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Meager possessions are highly valued.

Sicilian proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Seasonal Cycle - Chapter 01 - Summer

"Oh, dear, this utterly sweltering season of the highly rampant sun is drawing nigh, and it will always be good enough to go on taking daytime baths, as the lakes and rivers will still be with plenteous waters, and at the end of the day, nightfall will be pleasant with fascinating moon, and in such nights Love-god can somehow be almost mollified...[who tortured us in the previous vernal season... but now without His sweltering us, we can happily enjoy the nights devouring cool soft drinks and dancing and merrymaking in outfields...]

"Oh, beloved one, somewhere the moon shoved the blackish columns of night aside, somewhere else the palace-chambers with water [showering, sprinkling and splashing] machines are highly exciting, and else where the matrices of gems, [like coolant pearls and moon-stone, etc.,] are there, and even the pure sandalwood is liquefied [besides other coolant scents,] thus this season gets an adoration from all the people...

"The beloved ones will enjoy the summer's clear late nights while they are atop the rooftops of buildings that are delightful and fragranced well, while they savour the passion intensifiers like strong drinks and while the ladylove's face suspires the bouquets of those drinks together with melodious instrumental and vocal music...

"The women are ameliorating the heat of their lovers with their chicly silken coolant fineries gliding onto their rotund fundaments, for they are knotted loosely, and on those silks glissading are their golden cinctures with their dangling tassels that are unfastened on and off, and with their buxom bosoms that are bedaubed with sandal-paste and semi-covered with pearly strings and golden lavalieres, and with their locks of hair that are sliding onto their faces, which locks are fragrant with bath-time emulsions, which are just applied before their oil bath...

"Brightly coloured with the reddish foot-paint that is akin to the colour of lac's reddish resin, adorned with anklets that are festooned with jingling bells, whose tintinnabulations on their stepping after stepping mimic the clucks of swans, with such feet those women with bumpy behinds are rendering the hearts of people impassioned, in these days of pre-summer...

"These days the bosoms of womenfolk are bedaubed with scents and sandal-paste, and they are given out to snowily and whitely pearly pendants that are sported on those bosoms, and even their hiplines are with the dangling golden griddle-strings, with such a lovely ostentation whose heart is it, that does not fill with raptures...

"The seams of limbs of ladies of age are conquered by the often emerging sweat, thus those peaky bosomed lustful ladies are presently banding their bosoms with softish fineries, casting aside their roughish apparels ...

"The rustles of air comprising the aroma of watered sandal-paste, blown off by the fans with peacocks' plumage, and the rustle of strings of pearls when the roundish bosoms of loves are hugged, together with the subtle melody of string instruments, and subtly sung intonations of singers, now appear to awaken Love-god, Manmatha, who is as though asleep after his manoeuvres in the last spring season...

"On leisurely seeing the faces of the maids that are comfortably sleeping well on the tops of whitish edifices, the moon of these nights is highly ecstasized, for he is unpossessed with any such flawless face, as his own face is flawed with rabbit-like, deer-like foibles, and when the night dwindles, he doubtlessly goes into state of pallidity, as though ashamed to show his face to the flawless sun...

"The intolerable westerly wind of the summer is up-heaving the clouds of dust, even the earth is ablaze, set by the blazing sun, and the itinerants whose hearts are already put to blaze by the blazing called the detachment from their ladyloves, and now it has become impossible for them even to look at the blazing earth, to tread further...

"The reigning sun's torridity rendered the animals parched, and with unquenchable thirst highly shrivelled are their tongues, throats and lips, and on seeing kneaded blackish mascara like mirages on the sky in another forest, that are cloudlike in their shine, those animals are rushing there, presuming them to be water...

"The women of charm are with smiles and slanted looks, and now they are on par with the twilights that are ornamented with a beautiful ornament called moon, and they are now decorating themselves confusedly and they are inciting the incorporeal Love-god in the hearts of itinerants...

