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A reasonable probability is the only certainty.

classic quote by E.W. Howe
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Morning Bell / Amnesiac

after years of waiting * nothing came * and as your life flashed before your eyes you realize * i'm a reasonable man, get off, get off, get off my case * i'm a reasonable man, get off my case get off, get off my case * after years of waiting * after years of waiting * nothing came * and as your life flashed before your eyes you realize you were looking the wrong place * i'm a reasonable man, get off my case get off, get off my case * i'm a reasonable man, get off my case get off, get off my case * get off my case * i'm a reasonable man, get off my case get off, get off my case * get off my case * after years of waiting * i'm a reasonable man, get off my case get off, get off my case * get off my case * i'm a reasonable man, get off my case get off, get off my case * get off my case * i'm a reasonable man, get off my case get off, get off my case * get off my case * i'm a reasonable man, get off my case get off, get off my case * get off my case *

song performed by Radiohead
Added by Lucian Velea
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Law[Earthing On Fire]

I dont want knowledge, I want certainty
I dont want knowledge, I want certainty
I dont want knowledge, I want certainty
In the street a man shouts out loud
A wallet drops and money flies into the midday sun
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
Oh I get a little bit afraid
Sometimes
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
Sure I get a little bit afraid
Sometimes
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
I dont want knowledge, I want certainty
I dont want knowledge, I want certainty
In a house a man drops dead
As he hits the floor he sighs
What a morning
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
Sure I get a little bit afraid
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
With the sound, with the sound, with the sound of the ground
Sure I get a little bit afraid
Sometimes
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
Oh I get a little bit afraid
Sometimes
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire
Earthlings on fire (I dont want knowledge, I want certainty)
Earthlings on fire (I dont want knowledge, I want certainty)
Sometimes
Earthlings (I dont want knowledge, I want certainty)
I dont want knowledge

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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Anchorless and Engulfed

Two who each other barely knew -
though both drew down delinquency
some streets apart, are past, and few
shall etch sketch wretched memory.
Two travelled on lines parallel
while wheeled real reel of history,
banned reel ran out span's tocsin bell
tolled once to tell eternity

‘Bonjour, ma mie, je t'aime, adieu! '
The mocking bird of Destiny
nests but a moment. All falls through
before each earth-bound entity
grasp pain's pain glass a second, spell
life's sensitivity to see
things in perspective ere Death's knell
engulfs hopes in Styx misery.

Confined upon Earth's ark our zoo
builds up its bars too readily.
Why all the fuss and bother to
paint rosy hues enticingly
when threescore ten years pass pell-mell,
too few attain vain century,
and those that do weak souls would sell
for one more week's dichotomy.

Upon Life's cruise a motley crew
free choice demands, yet few feel free,
awash with superstitious spew,
how few refuse to bend the knee?
The ‘finger writes' and then farewell!
A door to which there is no key
was ever veiled when curtains fell,
'and then no more of thee and me.'

'Time out! ' Reflection's hard to chew
in context where modernity
accelerates change [st]range most rue,
soon redefines autonomy,
confines empowerment to brew
disinformation debility,
losing second thoughts' review
of truth till last breath's verity
renders verdict curlicue
on humankind's inanity.

Climate out of kilter new
climactic catastrophe
prepares, ice-melt sends shockwaves through

