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Imagine the Creator as a low comedian, and at once the world becomes explicable.

quote by H.L. Mencken
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian

Go Cut Creator Go

[LL Cool J]
1, 2, 3 'o' clock 4 'o' clock ROCK
5, 6, 7 'o' clock 8 'o' clock ROCK
9, 10, 11 'o' clock 12 'o' clock ROCK
Gonna ROCK (What?) ROCK, ROCK around the clock
Three years ago in St. Albans, Queens
I was rockin at a park called one eighteen
Little kids stood and watched as I rocked the spot
Didn't know that years later I'll be standin on top
Livin near Farmers Boulevard I was born and base-shaw
Stopped the rich and shaked hands with the poor
And this is a story about a brother I know
Cut Creator on the fader no watch him go
[Chorus]
Go, go Cut Creator Go
Go Cut Creator Go
Go Cut Creator Go
Go Cut Creator Go
Go, go Cut Creator Go
Go Cut Creator Go
Go Cut Creator Go
Go Cut Creator Go
[LL Cool J]
When back in the days before I clocked some dough
I used to go to the show and sit in the front row
Hopin and prayin one day I'll get on the road
So I had a feeler and a summer and I meet when I'm stoned
Not fearin a thought, got stung like a horse
Don't make fun of my posse, cause each man is a boss
When his only damn way to pull a jam out the crate
One time for your mind
Check out the guitar break
[Chorus]
Go, go Cut Creator Go
Go Cut Creator Go
Go Cut Creator Go
Go Cut Creator Go
Go, go Cut Creator Go
Go Cut Creator Go
Go Cut Creator Go
Go Cut Creator Go
[LL Cool J]
This jam just wasn't enough for Jimmy Hendrix to see
He could do lessons of mixin take you under his wing
Straight from the heart cause it ain't the money that we came here for
Ain't no thoughts in the room ain't breakin no roles
And in the Rock 'n' Roll land, a big strivin plan
Just my posse learn the vocals what little they had
It's all about us three: Eve, Phil & Jay
He heard Cut Creator cut now check it out to play

[...] Read more

song performed by LL Cool J
Added by Lucian Velea
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Imagine the World

Imagine the world ……………………….
Imagine the world without wars…
Imagine the world without your laws
Imagine your life without fear
Imagine your eyes without a tear
Imagine all men were real men
Imagine…imagine…imagine…
Imagine life without hate
Imagine you knew your own fate
Imagine all children were happy
Imagine all nations were free
What would life be like?
Imagine no-one were blind
Imagine all the woes behind
Imagine…….imagine……..imagine….
Imagi ne earth were flat
Imagine man without a heart
Imagine the day without light
Imagine the dark without the night
Imagine……….imagine……imagine……
Imagine faces without a smile
Imagine birds without a nightingale
Imagine …imagine…imagine
What would life be like?

poem by Bouche Cousue
Added by Poetry Lover
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Imagine That

Dream...
Imagine...
Close your eyes...
Ooh...(yah)
Ooh...(next)
Ooh...(divine mill...2k3)
Ooh... (tweet)
Ooh... (r.l.)
Ooh... (and t-low)
Now I might not have
5 or 6 cars in my garage
But would you settle for a nice massage
And the love of a lifetime
Girl...
I swear to God that
With a whole lot of love
And little bit of faith
That we can make it
You just gotta believe that...
We could roll till the wheels fall off (and)
Imma love you till my souls gone on (cause)
It can happen, baby, just hold on
Close your eyes and dream (and imagine that)
Imagine that smile ever leavin your face
Comin home from work and never leavin the place
Got chocolates and champagne just for you to taste
(close your eyes)
Close your eyes, girl, imagine that
Imagine benzes in the parkin lot
A different chauffeur for every car you got
Islands to settle on a private yacht (just close your eyes)
Close your eyes, girl, imagine that
I know you deserve
More than I got right now
But baby, theres no doubt
cause youve always stayed down
I swear to God that
With a whole lot of love
And a little bit of faith
That we can make it
You just gotta believe that
We could roll till the wheels fall off (and)
Imma love you till my souls gone on (hey)
It can happen, baby, just hold on
Close your eyes and dream (and imagine that)
Imagine that smile ever leavin your face
Comin home from work and never leavin the place
Got chocolate and champagne just for you to taste
(close your eyes)
Close your eyes, girl, imagine that (and imagine that)