"Extremely seared by the rays of sun, and even by the already seared dust on the pathway, with its slithery motion and downcast hood, repeatedly suspiring when being scalded thus awfully, that serpent is sinking down under the pave of peacock's plumage, distrait of the fact that a peacock is an enemy of serpents, thus distrait is the relative danger from a born enemy or from the searing summer...

"Thwarted are the valorousness and venturesomeness of that king of animals, the lion, for the thirst is abnormal, thereby gaping his mouth much lengthily, and suspiring repeatedly with a lengthened and dangling tongue, and repeatedly whisking his frontal hair of the mane, that lion is not pawing the elephants, though they are at his nearby, and though they both of them are born rivals, thus the scalding summer cooled off their mutual contempt...

"Verily dried up are their throats, but somehow some cool water remaining in their trunks is brought to those dry throats with the prehensility of their trunks, but too scanty is that water for those mega-vores, further muchly scorched by sun's scorching rays and overpowered by heightened thirst, even those water-seeking tuskers are unafraid of those nearby lions, as negligible is the physical danger than the natural danger...

"The scorching sunrays that are akin to the tongues of blazed up Ritual-fire, by them the bodies as well as the souls of peacocks are wilted, thus they wedge their faces in the pack of their plumage for certain coolness, and though they mark the serpents that are milling about under the very same plumage through the plumes and feathers, they peck not those serpents to death, as their priority is to cool off their faces and heads...

"The slime in the ponds is dried up but in some areas Bhadramusta grass is available, and while the herd of wild boars is digging up that grass with their long and broad snouts for a piggish slumber, the sunrays have highly sweltered their backs, but that herd dug the dry swamp more and more, as though to enter the interior of earth, to get a mucky, miry, muddy slumber...

"With the unbearable prickly heat of sunrays highly seared is a frog, and jumping up from a pond with mud and muddy water, it jumped to sit under the shade of a parasol, called the hood of a snake... neither thirstier frog is aware that it is the shade of a snake's hood, nor the thirstiest snake is aware that it is shading a thirsty frog...

"When each other elephant is highly huddling, belaboured is that lake by their elephantine limbs, and completely uprooted are the tall slender stems of lilies and lotuses of that lake, without any remnants of standing lotuses or lilies, thus trampled and agglutinated with mud, they are heaped up under the feet of elephants, and ill-fated are the fishes when trodden by elephants underfoot, and the Saarasa waterfowls are fleeing with fear of this rumpus...

"Akin to sunshine upcast is irradiance of the jewel on its hood, and wigwagging is its twinned tongue licking the air, and it is seared by its own venom, by fiery soil, and by the searing sun as well, and thus tottering thirstily, that hooded serpent is not draining the dregs of frogs, to the dregs...

"Frothily gaping and reeling are the two-pieced snouts, and jerkily extruding are the lightly reddened tongues, and staggering thirstily looking for water with upraised snouts, those herds of she-buffalos are extruding from the caves of mountain with such snouts and gaits, wherein they took shade from the scorching sun so far, but thirst drove them out of those cool caves...

"Extremely withered as though by wildfire and utterly shrivelled are the tender stalks of crops, and windswept by harsh winds they are uprooted and completely wilted and reduced to straw, and all over scorched are they in an overall manner as the water is evaporated, and if seen from highlands till the end of forest, this summer is foisting upon the onlookers a kind of disconcert, as the straw in the wind about the monsoon is unnoticeable...

"Perching on the trees with wilted leaves, flocks of birds are hyperventilating, the overtired troops of monkeys are going nigh of viny caves on the mountain, the water-craving herds of buffalos are rambling hither and thither, the straight flying Sharabha birds are nose-diving into wells and easily lifting up the water...

"The wildfire, that is simulative of a just blossomed bright and fierily ochreish safflower, is exceedingly speedy and further whipped up by the speed of the wind it is eagerly embracing the treetops, that are on the banks of lakes and rivers, with tongues of fire, onto which trees the apices of climber plants are eager to embrace, thus that wildfire has burnt down every quarter of land, in a trice...