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Second Book

TIMES followed one another. Came a morn
I stood upon the brink of twenty years,
And looked before and after, as I stood
Woman and artist,–either incomplete,
Both credulous of completion. There I held
The whole creation in my little cup,
And smiled with thirsty lips before I drank,
'Good health to you and me, sweet neighbour mine
And all these peoples.'
I was glad, that day;
The June was in me, with its multitudes
Of nightingales all singing in the dark,
And rosebuds reddening where the calyx split.
I felt so young, so strong, so sure of God!
So glad, I could not choose be very wise!
And, old at twenty, was inclined to pull
My childhood backward in a childish jest
To see the face of't once more, and farewell!
In which fantastic mood I bounded forth
At early morning,–would not wait so long
As even to snatch my bonnet by the strings,
But, brushing a green trail across the lawn
With my gown in the dew, took will and way
Among the acacias of the shrubberies,
To fly my fancies in the open air
And keep my birthday, till my aunt awoke
To stop good dreams. Meanwhile I murmured on,
As honeyed bees keep humming to themselves;
'The worthiest poets have remained uncrowned
Till death has bleached their foreheads to the bone,
And so with me it must be, unless I prove
Unworthy of the grand adversity,–
And certainly I would not fail so much.
What, therefore, if I crown myself to-day
In sport, not pride, to learn the feel of it,
Before my brows be numb as Dante's own
To all the tender pricking of such leaves?
Such leaves? what leaves?'
I pulled the branches down,
To choose from.
'Not the bay! I choose no bay;
The fates deny us if we are overbold:
Nor myrtle–which means chiefly love; and love
Is something awful which one dare not touch
So early o' mornings. This verbena strains
The point of passionate fragrance; and hard by,
This guelder rose, at far too slight a beck
Of the wind, will toss about her flower-apples.
Ah–there's my choice,–that ivy on the wall,
That headlong ivy! not a leaf will grow

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Hangman

Reasonable, reasonable, reasonable…we walked through
ten different homes, they always call them homes,
to find one ward where they like the babies who
looks like you. Each time, the eyes that no one owns
watched us intently, these visitors from the street
that moves outside. They watched, but did not know
about time, there in the house where babies never grow.
My boy, though innocent and mild
your brain is obsolete.
Those six times that you almost died
the newest medicine and the family fuss
pulled you back again. Supplied
with air, against my guilty wish,
your clogged pipes cried
like Lazarus.

At first your mother said…why me! why me!
But she got over that. Now she enjoys
her dull daily care and her hectic bravery.
You do not love anyone. She is not growing a boy;
she is enlarging a stone to wear around her neck.
Some nights in our bed her mouth snores at me coldly
or when she turns, her kisses walking out of the sea,
I think of the bad stories,
the monster and the wreck.
I think of that Scandinavian tale
that tells of the king who killed nine
sons in turn. Slaughtered wholesale,
they had one life in common
as you have mine,
my son.

poem by Anne Sexton
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Telephone Conversation

Wednesday, January 23,2008
Week 10: Telephone Conversation by Wole Soyinka

Week 10 Dividing lines: Differences in Class, race, Gender and Ideology

Telephone Conversation
by Wole Soyinka

The price seemed reasonable, location
Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived
Off premises. Nothing remained
But self-confession. 'Madam, ' I warned,
'I hate a wasted journey—I am African.'
Silence. Silenced transmission of
Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came,
Lipstick coated, long gold rolled
Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was foully.
'HOW DARK? '... I had not misheard... 'ARE YOU LIGHT
OR VERY DARK? ' Button B, Button A.* Stench
Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak.
Red booth. Red pillar box. Red double-tiered
Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed
By ill-mannered silence, surrender
Pushed dumbfounded to beg simplification.
Considerate she was, varying the emphasis-
'ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT? ' Revelation came.
'You mean-like plain or milk chocolate? '
Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light
Impersonality. Rapidly, wave-length adjusted,
I chose. 'West African sepia'-and as afterthought,
'Down in my passport.' Silence for spectroscopic
Flight of fancy, till truthfulness clanged her accent
Hard on the mouthpiece. 'WHAT'S THAT? ' conceding
'DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS.' 'Like brunette.'
'THAT'S DARK, ISN'T IT? ' 'Not altogether.
Facially, I am brunette, but, madam, you should see
The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet
Are a peroxide blond. Friction, caused-

[...] Read more

poem by Tamilarasi Shalu
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The probability of life originating from accident is comparable to the probability of the unabridged dictionary resulting from an explosion in a printing shop.

quote by Edwin Conklin
Added by Lucian Velea
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Today is an ephemeral ghost... A strange amazing day that comes only once every four years. For the rest of the time it does not "exist." In mundane terms, it marks a "leap" in time, when the calendar is adjusted to make up for extra seconds accumulated over the preceding three years due to the rotation of the earth. A day of temporal tune up! But this day holds another secret—it contains one of those truly rare moments of delightful transience and light uncertainty that only exist on the razor edge of things, along a buzzing plane of quantum probability... A day of unlocked potential. Will you or won't you? Should you or shouldn't you? Use this day to do something daring, extraordinary and unlike yourself. Take a chance and shape a different pattern in your personal cloud of probability!

