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Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.

quote by Leonardo da Vinci
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Twin State

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[...] Read more

poem by Caasder Fronds
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The Ultimate Sin

Overkill enough is enough
Theres nothing left of me to devour
Youve had your fill Im all I have left
What can stop your hunger for power
cos you took advantage of things that I said
Now the feeling is dead
And thats the ultimate sin
And thats the ultimate sin
Anyway I look at it now
The doors are closed and cannot be opened
Bury your anger and bury your dead
Or youll be left with nothing and no one
Theres no point in screaming cos you wont be heard
Now that tables have turned
It was the ultimate sin
It was the ultimate sin
It was the ultimate sin
I warned you then and Im warning you now
If you mess with me youre playing with fire
Winds of change that are fanning the flames
Will carry you to your funeral pyre
Its pulling you down
Its your final descent
Its too late to repent
When its the ultimate sin
When its the ultimate sin
When its the ultimate sin
When its the ultimate sin

song performed by Ozzy Osbourne
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A Fine Culture

They were indeed simple people
the people of the east
A FINE CULTURE they did have
the people of the east

A FINE CULTURE
the east should have given the rest
when the west brought out the 'machine'
the east brought out the 'human'

Today's world is not lacking in machine
Today's world is lacking in human

Today's east is sending 'productive men' all over
the east should have sent 'human men' all over
How did the east stray?
when did it loose it's way?

The east then found everything in simplicity
simplicity was it's strength and beauty
simplicity gave the east it's integrity
simplicity never ever gave the east an inferiority

Today the east mocks the west
the 'material' wealth of the west..has
put to rest...the
true spirit of the east

We blame it on simplicity
we say we were plundered due to our simplicity
a handed down book on simplicity
only became a liability..we say

What the west had gained
everybody did gain...the 'machine'
what the east had lost
everbody did loose...the 'human'

Today what are we in
an 'un human' man is managing a dangerous dumb 'machine'...and
THAT'S THE DANGER WE ARE IN...without
a fine culture

poem by Samanyan Lakshminarayanan
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Ultimate

It's been a while since i've scarcely moved
The earth vibrates through my skinny shoes
I think i heard a voice, not long ago
Stuck in anxiety for tommorow
I think i glimpsed a smile, not long ago
It breaks down, an angelic halo
You're not alone....not alone

Be gone, he fades
I wonder if he'd run away
I miss his dashing steps
I miss his shiny compliments
Yesterdays without an address
The ultimate sunset...
My ultimate sunset....

Oh, inhaling obsession
Fading depression
I turn my lights on,
Denying aggression

And i run as fast as the horizon
While the evening's slowly rising
I reach the skies, with opened eyes
To catch the stars of different types
Not the rare one caught....yet
The ultimate sunset....
My ultimate sunset....

You're not alone...
Im here on my own...
Still i think im not alone...
As i lie my head on top of grass...
To praise the sky and everything vast...
Even with a wounded back....
I think im just going to relax.....
To watch this view...
Displaying you.....
The ultimate sunset
My ultimate sunset
And the sunrise that's yet to come...
Oh, my sunrise that's yet to come...

Oh, i will be waiting right here.....
Where you crawl beneath my fears....
A pulse or a shiver.....
Sweet rather than bitter....
Oh, i will be waiting for once.....
I will be watching the skies
I will be watching this life

[...] Read more

poem by Lubna Hazeem
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The root lends lushness

Loyalty may bring success
But honesty is ultimate success.
Decoration may bring sophistication
But simplicity is ultimate sophistication.
20.02.2008

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sophistication

sophistication amidst the
hunger of the masses
becomes a curse to your
further progress,

soon no native likes the company
of your strictures
no river is willing to carry you to
the other end of the sea
no moon shines upon you
no sun rises on your brow

how many times shall the black bird tell you
in the plainest notes of her ordinary song
simplicity is beauty
there is no other effective tool
to be loved by your
own people

be with them in the most ordinary even of their lives
breakfast consisting of fish and rice and water
and then a very nice conversation about the recent
adventure in fishing
there is no other effective tool than being loved by ordinary people
as they are themselves, so shall you be yourself
no pretensions
no sophistication
just simplicity.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Umf