"That wildfire, now intensified by the gusts, is blazing the valleys of mountains, and thus skittering across it entered the stands of bamboos, only to shatter them in a second with clattering rattles, then escalated by gusts it is overspreading the straw fields, then from their within, on smacking the perimeter of straw-field, it is broiling the herds of deer, tumultuously ...

[...] Read more

poem by Kalidasa
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Highly Strung

This is the song of little jo
Shes not the girl I used to know
Forever screaming all the day and night
She used to be a diplomat
But now shes down the laundromat
They washed her mind
And now she finds it hard
I know her name
But now she never seems the same
She dont talk to me
cause she cant take no sympaty
Because shes highly strung
Oh highly strung, shes undone
Highly strung
Shes stepping out upon the ledge,
Shes got a gun against her
Shes wired up to blow
The power line
Shes walking out upon the knife
Shell take you to the edge of life
Just like the song,
The pressure is on again
I know her name
But now she never seems the same
She dont talk to me
cause she cant take no sympaty
Because shes highly strung
Oh highly strung, shes undone
Highly strung
This si the song of little jo
Shes not the girl I used to know

song performed by Spandau Ballet
Added by Lucian Velea
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Greed

How much do you really want?
If you had it would it really solve your problems?
Do you realise the pain it causes
Struggling for something you may never get
How much would you sacrifice if I told you I could change your life?
You don't have to take on my advice
Don't do something that you might regret
How much do you really need?
Is it justified or is it greed?
If you satisfy your vanity
If you get to where you think you wanna go
How much is it gonna take?
Will you see it through or will you break?
Cos in the end what will you have to show?

Life can be lonely
When all you have are your possessions
Greed becomes your main obsession
Just take it slowly
If what you want ain't what you need
You've become a victim of your greed

How much do you really feel?
Can you recognise when something's real?
Do you live your life by fake ideals?
Do you think that one day you will get the chance?
What happens if you don't achieve
Will it be enough if you believe
You can just rely on destiny
Don't you know your fate is in your hands
How much is enough for you?
When you reach the top what will you do?
Will you look around for something new?
Without the destination will you carry on?
Will you try day after day
Pretend you don't hear what they say?
What would you do if all your pride was gone?

Life can be lonely
When all you have are your possessions
Greed becomes your main obsession
Just take it slowly
If what you want ain't what you need
You've become a victim of your greed

Cos material possessions ain't the world
(Ain't the world)
Nobody ever bought you happiness with diamonds or pearls
(Diamonds or pearls)
You've gotta look at this for what they really are

[...] Read more

song performed by Liberty X from Thinking It Over
Added by Lucian Velea
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No Heart Wishes to Bleed

Driven crazed!
By possessions,
And seduced by their reflections.

In a daze!
And obssessed,
By what to feed on next!

And blazed!
By affects,
Of who has what and if it's best!

Amazed!
By the mess...
That hasn't caught their attention yet!

No idled time...
Finds a mind deep in need.
No mind demands...
What it does not see to feed.
No heart receives,
Wishes of it pieced away.
Or torn apart...
Just to have it bleed!

Driven crazed!
By possessions,
And seduced by their reflections.

In a daze!
And obssessed,
By what to feed on next!

And blazed!
By affects,
Of who has what and if it's best!

Amazed!
By the mess...
That hasn't caught their attention yet!

('No idled time...')
Driven crazed!
By possessions,
And seduced by their reflections.

('Finds a mind deep in need.')
In a daze!
And obssessed,
By what to feed on next!

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Up By Two Possessions

Up by two possessions,
In a heated competing session.
And the hope is to reach to the goal,
To keep...
A winning told.
And keep...
That winning bold.

You can't let moss grow under your feet!
And keep...
A winning told.
You can't stay satisfied and sleep!
And keep...
That winning bold.
You must push alibis aside!
To keep...
A winning told.
And sacrifice with a drive inside!
To keep...
A winning told.
And keep...
That winning bold.

Up by two possessions,
In a heated competing session.
And the hope is to reach to the goal,
To keep...
A winning told.

Up by two possessions,
In a heated competing session.
And the hope is to reach to the goal,
To keep...
That winning bold.

