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We idolize eagles, although, hens are much more useful.

aphorism by Valeriu Butulescu from Immensity of the Point, translated by Eva A. Ziem
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ooddled Up

Total open bootle stroking.
Open toking...
To be broken,
Coping.
And ooddled up.
With the stuff.

Soaking near the ropes to toke.
And poking for some hope,
They cope and smoke...
Feeling dope!

To lube and idolize.
Too pooped to analyze,
The people.
Crunking with a blunt!
To lube and idolize.
Too pooped to analyze,
The people.
And peel we do,
With the tools.

Total open bootle stroking.
Open toking...
To be broken,
Coping.
And ooddled up.
With the stuff.

Crunked with their blunts...
And bumping.
Humping, dump and crumping.

Crunked with their blunts...
And bumping.
Humping, dump and crumping.

Soaking near the ropes to toke.
And poking for some hope,
They cope and smoke...
Feeling dope!

Crunked with their blunts...
And bumping.
Humping, dump and crumping.

Total open bootle stroking.
Open toking...
To be broken,
Coping.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Eagles And Horses

This song appears on five albums, and was first released on the flower that shattered the stone album. it has also appeared on the stonehaven sunrise, a portrait and the john denver collection -
Me home, country roads albums. a live version also appears on the wildlife concert album.
Horses are creatures who worship the earth
As they gallop on feet of ivory
Constrained by the wonder of dying and birth
The horses still run, they are free
My body is merely the shell of my soul
But the flesh must be given its due
Like a pony that carries its rider back home
Like an old friend that's tried and been true
I had a vision of eagles and horses
High on a ridge in a race with the wind
Going higher and higher and faster and faster
On eagles and horses i'm flying again
Eagles inhabit the heavenly heights
They know neither limit nor bound
They're the guardian angels of darkness and light
They see all and hear every sound
My spirit will never be broken or caught
For the soul is a free-flowing thing
Like an eagle that needs neither comfort nor thought
To rise up on glorious wings
I had a vision of eagles and horses
High on a ridge in a race with the wind
Going higher and higher and faster and faster
On eagles and horses i'm flying again
My body is merely the shell of my soul
But the flesh must be given its due
Like a pony that carries its master back home
Like an old that's tried and been true
My spirit will never be broken or caught
For the soul is a free-flowing thing
Like an eagle that needs neither comfort nor thought
To rise up on glorious wings
I had a vision of eagles and horses
High on a ridge in a race with the wind
Going higher and higher and faster and faster
On eagles and horses i'm flying again
Words and music by john denver and joe henry

song performed by John Denver
Added by Lucian Velea
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Eagles & Horses

This song appears on five albums, and was first released on the flower that shattered the stone album. it has also appeared on the stonehaven sunrise, a portrait and the john denver collection -
Me home, country roads albums. a live version also appears on the wildlife concert album.
Horses are creatures who worship the earth
As they gallop on feet of ivory
Constrained by the wonder of dying and birth
The horses still run, they are free
My body is merely the shell of my soul
But the flesh must be given its due
Like a pony that carries its rider back home
Like an old friend thats tried and been true
I had a vision of eagles and horses
High on a ridge in a race with the wind
Going higher and higher and faster and faster
On eagles and horses Im flying again
Eagles inhabit the heavenly heights
They know neither limit nor bound
Theyre the guardian angels of darkness and light
They see all and hear every sound
My spirit will never be broken or caught
For the soul is a free-flowing thing
Like an eagle that needs neither comfort nor thought
To rise up on glorious wings
I had a vision of eagles and horses
High on a ridge in a race with the wind
Going higher and higher and faster and faster
On eagles and horses Im flying again
My body is merely the shell of my soul
But the flesh must be given its due
Like a pony that carries its master back home
Like an old thats tried and been true
My spirit will never be broken or caught
For the soul is a free-flowing thing
Like an eagle that needs neither comfort nor thought
To rise up on glorious wings
I had a vision of eagles and horses
High on a ridge in a race with the wind
Going higher and higher and faster and faster
On eagles and horses Im flying again
Words and music by john denver and joe henry

song performed by John Denver
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Difference Between A Rooster And A Man