[...] Read more

song performed by Next
Added by Lucian Velea
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Imagine That

Imagine That
Close your eyes...
Now relax your mind...
Now I want you to picture yourself
Far, far away
(You know your thoughts inside, girl we're 'bout to take a ride)
I don't want you to have a care in the world right now
(Let it go, let it go, let it go, aw yeah)
It's just you... and me
In this moment
Quiet... listen...
Baby take your mind into a zone
Imagine that we're all alone
2-way's off and our friends are gone
Now picture you and me gettin' it on
Take my hand and come with me
Let's indulge in fantasies
Cast your cares and worries
And slowly fall into this ecstasy
I'm gonna rub your body so baby just relax
You've been pourin' out your lovin' and now it's time to pour it back
Imagine that
Imagine that, imagine that, imagine that, imagine (all night long)
Imagine that
Me strokin' your body, imagine that
Imagine that, imagine that, imagine that, imagine (ohh-ho)
Imagine that
Whipped cream and strawberries, know what I mean?
Imagine that, imagine that, imagine that, imagine (ohh-ohh)
Imagine that
Candles and oils surrounding the bed
Imagine that, imagine that, imagine that, imagine (ohh-ho)
Imagine that
And me kissin' your body from feet to head
Imagine that
We don't have to talk
Ohh lay your body here, and watch my fingers walk
Take a second... and imagine the opportunity
You and me sharin' sexual energy
Now girl just meditate on you bein' in this chair
Now close your eyes and act like we're not even here
Girl I'm gonna rub your body so baby just relax
You've been pourin' out your lovin' and now it's time to pour it back
Imagine...
Ima

song performed by R. Kelly
Added by Lucian Velea
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Eternal Creation

The Parent’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to the child; but to irrefutably ensure that the infant was nourished with their breath and blood till the time it could unflinchingly fend for its symbiotic survival; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created them for,

The Sun’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to light; but to irrefutably ensure that the rays optimistically enlightened even the most infinitesimally lugubrious cranny of remorsefully cloistered earth; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

The Rose’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to fragrance; but to irrefutably ensure that the majestic resplendence ebulliently blossomed into the lives of countless haplessly beleaguered and bereaved; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

The Peak’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to victory; but to irrefutably ensure that the royal triumph peerlessly massacred even the most ethereal iota of devilishness form this Universe; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

Nature’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to newness; but to irrefutably ensure that the evolution metamorphosed every bit of egregiously stagnating ghoulishness into a sky of rhapsodic freshness; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

The Cloud’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to rain; but to irrefutably ensure that the water stupendously ignited vivaciously iridescent life in every ingredient of hopelessly dying soil; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

The Conscience’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to truth; but to irrefutably ensure that the righteousness insuperably conquered every trace of diabolical lies on earth and the atmosphere; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

The Ocean’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to salt; but to irrefutably ensure that the tanginess wonderfully illuminated every treacherously spiceles and deliriously lackadaisical moment of life; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

The Poet’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to fantasy; but to irrefutably ensure that the dream spellbindingly impregnates the winds of Omnipotent romance into monotonously monstrous robots; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created him for,

The Lip’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to smiles; but to irrefutably ensure that the happiness altruistically perpetually perpetuates into every dwelling incarcerated in chains of murderous gloom; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

The Rainbow’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to vividness; but to irrefutably ensure that the color timelessly enshrouded every gruesomely befriended orphan; miserably deteriorating on the globe; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

The Shadow’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to tranquility; but to irrefutably ensure that the peacefulness granted celestial reprieve to every bizarrely estranged soul squandering on this Universe; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,

The philanthropist’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to unity; but to irrefutably ensure that the oneness miraculously coalesced every spuriously staggering and cold-bloodedly fighting caste; creed and tribe into the unassailable religion of humanity; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created him for,