You can't let moss grow under your feet!
And keep...
A winning told.
You can't stay satisfied and sleep!
And keep...
That winning bold.
You must push alibis aside!
To keep...
A winning told.
And sacrifice with a drive inside!
To keep...
A winning told.
And keep...
That winning bold.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Gabriel's Message

The angel Gabriel from heaven came
His wings as drifted snow
His eyes as flame
From God all hail the angel said to Mary
Most highly favoured lady
Gloria
"Fear not for you shall bear a holy child
By him to God be reconciled
His name shall be Emmanuel
The long-foretold"
Most highly favoured lady
Gloria
Then gentle Mary humbly bowed her head
"To me be as it pleaseth God" she said
"My soul shall praise and magnify his Holy name"
Most highly favoured lady
Gloria
And so she said "How happy I shall be
All generations will remember me
For God has kept his promises to Israel"
Most highly favoured lady
Gloria
Of her Emmanuel the Christ was born
On Bethlehem upon that Christmas morn
And Christian folk throughout the world will ever say
Most highly favoured lady
Gloria

song performed by Marillion
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Highly Evolved Being

A highly evolved being
would not kill,
A highly evolved being,
would meditate and be still.

A highly evolved being
is “positively aware”
of everything including
birds in the air.

A highly evolved being
enjoys everything
and needs nothing.

They do not need see evil to be
“Postively Aware”.
For a highly evolved being
only shares,
and really cares
For all are ALL ONE,
from the same source,
For life becomes a meditation
and everything is a part of the whole,
everything works together
helping each other grow.

Grow and become the best
that they can be,
To be an effect on the future
and make it filled with merriness and glee.

poem by Christina Sunrise
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The Middle Class

Between dire straits and meager existence,
There are those who insist...
They represent the middle class.
And doing the best they can to make ends meet,
While that gap is widening fast.

Exhausted from swimming in debts and credit.
And unable to afford the keeping up of appearances.
Although they support those standards they value...
Those that have given up such tasks,
Can not convince them their beliefs have been trashed.

Between dire straits and meager existence,
There are those who insist...
They represent the middle class.
And as they hold onto dreams quickly slipping away,
Deluded they remain that changes made aren't here to stay.

Between dire straits and meager existence,
There are those who insist...
They represent the middle class.
And even though the sight of this continues to be sad,
Few are heard left to brag about what they own...
That others do not have.

Today...
Those struggling to maintain their middle class status,
Have one thing in common with those who are poor...
Wishing they had just a few dollars more!
And a door they can close to ignore what's going on.
Those days are gone.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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News Report

Only one person survived the attack,
when three black men with machineguns
killed the farmer, screaming loudly: “come here you bitch, ”
bursting into the house, kicking her, stripping her clothes off
and they acted as if totally insane.
On the floor she was tied up tightly
where they raped her, shouting: “you Boor whore.”
In the hospital she cried without end,
could hardly face reporters for the interview,
are without her possessions, husband and country and feels dirty.

She will never forget the black rapists,
even when praying to God,
as long as the killers still are alive,
there’s something burning in her like festering wounds
and only a grave is left to the honour of her husband,
in thoughts she is again swept away,
it feels as if every black man is watching her,
nothing can be trade for the life of her husband,
she strongly considers selling the farm,
are without her possessions, husband and country and feels dirty.

In her thoughts she lives through it again
with fear for a sexual disease or sores,
at night suddenly get awake shivering,
out of superstition even avoids ladders,
sometimes falls asleep in her pink underwear,
hear branches rustle, a dove cooing,
it feels as if someone wants to silence her,
she wants to hide from the whole world,
totally apathetic feeds the cattle green fodder,
are without her possessions,
husband and country and feels dirty.

l’Envoi
but the community is deeply moved by her,
they want to capture and abduct the criminals,
believe that terrorists are lurking on farms,
but she doesn’t want to mention this matter again,
are without her possessions, husband and country and feels dirty.

poem by Gert Strydom
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I am beginning to have a healthy dread of possessions, be it of a country, a house, a being or even an idea. If we are bothered by possessions we cannot really live either from without or from within; we are the possession of our possessions. All wars and most loves come from the possessive instinct. Why grab possessions like thieves, or divide them like socialists when you can ignore them like wise men: that you may belong to everything and everything be yours inclusive of yourself. Could we, and we can, have the vital necessities for all, we should do away with this cry of class and begin to differentiate between individuals.

quote by Natalie Clifford Barney
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Put Living Life On Your Agenda

Put living life on your agenda!
You may as well.
Things you valued and people trusted...
Seem to all have gone to hell.