on the grass i see this rooster wearing a thick red comb,
tall for its lowly status, and well muscled as may be gleaned from the
thickness of its black, red and white feathers

how can he notice me stopping by to observe it
when its attention is focused on two slender hens
one is red the other white getting near it
and without any inhibition at all he copulated on each
of those two slender hens, quickly as a quickie

i can imagine in a few days, the two hens cackle with
lots of eggs for the owner now prepared with a big basket
to bring the produce to a crowded market

if i as a man does what a rooster does, you very well know
what happens next

it will be the people of this republic v. ric
and his dismissal from the government service

it makes me think however, on the other hand, the happiness of
the owner selling more eggs in the market because the rooster
had been kind and obliging to the two hens and the other hens in the yard

what about it God?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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PUZZLED for Leslie Alexis

The peacock parades exquisitely.
Displays the glory of his tail,
the hens ignore him easily.
This bold display was bound to fail
The peacock has misjudged his time.
The hens aren’t ready to be wooed.
Although he thinks he is sublime
it’s not the time for hens to brood.
He’s young and inexperienced.
As yet he does not understand,
his tiny brain still hasn’t sensed.
The hens not he are in command.
The females don’t appreciate
his urgency he’ll have to wait.

20-Jan-09

http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Adrienne Vittadini

air bag blanco negro y
air bag bmw z3
air bag bmw2c defective
air bag bodydropp
air bag bothers
air bag box hoist
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air bag car code lincoln town
air bag caravan dodge grand recall
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air bag civic honda suspension
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air bag code b0026
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air bag codes 1999 poniac montana
air bag codes jaquar
air bag codes mazda miaita
air bag codes windstar
air bag codes windstar 2001
air bag connector position assurance
air bag connectors
air bag continental fs100-10
air bag contitech
air bag control module chrysler
air bag control module lebaron
air bag control module reset tools
air bag conveyor
air bag cop killer
air bag corvette driver repair
air bag cover 1999 honda prelude
air bag crash data reset

[...] Read more

poem by Caasder Fronds
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Fitration Bags

2.5 gallon shopvac bags
1995 ktm 400 rxc hard bags
2006 black leather prada bags list
24 x 36 shrink bags
18 x 9 padded bag
3m printscape personalized gift bag
20lb bag parrot food
40 inch round duffle bag
2001 explorer air bag light flashes
3rd street sissy bar bag
1997 nissan air bag sensor
12x18 carry bag
1001 grab bag ideas
2000 explorer air bag light flashing
15,000 cfm used bag dustcollector
12 lb turkey recipies in bag
14.1 laptop messenger bags
3306 plan tackle bag
10 pound bag of endives yield
4 mil zip bags
$2 grab bag nsd
1970s bean bag
18th century shooting bags
48 superman bop bag
2006 kawasaki ninja 250r bags
1976 electra glide saddle bags
1940 s english aoutomobiles gas bags
40 lb bag of cement
07 cr-v safety bag plastic pillar
2 gauge ear plug grab bag
1998 saturn sl2 air bag module
40 degree helix sleeping bag
3x4 organza gift bags
3 bags full consignment
2000 mercedes air bag problem
2ply snap handle bag
1987 bmw k75s saddle bags
2003 bozo desktop bop bag
135 approved electronic flight bag
2005 toyota matrix side air bags
2006 bag gucci spring
3 insulated sleeping bags
4in bag ice one
2008 street bob hard bags
45 micron bag
250 ninja nelson-rigg saddle bag
24 wheeled garment bag
1996 lincoln continental air bag suspension
2006 aka boule bag
400d horn bag

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Mistress

I stand on the brink of your mind
Living inside a nightmare from which
I just cannot awaken
Stand on the edge of your life
Just give me another moment
From which I will never awaken

Stand on the brink of my own demise
Fallen again for another
Mistress of burden
To idolize
Hoping that one of them will decide
To let me in

To stand on the edge of the knife
Cutting through the nightmare from which
I just cannot awaken
Stand on the edge of the night
Living inside a moment
From which I will never awaken

Stand on the brink of my own demise
Fallen again for another
Mistress of burden
To idolize
Hoping that one of them will decide
To let me in

Look at what you've done to me
You've become my enemy
Poisoning the world for me
Take away my everything
Weakened as I am

