Canadian Supreme Court Aug 24th,2012
CANADIAN SUPREME COURT Aug 24th,2012
By
James Bredin
Appointees from a very secret list who are up there near the gods,
Dressed like Santa Clause or bishops - they got the official nods,
The Canadian Supreme Court hangs out in big fancy places,
They are very important so you better recognize their faces.
They allowed a drug-addict Insite clinic in Vancouver town,
Despite the Federal Government's attempts to close it down,
Who runs this country - the government or the Supreme Court?
Elected politicians or appointees - who should we support?
They told very sick, facing death, Sue Rodriguez, where to go,
She had Lou Gehrig's disease and wanted to die; they said no,
And we can't change or even elect our prime minister by name,
And Quebec may have a referendum so we all should have the same.
We all need binding referendums and death with dignity soon,
Could the Supreme Court help us here - get out of our cocoon?
There's no doubt that a Quebec referendum could bring big change,
Maybe this could be a good thing if Stephen Harper could arrange.
Aug 24th,2012
poem by James Bredin
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Related quotes
Santas Beard
I wanna meet santa claus, the real real santa
I wanna meet santa claus, the real real santa
I wanna see santa claus, the real real santa
He wants to meet ol santa claus
I took my brother to the department store
He wanted to show santa his christmas list
He stood in line and he shook like a leaf
Hes only five and a half goin on six
He said, is that (that santa) really santa claus,
Really really (the real santa) santa claus?
Is that (that santa) really santa claus, really really santa?
(I hope he doesnt pull santas beard)
Is that (that santa) really santa claus,
Really really (the real santa) santa?
Hope he thinks thats santa claus
I picked him up and put him on santas lap
And then he pulled the pillow out of his shirt
He yanked the beard right on off of his chin
And in his eyes I could see he was hurt
He said, youre not (not santa) really santa claus,
Youre really not (the real santa) santa claus
Youre not (not santa) really santa claus,
Youre really not santa (he shouldnta pulled santas beard)
Youre not (not santa) santa claus,
Youre really not (the real santa) santa
Hes just helpin santa claus
Hes just helpin (helpin santa) santa claus,
The real (the real santa) real santa
Hes helpin (helpin santa) santa claus,
The real (the real santa) real santa
Hes just helpin (helpin santa) santa claus,
The real (the real santa) real santa
Hes just helpin santa claus
Hes just helpin (helpin santa) santa claus,
The real (the real santa) real santa
Hes just helpin (helpin santa) santa claus,
The real (he shouldnta pulled santas beard) real santa
Hes just helpin (helpin santa) santa claus,
The real (the real santa) real santa
Hes just helpin santa claus
song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Perfect Drug
The perfect drug
I got my head, but my head is unraveling
Cant keep control, cant keep track of where its traveling
I got my heart but my heart is no good
And youre the only one thats understood
I come along but I dont know where youre taking me
I shouldnt go but youre reaching back and shaking me
Turn off the sun, pull the stars from the sky
The more I give to you, the more I die
And I want you
And I want you
And I want you
And I want you
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You make me hard, when Im all soft inside
I see the truth, when Im all stupid eyed
The arrow goes straight through my heart
Without you everything just falls apart
My blood wants to say hello to you
My feelings want to get inside of you
My soul is so afraid to realize
Every little word is a lack of me
And I want you
And I want you
And I want you
And I want you
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
(whispering)
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the drug, the perfect drug
Take me, with you
Take me, with you
Take me, with you
(continues in backround)
Without you, without you everything falls apart
Without you, its not as much fun to pick up the pieces
Without you, without you everything falls apart
Without you, its not as much fun to pick up the pieces
Its not as much fun to pick up the pieces
Its not as much fun to pick up the pieces
Without you, without you everything falls apart
Without you, its not as much fun to pick up the pieces
song performed by Nine Inch Nails
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hey Santa
If everyday was christmas
If we could make believe
If everyone would care a little more
Thered be harmoney
The city is covered in snow tonight
The children fast asleep
Im waiting for him, but hes nowhere in sight
And I wonder if he can hear me
Hey santa
Hey santa...santa
I wish with all my might
Hey santa
Hey santa...santa
Bring my baby home tonight
Why does it feel like its colder than winter
Even by the fireside
My baby said hed be home for christmas
And now its almost midnight
The christmas lights up and down the street
Are such a sight to see
But all the presents by the tree
They dont mean a thing till hes with me
Hey santa
Hey santa...santa
I wish with all my might
Hey santa
Hey santa...santa
If you hear me wont you hurry
Bring my baby tonight
I know your sleigh is full inside
But wont you stop and give my baby a ride
Ill be waiting by candle light this christmas
The christmas lights up and down the street
Are such a sight to see
But all the presents by the tree
They dont mean a thing
Santa please hear me
Hey santa
Hey santa...santa
I wish with all my might
Hey santa
Hey santa...santa
If you hear me wont you hurry
Bring my baby tonight
The christmas lights up and down the street
The presents by the tree
I hear a knock, oh can it be?