It may seem that way,
But it doesn't have to be.
While you were working hard on a 9 to 5,
Others were working behind your back...
Cheating for an easier life,
And lieing and deceiving comfortably...
Day and night!

And if you are angry,
You have every right to be.
However...
You are not alone!
You are not the only one,
Trick by a way of life...
Your standards have condoned.

Put living life on your agenda!
You may as well.
Things you valued and people trusted...
Seem to all have gone to hell.

The first sign of trouble didn't faze you at all.
There were clues laid all over the place...
A decadence beginning was being thrown in your face.
The first time you accepted disrespect from someone...
That was a hint,
At least a clue...
You were not the only one to whom that was being done.

And remember making decisions not to become involved?
You shouldn't have turned your back!
What is happening today...
Could have then been easily solved,
Corrected and kept from attack.

So...
Put living life on your agenda!
You may as well.
Things you valued and people trusted...
Seem to all have gone to hell.

And you really didn't care.
If you did what you should have done yesterday...
Was not to observe the crumbling done around you.
Something said would have prevented it instead.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hermann And Dorothea - IX. Urania

CONCLUSION.

O YE Muses, who gladly favour a love that is heartfelt,
Who on his way the excellent youth have hitherto guided,
Who have press'd the maid to his bosom before their betrothal,
Help still further to perfect the bonds of a couple so loving,
Drive away the clouds which over their happiness hover!
But begin by saying what now in the house has been passing.

For the third time the mother impatiently enter'd the chamber
Where the men were sitting, which she had anxiously quitted,
Speaking of the approaching storm, and the loss of the moon's light,
Then of her son's long absence, and all the perils that night brings.
Strongly she censured their friends for having so soon left the youngster,
For not even addressing the maiden, or seeking to woo her.

'Make not the worst of the mischief,' the father peevishly answer'd;
'For you see we are waiting ourselves, expecting the issue.'

But the neighbour sat still, and calmly address'd them as follows:--
'In uneasy moments like these, I always feel grateful
To my late father, who when I was young all seeds of impatience
In my mind uprooted, and left no fragment remaining,
And I learnt how to wait, as well as the best of the wise men.
'Tell us what legerdemain he employ'd,' the pastor made answer.
'I will gladly inform you, and each one may gain by the lesson,'
Answer'd the neighbour. 'When I was a boy, I was standing one Sunday
In a state of impatience, eagerly waiting the carriage
Which was to carry us out to the fountain under the lime-trees;
But it came not; I ran like a weasel now hither, now thither,
Up and down the stairs, and from the door to the window;
Both my hands were prickling, I scratch'd away at the tables,
Stamping and trotting about, and scarcely refrain'd I from crying.
All this the calm man composedly saw; but finally when I
Carried my folly too far, by the arm he quietly took me,
Led me up to the window, and used this significant language
'See you up yonder the joiner's workshop, now closed for the Sunday?
'Twill be re-open'd to-morrow, and plane and saw will be working.
Thus will the busy hours be pass'd from morning till evening.
But remember this: the rimming will soon be arriving,
When the master, together with all his men, will be busy
In preparing and finishing quickly and deftly your coffin,
And they will carefully bring over here that house made of boards, which
Will at length receive the patient as well as impatient,
And which is destined to carry a roof that's unpleasantly heavy.
All that he mention'd I forthwith saw taking place in my mind's eye,
Saw the boards join'd together, and saw the black cover made ready,
Patiently then I sat, and meekly awaited the carriage.
And I always think of the coffin whenever I see men
Running about in a state of doubtful and wild expectation.'

