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Fantasia

Here in Samarcand they offer emeralds,
Pure as frozen drops of sea-water,
Rubies, pale as dew-ponds stained with slaughter,
Where the fairies fought for a king's daughter
In the elfin upland.
Here they sell you jade and calcedony,
And the matrix of the turquoise,
Spheres of onyx held in eagles' claws,
But they keep the gems as far asunder
From the dull stones as the lightning from the thunder;
They can never come together
On the mats of Turkish leather
In the booths of Samarcand.

Here they sell you balls of nard and honey,
And squat jars of clarid butter,
And the cheese from Kurdistan.
When you offer Frankish money,
Then they scowl and curse and mutter,
Deep in Kurdish or Persan

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poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
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Alf’s Ninth Bit

Listen, my children, and you shall hear
The midnight activities of Whats-his Name,
Scarcely a general now known to fame
Can tell you of that famous day and year.

When feeble Mr. Asquith, getting old,
The destinies of England were almost sold
To a Welsh shifter with an ogling eye,
And Whats-his-name attained nobility.

The Dashing Rupert of the pulping trade,
Rough from the virgin forests inviolate,
Thus rose in Albion, and tickled the State
And where he once set foot, right there he stayed.

Old 'Erb was doting, so the rumour ran,
Ahd Rupert ran the rumour round in wheels,
And David's harp let out heart-rending squeals:
'Find us a harpist ! ! DAVID is the man!!'

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poem by Ezra Pound
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Total Control

(m. davis, j. jourard)
Producer: carter
Album: we are the world (usa for africa)(85), the collected recordings (94)
Looking counter clockwise
Knowing what could happen
Any moment maybe you
Maybe even you
Steadfast collapse
Always certain any moment
Maybe you maybe you
Maybe even you
Recline complete dreams too sweet
I cant do it not with you
Not even with you
Maybe never with you
And Id sell my soul for total control
Yeah Id sell my soul for total control
Street wet tonight, lovers touch
Its pure delight
Always certain any moment

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song performed by Tina Turner
Added by Lucian Velea
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Thrift

I sit here all knowing
Knowing nothing here at all, yeah
My cuts spread slower
Pig hands reach into my sides, yeah
I hate this life you give me
I give you hate you live for me, yeah
I love the pain you give me
This hurting feels like love to me, yeah
They go down town down town
They go
Down inside
Down inside
Down inside
They go down town down town
They go down town to sell
Down town down town
They go down town to sell
My body hangs on hooks
A cloth to society, yeah
Your dollars wet my skin

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song performed by Marilyn Manson
Added by Lucian Velea
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Junk Bond Trader

The imitation picks you up like a habit
Riding in the glow of the tv static
Taking out the trash to the man
Give the people something they understand
Mistake a nervous flash for a fine-line smile
Junk bond trader trying to sell a sucker a stock
Rich man in a poor mans clothes
The permanent installment of the daily dose
And you tell me, fool, you tell it like it is
Your walls gone wider than your head trip is
Checking into a small reality
Void as a drug you take too regularly
The apple needs to laugh; the broken crutch
The first two folded at the slightest touch
Brought down like an old hotel
People digging through the rubble for things they can resell
Happy holidays, said sid the saviour
Believe in love I still favour
I wont take your medicine
I dont need a remedy

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song performed by Elliott Smith
Added by Lucian Velea
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These Wooden Ideas

Its a better way to feel
Dont be real, be post modern
(Its not that one dimensional, its not the only thought)
Its a better way to feel
When youre not real, youre post modern
(Its not that one dimensional, its not the only thought)
I stopped and waited for progress
I stopped and waited for progress
I stopped and waited
But Im not willing to accept it all
This wooden idea is your method of repetition
This wooden idea is how you sell reduction x 2
Its the best way to feel
Dont be real, its post modern
(Its not that one dimensional, its not the only thought)
Its a better way to feel
When youre not real, youre post modern
(Its not that one dimensional, its not the only thought)
You cant keep waiting for progress
You cant keep waiting for progress

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song performed by Idlewild
Added by Lucian Velea
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In The Lost And Found

The imitation picks you up like a habit
Riding in the glow of the tv static
Taking out the trash to the man
Give the people something they understand
Mistake a nervous flash for a fine-line smile
Junk bond trader trying to sell a sucker a stock
Rich man in a poor man's clothes
The permanent installment of the daily dose
And you tell me, "fool, you tell it like it is"
Your wall's gone wider than your head trip is
Checking into a small reality
Void as a drug you take too regularly
>>The acolyte's laugh; the broken crutch
>> The first true love folded at the slightest touch
Brought down like an old hotel
People digging through the rubble for things they can resell
"happy holidays," said sid the saviour
Believe in love i still favour
I won't take your medicine
I don't need a remedy

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song performed by Elliott Smith
Added by Lucian Velea
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There's no such thing as 'hard sell' and 'soft sell.' There's only 'smart sell' and 'stupid sell.'

quote by Leo Burnett
Added by Lucian Velea
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Your Boom, My Bust

So the he said
'Tell me capitalist
what is profit? '

He said
profit is what I earn
when I sell something for more than it is worth,
it is a reward for my effort.'

Ah, I said, if everyone did that
then the price of an object would
keep going up forever
since each person in the chain
would want their profft
and finally, the price would be so high
nobody could afford to buy
what the capitalist had to sell
and then we would all be in poverty
the last capitalist
would be the only one left with money

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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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What Sells…

Everything is for sale.
There is always a sale.
Everybody is trying to sell
Something:
One tiny thing, one giant thing,
The tabloid,
The latest android,
The newest asteroid,
And something in between.
Somebody is simultaneously
Trying to sell the queen,
And offer her exotic ants,
For a lot of money.
This is not funny, somebody wants
To sell the queen a painting,
A castle, and a golden tent;
These are more appropriate.
It is never too late
To recover, to renounce.
Do you know that one ounce

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poem by Hebert Logerie
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