twelve feet as scientists say,
The tremors sent a monster tsunami which slammed into the shore.

The aftershocks were rapidly continuing without decreasing in frequency
While a rupture near the boundary between those tectonic plates occured.
Usually, the Pacific plate slowly moves to westwards at a very low velocity.
This quake was caused by Pacific and American plates boundary rupture.

The dissipation of the heat from the mantle was a real source of energy
For Pacific plate thrusting underneath the Japan and Eurasia plate.
This drive of plate tectonics was possible because of the excess density,
'Cause lithosphere became dense by cooling until having a solid state.

The boundary between the Australian and Pacific tectonic plates
Are part of the 'Ring of Fire' and runs from south of Fiordland
Along the line of the Southern Alps, beneath wonderful Cook Strait,
Capital of Wellington, and out to sea through the eastern North Island.

A section of the prehistoric supercontinent Gondwana broke away
Eighty million years ago comprising a few slithers of land left to drift
Coalescing into a new continent, Zealandia, under the Southern sun's ray.
When magma heated continental crust above to crack open to form a rift.

Due to seismic activity, sea levels temporary fluctuated looking so glum
Zealandia sank beneath sea level letting New Zealand to be a remnant.
The pressure of opposing tectonic plates caused the Alpine Fault to come.
The Southern Alps rose above the water looking like the moon's crescent.

Earth's surface is recycled through the volcanic emission and subduction.
The quake can be caused by a rupture near the boundary between plates.
The causes are high the level of carbone dioxide and sometimes erosion,
But when the rupture is big, it can become a real monstruous Hell's gate.

The Pacific plate had thrusted underneath Japan and in a late,
It dipped beneath Eurasia plate and the earthquake occurred along
The subduction zone at the interface between those two tectonic plates.
Two thousands people died because the earthquake was very strong.

The Pacific plate moves usually westwards at a very slow velocity.
The boundary between the Pacific and Australian Plate runs broadly
Along New Zealand, where another quake occured with a strong ferocity,
While planet is on a one-way warming trend triggered by human activity.

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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

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Another Hit n Run

Union jack is back with a hole in his head
Hes gettin badly burned every time
Hes laughin at me and dancin on my sneakers
And his sixties songs are blowin up my speakers
I say you got no respect
Respect for authority
Youre just playing your dirty tricks
And then come cryin to me
Hit and run, hit and run
Its just a hit and run
Another hit and run
The bulldog lost his bite and his breath has gone bad
And the whole damn world is really laughin mad
Hit it!!
Oh bring it down
Oh you bring it down
I say you aint got no respect
I say you aint got no respect
No you aint got no respect
And you hit me when Im down
Hit and run, hit and run
Its just another hit and run
I said its just another hit and run
Oh yeah, hit and run
Oh yeah, hit and run
Oh yeah, hit and run
Oh yeah, hit and run
Oh yeah, hit and run
Its just another hit and run
Hit and run

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The Libelle of Englyshe Polycye

Here beginneth the Prologe of the processe of the Libelle of Englyshe polycye, exhortynge alle Englande to kepe the see enviroun and namelye the narowe see, shewynge whate profete commeth thereof and also whate worshype and salvacione to Englande and to alle Englyshe menne.

The trewe processe of Englysh polycye
Of utterwarde to kepe thys regne in rest
Of oure England, that no man may denye
Ner say of soth but it is one the best,
Is thys, as who seith, south, north, est and west
Cheryshe marchandyse, kepe thamyralte,
That we bee maysteres of the narowe see.


For Sigesmonde the grete Emperoure,
Whyche yet regneth, whan he was in this londe
Wyth kynge Herry the vte, prince of honoure,
Here moche glorye, as hym thought, he founde,
A myghty londe, whyche hadde take on honde
To werre in Fraunce and make mortalite,
And ever well kept rounde aboute the see.


And to the kynge thus he seyde, 'My brothere',
Whan he perceyved too townes, Calys and Dovere,
'Of alle youre townes to chese of one and other
To kepe the see and sone for to come overe,
To werre oughtwardes and youre regne to recovere,
Kepe these too townes sure to youre mageste
As youre tweyne eyne to kepe the narowe see'.


For if this see be kepte in tyme of werre,
Who cane here passe withought daunger and woo?
Who may eschape, who may myschef dyfferre?
What marchaundy may forby be agoo?
For nedes hem muste take truse every foo,
Flaundres and Spayne and othere, trust to me,
Or ellis hyndered alle for thys narowe see.


Therfore I caste me by a lytell wrytinge
To shewe att eye thys conclusione,
For concyens and for myne acquytynge
Ayenst God, and ageyne abusyon
And cowardyse and to oure enmyes confusione;
For iiij. thynges oure noble sheueth to me,
Kyng, shype and swerde and pouer of the see.


Where bene oure shippes, where bene oure swerdes become?
Owre enmyes bid for the shippe sette a shepe.
Allas, oure reule halteth, hit is benome.

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Unfaithful To Myself (Beware. Beware!)

When I ran away,
I thought that I would stay...
Where it was,
I chose to be.

When I ran away,
It was from myself...
And,
I was not that able...
To remain unfaithful.

I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
Beware. Beware!
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
And I knew,
It was me who had been untrue.

When I ran away,
It was from myself...
And,
I was not able...
To remain unfaithful.

Oh, when I ran away,
I thought that I would stay...
Where it was,
I chose to be.
But...
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
Beware. Beware!
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
And I knew,
It was me who had been untrue.

I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
Beware. Beware!
Yes,
I looked in the mirror and my heart stopped.
I saw the anger there.
With a feeding of myself wrong beliefs...
That other people made me bleed.
But it wasn't other people it was me.

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