My wish is staring back at me
Hey santa
Hey santa...santa
[...] Read more
song performed by Wilsons
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I Believe In Santa Claus
I believe in santa claus
I believe in santa claus
I believe theres always hope when all seems lost
And I believe in santa claus
I believe in santa claus, Ill tell you why I do
cause I believe that dreams and plans and wishes can come true
I believe in miracles, I believe in magic too
Oh I believe in santa claus and I believe in you
I believe in family, in country and in smiles
I believe in turnin negatives to positives in life
I believe in lookin farther up the farther down we get
I believe when someone hurts us we should forgive and forget
And I believe in santa claus
I believe in santa claus
I believe love should prevail at any cost
And I believe in santa claus
I believe in saying what you mean and meaning what you say
I believe a better attitude can make a better way
And I believe in viewing life as a journey that were on
And lookin at our troubles as another stepping stone
And I believe that everything in life is what its meant to be
I believe there is a God somewhere although hes hard to see
I believe I am so therefore I should do all that I can
To be a better piece in the puzzle of gods plan
And I believe in santa claus
I believe in santa claus
I believe theres always hope when all seems lost
And I believe in santa claus
Let the little children sing it
I believe in santa claus, I believe in santa claus
I believe in santa claus, I believe in santa claus
Let the whole world sing it with us
I believe in santa claus, I believe in santa claus
I believe in santa claus, I believe in santa claus
Let the whole world sing it with us
I believe in santa claus
I believe in santa claus
I believe theres always hope when all seems lost
I believe in santa claus
song performed by Dolly Parton
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Should Be Allowed To Think
I saw the best minds of my generation
Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim, one occurs to me
If necessary, leave paper stains on the grey utility pole
I saw the worst bands of my generation
Applied by magic marker to dry wall
I should be allowed to shoot my mouth off
I should have a call in show
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim, one occurs to me
If necessary, leave paper stains on the grey utility pole
I am not allowed
To ever come up with a single original thought
I am not allowed
To meet the criminal government agent who oppresses me
I was the worst hope of my generation
Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical
I should be allowed to share my feelings
I should be allowed to feel
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim one occurs to me
But sadly, this can never be
I am not allowed to think
I am not allowed to think
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
song performed by They Might Be Giants
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V. Count Guido Franceschini
Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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 Aeneid of Virgil: Book 2
ALL were attentive to the godlike man,
When from his lofty couch he thus began:
“Great queen, what you command me to relate
Renews the sad remembrance of our fate:
An empire from its old foundations rent, 5
And ev’ry woe the Trojans underwent;
A peopled city made a desart place;
All that I saw, and part of which I was:
Not ev’n the hardest of our foes could hear,
Nor stern Ulysses tell without a tear. 10
And now the latter watch of wasting night,
And setting stars, to kindly rest invite;
But, since you take such int’rest in our woe,
And Troy’s disastrous end desire to know,
I will restrain my tears, and briefly tell 15
What in our last and fatal night befell.
“By destiny compell’d, and in despair,
The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war,
And by Minerva’s aid a fabric rear’d,
Which like a steed of monstrous height appear’d: 20
The sides were plank’d with pine; they feign’d it made
For their return, and this the vow they paid.
Thus they pretend, but in the hollow side
Selected numbers of their soldiers hide:
With inward arms the dire machine they load, 25
And iron bowels stuff the dark abode.