(going to the top)
(oh, oh oh)
(oh, oh oh)
(oh, oh ah)
Here we stand in the shadow of the maste rplan
Makin touble wherever we can, (stir it up, stir it up, stir it up)
Cant you see this boy is going cheap - knockdown to a basement deal
But I really wont stop til I get to the top
Take it from me, Im waiting here on my knees
And I love the way you tease me ooh such a wonderful person
Dont play rough - its easy when you know your stuff
Say please and sure enough, so kind,
Im makin love to the ultimate mind
Come on, take a look, put it to me, baby,
You could feel a love come tumbling down.
I just want to wrap myself in you baby,
We could tell the world were fooling around.
Ultimately, Id say shes toying with me
Its a case of wait and see,
But right now Im gonna keep my pants on
A to z, shes doin it to my head
We dont need to go to bed, youll find,
To make love to the ultimate mind.
-
(oh-oh, oh oh oh) (repeat)
Put it to me, baby (you could feel a love, love..)
Wanna wrap myself in you, baby (well tell the world, world..)
Talk me round, lets do it right here and now
I dont want you cooling down,
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it up, turn it up
We could fit, realitys two-way split, personality
Lifes a bitch, but Im fine,
Making love to the ultimate mind
Heavens bent, were completely innocent
We all got to pay the rent, and in time we learn to compromise
Talkin tall, but I feel invisible
Can you see me after all, that I said, theres only one thing for it...
Take a look, put it to me, baby
You could feel a love come tumbling down
I just want to wrap myself in you baby
We can tell the world were fooling around
Come on, take a look, put it to me, baby (oh-ah, oh oh oh)
You could be a love come tumbling down (oh-ah, oh oh oh)
I just want to wrap myself in you baby (oh-ah, oh oh oh)
We could tell the world were fooling around (oh-ah, oh oh oh)
Come on, take a look, put it to me, baby (oh-ah, oh oh oh)
You could feel a love come tumbling down (oh-ah, oh oh oh)
I just want to wrap myself in you baby (oh-ah, oh oh oh)
We could tell the world were fooling around (oh-ah, oh oh oh)
Come on, take a look (put it to me baby)

[...] Read more

song performed by Duran Duran
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First Encounter - Siti Nurhaliza

Siti Nurhaliza
a simplicity with touching
sophistication

Siti Nurhaliza
a balance of village and
urban sophistication

Siti Nurhaliza
her eyes cut through one
like her songs

Siti Nurhaliza is the queen of pops in Malaysia. She has been the reigning songtress in the country for years as well as in neighbournig Indonesia. She is married and lives in Kuala Lumpur.

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Man Of My Dreams

Those deep eyes reveal a heart of gold,
Purity, honesty and empathy they tightly hold,
A character worthy of respect they mould,
Stories of passion and desire to succeed they unfold.

You make innocence your style,
And respect for elders an important file,

You are caring and protective for people,
who walk with you for a mile,
And all this you do with an everlasting smile!

Your dedication and determination build a strong foundation,
My wishes for you, to be a source of inspiration,
This I know you will achieve by a realization,
that,
Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.

poem by Heema Shah
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The City

Written by bob welch.
Gonna stay out of new york
Theres something there that drives me crazy
Gonna stay out of new york
Theres something there that bleeds me dry
It gets so bad that I stop breathin
And then the sun dont wanna shine
Theres something wrong with new york
Its a prison without walls
No I wont go back there
I just dont like that place at all
You might call it sophistication
But I say time is runnin out
I wont go back to new york
Theres a darkness all around
No, I just cant handle it
You know that place is gettin me down
You can say its sophistication
But I say time is runnin out

song performed by Fleetwood Mac
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Himalayas

O Himalah! O rampart of the realm of India!
Bowing down, the sky kisses your forehead

Your condition does not show any signs of old age
You are young in the midst of day and night's alternation

The Kalâm of ñër Sân« witnessed but one Effulgence
For the discerning eye you are an embodiment of Effulgence

To the outward eye you are a mere mountain range
In reality you are our sentinel, you are India's rampart

You are the diwan whose opening verse is the sky
You lead Man to the solitudes of his heart's retreat

Snow has endowed you with the turban of honour
Which scoffs at the crown of the world-illuminating sun

Antiquity is but a moment of your bygone age
Dark clouds are encamped in your valleys

Your peaks are matching with the pleiades in elegance
Though you are standing on earth your abode is sky's expanse

The stream in your flank is a fast flowing mirror
For which the breeze is working like a kerchief

The mountain top's lightning has given a whip
In the hands of cloud for the ambling horse

O Himalah! Are you like a theater stage
Which nature's hand has made for its elements?

