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Face to face meetings
encourage wider breadth
than online greetings.

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Secret Meetings

I have secret meetings,
In my mind.
And...
I find they're the best,
All the of time.

Yes, I have secret meetings,
In my mind.
And...
I find they're the best,
All the of time.

In my mind to be condoned,
Secret meetings feeding peace.
In my mind I keep condoned.
Secret meetings feeding peace.
And my head I keep cool and collected.

Yes, I have secret meetings,
In my mind all the time.
And...
It's keepng me cool and collected.

Yes, I have secret meetings,
In my mind all the time.
And...
It's keepng me cool and collected.

Yes, I have secret meetings,
In my mind all the time.
And...
It's keepng me cool and collected.

I have secret meetings in my mind all the time,
To unwind...
From the beatings of the times.
With corruption on the pedestal directing the crimes.

I have secret meetings in my mind all the time,
To unwind...
From the beatings of the times.
With corruption on the pedestal directing the crimes.

I have secret meetings in my mind all the time,
To unwind...
From the beatings of the times.
With corruption on the pedestal directing the crimes.
With corruption on the pedestal directing the crimes.

I have secret meetings to unwind.

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0374 Seasonal greetings to...

In the spirit of the season
I'm working on a big-hearted,
multi-faith, inter-faith, lack-of-faith
religiously correct yet thinking outside the box (6 x 2)
all-inclusive but not syrupy or anodyne
seasonal greetings card
(or will the mention of season
offend non-seasonalists?)

here's the draft but no doubt
it'll draw comment.. feel free..

Seasonal greetings to All whom
I usually ignore:

Greetings to all our enemies -
please don't abandon your principles, I'm not asking that, but
can we draw a little nearer this year?

Greetings to all pagans -
we all would like to pop round for a merry drink or two and a hug
but can we do it indoors? Merry
mistletoe, etc. - wrap up well!

Greetings to all atheists -
enjoy your year all the more since
there's no One to thank except possibly
Intelligent Design?

Greetings to all agnostics -
should I hope that this year is
the year you make that big decision and
leap that big leap off
the fence of fierce, barbed intelligence - or
will life be the duller for it, for you?

Greetings to all humanists -
hope you feel really human all year and
don't lose faith in humanity, and please
spread it around especially
among those who have an over-developed
sense of sin...you could put the fun back in
fun-damentalist..

Greetings to all bah-humbugs -
who have better reason each year
to condemn the commercialisation
of the season - take the phone off,
disconnent the intercom at the door,
and have a really good time to yourself which

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Soccer Rollback

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Sestina Otiosa

Our great work, the Otia Merseiana,
Edited by learned Mister Sampson,
And supported by Professor Woodward,
Is financed by numerous Bogus Meetings
Hastily convened by Kuno Meyer
To impose upon the Man of Business.

All in vain! The accomplished Man of Business
Disapproves of Otia Merseiana,
Turns his back on Doctor Kuno Meyer;
Cannot be enticed by Mister Sampson,
To be present at the Bogus Meetings,
Though attended by Professor Woodward.

Little cares the staid Professor Woodward:
He, being something of a man of business,
Knows that not a hundred Bogus Meetings
To discuss the Otia Merseiana
Can involve himself and Mister Sampson
In the debts of Doctor Kuno Meyer.

So the poor deluded Kuno Meyer,
Unenlightened by Professor Woodward --
Whom, upon the word of Mister Sampson,
He believes to be a man of business
Fit to run the Otia Merseiana --
Keeps on calling endless Bogus Meetings.

Every week has now its Bogus Meetings,
Punctually convened by Kuno Meyer
In the name of Otia Merseiana:
Every other week Professor Woodward
Takes his place, and, as a man of business,
Audits the accounts with Mister Sampson.

He and impecunious Mister Sampson
Are the mainstay of the Bogus Meetings;
But the alienated Man of Business
Cannot be allured by Kuno Meyer
To attend and meet Professor Woodward,
Glory of the Otia Merseiana.

Kuno Meyer! Great Professor Woodward!
Bogus Meetings damn, for men of business,
Mister Sampson's Otia Merseiana.