In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle
(While Fortune did on Priam’s empire smile)
Renown’d for wealth; but, since, a faithless bay,
Where ships expos’d to wind and weather lay. 30
There was their fleet conceal’d. We thought, for Greece
Their sails were hoisted, and our fears release.
The Trojans, coop’d within their walls so long,
Unbar their gates, and issue in a throng,
Like swarming bees, and with delight survey 35
The camp deserted, where the Grecians lay:
The quarters of the sev’ral chiefs they show’d;
Here Phœnix, here Achilles, made abode;
Here join’d the battles; there the navy rode.
Part on the pile their wond’ring eyes employ: 40
The pile by Pallas rais’d to ruin Troy.
Thymoetes first (’t is doubtful whether hir’d,
Or so the Trojan destiny requir’d)
Mov’d that the ramparts might be broken down,
To lodge the monster fabric in the town. 45
But Capys, and the rest of sounder mind,
The fatal present to the flames designed,
Or to the wat’ry deep; at least to bore
The hollow sides, and hidden frauds explore.
The giddy vulgar, as their fancies guide, 50
[...] Read more
poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Santa Claus Is Back In Town
Ooh yeah mmmhmmm
I was walking home on christmas eve
The whole neighborhood was fast asleep
The snow was falling, coming down hard
The place looked like a picture post card
And when my house came into view
I noticed something up on the roof
You cant imagine my surprise
When I looked up and realized
It was santa on the rooftop
And our house was santas first roof stop
The reindeer were quiet as a mouse
Didnt make a sound
Santa got ready to make his way down
He had one foot in the chimney
Destination our brand new christmas tree
I knew everyone was gonna be shocked
When I told them I saw santa on the rooftop
I tried to get home right away
But I was just a little too late
The gifts were laid out under the tree
But no sign of mr. sc
I ran over to the fireplace
But there was nothing but an empty space
Got everybody up out of bed
Their eyes opened wide when I said
It was santa on the rooftop
And our house was santas first roof stop
The reindeer were quiet as a mouse
Didnt make a sound
Santa got ready to make his way down
He had one foot in the chimney
Destination our brand new christmas tree
I knew everyone was gonna be shocked
When I told them I saw santa on the rooftop
Some people think the mans a myth
I had my doubts, I admit
Theyll laugh and criticize
When somebody says with that look in their eyes
It was santa on the rooftop
And our house was santas first roof stop
The reindeer were quiet as a mouse
Didnt make a sound
Santa got ready to make his way down
One foot in the chimney
Destination our brand new christmas tree yeah
I knew everyone was gonna be shocked
When I told them I saw santa on the rooftop
Oh yeah
When I told them I saw santa on the rooftop
[...] Read more
song performed by Trisha Yearwood
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad of the White Horse
DEDICATION
Of great limbs gone to chaos,
A great face turned to night--
Why bend above a shapeless shroud
Seeking in such archaic cloud
Sight of strong lords and light?
Where seven sunken Englands
Lie buried one by one,
Why should one idle spade, I wonder,
Shake up the dust of thanes like thunder
To smoke and choke the sun?
In cloud of clay so cast to heaven
What shape shall man discern?
These lords may light the mystery
Of mastery or victory,
And these ride high in history,
But these shall not return.
Gored on the Norman gonfalon
The Golden Dragon died:
We shall not wake with ballad strings
The good time of the smaller things,
We shall not see the holy kings
Ride down by Severn side.
Stiff, strange, and quaintly coloured
As the broidery of Bayeux
The England of that dawn remains,
And this of Alfred and the Danes
Seems like the tales a whole tribe feigns
Too English to be true.
Of a good king on an island
That ruled once on a time;
And as he walked by an apple tree
There came green devils out of the sea
With sea-plants trailing heavily
And tracks of opal slime.
Yet Alfred is no fairy tale;
His days as our days ran,
He also looked forth for an hour
On peopled plains and skies that lower,
From those few windows in the tower
That is the head of a man.
But who shall look from Alfred's hood
[...] Read more
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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A Canadian Poet Since You Asked
A Canadian poet since you asked.
I’m madder than the landscape.
Glaciers have scarred me
retreating north like my father.