Stand on the brink of my own demise
Fallen again for another
Mistress of burden
To idolize
Hoping that one of them will decide
To let me in

song performed by Disturbed from Believe
Added by Lucian Velea
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Rise Up

rise up and fly like eagles
rise up through the sky
we've got to rise up
over higher mountains
rise up, rise up, rise up
Everybody's come a long long way
such a long way ,to be here today
we're going hard ,giving it all
we've been knocking on wood with our backs to the walls
we've been working every day and night
waiting for the chance for the day to arrive
and now we've all got something to prove
win or lose, there's only one thing to do
We've got to rise up
and fly like eagles
rise up through the sky
you've got to rise up
over higher mountains
rise up, rise up, rise up
Inside the sweat, inside the heat
in each and every heart there's a pounding beat
to do it wrong, to do it right
each of us has put up, one hell of a fight
and as we face the final test
all that we can do is to do our best
and as we're making time stand still
to get to the top you've got to give all you've got
You've got to rise up
and fly like eagles
rise up through the sky
you've got to rise up
over higher mountains
rise up, rise up
Shine a light and let them see
everything you want to be
Shine a light and let them know
you are never letting go
Rise up... win or lose there's only one thing to do
We've got to rise up
and fly like eagles
rise up through the sky
you've got to rise up
over higher mountains
rise up, rise up, rise up
Rise, and fly like eagles
rise up through the sky
you've got to rise up
over higher mountains
rise up, rise up, rise up, rise up,
over higher mountains, rise,

[...] Read more

song performed by Vanessa Amorosi
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Court Of Love

With timerous hert and trembling hand of drede,
Of cunning naked, bare of eloquence,
Unto the flour of port in womanhede
I write, as he that non intelligence
Of metres hath, ne floures of sentence;
Sauf that me list my writing to convey,
In that I can to please her hygh nobley.

The blosmes fresshe of Tullius garden soote
Present thaim not, my mater for to borne:
Poemes of Virgil taken here no rote,
Ne crafte of Galfrid may not here sojorne:
Why nam I cunning? O well may I morne,
For lak of science that I can-not write
Unto the princes of my life a-right

No termes digne unto her excellence,
So is she sprong of noble stirpe and high:
A world of honour and of reverence
There is in her, this wil I testifie.
Calliope, thou sister wise and sly,
And thou, Minerva, guyde me with thy grace,
That langage rude my mater not deface.

Thy suger-dropes swete of Elicon
Distill in me, thou gentle Muse, I pray;
And thee, Melpomene, I calle anon,
Of ignoraunce the mist to chace away;
And give me grace so for to write and sey,
That she, my lady, of her worthinesse,
Accepte in gree this litel short tretesse,

That is entitled thus, 'The Court of Love.'
And ye that ben metriciens me excuse,
I you besech, for Venus sake above;
For what I mene in this ye need not muse:
And if so be my lady it refuse
For lak of ornat speche, I wold be wo,
That I presume to her to writen so.

But myn entent and all my besy cure
Is for to write this tretesse, as I can,
Unto my lady, stable, true, and sure,
Feithfull and kind, sith first that she began
Me to accept in service as her man:

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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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.

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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The Great Hunger