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Love Online

We fell in love online
Even though we had never heard each others voice
Or saw each others face
Was there love online we could almost taste
For the words you spoke the words you wrote to me
I imagined you here saying them to me
We had a love affair online
All though it only lasted a short time
But now its over an your gone
I wish it could of gone on and on
Deep down i knew it was never real
But we took away the lonliness
That was real that we both could feel
We spoke of lost love and sorrow
Of love we thought we had in the past
But it was just something that we borrowed
As we help each other through
Something we thought we never knew
I often search for you online
Remembering of that special time
Where ever you are out there
I hope your in love with someone
For i am over here

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Hymns Of The Marshes.

I. Sunrise.


In my sleep I was fain of their fellowship, fain
Of the live-oak, the marsh, and the main.
The little green leaves would not let me alone in my sleep;
Up-breathed from the marshes, a message of range and of sweep,
Interwoven with waftures of wild sea-liberties, drifting,
Came through the lapped leaves sifting, sifting,
Came to the gates of sleep.
Then my thoughts, in the dark of the dungeon-keep
Of the Castle of Captives hid in the City of Sleep,
Upstarted, by twos and by threes assembling:
The gates of sleep fell a-trembling
Like as the lips of a lady that forth falter `Yes,'
Shaken with happiness:
The gates of sleep stood wide.

I have waked, I have come, my beloved! I might not abide:
I have come ere the dawn, O beloved, my live-oaks, to hide
In your gospelling glooms, -- to be
As a lover in heaven, the marsh my marsh and the sea my sea.

Tell me, sweet burly-bark'd, man-bodied Tree
That mine arms in the dark are embracing, dost know
From what fount are these tears at thy feet which flow?
They rise not from reason, but deeper inconsequent deeps.
Reason's not one that weeps.
What logic of greeting lies
Betwixt dear over-beautiful trees and the rain of the eyes?

O cunning green leaves, little masters! like as ye gloss
All the dull-tissued dark with your luminous darks that emboss
The vague blackness of night into pattern and plan,
So,
(But would I could know, but would I could know,)
With your question embroid'ring the dark of the question of man, --
So, with your silences purfling this silence of man
While his cry to the dead for some knowledge is under the ban,
Under the ban, --
So, ye have wrought me
Designs on the night of our knowledge, -- yea, ye have taught me,
So,
That haply we know somewhat more than we know.

Ye lispers, whisperers, singers in storms,
Ye consciences murmuring faiths under forms,
Ye ministers meet for each passion that grieves,
Friendly, sisterly, sweetheart leaves,
Oh, rain me down from your darks that contain me

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666 Third examples

666 third examples
666 Third examples
The gamer
in the middle of the warehouse sits the gamer he is paid in advance for several years of time advance he plays each game until the game ender button is revealed and then he cheats of course he wins all the games he plays them all day long never tiring never missing a pinball wizard he loves to play them all the lyrics to songs run into the words for my poem seems ok to hum a battle song he whistles in his little crucible cubicle we listened one day and it was dixie the next day it was the battle hymn of the republic he is confedarate one day the yankee spy the next he plays the games no one else will buy he plays them free online he pays us for the signal space the switch boxes gives him love and grace the number of his name the 666 replaces what he needs his body looks so thin but the gamer has no time to eat he must play and download games
the student slash writer
get it what a joke ahha
student/writer
the person has the curly que ball hair he sits and stares in space is paid but only for the one day at a time he sits and stares until he gets ideas from space and time then double spaces all the work has to be in black government ink they still dont like the computor generation homework some teachers still make them student/writers write the homework out by hand on old timey notebook paper three hole binding in the notebook is an actual plastic looking thing with folders pens holding ink and pencils with the number two allowed them the online look ups but not the cheating styles.
The pornographer sits near the end on the Cee ell the Ex ell is my inital investment included no exposure to the elements no censure or sensorchips allowed no filters of any kind let love rule the day on my watch is mickeys minnie mouse here is what his computor might say to him CLICK too many clicks and the more he clicks the more he wishes and wants he needs exhaust fumes in this small breathable space let go of the mouse you idiot while the pornographer still clicks too many clicks we turned off his moniter long ago to give his privacy a blessing from the 666 we do not care what he is looking at or doing there as long as we get paid the money to keep the overhead paid and all of us in online need there were three unpaid homeless users also here today. This warehouse needs to be more work done but all of us are still online and having fun with 666 work is the last option.