Ah! How the cloud is swaying in excessive joy
The cloud like an unchained elephant is speeding

Gentle movement of the morning zephyr is acting like a cradle
Every flower bud is swinging with intoxication of existence

The flower bud's silence with the petal's tongue is saying
'I have never experienced the jerk of the florist's hand

Silence itself is relating the tale of mine
The corner of nature's solitude is the abode of mine'

The brook is melodiously descending from the high land
Putting the waves of Kawthar and Tasnâm to embarrassment

As if showing the mirror to Nature's beauty
Now evading now rowing against the rock in its way

[...] Read more

poem by Allama Muhammad Iqbal
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Outsider

I am the one outside the group
outside the circle
the one who fell through
the holes in the net
The stranger
the outsider
I came close
and you said come closer;
and I made every effort -
eager, naïve and persistent -
but you had sophistication;
you always have sophistication;
and you played with me;
you needed bodies and responses
to fill in forms and information
and your Bureau of Statistics
and I was there - guided, directed
and you knew
all the while,
I was the stranger, the outsider
And you whispered to one another
while your smooth talk was practiced and distinct
I was the stranger, am the outsider
which you knew all the while
which I only saw late in the hour
and so I live now at the borders, at the periphery
and now when we walk past each other
we gaze at each other with caution
with careful disregard

poem by Raj Arumugam
Added by Dan Costinaş
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Not Catchers In The Rye

Pretension, balancing banality with self-
effacement leads to phoniness,
and although Holden Caulfield is not on the shelf,
his author lives in loneliness,
a great observer of all false sophistication,
replacing the imperative
of thought with style and, with comedic contemplation,
the funny nerve of narrative.
For those of us who are not catchers in the rye,
it seems the author dropped the ball
his literature’s epiphanies by leaving, sine die,
Damascus, far more dead than Paul.

Inspired by an article on J. D. Salinger, who turns 90 on New Year’s Day, by Charles McGrath (“Still Paging Mr. Salinger, ” NYT, December 31,2008) :
On Thursday, J. D. Salinger turns 90. There probably won’t be a party, or if there is we’ll never know. For more than 50 years Mr. Salinger has lived in seclusion in the small town of Cornish, N.H. For a while it used to be a journalistic sport for newspapers and magazines to send reporters up to Cornish in hopes of a sighting, or at least a quotation from a garrulous local, but Mr. Salinger hasn’t been photographed in decades now and the neighbors have all clammed up. He’s been so secretive he makes Thomas Pynchon seem like a gadabout. Mr. Salinger’s disappearing act has succeeded so well, in fact, that it may be hard for readers who aren’t middle-aged to appreciate what a sensation he once caused. With its very first sentence, his novel “The Catcher in the Rye, ” which came out in 1951, introduced a brand-new voice in American writing, and it quickly became a cult book, a rite of passage for the brainy and disaffected. “Nine Stories, ” published two years later, made Mr. Salinger a darling of the critics as well, for the way it dismantled the traditional architecture of the short story and replaced it with one in which a story could turn on a tiny shift of mood or tone….. In general what has dated most in Mr. Salinger’s writing is not the prose — much of the dialogue, in the stories especially and in the second half of “Franny and Zooey, ” still seems brilliant and fresh — but the ideas. Mr. Salinger’s fixation on the difference between “phoniness, ” as Holden Caulfield would put it, and authenticity now has a twilight, ’50s feeling about it. It’s no longer news, and probably never was. This is the theme, though, that comes increasingly to dominate the Glass chronicles: the unsolvable problem of ego and self-consciousness, of how to lead a spiritual life in a vulgar, material society. The very thing that makes the Glasses, and Seymour especially, so appealing to Mr. Salinger — that they’re too sensitive and exceptional for this world — is also what came to make them irritating to so many readers.Another way to pose the Glass problem is: How do you make art for an audience, or a critical establishment, too crass to understand it? This is the issue that caused Seymour to give up, presumably, and one is tempted to say it’s what soured Mr. Salinger on wanting to see anything else in print.Sadly, though, Mr. Salinger’s spiritual side is his least convincing. His gift is less for profundity than for observation, for listening and for comedy. Except perhaps for Mark Twain, no other American writer has registered with such precision the humor — and the pathos — of false sophistication and the vital banality of big-city pretension. For all his reclusiveness, moreover, Mr. Salinger has none of the sage’s self-effacement; his manner is a big and showy one, given to tours-de-force and to large emotional gestures. In spite of his best efforts to silence himself or become a seer, he remains an original and influential stylist — the kind of writer the mature Seymour (but not necessarily the precocious 7-year-old) would probably deplore.