The wind’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to freedom; but to irrefutably ensure that the liberation unequivocally freed every element of torturously enslaved earth till times immemorial; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,

The night’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to sensuality; but to irrefutably ensure that the passion brilliantly transformed every speck of infertility into the chapters of everlastingly Omniscient procreation; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,

The eyelash’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to flirtation; but to irrefutably ensure that the mischief serenely catapulted every fretfully frenetic organism into realms of impeccable childhood; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,

The soldiers job just doesn’t end at giving birth to martyrdom; but to irrefutably ensure that the valor to timelessly serve the mothersoil; throbbed fearlessly in every chest; even centuries after his veritable death; was what the Almighty Creator had created him for,

The breath’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to life; but to irrefutably ensure that the exultation inexhaustibly transcended over; even the most inane anecdote of baseless corruption and demeaning death; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,

And the heart’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to Love; but to irrefutably ensure that the compassionate togetherness tirelessly bonded the entire planet into a paradise of Omnipresently unshakable strength; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for…

©copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. All rights reserved.

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Imagine A Man

Imagine a man
Not a child of any revolt
Imagine a man
But a plain man tied up in life
Imagine the sand
Imagine a man
Running out as he struts
Not a child of any revolt
Parading and fading, ignoring his wife
But a plain man tied up in life
Imagine a road
Imagine the sand
So long looking backwards
Running out as he struts
You cant see where it really began
Parading and fading, ignoring his wife
Imagine a load
Imagine a road
So large and so smooth
So long looking backwards
That against it a man is an ant
You cant see where it really began
Then you will see the end
Imagine a load
You will see the end
So large and so smooth
That against it a man is an ant
Imagine events
That occur everyday
Then you will see the end
Like a shooting or raping or a simple act of deceit
You will see the end
Imagine a fence
Imagine events
Around you as high as prevention
That occur everyday
Casting shadows, you cant see your feet
Like a shooting or raping or a simple act of deceit
Imagine a girl
Imagine a fence
You long for and have
Around you as high as prevention
And the body of chalky perfection and truth
Casting shadows, you cant see your feet
Imagine a past
Imagine a girl
Where you wish you had lived
With long, flowing hair
Full of heroes and villians and fools
And the body of chalky perfection and truth

[...] Read more

song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Legacy of the Purple Robe

The legacy of the purple robe,
Worn by the most powerful of kings, Gods, and highest of lords,
The purple robe of majesty, embedded with diamond galore,
The legacy of the apparel and the creator never seen before,
In correlation with the platinum crown,
The Creator of everything wearing the magic gown,
Beyond the planet Earth, the creator beyond the renowned,
Creator of the nine planets and the galaxy all around,
Beyond the sky, the solar system painted by the creator,
The creator without a name, the universe’s dictator,
Higher than Zeus, God, Allah, something much greater,
The creator with portraits of the universe, the painter,
Wearing the purple gown and the platinum crown, the God of all,
Within the asteroid belt, the universe’s wall,
In the creator’s portrait, the solar system enthralled,
Not a religion, but something higher than the skies,
Something invisible, looking down on the Earth with blue eyes,
Beyond religion, the highest of the power of gods refined,
The artist of the universe’s blueprint that’s intricately designed,
Creator of the moon, the grass, the mountains, and the sun that shines,
The purple robe beyond the stars, worn by the creator in the royal shrine,
The purple robe and the platinum crown, only worn by the most creative of mind,
For this creator was truly a painter, an artist of the universe,
Inflicted by hypergraphia and insanity of mind, the artist’s curse,
That sits above the realm of space when the planets dispersed,
At one point everything was one planet cluttered in space,
Until he created boundaries within the realm that separated planets in a linear trace,
Above the galaxy in the darkened realm beyond the stars the creator’s place,
Until he created the new portrait of the big bang, and the old blueprint was replaced,
Within one shattering boom of the storm, the portraits transformed in haste,
And the cluttered planet was forgotten forever without a trace,
Now separated in the solar system,9 planets are spread in space,
The purple robe, only worn by the artist and the God of everything,
Compulsively observing his portrait sitting on the different sections of the asteroid ring,
The platinum crown, and the purple robe, worn by the ultimate king,
Beyond religion, the highest power humans never seen,
The creator, that painted everything.

