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The press will naturally come and go as it has done with all artists, from David Bowie to Neil Young to U2.

quote by Kelly Jones
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Absalom and Achitophel

In pious times, e'er Priest-craft did begin,
Before Polygamy was made a sin;
When man, on many, multiply'd his kind,
E'r one to one was, cursedly, confind:
When Nature prompted, and no law deny'd
Promiscuous use of Concubine and Bride;
Then, Israel's monarch, after Heaven's own heart,
His vigorous warmth did, variously, impart
To Wives and Slaves; And, wide as his Command,
Scatter'd his Maker's Image through the Land.
Michal, of Royal blood, the Crown did wear,
A Soyl ungratefull to the Tiller's care;
Not so the rest; for several Mothers bore
To Godlike David, several Sons before.
But since like slaves his bed they did ascend,
No True Succession could their seed attend.
Of all this Numerous Progeny was none
So Beautifull, so brave as Absalon:
Whether, inspir'd by some diviner Lust,
His father got him with a greater Gust;
Or that his Conscious destiny made way
By manly beauty to Imperiall sway.
Early in Foreign fields he won Renown,
With Kings and States ally'd to Israel's Crown
In Peace the thoughts of War he could remove,
And seem'd as he were only born for love.
What e'er he did was done with so much ease,
In him alone, 'twas Natural to please.
His motions all accompanied with grace;
And Paradise was open'd in his face.
With secret Joy, indulgent David view'd
His Youthfull Image in his Son renew'd:
To all his wishes Nothing he deny'd,
And made the Charming Annabel his Bride.
What faults he had (for who from faults is free?)
His Father could not, or he would not see.
Some warm excesses, which the Law forbore,
Were constru'd Youth that purg'd by boyling o'r:
And Amnon's Murther, by a specious Name,
Was call'd a Just Revenge for injur'd Fame.
Thus Prais'd, and Lov'd, the Noble Youth remain'd,
While David, undisturb'd, in Sion raign'd.
But Life can never be sincerely blest:
Heaven punishes the bad, and proves the best.
The Jews, a Headstrong, Moody, Murmuring race,
As ever try'd th' extent and stretch of grace;
God's pamper'd people whom, debauch'd with ease,
No King could govern, nor no God could please;
(Gods they had tri'd of every shape and size
That Gods-smiths could produce, or Priests devise.)

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
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Peace On Earth - Little Drummer Boy

David: hello...... youre the new butler?
Bing: hahaha! well, its been a long time since Ive been the new anything!
David: whats happened to hudson?
Bing: I guess hes changing.
David: yeah, he does that a lot, doesnt he? uhm... oh, Im david bowie, I live
Down the road.
Bing: oh!
David: sir percival lets me use his piano if he not around. hes not around, is
He?
Bing: I can honestly say I havent seen him, but come on in! come in!
David: but uh...
Bing: come on in!
David: are you related to sir percival?
Bing: well, distantly...
David: oh, youre not the poor relation from america, right?
Bing: ha! gee... news sure travels fast, doesnt it? Im bing.
David: oh, Im pleased to meet you. youre the one that sings, right?
Bing: well, right or wrong, I sing either way.
David: oh well, I sing too.
Bing: oh good! what kind of singing?
David: mostly the contemporary stuff. do you eh... do you like modern music?
Bing: oh, I think its marvellous! some of its really fine. but tell me, have you ever listened to any of the older fellows?
David: oh yeah, sure. I like ah... john lennon and the other one with eh...harry
Nilsson.
Bing: mmm... you go back that far, uh?
David: yeah, Im not as young as I look.
Bing: haha, none of us is these days!
David: in fact Ive got a six year old son. and he really gets excited around the christmas holiday-thing.
Bing: do you go in for anything of the traditional things in the... boy, household, christmas time?
David: oh yeah, most of them really. presents, tree, decorations, agents sliding down the chimney...
Bing: what? ?
David: oh, I was just seeing if you were paying attention.
Bing: haha!
David: actually, our family do most of the things that other families do. we
Sing the same songs.
Bing: do you?
David: oh, I even have a go at white christmas.
Bing: you do, eh!
David: and this one. this is my sons favourite. do you know this one?
Bing: oh, I do indeed, its a lovely theme.
And they told me pa-ram-pam-pam-pam
A new-born king to see pa-ram-pam-pam-pam
Our finest gifts we bring pa-ram-pam-pam-pam
Ra-pam-pam-pam, ra-pam-pam-pam
Peace on earth, can it be
Years from now, perhaps well see
See the day of glory
See the day, when men of good will
Live in peace, live in peace again
Peace on earth, can it be

