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Fahrenheit 451

Yeah
Fahrenheit four fifty-one
Ya
Fahrenheit four fifty-one
Smoke is in the air now
Its been spreading just like wild-fire all over town
Everybody wants to get in on the latest thing
Going down to the bookstore - burn that mother down
Ya
Somebody has to do whats right
Fahrenheit four fifty-one
Burning black and white
Well I got some education
I go down to the library every night
And Im looking for somebody with a dream like mine
We could share a few pages round the fire so bright
Now its spreading cross the nation
And its time to seize the moment, thats what they says
cause its all been well reported in the daily news,
You can read all about it before it turns to ashes

song performed by Utopia
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pamela

Pamela, due to the philosophical way that we are raised,
The truth is far hidden from us always!
And we've come to worship the Queen of Heaven today.
She is the God-El and,
She has blinded the minds of many!
But Yahweh's mercy is upon the chosen few.
False prophets,
King Numa Pompilius added 'Januarius' and 'Februarius' to the Calendar;
And this was about 713 B.C.
The 'Decemvirs' (10 Magistrates) arranged the Calendar o its present status,
And this was about 451 B.C.;
But the original year beginning from 'Martius' was then changed to 'Januarius'.
Those who have ears and eyes will understand this öpoem oh my sweet Pamela,
For many years have added itself unto things to put us into the darkness;
But the truth will never die out from the earth.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Outer—from the Inner

451

The Outer—from the Inner
Derives its Magnitude—
'Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according
As is the Central Mood—

The fine—unvarying Axis
That regulates the Wheel—
Though Spokes—spin—more conspicuous
And fling a dust—the while.

The Inner—paints the Outer—
The Brush without the Hand—
Its Picture publishes—precise—
As is the inner Brand—

On fine—Arterial Canvas—
A Cheek—perchance a Brow—
The Star's whole Secret—in the Lake—

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poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Brus Book 19

[The conspiracy against King Robert; its discovery]

Than wes the land a quhile in pes,
Bot covatys, that can nocht ces
To set men apon felony
To ger thaim cum to senyoury,
5 Gert lordis off full gret renoune
Mak a fell conjuracioun
Agayn Robert the douchty king,
Thai thocht till bring him till ending
And to bruk eftre his dede
10 The kynrik and to ryng in hys steid.
The lord the Soullis, Schyr Wilyam,
Off that purches had mast defame,
For principale tharoff was he
Off assent of that cruelte.
15 He had gottyn with him sindry,
Gilbert Maleherbe, Jhone of Logy
Thir war knychtis that I tell her
And Richard Broun als a squyer,

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poem by John Barbour
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The Brus Book XIII

[Douglas's division attacks]

Quhen thir twa fyrst bataillis wer
Assemblyt as I said you er,
The Stewart Walter that than was
And the gud lord als of Douglas
5 In a bataill, quhen that thai saw
The erle foroutyn dred or aw
Assembill with his cumpany
On all that folk sa sturdely
For till help him thai held thar way
10 And thar bataill in gud aray,
And assemblyt sa hardely
Besid the erle a litill by
That thar fayis feld thar cummyn wele,
For with wapynnys stalwart of stele
15 Thai dang apon with all thar mycht.
Thar fayis resavyt weile Ik hycht
With swerdis speris and with mase,
The bataill thar sa feloune was

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poem by John Barbour
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The Brus Book XVI

[King Robert goes to Ireland]

Quhen Schyr Edward, as Ik said ar,
Had discomfyt Richard of Clar
And of Irland all the barnage
Thris throu his worthi vasselag
5 And syne with all his men of mayn
Till Cragfergus wes cummyn agayn,
The gud erle of Murreff Thomas
Tuk leyff in Scotland for to pas,
And he him levyt with a gruching,
10 And syne him chargyt to the king
To pray him specialli that he
Cum intill Irland him to se,
For war thai bath into that land
Thai suld fynd nane suld thaim withstand.
15 The erle furth thane his way has tane
And till his schipping is he gayn
And sayllyt weill out-our the se.
Intill Scotland sone aryvit he,

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poem by John Barbour
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Farenheit 451

Remember, the firemen are rarely necessary

When books are replaced with Kindles and Nooks,
and content resides on the cloud.
It is relatively easy to delet certain works
at the whim of the haughty and proud.

If libraries falter, wither and die
The poor will lose access to the printed word.
Ten percent of the market will quickly dry up
and the price of a book gets absurd.

Remember, the firemen are rarely necessary.

The pleasure we had in turning each page
as our minds raced ahead to the end.
Short battery life never hindered our quest
when Dick, Jane and Spot were our friends.

A storm on the Sun bringing ionized rays

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poem by John F. McCullagh
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The Asylum

'London's burning, London's burning,
fetch the books, Fahrenheit 451'

The inmates gawk from our ward's window,
they don't look back,
they walk no further.
(Shakes his head in dismay)
That's right my apple-picking friend,
not much has changed since you fell off the ladder.

I dip my hand into the melting ice of the glass.
I can smell it, I say.

In the fire's waving ecstasy,
I'll try to reap its piquant lick.
Aye, the smoke, as it singes the plastic of my hands.
Inner peace, inner peace,
the monk of Tibet knows,
'I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now'

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poem by Ross Mackay
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