My heart has been shaped by neolithic chisels
into a dolmen of Michelangelo’s David
with a silver bullet and a rock in his hand
and the determination of a statue
who refuses to be intimidated by a scarecrow.
The end of an ice age.
No leftovers.
The platter scraped clean as the Canadian Shield.
Savage runes carved in rock by rock.
Older than the Rosetta Stone
my silence is indecipherable.
I mean marrow.
I mean broken bones.
I mean blood on the snow.
The moon comes like a nurse to the wounded pines
and applies a cool poultice of light to their limbs
in a season of storms
when the lake raves
and the fish dive deeper into themselves
and the bears huddle up under their layers of fat
in caves they’ve turned into dream wombs
and I burn underground like the root-fire
of a radical evangelist
among survivalist cedars
gathering under tents of snow
to be born again in the blood of the Caribou.
There are more heretics in the wilderness
than there are saints.
Whatever it takes to keep warm.
There are nights when my spirit is so cold
it congeals on my eyes
like breath on a windowpane
and I’d say anything
without amending an iota of it
just to be burnt at the stake
and thaw the chandeliers of frozen tears
that hang over me like the sword of Damocles
or the brittle radiance of the Pleiades
where they pick glass apples from sapphire trees
or the crystal castles of Arianrod in Corona Borealis
where everything turns like a Sufi top
but no one ever gets vertigo
and the Celts pay back money they owe the dead
after they die
if you can imagine that.
I make a significant Doppler Shift in my lifelines
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick White
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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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The Masque Of Pandora
THE WORKSHOP OF HEPHAESTUS
HEPHAESTUS (standing before the statue of Pandora.)
Not fashioned out of gold, like Hera's throne,
Nor forged of iron like the thunderbolts
Of Zeus omnipotent, or other works
Wrought by my hands at Lemnos or Olympus,
But moulded in soft clay, that unresisting
Yields itself to the touch, this lovely form
Before me stands, perfect in every part.
Not Aphrodite's self appeared more fair,
When first upwafted by caressing winds
She came to high Olympus, and the gods
Paid homage to her beauty. Thus her hair
Was cinctured; thus her floating drapery
Was like a cloud about her, and her face
Was radiant with the sunshine and the sea.
THE VOICE OF ZEUS.
Is thy work done, Hephaestus?
HEPHAESTUS.
It is finished!
THE VOICE.
Not finished till I breathe the breath of life
Into her nostrils, and she moves and speaks.
HEPHAESTUS.
Will she become immortal like ourselves?
THE VOICE.
The form that thou hast fashioned out of clay
Is of the earth and mortal; but the spirit,
The life, the exhalation of my breath,
Is of diviner essence and immortal.
The gods shall shower on her their benefactions,
She shall possess all gifts: the gift of song,
The gift of eloquence, the gift of beauty,
The fascination and the nameless charm
That shall lead all men captive.
HEPHAESTUS.
Wherefore? wherefore?
(A wind shakes the house.)
I hear the rushing of a mighty wind
Through all the halls and chambers of my house!
Her parted lips inhale it, and her bosom
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Here Comes Santa Claus
(words & music by autry - haldeman)
Here comes santa claus, here comes santa claus,
Right down santa claus lane.
Vixen, blitzen, all his reindeer
Pulling on the reins.
Bells are ringing, children singing,
All is merry and bright.
Hang your stockings and say a prayer,
'cause santa claus comes tonight.
Here comes santa claus, here comes santa claus,
Riding down santa claus lane.
He's got a bag that's filled with toys
For boys and girls again.
Hear those sleigh bells jingle jangle,
What a beautiful sight.
Jump in bed and cover up your head,
Because santa claus comes tonight.
Here comes santa claus, here comes santa claus,
Riding down santa claus lane.
He doesn't care if you're a rich or poor boy,
He loves you just the same.
Santa knows that we're god's children,
That makes everything right.
Fill your hears with christmas cheer,
'cause santa claus comes tonight.
Well, here comes santa claus, here comes santa claus,
Riding down santa claus lane.
He'll come around when the chimes ring out
It's christmas morn again.
Peace on earth will come to all
If we just follow the light
Let's give thanks to the lord above,
'cause santa claus comes tonight.