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song performed by David Bowie
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Peace On Earth / Little Drummer Boy (feat. Bing Crosby)

David: Hello...... you're the new butler?
Bing: Hahaha! Well, it's been a long time since I've been the new anything!
David: What's happened to Hudson?
Bing: I guess he's changing.
David: Yeah, he does that a lot, doesn't he? Uhm... Oh, I'm David Bowie, I live
down the road.
Bing: Oh!
David: Sir Percival let's me use his piano if he not around. He's not around, is
he?
Bing: I can honestly say I haven't seen him, but come on in! Come in!
David: But uh...
Bing: Come on in!
David: Are you related to sir Percival?
Bing: Well, distantly...
David: Oh, you're not the poor relation from America, right?
Bing: Ha! Gee... news sure travels fast, doesn't it? I'm Bing.
David: Oh, I'm pleased to meet you. You're the one that sings, right?
Bing: Well, right or wrong, I sing either way.
David: Oh well, I sing too.
Bing: Oh good! What kind of singing?
David: Mostly the contemporary stuff. Do you eh... do you like modern music?
Bing: Oh, I think it's marvellous! Some of it's really fine. But tell me, have you ever listened to any of the older fellows?
David: Oh yeah, sure. I like ah... John Lennon and the other one with eh...Harry
Nilsson.
Bing: Mmm... you go back that far, uh?
David: Yeah, I'm not as young as I look.
Bing: Haha, none of us is these days!
David: In fact I've got a six year old son. And he really gets excited around the Christmas holiday-thing.
Bing: Do you go in for anything of the traditional things in the... boy, household, Christmas time?
David: Oh yeah, most of them really. Presents, tree, decorations, agents sliding down the chimney...
Bing: What??
David: Oh, I was just seeing if you were paying attention.
Bing: Haha!
David: Actually, our family do most of the things that other families do. We
sing the same songs.
Bing: Do you?
David: Oh, I even have a go at 'White Christmas'.
Bing: You do, eh!
David: And this one. This is my son's favourite. Do you know this one?
Bing: Oh, I do indeed, it's a lovely theme.
And they told me pa-ram-pam-pam-pam
A new-born king to see pa-ram-pam-pam-pam
Our finest gifts we bring pa-ram-pam-pam-pam
Ra-pam-pam-pam, ra-pam-pam-pam
Peace on Earth, can it be
Years from now, perhaps we'll see
See the day of glory
See the day, when men of good will
Live in peace, live in peace again
Peace on Earth, can it be

[...] Read more

song performed by David Bowie
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Doin' What Comes Natur'lly

ANNIE OAKLEY and FEMALE CHORUS:
Folks are dumb where I come from,
They ain't had any learning.
Still they're happy as can be
Doin' what comes naturally (doin' what comes naturally).
Folks like us could never fuss
With schools and books and learning.
Still we've gone from A to Z,
Doin' what comes naturally (doin' what comes naturally)
You don't have to know how to read or write
When you're out with a feller in the pale moonlight.
You don't have to look in a book to find out
What he thinks of the moon and what is on his mind.
That comes naturally (that comes naturally).
My uncle out in Texas can't even write his name.
He signs his checks with "x's"
But they cash them just the same.
If you saw my pa and ma,
You'd know they had no learning,
Still they've raised a family
Doin' what comes naturally (doin' what comes naturally)
Cousin Jack has never read an almanac on drinking
Still he's always on the spree
Doin' what comes naturally (doin' what comes naturally).
Sister Sal who's musical has never had a lesson,
Still she's learned to sing off-key
Doin' what comes naturally (doin' what comes naturally).
You don't have to go a private school
Not to pick up a penny near a stubborn mule,
You don't have to have a professor's dome
Not to go for the honey when the bee's not home.
That comes naturally (that comes naturally).
My tiny baby brother, who's never read a book,
Knows one sex from the other,
All he had to do was look,
Grandpa Bill is on the hill
With someone he just married.
There he is at ninety-three,
Doin' what comes naturally (doin' what comes naturally