poem by Kurt Kacich
Added by Poetry Lover
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Imagine / Sing The Wondrous Love Of Jesus

IMAGINE
(From Album LEGACY: HYMNS AND FAITH)
I can only imagine what it will be like
When I walk by your side
I can only imagine
What my eyes will see
When your face is looking at me
Surrounded by your glory, what will my heart feel?
Will I dance for you Jesus?
When all of youll be still imagine hm...
I can only imagine
I can only imagine all creations bow down
The whole universes saying your name out loud
I can only imagine
All of broken lifes resurrecting in the healing light
Surrounded by your glory, what will my heart feel?
Will I dance for you Jesus?
When all of youll be still
Will I stand in Your presence?
Unto my knees will I fall?
Will I sing hallelujah?
Will I be able to speak it all?
I can only imagine
Oh, I can only imagine
Surrounded by forgiveness, what will my heart feel?
Will I dance for you Jesus?
When all of youll be still
Will I stand in Your presence?
Unto my knees will I fall?
Will I sing hallelujah?
Will I be able to speak it all?
I can only imagine
Oh, I can only imagine
I can only I can only huu..
I can only imagine
I can only Imagine
Just imagine

song performed by Amy Grant
Added by Lucian Velea
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Is that creator in you?

Let their sun rise to them from our west,
Let the doubtful ignorance be cleared as the mist,
Let the program on every chip be our tips,
Let our people wake up in pleasant hand shake.

The old civilizations and new world in Pacific Ocean,
The same old genes of first generation peaceful human,
The chart of nomenclature with variant faith, dream and color,
under the great grand name of Human, the creator.

The creator of the fire for the food,
The creator of tools for the growth,
The creator of mechanics for the transport,
The creator of electricity for the comfort,
The creator of magnificent diodes,
The creator of tiny humble chips,
The creator of laptop and internet,
The creator of wars based on faith,
The creator of ignorance,
To destroy all these intelligence.

Let the creator of peace in you evolve,
to teach the destroyers who revolve,
to reach those hearts that tremble,
Let us have the peace that triumphs.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Added by Poetry Lover
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My Imagine

This came about because of the growing hatred level in my College

Imagine a world without anger or hate
Imagine bigotry, intolerance and racism become obsolete
Imagine a world without Heaven or Hell
Imagine a world without borders or possession
Imagine a world without hungry or murder
Imagine a world that isn't imaginary
Imagine an imaginary world materializing
Can you live without hate?
Can you live with love?
Can you live in peace?
Can you Metal Head, stand with hand with Juggalo?
Would you even let this world come to form?
Or would you let it remain an idea?

Imagine a world where we don't die waiting for care
Imagine a world where we don't kill each other for land
Imagine a world where we don't care about language
Imagine a world where we don't kill the children anymore
Can you live this way?
Would you want to?
Can you?
Would you?
Would you really?
I may be a dreamer, but I feel like the only one

poem by Electric Tripp
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Imagine That

(derek george/john tirro/bryan white)
(track 14 - time 3:31)
What is the world comin to
When lovers cant believe
They got a love comin true
Then they up and leave
They say they will when they wont
They say I do and then they dont
That aint the way its got to be
With you and me
Imagine that, a love that lasts forever
Imagine that, for all the world to see
That two people stay together
The way it ought to be
Oh imagine that
I dont intend to change the world
I couldnt if I tried
As long as Ive got you with me girl
Ill be satisfied
Lets do what we can, mean what we say
Well just take it day by day
cause I want to prove to everyone
That it can be done
Imagine that, a love that lasts forever
Imagine that, for all the world to see
That two people stay together
The way it ought to be
Oh imagine that
Do you believe in love enough to go the distance
Do you believe in love enough to make a stand
Do you believe enough to handle the resistance
I believe we can
Imagine that, a love that lasts forever
Imagine that, for all the world to see
That two people stay together
The way it ought to be
Oh imagine that
Oh imagine that
Imagine that
Oh imagine that

song performed by Diamond Rio
Added by Lucian Velea
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Imagine

