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Frivolous Tonight

Let us talk about some trivial things we like
A bit of this and that
Lets chew the fat
Pour ourselves a glass of stout
And let our rael brook shirts hang out
Nothing makes us more content
To let us wallow in a bit of nonsense
Were all so frivolous tonight, tonight
Lets reveal our childlike nature
And leave our stocks and invoices to rot
Lets go to pot
Tell our jokes about mothers in law
But watch him jump when she comes through the door
Oh the party goes with a swing
When we talk about the trivial things
Were all so frivolous tonight
But theres always one
Who wants to talk shop
Well drive him through the door
With a broom or a mop

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song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Frivolous Tonight

Let us talk about some trivial things we like
A bit of this and that
Lets chew the fat
Pour ourselves a glass of stout
And let our rael brook shirts hang out
Nothing makes us more content
To let us wallow in a bit of nonsense
Were all so frivolous tonight, tonight
Lets reveal our childlike nature
And leave our stocks and invoices to rot
Lets go to pot
Tell our jokes about mothers in law
But watch him jump when she comes through the door
Oh the party goes with a swing
When we talk about the trivial things
Were all so frivolous tonight
But theres always one
Who wants to talk shop
Well drive him through the door
With a broom or a mop

[...] Read more

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Book Eighth: Retrospect--Love Of Nature Leading To Love Of Man

WHAT sounds are those, Helvellyn, that are heard
Up to thy summit, through the depth of air
Ascending, as if distance had the power
To make the sounds more audible? What crowd
Covers, or sprinkles o'er, yon village green?
Crowd seems it, solitary hill! to thee,
Though but a little family of men,
Shepherds and tillers of the ground--betimes
Assembled with their children and their wives,
And here and there a stranger interspersed.
They hold a rustic fair--a festival,
Such as, on this side now, and now on that,
Repeated through his tributary vales,
Helvellyn, in the silence of his rest,
Sees annually, if clouds towards either ocean
Blown from their favourite resting-place, or mists
Dissolved, have left him an unshrouded head.
Delightful day it is for all who dwell
In this secluded glen, and eagerly
They give it welcome. Long ere heat of noon,

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poem by William Wordsworth
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The Garden of Years

I

I have shut fast the door, and am alone
With the sweet memory of this afternoon,
That saw my vague dreams on a sudden grown
Into fulfilment, as I oft have known
Stray notes upon a keyboard fall atune
When least persuaded. I besought no boon
Of Fate to-day; I that, since first Love came
Into my life, have been so importune.
To-day alone I did not press my claim,
And lo! all I have dreamed of is my own!

II

I have shut fast the door, for so I may
Relive that moment of the turn of tide—
That swift solution of the long delay
That clothed with silver splendor dying day;
And, with low-whispering memory for guide,

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poem by Guy Wetmore Carryl from The Garden of Years and Other Poems (1901)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Task: Book IV. -- The Winter Evening

Hark! ‘tis the twanging horn o’er yonder bridge,
That with its wearisome but needful length
Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon
Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright;—
He comes, the herald of a noisy world,
With spatter’d boots, strapp’d waist, and frozen locks;
News from all nations lumbering at his back.
True to his charge, the close-pack’d load behind,
Yet, careless what he brings, his one concern
Is to conduct it to the destined inn,
And, having dropp’d the expected bag, pass on.
He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch,
Cold and yet cheerful: messenger of grief
Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some;
To him indifferent whether grief or joy.
Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks,
Births, deaths, and marriages, epistles wet
With tears, that trickled down the writer’s cheeks
Fast as the periods from his fluent quill,
Or charged with amorous sighs of absent swains,

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poem by William Cowper
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Hudibras: Part 1 - Canto III

THE ARGUMENT

The scatter'd rout return and rally,
Surround the place; the Knight does sally,
And is made pris'ner: Then they seize
Th' inchanted fort by storm; release
Crowdero, and put the Squire in's place;
I should have first said Hudibras.

Ah me! what perils do environ
The man that meddles with cold iron!
What plaguy mischiefs and mishaps
Do dog him still with after-claps!
For though dame Fortune seem to smile
And leer upon him for a while,
She'll after shew him, in the nick
Of all his glories, a dog-trick.
This any man may sing or say,
I' th' ditty call'd, What if a Day?
For HUDIBRAS, who thought h' had won

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poem by Samuel Butler
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I consider it useless and tedious to represent what exists, because nothing that exists satisfies me. Nature is ugly, and I prefer the monsters of my fancy to what is positively trivial.

classic quote by Charles Baudelaire
Added by Lucian Velea
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Untitled: Sentiment

I sense
a growing
depression
upon my conscious,
it is forming
an imprint
on my mind
with images
surpassed,
heavily weighted
with regret
and ego,

I know
my body
shows signs
of its toll
but I cant
seem to let go
of seasons lost,

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poem by Kevin Mireles
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Time has a wonderful way of weeding out the trivial.

quote by Howard Aiken
Added by Lucian Velea
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A good memory is one trained to forget the trivial.

quote by Cliff Fadiman
Added by Lucian Velea
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