song performed by Irving Berlin
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Little David

Play, little david
Play little david, play
David he would sit in some dark corner
Seemed to melt the shadows with his eyes
And the song that he was playing
Was nothing less than prayin
And nothing more than sayin Im alive.
Wont you play, little david
Play little david, play
David he would send them notes a-flyin
Some that laughed and some that felt like tears
He would play them fast or slowly
Play them high or lowly
But they always come out holy to my ear
Wont you play, little david, play little david, play
I dont need no sunday sermon
Need no sunday shoes
When I hear little david playing
I got religion through and through
David he would send them notes a-flyin
Some that laughed and some that felt like tears
He would play them fast or slowly
Play them high or lowly
But they always come out holy to my ear
Wont you play, little david, play little david, play
I dont need no sunday sermon
Need no sunday shoes
When I hear little david playing
I got religion through and through
David he would send them notes a-flyin
Some that laughed and some that felt like tears
He would play them fast or slowly
Play them high or lowly
But they always come out holy to my ear
Wont you play, little david, play little david, play
Wont you play, little david, play little david, play

song performed by Joni Mitchell
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David

My thought, on views of admiration hung,
Intently ravish'd and depriv'd of tongue,
Now darts a while on earth, a while in air,
Here mov'd with praise and mov'd with glory there;
The joys entrancing and the mute surprize
Half fix the blood, and dim the moist'ning eyes;
Pleasure and praise on one another break,
And Exclamation longs at heart to speak;
When thus my Genius, on the work design'd
Awaiting closely, guides the wand'ring mind.

If while thy thanks wou'd in thy lays be wrought,
A bright astonishment involve the thought,
If yet thy temper wou'd attempt to sing,
Another's quill shall imp thy feebler wing;
Behold the name of royal David near,
Behold his musick and his measures here,
Whose harp Devotion in a rapture strung,
And left no state of pious souls unsung.

Him to the wond'ring world but newly shewn,
Celestial poetry pronounc'd her own;
A thousand hopes, on clouds adorn'd with rays,
Bent down their little beauteous forms to gaze;
Fair-blooming Innocence with tender years,
And native Sweetness for the ravish'd ears,
Prepar'd to smile within his early song,
And brought their rivers, groves, and plains along;
Majestick Honour at the palace bred,
Enrob'd in white, embroider'd o'er with red,
Reach'd forth the scepter of her royal state,
His forehead touch'd, and bid his lays be great;
Undaunted Courage deck'd with manly charms,
With waving-azure plumes, and gilded arms,
Displaid the glories, and the toils of fight,
Demanded fame, and call'd him forth to write.
To perfect these the sacred spirit came,
By mild infusion of celestial flame,
And mov'd with dove-like candour in his breast,
And breath'd his graces over all the rest.
Ah! where the daring flights of men aspire
To match his numbers with an equal fire;
In vain they strive to make proud Babel rise,
And with an earth-born labour touch the skies.
While I the glitt'ring page resolve to view,
That will the subject of my lines renew;
The Laurel wreath, my fames imagin'd shade,
Around my beating temples fears to fade;
My fainting fancy trembles on the brink,
And David's God must help or else I sink.