(spoken) oohh yeah...dark child...shola ama

imagine if i told you that i want you
and imagine if it all came true
tell me what would you do with me
would you tell me that you feel the same
imagine if i told you that i need you
would you say baby i need you too
no matter what you do i know
that you should be in love with me

sometimes i find myself locked in two
secret thoughts hoping they'd come true
sometimes at night i'd feel you lying next to me baby
but these are things that i could never tell you
i can't imagine what you would do
after all you are so far away from me...from me

sometimes it feels just like a fantasy
and i don't know what to do
coz it's always been like a dream to me
to find a love to true
but i know it's only make believe
when i'm picturing me and you
oh one day i know that you'll be
the one that makes my dreams come true

imagine if i told you that i want you
and imagine if it all came true
tell me what would you do with me
would you tell me that you feel the same
imagine if i told you that i need you
would you say baby i need you too
no matter what you do i know
that you should be in love with me

there's a feeling so deep inside
telling me we are meant to me
praying that some day you will come for me...for me
but til then i'm just daydreaming
thinking about the way things could be
but it don't matter
coz you're still so far from me...baby

sometimes it feels just like a fantasy
and i don't know what to do
coz it's always been like a dream to me
to find a love to true
but i know it's only make believe
when i'm picturing me and you

[...] Read more

song performed by Shola Ama
Added by Lucian Velea
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An Explanation of America: A Love of Death

Imagine a child from Virginia or New Hampshire
Alone on the prairie eighty years ago
Or more, one afternoon—the shaggy pelt
Of grasses, for the first time in that child’s life,
Flowing for miles. Imagine the moving shadow
Of a cloud far off across that shadeless ocean,
The obliterating strangeness like a tide
That pulls or empties the bubble of the child’s
Imaginary heart. No hills, no trees.

The child’s heart lightens, tending like a bubble
Towards the currents of the grass and sky,
The pure potential of the clear blank spaces.

Or, imagine the child in a draw that holds a garden
Cupped from the limitless motion of the prairie,
Head resting against a pumpkin, in evening sun.
Ground-cherry bushes grow along the furrows,
The fruit red under its papery, moth-shaped sheath.
Grasshoppers tumble among the vines, as large
As dragons in the crumbs of pale dry earth.
The ground is warm to the child’s cheek, and the wind
Is a humming sound in the grass above the draw,
Rippling the shadows of the red-green blades.
The bubble of the child’s heart melts a little,
Because the quiet of that air and earth
Is like the shadow of a peaceful death—
Limitless and potential; a kind of space
Where one dissolves to become a part of something
Entire ... whether of sun and air, or goodness
And knowledge, it does not matter to the child.
Dissolved among the particles of the garden
Or into the motion of the grass and air,
Imagine the child happy to be a thing.

Imagine, then, that on that same wide prairie
Some people are threshing in the terrible heat
With horses and machines, cutting bands
And shoveling amid the clatter of the threshers,
The chaff in prickly clouds and the naked sun
Burning as if it could set the chaff on fire.
Imagine that the people are Swedes or Germans,
Some of them resting pressed against the strawstacks,
Trying to get the meager shade.
A man,
A tramp, comes laboring across the stubble
Like a mirage against that blank horizon,
Laboring in his torn shoes toward the tall
Mirage-like images of the tilted threshers
Clattering in the heat. Because the Swedes

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Pinsky
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TV Guide

i was a television hosting a cartoon,
on early saturday mornings, to take away your blues,
i was your comedian on those rainy afternoons,
giving you a smile in a soothing room,
you were so young with your painted dreams,
an idealistic boy, you wanted to keep them,
i watched you grow and thought 'perhaps',
you'd be the sower with the perfect hem,

i was a television hosting an empty screen,
'cause you grew older and lost time for me,
i was your comedian without a jokes,
for you to hear under you counseling yoke,
you were so young with your textbooks,
stitching useless knowledge in place of your dreams,
i watched you learn and thought 'someday',
you'd have the time to finish sowing,