'cause santa claus comes tonight
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Love Is The Drug
Taint no big thing,
To wait for the bell to ring,
Taint no big thing,
The toll of the bell,
Aggravated - spare for days,
Stroll downtown the red light place,
Jump up bubble up - whats in store,
Love is the drug and I need to score,
Showing out, showing out, hit and run,
Boy meets girl and the beat goes on,
Stitched up tight, cant shake free,
Love is the drug, got a hook on me,
Oh oh catch that buzz,
Love is the drug that im thinking of,
Yeah, cant you see?
Love is the drug for me,
Taint no big thing,
To wait for the bell to ring,
Taint no big thing,
The toll of the bell,
Late that night I park my car,
Stake my place in the singles bar,
Face to face, toe to toe,
Heart to heart as we hit the floor,
Lumber up, limbo down,
The locked embrace, the stumble round,
I say go, he say yes,
Dim the lights, you can guess the rest,
Yeah, catch that buzz,
Love is the drug that im thinking of,
Yeah, cant you see?
Love is the drug for me,
Taint no big thing,
To wait for the bell to ring,
Aint no big thing,
The toll of the bell,
Aggravated - spare for days,
Stroll downtown the red light place,
Jump up bubble up - whats in store,
Love is the drug and I need to score,
Showing out, showing out, hit and run,
Boy meets girl and the beat goes on,
Stitched up tight, cant shake free,
Love is the drug, got a hook on me,
Oh oh catch that buzz,
Love is the drug that im thinking of,
Oh oh, cant you see?
Love is the drug for me,
Yeah, catch that buzz,
Love is the drug that im thinking of,
[...] Read more
song performed by Grace Jones
Added by Lucian Velea
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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator
Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!
It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!
Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Thespis: Act II
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
GODS
Jupiter, Aged Diety
Apollo, Aged Diety
Mars, Aged Diety
Diana, Aged Diety
Mercury
THESPIANS
Thespis
Sillimon
TimidonTipseion
Preposteros
Stupidas
Sparkeio n
Nicemis
Pretteia
Daphne
Cymon
ACT II - The same Scene, with the Ruins Restored
SCENE-the same scene as in Act I with the exception that in place
of the ruins that filled the foreground of the stage, the
interior of a magnificent temple is seen showing the background
of the scene of Act I, through the columns of the portico at the
back. High throne. L.U.E. Low seats below it. All the substitute
gods and goddesses [that is to say, Thespians] are discovered
grouped in picturesque attitudes about the stage, eating and
drinking, and smoking and singing the following verses.
CHO. Of all symposia
The best by half
Upon Olympus, here await us.
We eat ambrosia.
And nectar quaff,
It cheers but don't inebriate us.
We know the fallacies,
Of human food
So please to pass Olympian rosy,
We built up palaces,
Where ruins stood,
And find them much more snug and cosy.
SILL. To work and think, my dear,
Up here would be,
[...] Read more
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Gebir
FIRST BOOK.
I sing the fates of Gebir. He had dwelt
Among those mountain-caverns which retain
His labours yet, vast halls and flowing wells,
Nor have forgotten their old master's name
Though severed from his people here, incensed
By meditating on primeval wrongs,
He blew his battle-horn, at which uprose
Whole nations; here, ten thousand of most might
He called aloud, and soon Charoba saw
His dark helm hover o'er the land of Nile,
What should the virgin do? should royal knees
Bend suppliant, or defenceless hands engage
Men of gigantic force, gigantic arms?
For 'twas reported that nor sword sufficed,
Nor shield immense nor coat of massive mail,
But that upon their towering heads they bore
Each a huge stone, refulgent as the stars.
This told she Dalica, then cried aloud:
'If on your bosom laying down my head
I sobbed away the sorrows of a child,
If I have always, and Heaven knows I have,
Next to a mother's held a nurse's name,
Succour this one distress, recall those days,
Love me, though 'twere because you loved me then.'
But whether confident in magic rites
Or touched with sexual pride to stand implored,
Dalica smiled, then spake: 'Away those fears.
Though stronger than the strongest of his kind,
He falls-on me devolve that charge; he falls.