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Parnell
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Young Americans

They pulled in just behind the fridge
He lays her down, he frowns
Gee my lifes a funny thing, am I still too young?
He kissed her then and there
She took his ring, took his babies
It took him minutes, took her nowhere
Heaven knows, shed have taken anything, but
All night
She wants the young american
Young american, young american, she wants the young american
All right
She wants the young american
Scanning life through the picture windows
She finds the slinky vagabond
He coughs as he passes her ford mustang, but
Heaven forbid, shell take anything
But the freak, and his type, all for nothing
He misses a step and cuts his hand, but
Showing nothing, he swoops like a song
She cries where have all papas heroes gone?
All night
She wants the young american
Young american, young american, she wants the young american
All right
She wants the young american
All the way from washington
Her bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor
We live for just these twenty years
Do we have to die for the fifty more?
All night
He wants the young american
Young american, young american, he wants the young american
All right
He wants the young american
Do you remember, your president nixon?
Do you remember, the bills you have to pay
Or even yesterday
Have you been an un-american?
Just you and your idol singing falsetto bout
Leather, leather everywhere, and
Not a myth left from the ghetto
Well, well, well, would you carry a razor
In case, just in case of depression
Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors
Blushing at all the afro-sheilas
Aint that close to love?
Well, aint that poster love?
Well, it aint that barbie doll
Her hearts been broken just like you have
And

[...] Read more

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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Young American

They pulled in just behind the fridge
He lays her down, he frowns
"Gee my life's a funny thing, am I still too young?"
He kissed her then and there
She took his ring, took his babies
It took him minutes, took her nowhere
Heaven knows, she'd have taken anything, but
All night
She wants the young American
Young American, young American, she wants the young American
All right
She wants the young American
Scanning life through the picture windows
She finds the slinky vagabond
He coughs as he passes her Ford Mustang, but
Heaven forbid, she'll take anything
But the freak, and his type, all for nothing
He misses a step and cuts his hand, but
Showing nothing, he swoops like a song
She cries "Where have all Papa's heroes gone?"
All night
She wants the young American
Young American, young American, she wants the young American
All right
She wants the young American
All the way from Washington
Her bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor
"We live for just these twenty years
Do we have to die for the fifty more?"
All night
He wants the young American
Young American, young American, he wants the young American
All right
He wants the young American
Do you remember, your President Nixon?
Do you remember, the bills you have to pay
Or even yesterday
Have you been an un-American?
Just you and your idol singing falsetto 'bout
Leather, leather everywhere, and
Not a myth left from the ghetto
Well, well, well, would you carry a razor
In case, just in case of depression
Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors
Blushing at all the afro-Sheilas
Ain't that close to love?
Well, ain't that poster love?
Well, it ain't that Barbie doll
Her heart's been broken just like you have
And

[...] Read more

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 11

SCARCE had the rosy Morning rais’d her head
Above the waves, and left her wat’ry bed;
The pious chief, whom double cares attend
For his unburied soldiers and his friend,
Yet first to Heav’n perform’d a victor’s vows: 5
He bar’d an ancient oak of all her boughs;
Then on a rising ground the trunk he plac’d,
Which with the spoils of his dead foe he grac’d.
The coat of arms by proud Mezentius worn,
Now on a naked snag in triumph borne, 10
Was hung on high, and glitter’d from afar,
A trophy sacred to the God of War.
Above his arms, fix’d on the leafless wood,
Appear’d his plumy crest, besmear’d with blood:
His brazen buckler on the left was seen; 15
Truncheons of shiver’d lances hung between;
And on the right was placed his corslet, bor’d;
And to the neck was tied his unavailing sword.
A crowd of chiefs inclose the godlike man,
Who thus, conspicuous in the midst, began: 20
“Our toils, my friends, are crown’d with sure success;
The greater part perform’d, achieve the less.
Now follow cheerful to the trembling town;
Press but an entrance, and presume it won.
Fear is no more, for fierce Mezentius lies, 25
As the first fruits of war, a sacrifice.
Turnus shall fall extended on the plain,
And, in this omen, is already slain.
Prepar’d in arms, pursue your happy chance;
That none unwarn’d may plead his ignorance, 30
And I, at Heav’n’s appointed hour, may find
Your warlike ensigns waving in the wind.
Meantime the rites and fun’ral pomps prepare,
Due to your dead companions of the war:
The last respect the living can bestow, 35
To shield their shadows from contempt below.
That conquer’d earth be theirs, for which they fought,
And which for us with their own blood they bought;
But first the corpse of our unhappy friend
To the sad city of Evander send, 40
Who, not inglorious, in his age’s bloom,
Was hurried hence by too severe a doom.”
Thus, weeping while he spoke, he took his way,
Where, new in death, lamented Pallas lay.
Acoetes watch’d the corpse; whose youth deserv’d 45
The father’s trust; and now the son he serv’d
With equal faith, but less auspicious care.
Th’ attendants of the slain his sorrow share.
A troop of Trojans mix’d with these appear,
And mourning matrons with dishevel’d hair. 50

