Doll's House
The music comes on with the lights,
the little opera of emptiness begins, the little
dance of no one there —
just the rooms exhibited,
furniture in them like ideas,
a stage set waiting for action out of the blue.
But no,
even the fire in the hearth is neon, warms no one,
the drawers in the painted chests,
are filled with nothing,
the tables loaded with miniature, fake, repasts.
It’s night outside, about to snow, the dollhouse lights are on:
you’re in the dark,
watching the dollhouse like a thief,
pilfering its pockets for a clue to your own life,
wafted over by smells of cooking, and silence.
Inside the dark
a flute starts to play, imaginary people come in at the door:
invited to stay, they take off their coats,
tea is made in a miniature pot — oh,
it’s good I hear you say, let’s have crumpets too, and we put them on,
you and I, they’re almost crumbs but we toast them,
and what kind of jam do you want, I say, on top of the butter,
and you say raspberry,
and I give it to you, reader,
I give it to you and we both eat.
Outside the big house it’s snowing.
Applied frost creeps up the sides of the doll house windows,
the fake fireplace glows electric,
our toy dog sleeps on the rug —
a hush falls over this small house inside the big house,
we sleep in it…
I sleep, you sleep, he sleeps, she sleeps…
it sleeps, the real,
a sleep so delicious, we can dream in it,
as in a delirium, without sound…
windows opening into windows,
shoes never walked in at the door
that we slip on.
poem by Ioanna Carlsen
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Related quotes
Magic Dance
You remind me of the baby
What baby? baby with the power
What power? power of voodoo
Who do? you do
Do what? remind me of the baby
I saw my baby, crying hard as babe could cry
What could I do
My babys love had gone
And left my baby blue
Nobody knew
What kind of magic spell to use
Slime and snails
Or puppy dogs tails
Thunder or lightning
Then baby said
Dance magic, dance (dance magic, dance)
Dance magic, dance (dance magic, dance)
Put that baby spell on me
Jump magic, jump (jump magic, jump)
Jump magic, jump (jump magic, jump)
Put that magic jump on me
Slap that baby, make him free
I saw my baby, trying hard as babe could try
What could I do
My babys fun had gone
And left my baby blue
Nobody knew
What kind of magic spell to use
Slime and snails
Or puppy dogs tails
Thunder or lightning
Then baby said
Dance magic, dance (dance magic, dance)
Dance magic, dance (dance magic, dance)
Put that baby spell on me
Jump magic, jump (jump magic, jump)
Jump magic, jump (jump magic, jump)
Put that magic jump on me
Slap that baby, make him free
Dance magic, dance (dance magic, dance)
Dance magic, dance (dance magic, dance)
Dance magic, dance (dance magic, dance)
Dance magic, dance (dance magic, dance)
Jump magic, jump (jump magic, jump)
Jump magic, jump (jump magic, jump)
Put that baby spell on me (ooh)
You remind me of the baby
What baby? the baby with the power
What power? power of voodoo
Who do? you do
[...] Read more
song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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The House Of Dust: Complete
I.
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.
'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.
We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .
Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.
Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.
Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.
II.
[...] Read more
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Dance, Dance, Dance
After six hours of school Ive had enough for the day
I hit the radio dial and turn it up all the way
I gotta dance (dance dance dance now the beats really hot) right on the spot
(dance dance dance right there on the spot)
The beats really hot
(dance dance dance now the beats really hot)
Dance (dance) dance (dance) dance (dance) yeah!
When I feel put down I try to shake it off quick
With my chick by my side the radio does the trick
I gotta dance (dance dance dance now the beats really hot) right on the spot
(dance dance dance right there on the spot)
The beats really hot
(dance dance dance now the beats really hot)
Dance (dance) dance (dance) dance (dance) yeah!
Ohby!
At a weekend dance we like to show up late
I play it cool when its slow and jump it when its fast
I gotta dance (dance dance dance now the beats really hot) right on the spot
(dance dance dance right there on the spot)
The beats really hot
(dance dance dance now the beats really hot)
Dance (dance) dance (dance) dance (dance) yeah!