12/31/08

poem by Gershon Hepner
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California Calling

If everybody in the u.s.a
Could come with us to californ-i-a
We could take em to a place out west
Where the good sun shines everyday
Now theres a touch o californ-i-a
In everyone whos ever been this way
And when your telephone begins to ring
And the operator comes on the line
California callin
Ill be there right away
Theres some beautiful women
Gonna find me one
To show me how to ride the ultimate wave
Now Ive joined the surfin nation and so
Ill take a permanent vacation and go
To the golden shores of frisco bay
Ill ride em all the way to malibu
And Ill take ya boogie boardin with me
cause when were surfin its so great to be free
And when youre on a california beach
You might even find em windsurfin too
California callin
Ill be there right away
Theres some beautiful women
Gonna find me one
To show me how to ride the ultimate wave
In the fifties it was hey daddy o
Then came the surfers and the hodads ya know
We had our woodies and our custom cars
And when we drove around we knew we were bad
My baby listens to my car radio
And when were cruisin lets the whole world know
And when our favorite surfin song comes on
We always let em know its totally rad!
California callin
Ill be there right away
Theres some beautiful women
Gonna find me one
To show me how to ride the ultimate wave
California callin
Shes still on the line
Theres a beautiful woman
Gonna show me how
To ride em at the county line
California callin
Ill be there right away
Theres some beautiful women
Gonna find me one
To show me how to ride the ultimate wave

song performed by Beach Boys
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Renegade

See the outlaw stands alone beneath the burning sun
The raging badlands now is his home
Theres no sign of victory, he lost his liberty
And the only woman that he loved
An outlaw chasing outlaws, a runner in the night
By the radiant moon he will strike
The seeker of all dangers has come to take his toll
From the dead of night he will arise
Renegade, renegade
Committed the ultimate sin
Renegade, renegade
This time the prowler will win
He stalks in shadow lands, soundless, with gun in hand
Striking like a reptile, so fierce
No chance to get away, no time for your last prayer
When the prowler sneaks up from behind
An outlaw chasing outlaws, the hunter takes his pray
The law of the jungle he obeys
Craving for the danger to even out the scores
Face to face, once and for all
Renegade, renegade
Committed the ultimate sin
Renegade, renegade
This time the prowler will win
On through the night he rides, on his raging horse made of steel
Nothing can save you now, before the renegade you will kneel
Renegade, renegade
Committed the ultimate sin
Renegade, renegade
This time the prowler will win
Renegade, renegade
Committed the ultimate sin
Renegade, renegade
This time the prowler will win

song performed by Hammerfall
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Unmarried

Unmarried; when we kissed; we felt the waves of untamed passion rise to the ultimate crescendo of fulfillment; whilst when after Marriage; we felt it to be just routinely boring ritual to be inevitably done; just to spuriously appease each other,

Unmarried; when we listened to each other; our eyes interlocked for hours immemorial as we became oblivious to every other sound in the atmosphere; whilst after Marriage; the words seemed to irately pound like a billion unwashed boulders; upon the extremely tempestuous chords of our eardrums,

Unmarried; when we philandered together; we almost seemed to unanimously admire and appreciate each natural creation of the Lord Almighty; whilst after Marriage; we sat taut and haughty in stony silence; even as the most majestically virile sceneries and greeneries passed by,