[...] Read more

poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Solomon on the Vanity of the World, A Poem. In Three Books. - Pleasure. Book II.

The Argument

Solomon, again seeking happiness, inquires if wealth and greatness can produce it: begins with the magnificence of gardens and buildings; the luxury of music and feasting; and proceeds to the hopes and desires of love. In two episodes are shown the follies and troubles of that passion. Solomon, still disappointed, falls under the temptations of libertinism and idolatry; recovers his thought; reasons aright; and concludes that, as to the pursuit of pleasure and sensual delight, All Is Vanity and Vexation of Spirit.

Try then, O man, the moments to deceive
That from the womb attend thee to the grave:
For wearied Nature find some apter scheme;
Health be thy hope, and pleasure be thy theme;
From the perplexing and unequal ways
Where Study brings thee from the endless maze
Which Doubt persuades o run, forewarn'd, recede
To the gay field, and flowery path, that lead
To jocund mirth, soft joy, and careless ease:
Forsake what my instruct for what may please:
Essay amusing art and proud expense,
And make thy reason subject to thy sense.

I communed thus: the power of wealth I tried,
And all the various luxe of costly pride;
Artists and plans relieved my solemn hours:
I founded palaces and planted bowers,
Birds, fishes, beasts, of exotic kind
I to the limits of my court confined,
To trees transferr'd I gave a second birth,
And bade a foreign shade grace Judah's earth.
Fish-ponds were made where former forests grew
And hills were levell'd to extend the view.
Rivers, diverted from their native course,
And bound with chains of artificial force,
From large cascades in pleasing tumult roll'd,
Or rose through figured stone or breathing gold.
From furthest Africa's tormented womb
The marble brought, erects the spacious dome,
Or forms the pillars' long-extended rows,
On which the planted grove and pensile garden grows.

The workmen here obey the master's call,
To gild the turret and to paint the wall;
To mark the pavement there with various stone,
And on the jasper steps to rear the throne:
The spreading cedar, that an age had stood,
Supreme of trees, and mistress of the wood,
Cut down and carved, my shining roof adorns,
And Lebanon his ruin'd honour mourns.

A thousand artists show their cunning powers
To raise the wonders of the ivory towers:
A thousand maidens ply the purple loom

[...] Read more

poem by Matthew Prior
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The Undying One- Canto III

'THERE is a sound the autumn wind doth make
Howling and moaning, listlessly and low:
Methinks that to a heart that ought to break
All the earth's voices seem to murmur so.
The visions that crost
Our path in light--
The things that we lost
In the dim dark night--
The faces for which we vainly yearn--
The voices whose tones will not return--
That low sad wailing breeze doth bring
Borne on its swift and rushing wing.
Have ye sat alone when that wind was loud,
And the moon shone dim from the wintry cloud?
When the fire was quench'd on your lonely hearth,
And the voices were still which spoke of mirth?