[...] Read more

poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Wifey

Uh, uh, uh
Uh, uh, uh
Youre never trying to eat
Always stood right by me
Make living lively
Highly spoken of
My only love
The only one, youre my wifey
Make my life complete, sweet
But you know when to flip it street
Freak, but only when it comes to me
See thats why youre my wifey
This you should know
Cause you had my mind blown, oh, oh
Full of junk at the club on bump, like what
I had to have you babe
Saw you outside, passenger side
Cause I let my best friend drive
You was in line
Thats when you caught my eyes girl
You were so beautiful, girl
It was so critical, girl
You looked so crucial, girl
Something about you is everything
You are mine
Youre never trying to eat
Always stood right by me
Make living lively
Highly spoken of
My only love
The only one, youre my wifey
Make my life complete, sweet
But you know when to flip it street
Freak, but only when it comes to me
See thats why youre my wifey
You know youre sexy too
I like your attitude
I aint even mad at you
Girl, youre still my boo
Either braids or weave,
Skirt or jeans youre still my queen
Baby-girl go do your thing
Im so glad youre on my team
You were so beautiful, girl
It is so critical, girl
You looked so crucial, girl
Something about you is everything
You are mine
Youre never trying to eat
Always stood right by me

[...] Read more

song performed by Next
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Gabriel's Message

The angel Gabriel from Heaven came,
His wings as drifted snow,
His eyes as flame; 'All hail,' said he,
'Thou lowly maiden Mary,'
Most highly favoured lady, Gloria!
'For known a blessed Mother thou shalt be,
All generations laud and honour thee,
Thy Son shall be Emmanuel, by seers foretold,'
Most highly favoured lady, Gloria!
Then gentle Mary meekly bowed her head,
'To me be as it pleaseth God,' she said,
'My soul shall laud and magnify his holy name.'
Most highly favoured lady, Gloria!
Of her, Emmanuel, the Christ, was born
In Bethlehem, all on a Christmas morn,
And Christian folk throughout the world will ever say:
Most highly favoured lady, Gloria

song performed by Sting
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Highly Respectable Gondolier

I stole the Prince, and I brought him here,
And left him, gaily prattling
With a highly respectable Gondolier,
Who promised the Royal babe to rear,
And teach him the trade of a timoneer
With his own beloved bratling.

Both of the babes were strong and stout,
And, considering all things, clever.
Of that there is no manner of doubt -
No probable, possible shadow of doubt -
No possible doubt whatever.

Time sped, and when at the end of a year
I sought that infant cherished,
That highly respectable Gondolier
Was lying a corpse on his humble bier -
I dropped a Grand Inquisitor's tear -
That Gondolier had perished!

A taste for drink, combined with gout,
Had doubled him up for ever.
Of THAT there is no manner of doubt -
No probable, possible shadow of doubt -
No possible doubt whatever.

But owing, I'm much disposed to fear,
To his terrible taste for tippling,
That highly respectable Gondolier
Could never declare with a mind sincere
Which of the two was his offspring dear,
And which the Royal stripling!

Which was which he could never make out,
Despite his best endeavour.
Of THAT there is no manner of doubt -
No probable, possible shadow of doubt -
No possible doubt whatever.

The children followed his old career -
(This statement can't be parried)
Of a highly respectable Gondolier:
Well, one of the two (who will soon be here) -
But WHICH of the two is not quite clear -
Is the Royal Prince you married!

Search in and out and round about
And you'll discover never
A tale so free from every doubt -
All probable, possible shadow of doubt -

[...] Read more

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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The Iliad: Book 23