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Luggage Canada

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Face To Face

We never talk to one another
We just disagree
Im the one who runs for cover
And you turn your back on me
They say nothings gonna last forever
But some things are worth fighting for
Yeah, well love could bring us back together
But love dont come round here no more
The words unspoken in the night
Locked away in my heart
And Im feeling out of place
But if love is the key
Let it open the door
So well be standing -- face to face
You never want to see me face to face
Think it over
Face to face
If only it could be just face to face
Baby you and me
Face to face
I may be better off without it
I cant go on this way
Time has come to talk about it
This is our judgement day
You know we swore it would last forever
Always felt so sure it would
But its looking like now or never
Time to turn a bad thing into good
The words that echo in the night
Theyre fading away
And theyre gone without a trace
Now its up to you and me
Lets open the door
And meet each other -- face to face
Its time we saw each other face to face
To talk it over
Face to face
You know its gotta be just face to face
Baby you and me
Face to face
We gotta see each other -- face to face
And talk about it
Face to face
Hope it aint too late to meet face to face
Just you and me
(solo)
Face to face
Its time we saw each other face to face
To talk it over
Face to face

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The Marshes of Glynn

Glooms of the live-oaks, beautiful-braided and woven
With intricate shades of the vines that myriad-cloven
Clamber the forks of the multiform boughs, --
Emerald twilights, --
Virginal shy lights,
Wrought of the leaves to allure to the whisper of vows,
When lovers pace timidly down through the green colonnades
Of the dim sweet woods, of the dear dark woods,
Of the heavenly woods and glades,
That run to the radiant marginal sand-beach within
The wide sea-marshes of Glynn; --

Beautiful glooms, soft dusks in the noon-day fire, --
Wildwood privacies, closets of lone desire,
Chamber from chamber parted with wavering arras of leaves, --
Cells for the passionate pleasure of prayer to the soul that grieves,
Pure with a sense of the passing of saints through the wood,
Cool for the dutiful weighing of ill with good; --


O braided dusks of the oak and woven shades of the vine,
While the riotous noon-day sun of the June-day long did shine
Ye held me fast in your heart and I held you fast in mine;
But now when the noon is no more, and riot is rest,
And the sun is a-wait at the ponderous gate of the West,
And the slant yellow beam down the wood-aisle doth seem
Like a lane into heaven that leads from a dream, --
Ay, now, when my soul all day hath drunken the soul of the oak,
And my heart is at ease from men, and the wearisome sound of the stroke
Of the scythe of time and the trowel of trade is low,
And belief overmasters doubt, and I know that I know,
And my spirit is grown to a lordly great compass within,
That the length and the breadth and the sweep of the marshes of Glynn
Will work me no fear like the fear they have wrought me of yore
When length was fatigue, and when breadth was but bitterness sore,
And when terror and shrinking and dreary unnamable pain
Drew over me out of the merciless miles of the plain,

Oh, now, unafraid, I am fain to face
The vast sweet visage of space.
To the edge of the wood I am drawn, I am drawn,
Where the gray beach glimmering runs, as a belt of the dawn,
For a mete and a mark
To the forest-dark: --
So:
Affable live-oak, leaning low, --
Thus -- with your favor -- soft, with a reverent hand,
(Not lightly touching your person, Lord of the land!)
Bending your beauty aside, with a step I stand
On the firm-packed sand,

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Give Your Heart To The Hawks

1 he apples hung until a wind at the equinox,

That heaped the beach with black weed, filled the dry grass

Under the old trees with rosy fruit.

In the morning Fayne Fraser gathered the sound ones into a

basket,

The bruised ones into a pan. One place they lay so thickly
She knelt to reach them.