(dance dance dance now the beats really hot)
(dance dance dance right there on the spot)
(dance dance dance now the beats really hot)
Dance (dance) dance (dance) dance (dance) yeah!
(dance dance dance now the beats really hot)
(dance dance dance right there on the spot)
song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dance Dance Dance
After six hours of school I've had enough for the day
I hit the radio dial and turn it up all the way
I gotta dance (dance dance dance now the beat's really hot) right on the spot
(Dance dance dance right there on the spot)
The beat's really hot
(Dance dance dance now the beat's really hot)
Dance (dance) dance (dance) dance (dance) yeah!
When I feel put down I try to shake it off quick
With my guy by my side the radio does the trick
I wanna dance (dance dance dance now the beat's really hot) right on the spot
(Dance dance dance right there on the spot)
The beat's really hot
(Dance dance dance now the beat's really hot)
Dance (dance) dance (dance) dance (dance) yeah!
At a weekend dance we like to show up late
I play it cool when it's slow and jump it when it's fast
I gotta dance (dance dance dance now the beat's really hot) right on the spot
(Dance dance dance right there on the spot)
The beat's really hot
(Dance dance dance now the beat's really hot)
Dance (dance) dance (dance) dance (dance) yeah!
(Dance dance dance now the beat's really hot)
(Dance dance dance right there on the spot)
(Dance dance dance now the beat's really hot)
Dance (dance) dance (dance) dance (dance) yeah!
(Dance dance dance now the beat's really hot)
(Dance dance dance right there on the spot)
song performed by Wilson Phillips
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Scripture of the Golden Eternity
1
Did I create that sky? Yes, for, if it was anything other than a conception in my mind I wouldnt have said 'Sky'-That is why I am the golden eternity. There are not two of us here, reader and writer, but one, one golden eternity, One-Which-It-Is, That-Which- Everything-Is.
2
The awakened Buddha to show the way, the chosen Messiah to die in the degradation of sentience, is the golden eternity. One that is what is, the golden eternity, or, God, or, Tathagata-the name. The Named One. The human God. Sentient Godhood. Animate Divine. The Deified One. The Verified One. The Free One. The Liberator. The Still One. The settled One. The Established One. Golden Eternity. All is Well. The Empty One. The Ready One. The Quitter. The Sitter. The Justified One. The Happy One.
3
That sky, if it was anything other than an illusion of my mortal mind I wouldnt have said 'that sky.' Thus I made that sky, I am the golden eternity. I am Mortal Golden Eternity.
4
I was awakened to show the way, chosen to die in the degradation of life, because I am Mortal Golden Eternity.
5
I am the golden eternity in mortal animate form.
6
Strictly speaking, there is no me, because all is emptiness. I am empty, I am non-existent. All is bliss.
7
This truth law has no more reality than the world.
8
You are the golden eternity because there is no me and no you, only one golden eternity.
9
The Realizer. Entertain no imaginations whatever, for the thing is a no-thing. Knowing this then is Human Godhood.
10
This world is the movie of what everything is, it is one movie, made of the same stuff throughout, belonging to nobody, which is what everything is.
11
If we were not all the golden eternity we wouldnt be here. Because we are here we cant help being pure. To tell man to be pure on account of the punishing angel that punishes the bad and the rewarding angel that rewards the good would be like telling the water 'Be Wet'-Never the less, all things depend on supreme reality, which is already established as the record of Karma earned-fate.
12
God is not outside us but is just us, the living and the dead, the never-lived and never-died. That we should learn it only now, is supreme reality, it was written a long time ago in the archives of universal mind, it is already done, there's no more to do.
13
This is the knowledge that sees the golden eternity in all things, which is us, you, me, and which is no longer us, you, me.