Vera Nazarian in The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Time and space

Time and space
Decide each happening
Significant or otherwise

Let us look back
Events all through our lives
You would agree
Events and things
That had an impact on us or otherwise
Happened just because of this
Meeting point of time and space

Each one of us
Came on to this earth
Because of the time and space synchronizing
At a time when millions of sperms
Were on a race to meet one single egg
Time and space only made the
Fertilization and development
Thus at the time of your conception
There was a probability of a meagre
One part per millions
With much greater possibilities
Of someone else being conceived

Extending this, you will agree
A thing to fructify or
An event to occur
The probability is quite low
If not a part per million
A part per thousands

You can be sure that
A thing or event will not
Evolve or occur without the role of
Time and space

Be also sure that
There is no point to blame others or
Curse yourselves
For your unaccomplished desires

But, understand that
Time is unripe and
Space is unoccupied
And that is why
Dreams do not fructify
Despite all your efforts
Skillful advancement
Towards goal

[...] Read more

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Alive, Aware And Free

A lie-detector expert, Clive Baxter, attached
polygraph machines to philodendron leaves,
tracings showed typical responses obtained
when subject to brief emotional stimulation,
he decided to burn a leaf and the tracing went
wild showing fright, the plant read the threat
he only formulated in his head!

‘The Secret Life of Plants’ by Christopher Bird
and Peter Tomkins proved that plants respond
to thought, speech and prayer – but scientists
questioned their experiments which could not
be replicated indefinitely, only sensitives elicit
a response from plants which means they found
character determines results

This has been confirmed by quantum physics:
observation influences the object observed as
well as observer, particles follow expectations
appearing as wave or fixed point reacting to pre-
conceived assumptions; these pioneers have
been vindicated by the quantum’s probability
curve replacing pre-determination

Intensifying my fascination with all things wild and
wonderful – the clockwork universe requirement
for inevitable predictability destroyed by random
probability; every particle is alive, aware and free
to choose existence to non-being by means of
chemical communication*

‘The Reader’s Digest Book of Strange Stories,
Amazing Facts’, Reprinted July 1977

“Do Plants Have Emotions? Sensitive creatures
in the plant world” - p 91

* Studies in the Kruger National Park has shown when
a tree’s leaves are eaten, nearby trees change their
chemical composition forcing herbivores to move
several trees away to find fresh, sweet leaves;
thus nature prevents overgrazing, if animals
are forced to eat nearby leaves, they die of
bloated stomachs

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Manifesto [ORIGINAL & REVISED]

[REVISED]

Okay – I admit romance does not exist, at least
not in this quaint veracity which claims it has a
place somewhere but rarely ever here

I shall not cry about discovery of circumstance
that fact is non-existent in romance – reality a
chance one does not really have to see

Anyone can prove it lives eternally in dreams, a
never dying sustenance of many Worlds beliefs
with energies too dominant to ever die

If fantasy alive and well then I admit against my
better judgement I’ve been hurt; but add in haste
it does not matter since it truly breathes

In Worlds as infinite or parallel, I do not need the
proof of our reality – a mere perchance of it as
probability enough - the vastness of infinity

allows for every choice and dream or hope and
expectation to exist – I do not need accord to see
romance, or merely mention the ideal -

of fantasy, hopes, & dreams to make it true for me,
I shall avoid reality, live in dreams encompassing
imaginings I’ve always gladly had or harboured to

excess; therefore your attitude, and lack of feeling
means a blank to me; cannot kill the vision I shall
cherish from now on until eternity arrives…