Her husband's brother passing
Along the broken fence of the stubble-field,
His quick brown eyes took in one moving glance
A little gopher-snake at his feet flowing through the stubble
To gain the fence, and Fayne crouched after apples
With her mop of red hair like a glowing coal
Against the shadow in the garden. The small shapely reptile
Flowed into a thicket of dead thistle-stalks
Around a fence-post, but its tail was not hidden.
The young man drew it all out, and as the coil
Whipped over his wrist, smiled at it; he stepped carefully
Across the sag of the wire. When Fayne looked up
His hand was hidden; she looked over her shoulder
And twitched her sunburnt lips from small white teeth
To answer the spark of malice in his eyes, but turned
To the apples, intent again. Michael looked down
At her white neck, rarely touched by the sun,
But now the cinnabar-colored hair fell off from it;
And her shoulders in the light-blue shirt, and long legs like a boy's
Bare-ankled in blue-jean trousers, the country wear;
He stooped quietly and slipped the small cool snake
Up the blue-denim leg. Fayne screamed and writhed,
Clutching her thigh. 'Michael, you beast.' She stood up
And stroked her leg, with little sharp cries, the slender invader
Fell down her ankle.

Fayne snatched for it and missed;


Michael stood by rejoicing, his rather small

Finely cut features in a dance of delight;

Fayne with one sweep flung at his face

All the bruised and half-spoiled apples in the pan,

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His Majesty Accident

Accidental meetings,
accidental greetings,
accidental walks,
accidental talks,
accidental questions,
accidental answers..
But…suddenly…
What has happened?
Meetings, greetings,
walks and talks,
questions and answers
stopped being accidental.
Life has become sentimental.
Love has rushed into the circle
and quickly closed it.
Sleepless nights appeared,
calmness disappeared.
“I love you” instead of “hi”,
a wish to inspire,
a stream of desire,
a heart is on fire,
a wish to fly.
His Majesty Accident governs the Land,
playing games that were not planned.
It sometimes gives us another chance:
to live, to love, to be happy and dance.
It sometimes goes up, sometimes down,
it sometimes gives us a crown.
Everyone waits for an accident,
everyone wishes the happy end.

Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)

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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

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Gurdjieff

“You are both a wolf
and a lamb.
If you do not stay awake
the wolf will devour
the lamb.”

Oh you, the Living and the Dead!
Both those who earn
and you who claim by right
your daily bread.
Encourage the few
they will become the many.
Encourage the poor
they will reach out for more.
Encourage the young
they will fail to grow up.
Encourage the old
they will grow older.

Why do so many
in public life
wear nametags
nowadays?

“In case they forget
who you are.”

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Really Dont Know

Really dont know, really dont know
Just whats wrong
Feel like I dont belong
And I just cant get together
Today, anyway
Keep on rainin, more and more
Everyday
Yeah, in a wider sense
Yeah, in a wider sense
Keep on rainin
Keep on rainin
Everyday
Look to the sky, but the sky may fall
See thru my eye, but my eye dont see at all
Keep on rainin
Look to the sky, but the sky may fall
See thru my eye, but my eye dont see at all
Keep on rainin, more and more
Everyday
Yeah, in a wider sense
Yeah, in a wider sense
Yeah, in the system
Every, every, every, every day

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Moonriver

Moonriver
Wider than a mile
I'll be crossing you in style
Someday
Oh, dreammaker
You heartbreaker
Wherever you're going
I'm going your way
Two drifters
Off to see the world
I'm not so sure the world
Deserves us
We're after
The same rainbow's end
How come it's just around the bend ?
It's always just around the bend ?
Moonriver
Wider than a mile
I'll be crossing you in style
Someday
Oh, dreammaker
You heartbreaker
Wherever you're going
I'm going your way
Two drifters
Off to see the world
I'm not so sure the world
Deserves us
We're after
The same rainbow's end
It's just around the bend
It's just around the bend
It's just around the bend
It's just around the bend
Oh !
Ooh ...
Moonriver
Wider than a mile
I'll be crossing you in style
Someday
Oh, dreammaker
You heartbreaker
Wherever you're going
I'm going your way
Two drifters
Off to see the world
I'm not so sure the world
Deserves us
We're after
The same rainbow's end