14
What name shall we give it which hath no name, the common eternal matter of the mind? If we were to call it essence, some might think it meant perfume, or gold, or honey. It is not even mind. It is not even discussible, groupable into words; it is not even endless, in fact it is not even mysterious or inscrutably inexplicable; it is what is; it is that; it is this. We could easily call the golden eternity 'This.' But 'what's in a name?' asked Shakespeare. The golden eternity by another name would be as sweet. A Tathagata, a God, a Buddha by another name, an Allah, a Sri Krishna, a Coyote, a Brahma, a Mazda, a Messiah, an Amida, an Aremedeia, a Maitreya, a Palalakonuh, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 would be as sweet. The golden eternity is X, the golden eternity is A, the golden eternity is /\, the golden eternity is O, the golden eternity is [ ], the golden eternity is t-h-e-g-o-l-d-e-n-e-t-e-r- n-i-t-y. In the beginning was the word; before the beginning, in the beginningless infinite neverendingness, was the essence. Both the word 'god' and the essence of the word, are emptiness. The form of emptiness which is emptiness having taken the form of form, is what you see and hear and feel right now, and what you taste and smell and think as you read this. Wait awhile, close your eyes, let your breathing stop three seconds or so, listen to the inside silence in the womb of the world, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, re-recognize the bliss you forgot, the emptiness and essence and ecstasy of ever having been and ever to be the golden eternity. This is the lesson you forgot.
15
The lesson was taught long ago in the other world systems that have naturally changed into the empty and awake, and are here now smiling in our smile and scowling in our scowl. It is only like the golden eternity pretending to be smiling and scowling to itself; like a ripple on the smooth ocean of knowing. The fate of humanity is to vanish into the golden eternity, return pouring into its hands which are not hands. The navel shall receive, invert, and take back what'd issued forth; the ring of flesh shall close; the personalities of long dead heroes are blank dirt.
16
The point is we're waiting, not how comfortable we are while waiting. Paleolithic man waited by caves for the realization of why he was there, and hunted; modern men wait in beautified homes and try to forget death and birth. We're waiting for the realization that this is the golden eternity.
17
It came on time.
[...] Read more
poem by Jack Kerouac
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Do Your Dance
{b-side of cream}
Do your dance, why should u wait any longer? (let me push up on it)
Take a chance, it could only make you stronger (Im gonna push up on it)
(heh, heh, heh)
Do your dance (its time to do your dance)
(its time to do your dance)
(come on, come on)
La-la-la-la-la (come on, come on, move something)
La-la-la-la (move something)
(come on, come on, move something)
La-la-la-la-la (come on, move something)
La-la-la-la (come on, come on, move something, yeah)
Do your dance, (yeah)
Why should u wait any longer? (why you wanna wait? )
[u wanna babe, u wanna babe]
U wanna dance with me
Do your dance (dance, dance, dance)
U wanna dance with me (oh yeah) (lets dance)
Doobie, doobie, doobie
Do your dance (do your dance) (its time to do your dance)
(u know what Im saying, its time, yall)
(its time to do your dance)
Ooh baby, baby (its time to do that dance. oh yeah, thats it)
Ooh baby, baby (it aint that hard cmon now)
Ohh baby, come on lets dance
Ooh baby, baby
Ooh baby, baby
Ohh baby, come on lets dance
(oh yeah) get on up
Do your dance
(sweet thing) (shake it, shake it baby)
Do your dance (sweet thing)
(its time to do your dance) (sweet thing)
Everybodys got somethin that they know how to do (everybody)
If you wanna do it baby, Ill do it with you (come on)
Come on do, uh, (here we go)
Come on do, uh, (here we go)
Do your dance
Come on
Do your dance (its time to do your dance)
Do your dance (its time to do your dance)
Come on, now
Do your dance (its time to do your dance)
Do your dance (its time to do your dance)
Come on, now
(get on the floor and slam)
Listen 2 the drummer (get on the floor and slam)
Listen 2 the drummer, now (get on the floor and slam)
Listen 2 the drummer (get on the floor and slam)
Listen 2 the drummer, now
[...] Read more
song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dance, Dance Everywhere!