[ORIGINAL]

Okay, I admit, romance does not exist – at least not
in this reality; but the fact that we can dream about
romance is proof it does exist somewhere

I shall not cry about my loss – discovering that
romance is non-existent – reality is only a mirage,
one parallel world amongst many – I do not need

Anyone to prove that romance lives on in our dreams,
nothing can kill it; no negative word, no pain, no dis-
illusionment, can kill the many worlds theory

Where fantasy is alive and well - I admit, against my

[...] Read more

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Mileva And Certainty

Mileva loved him more than the Stars,
more than Time itself.

They both were physics majors
and dreamers who
wanted to take Newton
to new ground.

Both wanted Certainty:
he had his Cosmological Constant
and tried to prove that God does
not throw dice-
that the Universe was orderly.

She wanted Certainty, too,
and some say showed him how
and this is reflected in some of the ideas
which made him famous.

He got Quantum Physics
and The Theory of Uncertainty;
both then
had only Probabilities.

He divorced her
promising
his Nobel Prize money
and he spun away
into Relativity and Gravity;

both lost threads in the fabric
of Space and Time.

Both lost Certainty,

as we all now have,

we have now
only
Probabilities
and Relativities.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Idols

An Ode
Luce intellettual, piena d' amore

Prelude
Lo, the spirit of a pulsing star within a stone
Born of earth, sprung from night!
Prisoned with the profound fires of the light
That lives like all the tongues of eloquence
Locked in a speech unknown!
The crystal, cold and hard as innocence,
Immures the flame; and yet as if it knew
Raptures or pangs it could not but betray,
As if the light could feel changes of blood and breath
And all--but--human quiverings of the sense,
Throbs of a sudden rose, a frosty blue,
Shoot thrilling in its ray,
Like the far longings of the intellect
Restless in clouding clay.

Who has confined the Light? Who has held it a slave,
Sold and bought, bought and sold?
Who has made of it a mystery to be doled,
Or trophy, to awe with legendary fire,
Where regal banners wave?
And still into the dark it sends Desire.
In the heart's darkness it sows cruelties.
The bright jewel becomes a beacon to the vile,
A lodestar to corruption, envy's own:
Soiled with blood, fought for, clutched at; this world's prize,
Captive Authority. Oh, the star is stone
To all that outward sight,
Yet still, like truth that none has ever used,
Lives lost in its own light.

Troubled I fly. O let me wander again at will
(Far from cries, far from these
Hard blindnesses and frozen certainties!)
Where life proceeds in vastness unaware
And stirs profound and still:
Where leafing thoughts at shy touch of the air
Tremble, and gleams come seeking to be mine,
Or dart, like suddenly remembered youth,
Like the ache of love, a light, lost, found, and lost again.
Surely in the dusk some messenger was there!
But, haunted in the heart, I thirst, I pine.--
Oh, how can truth be truth
Except I taste it close and sweet and sharp
As an apple to the tooth?

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Laurence Binyon
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Let me state what the official IPCC prediction is: Sea levels could go up as much as three-quarters of a meter in this century, but there is a reasonable probability it could be much higher than that.

quote by Steven Chu
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Rosciad

Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.

Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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Do not expect to arrive at certainty in every subject which you pursue. There are a hundred things wherein we mortals. . . must be content with probability, where our best light and reasoning will reach no farther.

quote by Isaac Watts
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We may not be able to get certainty, but we can get probability, and half a loaf is better than no bread.

quote by C.S. Lewis
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The new always happens against the overwhelming odds of statistical laws and their probability, which for all practical, everyday purposes amounts to certainty; the new therefore always appears in the guise of a miracle.

quote by Hannah Arendt
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Probability is expectation founded upon partial knowledge. A perfect acquaintance with all the circumstances affecting the occurrence of an event would change expectation into certainty, and leave nether room nor demand for a theory of probabilities.

quote by George Boole
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From principles is derived probability, but truth or certainty is obtained only from facts.

quote by Tom Stoppard
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