i was a television hosting a commercial,
while you slept to regain energy,
i was your comedian to help you,
have a laugh and become healthy,
you were so young curled up with your dreams,
in a remedy of blankets you fell asleep,
i watched you dream of a peace that was dead,
but you reconnected it with your needle and red thread,

i was a television hosting the 10 o'clock,
when you were wise and watched the newscaster,
no comedian could entice a smile,
on that evening when they televised the disaster,
you were so young, i saw it drip from your eyes,
sympathy spilled as you calmed your wife,
i watched you pack and thought 'of course',
you'd sacrifice a loom for a country at war,

i was a television hosting a cartoon,
to take away your grandchildren's blues,
i was the comedian on that rainy afternoon,
and enjoyed your smile in that old soothing room,
you looked so young dressed in wrinkles and gray hair,
everyone else grew up, but they wished....
i watched you age backwards, and thought 'you never did',
yeah, you still dream, yeah, your still that kid,
your still that kid.

poem by Jordan Crider
Added by Poetry Lover
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Satan Absolved

(In the antechamber of Heaven. Satan walks alone. Angels in groups conversing.)
Satan. To--day is the Lord's ``day.'' Once more on His good pleasure
I, the Heresiarch, wait and pace these halls at leisure
Among the Orthodox, the unfallen Sons of God.
How sweet in truth Heaven is, its floors of sandal wood,
Its old--world furniture, its linen long in press,
Its incense, mummeries, flowers, its scent of holiness!
Each house has its own smell. The smell of Heaven to me
Intoxicates and haunts,--and hurts. Who would not be
God's liveried servant here, the slave of His behest,
Rather than reign outside? I like good things the best,
Fair things, things innocent; and gladly, if He willed,
Would enter His Saints' kingdom--even as a little child.

[Laughs. I have come to make my peace, to crave a full amaun,
Peace, pardon, reconcilement, truce to our daggers--drawn,
Which have so long distraught the fair wise Universe,
An end to my rebellion and the mortal curse
Of always evil--doing. He will mayhap agree
I was less wholly wrong about Humanity
The day I dared to warn His wisdom of that flaw.
It was at least the truth, the whole truth, I foresaw
When He must needs create that simian ``in His own
Image and likeness.'' Faugh! the unseemly carrion!
I claim a new revision and with proofs in hand,
No Job now in my path to foil me and withstand.
Oh, I will serve Him well!
[Certain Angels approach. But who are these that come
With their grieved faces pale and eyes of martyrdom?
Not our good Sons of God? They stop, gesticulate,
Argue apart, some weep,--weep, here within Heaven's gate!
Sob almost in God's sight! ay, real salt human tears,
Such as no Spirit wept these thrice three thousand years.
The last shed were my own, that night of reprobation
When I unsheathed my sword and headed the lost nation.
Since then not one of them has spoken above his breath
Or whispered in these courts one word of life or death
Displeasing to the Lord. No Seraph of them all,
Save I this day each year, has dared to cross Heaven's hall
And give voice to ill news, an unwelcome truth to Him.
Not Michael's self hath dared, prince of the Seraphim.
Yet all now wail aloud.--What ails ye, brethren? Speak!
Are ye too in rebellion? Angels. Satan, no. But weak
With our long earthly toil, the unthankful care of Man.

Satan. Ye have in truth good cause.

Angels. And we would know God's plan,
His true thought for the world, the wherefore and the why
Of His long patience mocked, His name in jeopardy.

[...] Read more

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Imagine

Imagine information in the palm of your hand.
Imagine the knowledge of a library at your command.
Imagine all books written just a touch away.
Imagine all media at your finger tip each day.
Imagine a device that causes a mental revolution.
Imagine how it calculates with instant execution.