Thus did they make their moan throughout the city, while the
Achaeans when they reached the Hellespont went back every man to his
own ship. But Achilles would not let the Myrmidons go, and spoke to
his brave comrades saying, "Myrmidons, famed horsemen and my own
trusted friends, not yet, forsooth, let us unyoke, but with horse
and chariot draw near to the body and mourn Patroclus, in due honour
to the dead. When we have had full comfort of lamentation we will
unyoke our horses and take supper all of us here."
On this they all joined in a cry of wailing and Achilles led them in
their lament. Thrice did they drive their chariots all sorrowing round
the body, and Thetis stirred within them a still deeper yearning.
The sands of the seashore and the men's armour were wet with their
weeping, so great a minister of fear was he whom they had lost.
Chief in all their mourning was the son of Peleus: he laid his
bloodstained hand on the breast of his friend. "Fare well," he
cried, "Patroclus, even in the house of Hades. I will now do all
that I erewhile promised you; I will drag Hector hither and let dogs
devour him raw; twelve noble sons of Trojans will I also slay before
your pyre to avenge you."
As he spoke he treated the body of noble Hector with contumely,
laying it at full length in the dust beside the bier of Patroclus. The
others then put off every man his armour, took the horses from their
chariots, and seated themselves in great multitude by the ship of
the fleet descendant of Aeacus, who thereon feasted them with an
abundant funeral banquet. Many a goodly ox, with many a sheep and
bleating goat did they butcher and cut up; many a tusked boar
moreover, fat and well-fed, did they singe and set to roast in the
flames of Vulcan; and rivulets of blood flowed all round the place
where the body was lying.
Then the princes of the Achaeans took the son of Peleus to
Agamemnon, but hardly could they persuade him to come with them, so
wroth was he for the death of his comrade. As soon as they reached
Agamemnon's tent they told the serving-men to set a large tripod
over the fire in case they might persuade the son of Peleus 'to wash
the clotted gore from this body, but he denied them sternly, and swore
it with a solemn oath, saying, "Nay, by King Jove, first and mightiest
of all gods, it is not meet that water should touch my body, till I
have laid Patroclus on the flames, have built him a barrow, and shaved
my head- for so long as I live no such second sorrow shall ever draw
nigh me. Now, therefore, let us do all that this sad festival demands,
but at break of day, King Agamemnon, bid your men bring wood, and
provide all else that the dead may duly take into the realm of
darkness; the fire shall thus burn him out of our sight the sooner,
and the people shall turn again to their own labours."
Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said. They made haste
to prepare the meal, they ate, and every man had his full share so
that all were satisfied. As soon as they had had had enough to eat and
drink, the others went to their rest each in his own tent, but the son
of Peleus lay grieving among his Myrmidons by the shore of the
sounding sea, in an open place where the waves came surging in one

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poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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There Is a Welcoming of Truth In Everything That Is Done

I remember my encounter...
With reality!
That's when I was stripped,
From those things I valued.
I was spinning in a whirlpool
Of a cruel introduction to truth.

I had some things I liked.
Things I thought I needed,
And kept polished!
Waxed to keep dust reflecting shadows.
Yes!
Even though accelerated winds,
Kept cars I owned spotless.
Dust and I became enemies.
I just didn't want to see any of it on my cars.

I took my parents for granted.
Until they became ill,
And passed away.

Friends I shared nakedness with.
And every conceivable intimacy...
Were gone!
Vanished in thin air it seemed.
And the things we shared,
To impress each other with...
Became useless possessions.
Especially when loved ones go,
And you are left holding onto emptiness!
And it doesn't take long...
To discover the valueless nonsense in this!

I remember my encounter...
With reality!
That's when I was stripped,
From those things I valued.
I was spinning in a whirlpool
Of a cruel introduction to truth.

And when I began my pursuit,
To free myself of guilt...
I had to forgive a superficiality I had with life.
When I discovered my heart could be broken,
By the permanent absence of those I love!

There is a welcoming of truth in everything that is done.
I am blessed to have learned how to love and forgive.
And blessed to appreciate my life as it is.
And so very blessed to have come to know the ones I loved!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I live in hope (in memory of Martin Luther King Jr.)

I live in hope that one day
We will live in a world
Without discrimination and bigotry
Where our children will know love
Without division or agenda,
One race, the human race
Where love is acceptance and respect,
Where difference is celebrated and valued
To unify, strengthen and enrich us
by its diversity.

I live in hope that one day
All women and children
will be safe, day and night
To live without fear and violence
And our children will be cherished
and nurtured and loved
Without molestation
And will grow in strength
Physically with freedom of imagination
For a strong and robust tomorrow.