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Sixth Book

THE English have a scornful insular way
Of calling the French light. The levity
Is in the judgment only, which yet stands;
For say a foolish thing but oft enough,
(And here's the secret of a hundred creeds,–
Men get opinions as boys learn to spell,
By re-iteration chiefly) the same thing
Shall pass at least for absolutely wise,
And not with fools exclusively. And so,
We say the French are light, as if we said
The cat mews, or the milch-cow gives us milk:
Say rather, cats are milked, and milch cows mew,
For what is lightness but inconsequence,
Vague fluctuation 'twixt effect and cause,
Compelled by neither? Is a bullet light,
That dashes from the gun-mouth, while the eye
Winks, and the heart beats one, to flatten itself
To a wafer on the white speck on a wall
A hundred paces off? Even so direct,
So sternly undivertible of aim,
Is this French people.
All idealists
Too absolute and earnest, with them all
The idea of a knife cuts real flesh;
And still, devouring the safe interval
Which Nature placed between the thought and act,
They threaten conflagration to the world
And rush with most unscrupulous logic on
Impossible practice. Set your orators
To blow upon them with loud windy mouths
Through watchword phrases, jest or sentiment,
Which drive our burley brutal English mobs
Like so much chaff, whichever way they blow,–
This light French people will not thus be driven.
They turn indeed; but then they turn upon
Some central pivot of their thought and choice,
And veer out by the force of holding fast.
–That's hard to understand, for Englishmen
Unused to abstract questions, and untrained
To trace the involutions, valve by valve,
In each orbed bulb-root of a general truth,
And mark what subtly fine integument
Divides opposed compartments. Freedom's self
Comes concrete to us, to be understood,
Fixed in a feudal form incarnately
To suit our ways of thought and reverence,
The special form, with us, being still the thing.
With us, I say, though I'm of Italy
My mother's birth and grave, by father's grave
And memory; let it be,–a poet's heart

[...] Read more

poem by from Aurora Leigh (1856)Report problemRelated quotes
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Door Of Humility

ENGLAND
We lead the blind by voice and hand,
And not by light they cannot see;
We are not framed to understand
The How and Why of such as He;

But natured only to rejoice
At every sound or sign of hope,
And, guided by the still small voice,
In patience through the darkness grope;

Until our finer sense expands,
And we exchange for holier sight
The earthly help of voice and hands,
And in His light behold the Light.

I

Let there be Light! The self-same Power
That out of formless dark and void
Endued with life's mysterious dower
Planet, and star, and asteroid;

That moved upon the waters' face,
And, breathing on them His intent,
Divided, and assigned their place
To, ocean, air, and firmament;

That bade the land appear, and bring
Forth herb and leaf, both fruit and flower,
Cattle that graze, and birds that sing,
Ordained the sunshine and the shower;

That, moulding man and woman, breathed
In them an active soul at birth
In His own image, and bequeathed
To them dominion over Earth;

That, by whatever is, decreed
His Will and Word shall be obeyed,
From loftiest star to lowliest seed;-
The worm and me He also made.

And when, for nuptials of the Spring
With Summer, on the vestal thorn
The bridal veil hung flowering,
A cry was heard, and I was born.

II

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Face To Face

Now I've got a chick who will be with me
Anytime, day or night
But I won't put up with no runnin' around
You know it just ain't right
I'm going down...
To the town -
Out to go drink with the clowns
You stay at home...
All alone -
And don't you talk on the phone
You're comin' face to face with the guy that's gonna knock you dead
Face to face with the guy that's gonna bust your head
I'm gonna knock you on the floor
You'll beg me for no more
You're comin' face to face with me, like it or not
When I got to town
The words going 'round
That you've been seen on your back
I open the door and you were on the floor
Spreadin' for the clowns in my pack
Now you were wrong...
If you thought -
I'd take it lyin' down like a dog
I put a match...
In her snatch
She thinks she's such a hot little vamp
You're comin' face to face with the guy that's gonna knock you dead
Face to face with the guy that's gonna bust your head
I'm gonna knock you on the floor
You'll beg me for no more
You comn' face to face with me, like it or not
Tear your face apart
Waste you in the dark
Rip you like a shark
Won't think you're so smart
Face to face (face to face) you disgrace
Face to face (face to face) you disgrace
Face to face (face to face) you disgrace
Face to face
Face to face
Face to face with the guy that's gonna knock you dead
Your're comin' face to face with the guy that's gonna bust your head
I'm gonna knock you on the floor
You'll beg me for no more
You're comin' face to face with me, like it or not
You're cominc12

song performed by Quiet RiotReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
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