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Mirrors Of Our Time

THE ECONOMY is a hose.
The Government collects water from the people
and pours it into the top of the hose
and gives it back to the people.
Near the top of the hose is a hole.
A lot of the water pours out of this into a tank
marked Government which is always empty.
The rest flows down towards the people.
It passes other holes marked
Government Agencies
Government buildings
Government contingencies
Government perks
There are also holes marked
Lawyers
Accountants
Criminals.
The Government is always trying
to stop these last three holes.
Finally what is left of the water

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poem by Brian Taylor
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Heatseaker

Gettin ready to rock, gettin ready to roll
Gonna turn up the heat, gonna fire up the coal
I gotta that motor turnin
I gotta keep that engine clean
I gotta keep those tyres burnin
Ive got the best youve ever seen
Cos Im a heatseeker, chargin up the sky
Heatseeker, and I, dont need no life preserver
Dont need no one to hose me down
To hose me down
Getting ready to break, get ready to go
Get your shoes off an shake, get your head down and blow
Ya gotta keep that woman firin
You gotta keep that circuit clean
You gotta make her sound the siren
You gotta hear that lady scream
Cos Im a heatseeker, burnin up the town
Heatseeker, I dont, I dont need no life preserver
Dont need no one to hose me down
To hose me down, here it comes

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song performed by AC-DC
Added by Lucian Velea
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Heatseeker

(oooh, were gettin ready
Ow
Here we go
Hahaha
Im ready
Oooh)
Getting ready to rock
Getting ready to roll
Im gonna turn up the heat
Im gonna fire up the coal
I gotta keep that motor turning
I gotta keep that engine clean
I gotta keep those tires burning
Ive got the best youve ever seen
And Im a heatseeker charging up the sky
And Im a heatseeker, and i, I dont need no life preserver
I dont need no one to hose me down
To hose me down
Getting ready to break
Getting ready to go

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song performed by AC-DC
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Hudibras: Part 1 - Canto I

THE ARGUMENT

Sir Hudibras his passing worth,
The manner how he sallied forth;
His arms and equipage are shown;
His horse's virtues, and his own.
Th' adventure of the bear and fiddle
Is sung, but breaks off in the middle.

When civil dudgeon a first grew high,
And men fell out they knew not why?
When hard words, jealousies, and fears,
Set folks together by the ears,
And made them fight, like mad or drunk,
For Dame Religion, as for punk;
Whose honesty they all durst swear for,
Though not a man of them knew wherefore:
When Gospel-Trumpeter, surrounded
With long-ear'd rout, to battle sounded,

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poem by Samuel Butler
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Pleasures In Giving

this morning
you take the water hose

turn on the faucet

you squeeze the hose
and water is spread on the bush

flowers are thirsty
for those nights without rain

an early morning shower from your
water hose
gives the feast on every leaf, on every branch

on every cracking soil of this earth

it is the pleasure of giving
that makes your heart dance

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Late Autumn Mobility Week

Unclean vehicles, lorries and vans
appear unsightly to everyone's eye
but as cleanliness is next to Godliness
an autumnal hose-down would purify
a satisfaction we could not deny.

And in the cool of late September
as the summer sun faded away,
I took another look around me...
and the city seemed dismal and grey.

Ah, late September ~ mobility week
when drivers made use of the hose,
they washed and polished their motorcars
and the prettiest city was winning stars.
Complete satisfaction was ours.

(Please note: too much use of
the hose may encourage flooding)

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poem by Joyce Hemsley
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Glasgerion

Glasgerion was a kings owne sonne,
And a harper he was goode;
He harped in the kings chambere,
Where cuppe and caudle stoode,

And soe did hee in the queens chambere,
Till ladies waxed 'glad,'
And then bespake the kinges daughter,
And these wordes thus shee sayd:

'Strike on, strike on, Glasgerion,
Of thy striking doe not blinne;
Theres never a stroke comes oer thy harpe,
But it glads my hart withinne.'

'Faire might he fall,' quoth hee,
'Who taught you nowe to speake!
I have loved you, ladye, seven longe yeere,
My minde I neere durst breake.'

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poem by Anonymous Olde English
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The Miraculous Escape of Robert Allan, the Fireman

'Twas in the year of 1858, and on October the fourteenth day,
That a fire broke out in a warehouse, and for hours blazed away;
And the warehouse, now destroyed, was occupied by the Messrs R. Wylie, Hill & Co.,
Situated in Buchanan Street, in the City of Glasgow.

The flames burst forth about three o'clock in the afternoon,
And intimation of the outbreak spread very soon;
And in the spectators' faces were depicted fear and consternation;
While the news flew like lightning to the Fire Brigade Station.

And when the Brigade reached the scene of the fire,
The merciless flames were ascending higher and higher,
Raging furiously in all the floors above the street,
And within twenty minutes the structure was destroyed by the burning heat.

Then the roof fell in, pushing out the front wall,
And the loud crash thereof frightened the spectators one and all,
Because it shook the neighbouring buildings to their foundation,
And caused throughout the City a great sensation.

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poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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The Clepington Catastrophe

'Twas on a Monday morning, and in the year of 1884,
That a fire broke out in Bailie Bradford's store,
Which contained bales of jute and large quantities of waste,
Which the brave firemen ran to extinguish in great haste.

They left their wives that morning without any dread,
Never thinking, at the burning pile, they would be killed dead
By the falling of the rickety and insecure walls;
When I think of it, kind Christians, my heart it appals!

Because it has caused widows and their families to shed briny tears,
For there hasn't been such a destructive fire for many years;
Whereby four brave firemen have perished in the fire,
And for better fathers or husbands no family could desire.

'Twas about five o'clock in the morning the fire did break out,
While one of the workmen was inspecting the premises round about--
Luckily before any one had begun their work for the day--
So he instantly gave the alarm without delay.

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poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Les Phares (The Beacons)

Rubens, fleuve d'oubli, jardin de la paresse,
Oreiller de chair fraîche où l'on ne peut aimer,
Mais où la vie afflue et s'agite sans cesse,
Comme l'air dans le ciel et la mer dans la mer;

Léonard de Vinci, miroir profond et sombre,
Où des anges charmants, avec un doux souris
Tout chargé de mystère, apparaissent à l'ombre
Des glaciers et des pins qui ferment leur pays;

Rembrandt, triste hôpital tout rempli de murmures,
Et d'un grand crucifix décoré seulement,
Où la prière en pleurs s'exhale des ordures,
Et d'un rayon d'hiver traversé brusquement;

Michel-Ange, lieu vague où l'on voit des Hercules
Se mêler à des Christs, et se lever tout droits
Des fantômes puissants qui dans les crépuscules
Déchirent leur suaire en étirant leurs doigts;

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poem by Charles Baudelaire
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