I live in hope that one day
All women:
Our mothers, sisters, daughters,
nieces, partners, grandmothers,
Aunties, neighbours, colleagues,
friends and strangers
Will be valued inherently with dignity
And the birth rights of girls and boys
as equals will be assured
without contest or question.

I live in hope that one day
All individuals will be valued
for their intrinsic worth,
knowledge, lifes efforts, experiences,
creativity and decency
And not be judged and devalued
by preconceived ideas of gender,
Appearance or diasabilities,
I live in hope that one day
All of us as people, whether
Gay, straight, transgendered,
bisexual or intersexed,
Abled or disabled,
All as equals
can be proud of who we are
and of each other
Respectful of our differences

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poem by Danny Draper
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Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)

Introduction

In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.

Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.

Prologue

The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain

mixed with French Huguenots
who left their homes and belongings,
with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
Associate this then with the fact

that these people fought formidable
for seven generations
against every onslaught that they got
from savages en wild animals

becoming marksmen, riding
and taming wild horses
with one bullet per day
to hunt a wild antelope,

who migrated right across the country
over hills in mass protest
and then you have
the most formidable adversary
and then let them fight

in a natural wilderness
where the hunter,
the sniper and horseman excels
and any enemy is at a lost.

Let them then also be patriotic
into their souls,
believe in and read
out of the word of God

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poem by Gert Strydom
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The Odyssey: Book 19

Ulysses was left in the cloister, pondering on the means whereby
with Minerva's help he might be able to kill the suitors. Presently he
said to Telemachus, "Telemachus, we must get the armour together and
take it down inside. Make some excuse when the suitors ask you why you
have removed it. Say that you have taken it to be out of the way of
the smoke, inasmuch as it is no longer what it was when Ulysses went
away, but has become soiled and begrimed with soot. Add to this more
particularly that you are afraid Jove may set them on to quarrel
over their wine, and that they may do each other some harm which may
disgrace both banquet and wooing, for the sight of arms sometimes
tempts people to use them."
Telemachus approved of what his father had said, so he called
nurse Euryclea and said, "Nurse, shut the women up in their room,
while I take the armour that my father left behind him down into the
store room. No one looks after it now my father is gone, and it has
got all smirched with soot during my own boyhood. I want to take it
down where the smoke cannot reach it."
"I wish, child," answered Euryclea, "that you would take the
management of the house into your own hands altogether, and look after
all the property yourself. But who is to go with you and light you
to the store room? The maids would have so, but you would not let
them.
"The stranger," said Telemachus, "shall show me a light; when people
eat my bread they must earn it, no matter where they come from."
Euryclea did as she was told, and bolted the women inside their
room. Then Ulysses and his son made all haste to take the helmets,
shields, and spears inside; and Minerva went before them with a gold
lamp in her hand that shed a soft and brilliant radiance, whereon
Telemachus said, "Father, my eyes behold a great marvel: the walls,
with the rafters, crossbeams, and the supports on which they rest
are all aglow as with a flaming fire. Surely there is some god here
who has come down from heaven."
"Hush," answered Ulysses, "hold your peace and ask no questions, for
this is the manner of the gods. Get you to your bed, and leave me here
to talk with your mother and the maids. Your mother in her grief
will ask me all sorts of questions."
On this Telemachus went by torch-light to the other side of the
inner court, to the room in which he always slept. There he lay in his
bed till morning, while Ulysses was left in the cloister pondering
on the means whereby with Minerva's help he might be able to kill
the suitors.
Then Penelope came down from her room looking like Venus or Diana,
and they set her a seat inlaid with scrolls of silver and ivory near
the fire in her accustomed place. It had been made by Icmalius and had
a footstool all in one piece with the seat itself; and it was
covered with a thick fleece: on this she now sat, and the maids came
from the women's room to join her. They set about removing the
tables at which the wicked suitors had been dining, and took away
the bread that was left, with the cups from which they had drunk. They
emptied the embers out of the braziers, and heaped much wood upon them

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poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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