Imagine a discovery rivaling all human means.
Imagine its place in the mapping of genes.
Imagine where this miracle will take mankind.
Imagine unimaginables there still are to find.
Imagine love ruling the world some day.
Imagine how mankind could then find its lost way.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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Imagine Angels

imagine angels.

imagine a bolt of lightning
out of the blue so blue
striking a tree
a few feet away

imagine a thunderstorm
remaining overhead all night

imagine a summer dawn arising
as if for the first time on the earth

imagine cats and dogs whimpering
as the ground trembles
with the approaching earthquake

imagine the equation for space-time
there in the mind as you wake

imagine the death of children
imagine the birth of children

imagine the first love
of your lover

imagine a joy beyond detachment
imagine a detachment beyond joy

imagine angels

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Confessio Amantis. Prologus

Torpor, ebes sensus, scola parua labor minimusque
Causant quo minimus ipse minora canam:
Qua tamen Engisti lingua canit Insula Bruti
Anglica Carmente metra iuuante loquar.
Ossibus ergo carens que conterit ossa loquelis
Absit, et interpres stet procul oro malus.

Of hem that writen ous tofore
The bokes duelle, and we therfore
Ben tawht of that was write tho:
Forthi good is that we also
In oure tyme among ous hiere
Do wryte of newe som matiere,
Essampled of these olde wyse
So that it myhte in such a wyse,
Whan we ben dede and elleswhere,
Beleve to the worldes eere
In tyme comende after this.
Bot for men sein, and soth it is,
That who that al of wisdom writ
It dulleth ofte a mannes wit
To him that schal it aldai rede,
For thilke cause, if that ye rede,
I wolde go the middel weie
And wryte a bok betwen the tweie,
Somwhat of lust, somewhat of lore,
That of the lasse or of the more
Som man mai lyke of that I wryte:
And for that fewe men endite
In oure englissh, I thenke make
A bok for Engelondes sake,
The yer sextenthe of kyng Richard.
What schal befalle hierafterward
God wot, for now upon this tyde
Men se the world on every syde
In sondry wyse so diversed,
That it welnyh stant al reversed,
As forto speke of tyme ago.
The cause whi it changeth so
It needeth nought to specifie,
The thing so open is at ije
That every man it mai beholde:
And natheles be daies olde,
Whan that the bokes weren levere,
Wrytinge was beloved evere
Of hem that weren vertuous;
For hier in erthe amonges ous,
If noman write hou that it stode,
The pris of hem that weren goode

[...] Read more

poem by John Gower
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0020 A loving sestina to Our Lady

1 In Europe, around the end of the 12th century, women
2 began to be regarded by men as more than a good lay
3 and mother to your children; but that contented sorta love
4 that even men feel afterward, could be seen as quite divine
5 and thus related however distantly to the Creator;
6 this gave rise to a type of poetry called the sestina.

6 a troubadour called Arnaut Daniel invented the sestina,
1 so it’s said, around 1190; and this new respect for women
5 as being, believe it or not, related distantly to their Creator
2 led to this, to us, rather absurd and complicated ‘lay’ -
4 that was the rather double-entendre name for the divine
3 love for mankind related to the act of physical love

3 which, though we make this a common metaphor for love
6 today, was new then, to unreconstructed men; the sestina
4 which plugs the same six end-words throughout, divine
1 and human, was supposed to underline that women,
2 exquisitely praised in the poetry of the troubadour’s lay,
5 were men’s path to loving, through them, his Creator;

5 Creator of man and woman, Adam and Eve; Creator
3 of all things and of, crucially, both human and divine love
2 and this point was hammered home; the troubadour’s lay
6 in this somewhat tiresome form of the sestina
1 was supposed to make men respectful, and women
4 feel good about themselves (like Maya) as being divine;

4 but of course, troubadours were also human and divine
5 musicians; sexy and available (OK, blame their Creator…)
1 and, it was envied, did their own share of loving women
3 while going from castle to castle, gig to gig, love to love;
6 which gave rather a double edge to their sung sestina
2 and prompted many a coarse joke about ‘a good lay’..

2 however, poets - Dante, Petrarch - found the lay
4 a way of linking human love and the divine;
6 a profound metaphor, in a fine, poetic sestina,
5 that love in all its forms is the very nature of the Creator
3 and that we should remember this while making love
1 and perhaps have rather more respect for women..

Envoi:
5 I hope that this sestina has made its point: the Creator
3 is Love; Love is the Creator; and for most of us, this love
1 arises from, let’s say, a very poetic lay; with women.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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