Dance, Dance Dance
everywhere,
When I look at the sky,
I see the clouds dance
Into steps of winds
My heart dance when I watch clouds dance!
How it can make me dance?
Without any tune or beats,
Its own beats me my heart dance.
Some strange tune it sings in silence and dance!
When I see at shore of ocean waves that dance,
Some birds in sky fly and dance,
On the waves boats that to the tune of waves, dance,
My mind sing lyricless
music to which it dance!
When I walk along the beach,
The headless crown of palm trees with wide open hands dance,
Watching them dance trees start their dance!
When I on countryside, green paddy fields dance,
Looking at them, the bird on the branch dance!
When walk along, trees with fruits dance,
And to its own rustling music, leaves dance!
When I walk in the park,
Plants with flowers dance!
Looking at the graceful dance flowerless dance,
When I move on street, hope and hap dance,
Seeing at them even hopeless an hapless to dance!
Smile on faces with hope dance,
Wrinkles on the forehead of hapless dance!
When I look at people in them mind dance,
In some happiness dance,
In some sorrowfulness dance,
Some I found with desperation dance
In some their laziness dance,
In some saintliness dance,
Most of the time wickedness dance,
And in some other dreams that dance!
Success that dance with some,
Distress that in unsuccessful dance,
[...] Read more
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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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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Fire Ferocious
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
You show no mercy – no regard:
A writhing army uncontrolled.
At least you don’t discriminate,
Selecting to exterminate:
All dealt with equal pain untold.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
In time of drought you run amok –
An open chimney of the land.
Prefer to scorch than suffocate:
In blinding zeal, incinerate
To blackened vista now unmanned.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
Destruction be your only goal
For you to vent your jealous wrath
On gentle life with caring soul
And human victims to console:
As you are none, but psychopath.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
So there it is – you are but flame:
Reacting gases to adorn –
With orange flicks of flailing arms,
You’re flaunting your demonic charms!
Now leave us for bereaved to mourn.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
So many lives to claim.
[...] Read more
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Fifth Book
AURORA LEIGH, be humble. Shall I hope
To speak my poems in mysterious tune
With man and nature,–with the lava-lymph
That trickles from successive galaxies
Still drop by drop adown the finger of God,
In still new worlds?–with summer-days in this,
That scarce dare breathe, they are so beautiful?–
With spring's delicious trouble in the ground
Tormented by the quickened blood of roots.
And softly pricked by golden crocus-sheaves
In token of the harvest-time of flowers?–
With winters and with autumns,–and beyond,
With the human heart's large seasons,–when it hopes
And fears, joys, grieves, and loves?–with all that strain
Of sexual passion, which devours the flesh
In a sacrament of souls? with mother's breasts,
Which, round the new made creatures hanging there,
Throb luminous and harmonious like pure spheres?–
With multitudinous life, and finally
With the great out-goings of ecstatic souls,
Who, in a rush of too long prisoned flame,
Their radiant faces upward, burn away
This dark of the body, issuing on a world
Beyond our mortal?–can I speak my verse
So plainly in tune to these things and the rest,
That men shall feel it catch them on the quick,
As having the same warrant over them
To hold and move them, if they will or no,
Alike imperious as the primal rhythm
Of that theurgic nature? I must fail,
Who fail at the beginning to hold and move
One man,–and he my cousin, and he my friend,
And he born tender, made intelligent,
Inclined to ponder the precipitous sides
Of difficult questions; yet, obtuse to me,–
Of me, incurious! likes me very well,
And wishes me a paradise of good,
Good looks, good means, and good digestion!–ay,
But otherwise evades me, puts me off
With kindness, with a tolerant gentleness,–
Too light a book for a grave man's reading! Go,
Aurora Leigh: be humble.
There it is;
We women are too apt to look to one,
Which proves a certain impotence in art.