If such an evening, tho' but one,
It hath been yours to spend alone--
Never,--though years may roll along
Cheer'd by the merry dance and song;
Though you mark'd not that bleak wind's sound before,
When louder perchance it used to roar--
Never shall sound of that wintry gale
Be aught to you but a voice of wail!
So o'er the careless heart and eye
The storms of the world go sweeping by;
But oh! when once we have learn'd to weep,
Well doth sorrow his stern watch keep.
Let one of our airy joys decay--
Let one of our blossoms fade away--
And all the griefs that others share
Seem ours, as well as theirs, to bear:
And the sound of wail, like that rushing wind
Shall bring all our own deep woe to mind!

'I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!

'I saw the inconstant lover come to take
Farewell of her he loved in better days,
And, coldly careless, watch the heart-strings break--
Which beat so fondly at his words of praise.
She was a faded, painted, guilt-bow'd thing,
Seeking to mock the hues of early spring,
When misery and years had done their worst

[...] Read more

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Loving You

lovin' you
If i gave you forever
Would you take care of me? (a oo)
Would you take me for granted?
Run away?
Those wonderful things that you do
They got me feelin'
In love with you
In love with you
That loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
Loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
I would give you laughter
Oh
And so much more than that
Oh yes i would (a oo)
And at your after
I would climb the highest mountain
To bring it back
You better believe
Those wonderful things that you do
They got me feelin'
In love with you
In love with you
That loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
Loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
I will stay by your side
Whether i'm wrong
Whether i'm right
Oh it's incredible
With you i wanna spend the rest of my life, yeah
Loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
Loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
Loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
Loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
Loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
Loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
Loving you is easy
Loving you is easy
Loving you is easy
Loving you is easy

song performed by Alicia Keys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lovin You

Lovin you
If I gave you forever
Would you take care of me? (a oo)
Would you take me for granted?
Run away?
Those wonderful things that you do
They got me feelin
In love with you
In love with you
That loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
Loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
I would give you laughter
Oh
And so much more than that
Oh yes I would (a oo)
And at your after
I would climb the highest mountain
To bring it back
You better believe
Those wonderful things that you do
They got me feelin
In love with you
In love with you
That loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
Loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
I will stay by your side
Whether Im wrong
Whether Im right
Oh its incredible
With you I wanna spend the rest of my life, yeah
Loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
Loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
Loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
Loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
Loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
Loving you is easy
Comes so naturally
Loving you is easy
Loving you is easy
Loving you is easy
Loving you is easy

song performed by Alicia Keys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Reverse Reality

when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision
when one becomes somebody, it is actually nobody
when one happens naturally to be nobody, it is a real somebody by decision

poem by Nyein Way
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Goliath Of Gath

SAMUEL, Chap. xvii.

YE martial pow'rs, and all ye tuneful nine,
Inspire my song, and aid my high design.
The dreadful scenes and toils of war I write,
The ardent warriors, and the fields of fight:
You best remember, and you best can sing
The acts of heroes to the vocal string:
Resume the lays with which your sacred lyre,
Did then the poet and the sage inspire.
Now front to front the armies were display'd,
Here Israel rang'd, and there the foes array'd;
The hosts on two opposing mountains stood,
Thick as the foliage of the waving wood;
Between them an extensive valley lay,
O'er which the gleaming armour pour'd the day,
When from the camp of the Philistine foes,
Dreadful to view, a mighty warrior rose;
In the dire deeds of bleeding battle skill'd,
The monster stalks the terror of the field.
From Gath he sprung, Goliath was his name,
Of fierce deportment, and gigantic frame:
A brazen helmet on his head was plac'd,
A coat of mail his form terrific grac'd,
The greaves his legs, the targe his shoulders prest:
Dreadful in arms high-tow'ring o'er the rest
A spear he proudly wav'd, whose iron head,
Strange to relate, six hundred shekels weigh'd;
He strode along, and shook the ample field,
While Phoebus blaz'd refulgent on his shield:
Through Jacob's race a chilling horror ran,
When thus the huge, enormous chief began:
"Say, what the cause that in this proud array
"You set your battle in the face of day?
"One hero find in all your vaunting train,
"Then see who loses, and who wins the plain;
"For he who wins, in triumph may demand
"Perpetual service from the vanquish'd land:
"Your armies I defy, your force despise,
"By far inferior in Philistia's eyes:
"Produce a man, and let us try the fight,
"Decide the contest, and the victor's right."
Thus challeng'd he: all Israel stood amaz'd,
And ev'ry chief in consternation gaz'd;
But Jesse's son in youthful bloom appears,
And warlike courage far beyond his years:
He left the folds, he left the flow'ry meads,
And soft recesses of the sylvan shades.
Now Israel's monarch, and his troops arise,
With peals of shouts ascending to the skies;