I
Clay is the word and clay is the flesh
Where the potato-gatherers like mechanised scarecrows move
Along the side-fall of the hill - Maguire and his men.
If we watch them an hour is there anything we can prove
Of life as it is broken-backed over the Book
Of Death? Here crows gabble over worms and frogs
And the gulls like old newspapers are blown clear of the hedges, luckily.
Is there some light of imagination in these wet clods?
Or why do we stand here shivering?
Which of these men
Loved the light and the queen
Too long virgin? Yesterday was summer. Who was it promised marriage to himself
Before apples were hung from the ceilings for Hallowe'en?
We will wait and watch the tragedy to the last curtain,
Till the last soul passively like a bag of wet clay
Rolls down the side of the hill, diverted by the angles
Where the plough missed or a spade stands, straitening the way.
A dog lying on a torn jacket under a heeled-up cart,
A horse nosing along the posied headland, trailing
A rusty plough. Three heads hanging between wide-apart legs.
October playing a symphony on a slack wire paling.
Maguire watches the drills flattened out
And the flints that lit a candle for him on a June altar
Flameless. The drills slipped by and the days slipped by
And he trembled his head away and ran free from the world's halter,
And thought himself wiser than any man in the townland
When he laughed over pints of porter
Of how he came free from every net spread
In the gaps of experience. He shook a knowing head
And pretended to his soul
That children are tedious in hurrying fields of April
Where men are spanning across wide furrows.
Lost in the passion that never needs a wife
The pricks that pricked were the pointed pins of harrows.
Children scream so loud that the crows could bring
The seed of an acre away with crow-rude jeers.
Patrick Maguire, he called his dog and he flung a stone in the air
And hallooed the birds away that were the birds of the years.
Turn over the weedy clods and tease out the tangled skeins.
What is he looking for there?
He thinks it is a potato, but we know better
Than his mud-gloved fingers probe in this insensitive hair.
'Move forward the basket and balance it steady
In this hollow. Pull down the shafts of that cart, Joe,
And straddle the horse,' Maguire calls.
'The wind's over Brannagan's, now that means rain.
Graip up some withered stalks and see that no potato falls
Over the tail-board going down the ruckety pass -
And that's a job we'll have to do in December,

[...] Read more

poem by Patrick Kavanagh
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The Shepherd's Calendar - September

Harvest awakes the morning still
And toils rude groups the valleys fill
Deserted is each cottage hearth
To all life save the crickets mirth
Each burring wheel their sabbath meets
Nor walks a gossip in the streets
The bench beneath its eldern bough
Lined oer with grass is empty now
Where blackbirds caged from out the sun
Could whistle while their mistress spun.
All haunt the thronged fields still to share
The harvests lingering bounty there
As yet no meddling boys resort
About the streets in idle sport
The butterflye enjoys his hour
And flirts unchaced from flower to flower
And humming bees that morning calls
From out the low huts mortar walls
Which passing boy no more controuls
Flye undisturbed about their holes
And sparrows in glad chirpings meet
Unpelted in the quiet street

None but imprison'd childern now
Are seen where dames with angry brow
Threaten each younker to his seat
That thro' the school door eyes the street
Or from his horn book turns away
To mourn for liberty and play
Loud are the mornings early sounds
That farm and cottage yard surrounds
The creaking noise of opening gate
And clanking pumps where boys await
With idle motion to supply
The thirst of cattle crowding bye
The low of cows and bark of dogs
And cackling hens and wineing hogs
Swell high-while at the noise awoke
Old goody seeks her milking cloak
And hastens out to milk the cow
And fill the troughs to feed the sow
Or seeking old hens laid astray
Or from young chickens drives away
The circling kite that round them flyes
Waiting the chance to seize the prize
Hogs trye thro gates the street to gain
And steal into the fields of grain
From nights dull prison comes the duck
Waddling eager thro the muck
Squeezing thro the orchard pales

[...] Read more

poem by John Clare
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Corner Of The Sky

(stephen swartz)
If any of you have been in new york recently youll know that pippin is one of the biggest broadway show throughout today. pippin is the story of emperor charlemaines so
Could never ever find hapiness. he tried everything. he tried war, he tried religion. and he even tried a little sex. but it didnt work. too bad for him! the song Id like to do for you know i
M pippin. and its about his search for fulfillment to find his corner of the sky.
Rivers belong where they can ramble
Eagles belong where they can fly
Ive got to be where my spirit can run free
Gotta find my corner of the sky
Everything has a season
Everything has its time
Show me a reason
And Ill show you a rhyme
Cats been on the window sill
Children fit in snow
Why do I feel I dont fit in
Any place I go
Rivers belong where they can ramble
Eagles belong where they can fly
Ive got to be where my spirit can run free
Gotta find my corner of the sky
Every man has his day dream
Every man has hit goal
People like the way dreams
Have of sticking to the soul
Thunder clouds have their lightning
Nightingales have their soul
Cant you see I want my life
To be something more than long
Rivers belong where they can ramble
Eagles belong where they can fly
Ive got to be where my spirit can run free
Gotta find my corner of the sky
So many men are destined
To settle for something small
Dont you know that I wont rest
Until you know I had it all
So dont ask where Im going
Just listen when Im gone
And far away youll hear me singing
Softly to the dawn
Rivers belong where they can ramble
Eagles belong where they can fly
Ive got to be where my spirit can run free
Gotta find my corner
Gotta find my corner
Gotta find my corner of the sky
Sky

song performed by Diana Ross
Added by Lucian Velea
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Eagles