We strain our natures at doing something great,
Far less because it's something great to do,
Than, haply, that we, so, commend ourselves
As being not small, and more appreciable
To some one friend. We must have mediators
[...] Read more
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Cremona Violin
Part First
Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door.
A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind
Swirled through the trees, and scattered leaves before
Her on the clean, flagged path. The sky behind
The distant town was black, and sharp defined
Against it shone the lines of roofs and towers,
Superimposed and flat like cardboard flowers.
A pasted city on a purple ground,
Picked out with luminous paint, it seemed. The cloud
Split on an edge of lightning, and a sound
Of rivers full and rushing boomed through bowed,
Tossed, hissing branches. Thunder rumbled loud
Beyond the town fast swallowing into gloom.
Frau Altgelt closed the windows of each room.
She bustled round to shake by constant moving
The strange, weird atmosphere. She stirred the fire,
She twitched the supper-cloth as though improving
Its careful setting, then her own attire
Came in for notice, tiptoeing higher and higher
She peered into the wall-glass, now adjusting
A straying lock, or else a ribbon thrusting
This way or that to suit her. At last sitting,
Or rather plumping down upon a chair,
She took her work, the stocking she was knitting,
And watched the rain upon the window glare
In white, bright drops. Through the black glass a flare
Of lightning squirmed about her needles. 'Oh!'
She cried. 'What can be keeping Theodore so!'
A roll of thunder set the casements clapping.
Frau Altgelt flung her work aside and ran,
Pulled open the house door, with kerchief flapping
She stood and gazed along the street. A man
Flung back the garden-gate and nearly ran
Her down as she stood in the door. 'Why, Dear,
What in the name of patience brings you here?
Quick, Lotta, shut the door, my violin
I fear is wetted. Now, Dear, bring a light.
This clasp is very much too worn and thin.
I'll take the other fiddle out to-night
If it still rains. Tut! Tut! my child, you're quite
Clumsy. Here, help me, hold the case while I -
Give me the candle. No, the inside's dry.
[...] Read more
poem by Amy Lowell
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Safety Dance
Ssss-aaaa-ffff-eeee-tttt-yyyy
Safety-dance!
Ah we can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind
Cause your friends dont dance and if they dont dance
Well theyre are no friends of mine
I say, we can go where we want to, a place where they will never find
And we can act like we come from out of this world
Leave the real one far behind,
And we can dance
We can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind
Cause your friends dont dance and if they dont dance
Well theyre are no friends of mine
I say, we can go where we want to a place where they will never find
And we can act like we come from out of this world
Leave the real one far behind
And we can dance.
Dancez!
Ah we can go when we want to the night is young and so am i
And we can dress real neat from our hats to our feet
And surprise em with the victory cry
I say we can act if want to if we dont nobody will
And you can act real rude and totally removed
And I can act like an imbecile
I say we can dance, we can dance everything out control
We can dance, we can dance were doing it wall to wall
We can dance, we can dance everybody look at your hands
We can dance, we can dance everybody takin the chance
Safety dance
Oh well the safety dance
Ah yes the safety dance
Ssss-aaaa-ffff-eeee-tttt-yyyy
Safety-dance
We can dance if we want to, weve got all your life and mine
As long as we abuse it, never gonna lose it
Everythingll work out right
I say, we can dance if we want to we can leave your friends behind
Cause your friends dont dance and if they dont dance
Well theyre are no friends of mine
I say we can dance, we can dance everything out of control
We can dance, we can dance were doing it wall to wall
We can dance, we can dance everybody look at your hands
We can dance, we can dance everybodys takin the chance
Oh well the safety dance
Ah yes the safety dance
Oh well the safety dance
Oh well the safety dance
Oh yes the safety dance
Oh the safety dance yeah
Oh its the safety dance
Its the safety dance
[...] Read more
song performed by Men Without Hats
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Safety Dance
Ssss-aaaa-ffff-eeee-tttt-yyyy
Safety-dance!