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poem by Phillis Wheatley
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Canto the First

I
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,
The age discovers he is not the true one;
Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,
I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan—
We all have seen him, in the pantomime,
Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time.

II
Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke,
Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe,
Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk,
And fill'd their sign posts then, like Wellesley now;
Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk,
Followers of fame, "nine farrow" of that sow:
France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumourier
Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.

III
Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau,
Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette,
Were French, and famous people, as we know:
And there were others, scarce forgotten yet,
Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Desaix, Moreau,
With many of the military set,
Exceedingly remarkable at times,
But not at all adapted to my rhymes.

IV
Nelson was once Britannia's god of war,
And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd;
There's no more to be said of Trafalgar,
'T is with our hero quietly inurn'd;
Because the army's grown more popular,
At which the naval people are concern'd;
Besides, the prince is all for the land-service,
Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis.

V
Brave men were living before Agamemnon
And since, exceeding valorous and sage,
A good deal like him too, though quite the same none;
But then they shone not on the poet's page,
And so have been forgotten:—I condemn none,
But can't find any in the present age
Fit for my poem (that is, for my new one);
So, as I said, I'll take my friend Don Juan.

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poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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2112

I. overture
Words and music by geddy lee, alex lifeson, and neil peart
And the meek shall inherit the earth.
Ii. the temples of syrinx
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
... the massive grey walls of the temples rise from the
Heart of every federation city. I have always been awed
By them, to think that every single facet of every life is
Regulated and directed from within! our books, our music,
Our work and play are all looked after by the benevolent
Wisdom of the priests...
Weve taken care of everything
The words you hear the songs you sing
The pictures that give pleasure to your eyes
Its one for all and all for one
We work together common sons
Never need to wonder how or why
We are the priests of the temples of syrinx
Our great computers fill the hallowed halls
We are the priests of the temples of syrinx
All the gifts of life are held within our walls
Look around this world we made
Equality our stock in trade
Come and join the brotherhood of man
Oh what a nice contented world
Let the banners be unfurled
Hold the red star proudly high in hand
We are the priests of the temples of syrinx
Our great computers fill the hallowed halls.
We are the priests of the temples of syrinx
All the gifts of life are held within our walls.
Iii. discovery
Words by neil peart, music by alex lifeson
... behind my beloved waterfall, in the little room that was
Hidden beneath the cave, I found it. I brushed away the
Dust of the years, and picked it up, holding it reverently in
My hands. I had no idea what it might be, but it was
Beautiful ...
... I learned to lay my fingers across the wires, and to turn
The keys to make them sound differently. as I struck the
Wires with my other hand, I produced my first harmonious
Sounds, and soon my own music! how different it could
Be from the music of the temples! I cant wait to tell the
Priests about it! ...
What can this strange device be?
When I touch it, it gives forth a sound
Its got wires that vibrate and give music
What can this thing be that I found?
See how it sings like a sad heart
And joyously screams out its pain