The eagles can never know

The secret of the volcanoes
When they seemingly fly carried
By the sliding winds
Over cupped peaks of mountains
With the fire of their anger inside
Smoldering in the carcass of history

The eagles doesn't understand why

The green still suckles the spring's teats
And why the scream can be an echo
And the echo can be a scream.

But the eagles can hear

The cubic rocks which roll for rolling out
Their song
And the brooklet ripples which fall
With murmuring sound

And the eagles can see

The winding forest path
Which is apparently suspended
Like hanging wall thoughts
On the slope fringe
In a rock bizarre climbing story.

poem by Marieta Maglas
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Bryan, Bryan, Bryan, Bryan

I

In a nation of one hundred fine, mob-hearted, lynching, relenting, repenting millions,
There are plenty of sweeping, swinging, stinging, gorgeous things to shout about,
And knock your old blue devils out.

I brag and chant of Bryan, Bryan, Bryan, Bryan,
Candidate for president who sketched a silver Zion,
The one American Poet who could sing outdoors,
He brought in tides of wonder, of unprecedented splendor,
Wild roses from the plains, that made hearts tender,
All the funny circus silks
Of politics unfurled,
Bartlett pears of romance that were honey at the cores,
And torchlights down the street, to the end of the world.

There were truths eternal in the gap and tittle-tattle.
There were real heads broken in the fustian and the rattle.
There were real lines drawn:
Not the silver and the gold,
But Nebraska's cry went eastward against the dour and old,
The mean and cold.

It was eighteen ninety-six, and I was just sixteen
And Altgeld ruled in Springfield, Illinois,
When there came from the sunset Nebraska's shout of joy:
In a coat like a deacon, in a black Stetson hat
He scourged the elephant plutocrats
With barbed wire from the Platte.
The scales dropped from their mighty eyes.
They saw that summer's noon
A tribe of wonders coming
To a marching tune.

Oh the longhorns from Texas,
The jay hawks from Kansas,
The plop-eyed bungaroo and giant giassicus,
The varmint, chipmunk, bugaboo,
The horn-toad, prairie-dog and ballyhoo,
From all the newborn states arow,
Bidding the eagles of the west fly on,
Bidding the eagles of the west fly on.
The fawn, prodactyl, and thing-a-ma-jig,
The rackaboor, the hellangone,
The whangdoodle, batfowl and pig,
The coyote, wild-cat and grizzly in a glow,
In a miracle of health and speed, the whole breed abreast,
The leaped the Mississippi, blue border of the West,
From the Gulf to Canada, two thousand miles long:-
Against the towns of Tubal Cain,

[...] Read more

poem by Vachel Lindsay
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I Idolize You

If you want some loving,
That I can give to you.
And if you want some hugging,
Said I can hug some, too.
All I want, baby, now
Is some thought of you
And just a little of your affection,
You know, will see me through.
cause you know that you are my man,
And I want you to forever be mine.
I idolize you (yes, she idolize you)

song performed by Tina Turner
Added by Lucian Velea
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Visions of the Daughters of Albion

The Eye sees more than the heart knows.

The Argument

I loved Theotormon
And I was not ashamed
I trembled in my virgin fears
And I hid in Leutha's Vale!

I plucked Leutha's flower,
And I rose up from the vale;
But the terrible thunders tore
My virgin mantle in twain.

Visions

Enslav'd, the Daughters of Albion weep; a trembling lamentation
Upon their mountains; in their valleys, sighs towards America.
For the soft soul of America, Oothoon wanderd in woe,
Along the vales of Leutha seeking flowers to comfort her;
And thus she spoke to the bright Marygold of Leutha's vale

Art thou a flower! art though a nymph! I see thee now a flower;
Now a nymph! I dare not pluck thee from thy dewy bed!