Rather than fly him, stoop thou to allure;
Nay, journey to his tents: a city stood
Upon that coast, they say, by Sidad built,
Whose father Gad built Gadir; on this ground
Perhaps he sees an ample room for war.
Persuade him to restore the walls himself
In honour of his ancestors, persuade -
But wherefore this advice? young, unespoused,
Charoba want persuasions! and a queen!'
'O Dalica!' the shuddering maid exclaimed,
'Could I encounter that fierce, frightful man?
Could I speak? no, nor sigh!'
'And canst thou reign?'
Cried Dalica; 'yield empire or comply.'
Unfixed though seeming fixed, her eyes downcast,
The wonted buzz and bustle of the court
From far through sculptured galleries met her ear;
Then lifting up her head, the evening sun
Poured a fresh splendour on her burnished throne-
[...] Read more
poem by Walter Savage Landor
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Pharsalia - Book VI: The Fight Near Dyrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits. The Witch Of Thessalia.
Now that the chiefs with minds intent on fight
Had drawn their armies near upon the hills
And all the gods beheld their chosen pair,
Caesar, the Grecian towns despising, scorned
To reap the glory of successful war
Save at his kinsman's cost. In all his prayers
He seeks that moment, fatal to the world,
When shall be cast the die, to win or lose,
And all his fortune hang upon the throw.
Thrice he drew out his troops, his eagles thrice,
Demanding battle; thus to increase the woe
Of Latium, prompt as ever: but his foes,
Proof against every art, refused to leave
The rampart of their camp. Then marching swift
By hidden path between the wooded fields
He seeks, and hopes to seize, Dyrrhachium's fort;
But Magnus, speeding by the ocean marge,
First camped on Petra's slopes, a rocky hill
Thus by the natives named. From thence he keeps
Watch o'er the fortress of Corinthian birth
Which by its towers alone without a guard
Was safe against a siege. No hand of man
In ancient days built up her lofty wall,
No hammer rang upon her massive stones:
Not all the works of war, nor Time himself
Shall undermine her. Nature's hand has raised
Her adamantine rocks and hedged her in
With bulwarks girded by the foamy main:
And but for one short bridge of narrow earth
Dyrrhachium were an island. Steep and fierce,
Dreaded of sailors, are the cliffs that bear
Her walls; and tempests, howling from the west,
Toss up the raging main upon the roofs;
And homes and temples tremble at the shock.
Thirsting for battle and with hopes inflamed
Here Caesar hastes, with distant rampart lines
Seeking unseen to coop his foe within,
Though spread in spacious camp upon the hills.
With eagle eye he measures out the land
Meet to be compassed, nor content with turf
Fit for a hasty mound, he bids his troops
Tear from the quarries many a giant rock:
And spoils the dwellings of the Greeks, and drags
Their walls asunder for his own. Thus rose
A mighty barrier which no ram could burst
Nor any ponderous machine of war.
Mountains are cleft, and level through the hills
The work of Caesar strides: wide yawns the moat,
Forts show their towers rising on the heights,
[...] Read more
poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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Santa Claus Is Comin To Town
(j. fred coots/haven gillespie)
You better watch out
You better not cry
You better not pout
Im telling you why
Santa claus is coming to town
Santa claus is coming to town
Santa claus is coming to town
Hes making a list,
Checking it twice;
Gonna find out whos naughty or nice.
Santa claus is coming to town
Santa claus is coming to town
Santa claus is coming to town
He sees you when youre sleeping
He knows when youre awake
He knows if youve been bad or good
So be good for goodness sake
With little tin horns and little toy drums
Rooty toot toots and rummy tum tums
Santa claus is coming to town
Santa claus is coming to town
Santa claus is coming to town
He sees you when youre sleeping
He knows when youre awake
He knows if youve been bad or good
So be good for goodness sake
Goodness sake
You better watch out
You better not cry
You better not pout
Im telling you why
Santa claus is coming to town
Santa claus is coming to town
Santa claus is coming
Santa claus is coming
Santa claus is coming to town
(coming to town)
Santas a busy man he has no time to play
Hes got millions of stockings to fill on christmas day
(santa claus is coming to town)
(coming to town)
(santa claus is coming to town)
(coming to town)
song performed by Lonestar
Added by Lucian Velea
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