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song performed by Rush
Added by Lucian Velea
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Washed Away Under Work Loads

artists feel frustrated
when achieving not
when producing art not
not realizing images
in shifting vision mind

artists should
be producing art
no time for cooking
no time for cleaning
no time for hair cut

artists should not
not be able to keep up
with fermenting ideas
rain weather changes
haunting wake up calls

not creating art
is wasting artistic souls
is wasting artistic lives
in dry season droughts
withering artistic minds

work income human activities
life necessity farming for wages
dependent on salary climates
fifty sixty wage slave hours
is change devastating for artists

this drought no time for artistic activities
is crop failure starvation of artistic minds
leading to artistic suffering on massive scales
droughts are caused by lack of fertility rains
extended over long periods of wage slave times

slight brief rains slight artistic showers
is normality artistic not enough spring rains
to ground absorb artistic evaporated minds
artist is dehydrated lacking soul rejuvenations
plants animals need sustaining life waters

artists need self generated creativity waters
least art dies death of artistic dehydrations
art is main ingredient in artistic food chains
plants die from lack of water therefore animals
eating these plants will also die in drought cycles

artists true artists deprived of art wither drought dies
in mind soul lacking artistic flowering rejuvenations

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Drop Dead Gorgeous

Totally out of control
She owns me
I didnt know that she'd know She stoned me
I think I got it bad and I cant let it go
I thought and youd be much better

All of the cashmere all orange and green
Shes naturally drop dead gorgeous
cleanly gardenia and black lessareen
shes naturally drop dead gorgeous
its so not fair

Completely inside my head imagine pretending
Shes the book that Ive read with a beautiful ending
It really drives me mad I cant leave her alone
cause I wont let me forget her

Rose colored glasses you know what that says
shes naturally drop dead gorgeous
Her sweet molasses on my slice of bread
shes naturally drop dead gorgeous

Totally out of control
She owned me

Sweet almond eyes just to see and be seen
shes naturally drop dead gorgeous
she tasted like cherries sweet loves grenadine
shes naturally drop dead gorgeous
Makes love like a rabbit to my velveteen
shes naturally drop dead gorgeous
a gem with a smile like a young norma jean
shes naturally drop dead gorgeous

song performed by Aerosmith
Added by Lucian Velea
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Paradise Regained: The Third Book

So spake the Son of God; and Satan stood
A while as mute, confounded what to say,
What to reply, confuted and convinced
Of his weak arguing and fallacious drift;
At length, collecting all his serpent wiles,
With soothing words renewed, him thus accosts:—
"I see thou know'st what is of use to know,
What best to say canst say, to do canst do;
Thy actions to thy words accord; thy words
To thy large heart give utterance due; thy heart
Contains of good, wise, just, the perfet shape.
Should kings and nations from thy mouth consult,
Thy counsel would be as the oracle
Urim and Thummim, those oraculous gems
On Aaron's breast, or tongue of Seers old
Infallible; or, wert thou sought to deeds
That might require the array of war, thy skill
Of conduct would be such that all the world
Could not sustain thy prowess, or subsist
In battle, though against thy few in arms.
These godlike virtues wherefore dost thou hide?
Affecting private life, or more obscure
In savage wilderness, wherefore deprive
All Earth her wonder at thy acts, thyself
The fame and glory—glory, the reward
That sole excites to high attempts the flame
Of most erected spirits, most tempered pure
AEthereal, who all pleasures else despise,
All treasures and all gain esteem as dross,
And dignities and powers, all but the highest?
Thy years are ripe, and over-ripe. The son
Of Macedonian Philip had ere these
Won Asia, and the throne of Cyrus held
At his dispose; young Scipio had brought down
The Carthaginian pride; young Pompey quelled
The Pontic king, and in triumph had rode.
Yet years, and to ripe years judgment mature,
Quench not the thirst of glory, but augment.
Great Julius, whom now all the world admires,
The more he grew in years, the more inflamed
With glory, wept that he had lived so long
Ingloroious. But thou yet art not too late."
To whom our Saviour calmly thus replied:—
"Thou neither dost persuade me to seek wealth
For empire's sake, nor empire to affect
For glory's sake, by all thy argument.
For what is glory but the blaze of fame,
The people's praise, if always praise unmixed?
And what the people but a herd confused,
A miscellaneous rabble, who extol

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poem by John Milton
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