The Golden nymph replied; pluck thou my flower Oothoon the mild
Another flower shall spring. because the soul of sweet delight
Can never pass away, she ceas'd & closed her golden shrine.

Then Oothoon pluck'd the flower saying, I pluck thee from thy bed
Sweet flower. and put thee here to glow between my breasts
And thus I turn to where my whole soul seeks.

Over the waves she went in wing'd exulting swift delight;
And over Theotormon's reign, took her impetuous course.

Bromion rent her with his thunders. on his stormy bed
Lay the faint maid, and soon her woes apalld his thunders hoarse

Bromion spoke. behold this harlot here on Bromions bed.
And let the jealous dolphins sport around the lovely maid:
Thy soft American plains are mine, and mine thy north & south:
Stampt with my signet are the swarthy children of the sun;
They are obedient, they resist not, they obey the scourge:
Their daughters worship terrors and obey the violent:
Now thou maist marry Bromions harlot, and protect the child
Of Bromions rage, that Oothoon shall put forth in nine moons time
Then storms rent Theotormons limbs; he rolld his waves around.
And folded his black jealous waters round the adulterate pair
Bound back to back in Bromions caves terror & meekness dwell

[...] Read more

poem by William Blake (1793)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Fight For Freedom

There's a sound it┬┤s heard across the land
It's heard across the sea
You'll only hear it if you listen with your heart
And one day hope to be free

To hear the sound of freedom many gave their lives
They fought for you and me
Those memories will always live inside us
Now it's our time to be free

Where the eagles fly I will soon be there
If you want to come along with me my friend
Say the words and you'll be free
From the mountains to the sea
We'll fight for freedom again

So ring out loud for all the world to hear
From sea to shining sea
Let freedom ring and every man be king
To live as one through the years

Where the eagles fly I will soon be there
If you want to come along with me my friend
Say the words and you'll be free
From the mountains to the sea
We'll fight for freedom again

Now┬┤s the time we all must stand together
So raise your hands show them we are strong
Side by side the fight goes on forever
Marching to the battle with this song

Where the eagles fly I will soon be there
If you want to come along with me my friend
Say the words and you'll be free
From the mountains to the sea
We'll fight for freedom again

song performed by Manowar from Warriors Of The World
Added by Lucian Velea
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California Saga/the Beaks Of Eagles

An eagles nest on the head of an old redwood on one of the
Precipice-footed ridges
Above ventana creek, that jagged country which nothing but a fallen
Meteor will ever plow: no horseman
Will ever ride there, no hunter cross this ridge but the winged ones, no
One will steal the eggs from this fortress.
The she-eagle is old, her mate was shot long ago, she is now mated
With a son of hers.
When lightning blasted her nest she built it again on the same tree, in
The splinters of the thunder bolt.
In a broken shack an old man takes his time about dyin
And just at the back a wild flowerbed that hell lie in
In dawns new light a man might venture
A horse drawn stage from monterey.
The she-eagle is older than i: she was here when the fires of eighty-five
Raged on these ridges,
She was lately fledged and dared not hunt ahead of them, but ate scorched
Meat.
The world has changed in her time; humanity has multiplied,
But not here; mens hopes and thoughts and customs have changed, their
Powers are enlarged, their powers and their follies have become fantastic.
Spilled down the hill a wagon load of bodies lay scattered, shipwrecked
At sea.
Limestone ore is all that mattered.
They took it from the hills right through the cargo doors
How many ships have come and gone at thursos landing shore?
The unstable animal never has been changed so rapidly.
The motor and the plane and the great war have gone over him,
And lenin has lived and jehovah died: while the mother-eagle
Hunts her same hills, crying the same beautiful and lonely cry
And is never tired: dreams the same dreams,
And hears at night the rock-slides rattle and thunder in the
Throats of these living mountains.
It is good for man
To try all changes, progress and corruption, powers, peace and anguish,
Not to go down the dinosaurs way
Until all his capacities have been explored: and it is good for him
To know that his needs and nature are no more changed, in fact, in ten
Thousand years than the beaks of eagles.
Of the eagles plight, we know that natures balance is undone.
And its the birthright of man to unify and live his life as one.
A whisper of the word will let you soar with your soul.

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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