Ah we can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind
Cause your friends dont dance and if they dont dance
Well theyre are no friends of mine
I say, we can go where we want to, a place where they will never find
And we can act like we come from out of this world
Leave the real one far behind,
And we can dance
We can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind
Cause your friends dont dance and if they dont dance
Well theyre are no friends of mine
I say, we can go where we want to a place where they will never find
And we can act like we come from out of this world
Leave the real one far behind
And we can dance.
Francois!
Ah we can go when we want to the night is young and so am i
And we can dress real neat from our hats to our feet
And surprise em with the victory cry
I say we can act if want to if we dont nobody will
And you can act real rude and totally removed
And I can act like an imbecile
I say we can dance, we can dance everything out control
We can dance, we can dance were doing it wall to wall
We can dance, we can dance everybody look at your hands
We can dance, we can dance everybody takin the chance
Safety dance
Oh well the safety dance
Ah yes the safety dance
Ssss-aaaa-ffff-eeee-tttt-yyyy
Safety-dance
We can dance if we want to, weve got all your life and mine
As long as we abuse it, never gonna lose it
Everythingll work out right
I say, we can dance if we want to we can leave your friends behind
Cause your friends dont dance and if they dont dance
Well theyre are no friends of mine
I say we can dance, we can dance everything out control
We can dance, we can dance were doing it wall to wall
We can dance, we can dance everybody look at your hands
We can dance, we can dance everybodys takin the chance
Oh well the safety dance
Ah yes the safety dance
Oh well the safety dance
Oh well the safety dance
Oh yes the safety dance
Oh the safety dance yeah
Oh its the safety dance
Its the safety dance
[...] Read more
song performed by Men Without Hats
Added by Lucian Velea
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Gareth And Lynette
The last tall son of Lot and Bellicent,
And tallest, Gareth, in a showerful spring
Stared at the spate. A slender-shafted Pine
Lost footing, fell, and so was whirled away.
'How he went down,' said Gareth, 'as a false knight
Or evil king before my lance if lance
Were mine to use--O senseless cataract,
Bearing all down in thy precipitancy--
And yet thou art but swollen with cold snows
And mine is living blood: thou dost His will,
The Maker's, and not knowest, and I that know,
Have strength and wit, in my good mother's hall
Linger with vacillating obedience,
Prisoned, and kept and coaxed and whistled to--
Since the good mother holds me still a child!
Good mother is bad mother unto me!
A worse were better; yet no worse would I.
Heaven yield her for it, but in me put force
To weary her ears with one continuous prayer,
Until she let me fly discaged to sweep
In ever-highering eagle-circles up
To the great Sun of Glory, and thence swoop
Down upon all things base, and dash them dead,
A knight of Arthur, working out his will,
To cleanse the world. Why, Gawain, when he came
With Modred hither in the summertime,
Asked me to tilt with him, the proven knight.
Modred for want of worthier was the judge.
Then I so shook him in the saddle, he said,
"Thou hast half prevailed against me," said so--he--
Though Modred biting his thin lips was mute,
For he is alway sullen: what care I?'
And Gareth went, and hovering round her chair
Asked, 'Mother, though ye count me still the child,
Sweet mother, do ye love the child?' She laughed,
'Thou art but a wild-goose to question it.'
'Then, mother, an ye love the child,' he said,
'Being a goose and rather tame than wild,
Hear the child's story.' 'Yea, my well-beloved,
An 'twere but of the goose and golden eggs.'
And Gareth answered her with kindling eyes,
'Nay, nay, good mother, but this egg of mine
Was finer gold than any goose can lay;
For this an Eagle, a royal Eagle, laid
Almost beyond eye-reach, on such a palm
As glitters gilded in thy Book of Hours.
And there was ever haunting round the palm
A lusty youth, but poor, who often saw
[...] Read more
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie
This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.
This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it
Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman
Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian farmers,--
Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the woodlands,
Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven?
Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever departed!
Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts of October
Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far o'er the ocean
Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village of Grand-Pre.
Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and is patient,
Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's devotion,
List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines of the forest;
List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happy.
PART THE FIRST
I
In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas,
Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pre
Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward,
Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without number.
Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with labor incessant,
Shut out the turbulent tides; but at stated seasons the flood-gates
Opened, and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er the meadows.
West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards and cornfields
Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain; and away to the northward
Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on the mountains
Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty Atlantic
Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their station descended
There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Acadian village.
Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and of hemlock,
Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign of the Henries.
Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows; and gables projecting
Over the basement below protected and shaded the doorway.
There in the tranquil evenings of summer, when brightly the sunset
Lighted the village street and gilded the vanes on the chimneys,
Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in kirtles
Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the golden
Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles within doors
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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D. M. S. R.
Everybody, get on the floor
What the helld u come here 4?
Girl it aint no use, u might as well get loose
Work your body like a whore
Say everybody -- get on the beat
Were gonna show u mothers how 2 scream
People everywhere, loosen up your hair
Take a deeper breath and sing along with me, yes
Are u ready?
Everybody everybody ooh (ooh), alright (alright), dance music sex romance
Oh, everybody say ooh (ooh), alright (alright), dance music sex romance
Everybody (everybody) -- loosen up
Shake it like u just dont care (shake it like u just dont care)
Nevermind your friends, girl it aint no sin
2 strip right down 2 your underwear
I say everybody (everybody) -- screw the masses
We only want 2 have some fun (have some fun)
I say do whatever we want, wear lingerie 2 a restaurant
Police aint got no gun, u dont have 2 run
Everybody ooh (ooh), alright (alright), dance music sex romance
Everybody say ooh (ooh), alright (alright), dance music sex romance, oh
Everybody clap your hands now
All the white people clap your hands on the four now
One two three, one two three, one two three, one two three, listen 2 me
I dont wanna be a poet
cuz I dont wanna blow it
I dont care 2 win awards
All I wanna do is dance
Play music sex romance
And try my best 2 never get bored
If u feel all right lemme hear u scream
Somebody say dance (dance), music (music),
Sex (sex), romance (romance)
Somebody say dance (dance), music (music),
Sex (sex), romance (romance)
Everybody say dance (dance), music (music),
Sex (sex), romance (romance)
Everybody say dance (dance), music (music),
Oh say sex (sex), romance (romance)
Everybody dance (dance), music (music),
Everybody say sex (sex), romance (romance) ((d.m.s.r.))
Everybody dance (dance), music (music),
Sex(sex), romance (romance) ((d.m.s.r.))
Alright
Jamie starrs a thief
Its time 2 fix your clock
Vanity 6 is so sweet
No u can all take a bite of my purple rock, can we stop?
Are u ready? (hey!)
Everybody sing this song now, ooh (ooh), alright (alright),
[...] Read more
song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Neon Lights
Neon lights
Shimmering neon lights
And at the fall of night
The city is made of light
Neon lights
Shimmering neon lights
And at the fall of night
The city is made of light
I dream of you
With me tonight
Were all alone
Under the neon lights
And walking home
Youre by my side
The neon lights
Are in our eyes
Neon lights
Shimmering neon lights
And at the fall of night
The city is made of light
Neon lights
Shimmering neon lights
And at the fall of night
The city is made of light
song performed by Omd
Added by Lucian Velea
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XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Transmission
Radio, live transmission.
Radio, live transmission.
Listen to the silence, let it ring on.
Eyes, dark grey lenses frightened of the sun.
We would have a fine time living in the night,
Left to blind destruction,
Waiting for our sight.
And we would go on as though nothing was wrong.
And hide from these days we remained all alone.
Staying in the same place, just staying out the time.
Touching from a distance,
Further all the time.
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.
Well I could call out when the going gets tough.
The things that we've learnt are no longer enough.
of the show
And we could dance.
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.
Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.
song performed by New Order
Added by Lucian Velea
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society
Epigraph
Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.
I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.
You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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