Unmarried; when we confronted any problem; both of us earnestly put in our the last droplet of our sweat to emerge unitedly victorious; whilst when after Marriage; each of us left it wholesomely on the other to get out of the inexplicable disaster,

Unmarried; when we sipped wine; we cheered a toast umpteenth number of times in the sensuous wilderness of the night; whilst after Marriage; each of us chimed our glasses just once for the sake of the sanctimonious society; and that too with profound abhorrence lingering in our eyes; and time and again casting sneering glances at the bottle price,

Unmarried; when we slept; we were aware and fondly traced even the tiniest creak of our bodies with our uninhibitedly wandering fingers; whilst after marriage we indifferently slept poles apart; thunderously snoring till eternity; even as either one of us was being crucified by the swords of diabolical hell,

Unmarried; when we sat to eat supper; each one of us altruistically waited for marathon moments before the other devoured to his/her hearts content; whilst after marriage both of us made a barbarous beeline for the singleton dish; at times ending with raw gashes of unsavory blood; on our profusely scratched hands and face,

Unmarried; when we wrote each others names; we felt the most pricelessly blessed organisms alive perpetually possessing each other in our hearts; whilst after marriage we never disclosed it to anyone that we even had a lifepartner; specially if it was someone of the opposite sex,

Unmarried; when we swam in the choppy ocean; even the most infinitesimal vein of our body was so perennially entwined that it was impossible to separate us even in the fiercest of storm; whilst after marriage we deliberately used each others heads as a lifeboat; drowning the other in our attempt to stay triumphantly afloat and selfishly alive,

Unmarried; when we awoke; the very first thing that we did in the morning was to bow down to each other’s feet as we found our ultimate liberator in each of ourself; whilst after marriage we strangulated each other’s senses for uncannily waking up early in the morning; and hideously disrupting the heavenliness of bountiful sleep,

Unmarried; when we were wounded; we compassionately ran every contour of our fervent lips to those parts which hurt till there was not the tiniest of pain; whilst after marriage all that we could hedonistically muster; was indigenous salt to apply on the agonizingly crimson streams of blood,

Unmarried; when we laughed; it was as if to trace and assimilate even the most insouciant bit of ecstasy hidden in our unconscious veins; whilst after marriage we invidiously chortled and exploited each other’s idiosyncrasies; even at the cost of an infinite tears which unstoppably flowed,

Unmarried; when we sketched; all we could capture on our barren canvases was every conceivable shade of our passionately exuberant silhouettes; whilst after marriage if ever we used our drawing pens; then it was to spew blood of intolerance and unfathomable hatred,

Unmarried; when we were lost; we rediscovered and reborn each other in our very own unassailably redolent breaths; whilst after marriage we heartlessly abandoned each other; leaping at the beams of hope who came searching us; and at the first opportunity,

Unmarried; when we sobbed for our loved ones; the innermost realms of our souls united for an infinite lifetimes to share our grief and ameliorate ourselves to the highest epitome of the Sun; whilst after marriage we sadistically used each other’s tears to bathe; incase the overhead tank was empty,

Unmarried; when we created something; we mutually congratulated each other till the aisles of endless infinity whether there came or not; the tiniest of soul from the outside world; whilst after marriage the same creation became the ultimate reason in our route to divorce,

Unmarried; when we saw suffering on the streets; we selflessly extricated even the last ounce of blood from our veins; endeavoring our best to serve humanity; whilst after marriage we greedily amassed our own wealth; career; identity and fame; in order to royally exist in separate palaces of gold soaked in innocent blood,
Unmarried; when we met after office; we embraced each other with so much passion and intensity that the most gigantic of structures and creation around humbly tumbled to our toes; whilst after marriage we rapaciously preferred to frequent the prostitutes dwelling to placate our heinous desires; as well as stay forever away from our robotically boring faces,

Therefore it is my nimble plea to you O! Omnipresent Lord; to let our love forever immortalize into a cloud of unbreakable compassion; to let our love forever become the ultimate guiding beacon for every other true lover born; and thus for all this to consolidate into a timeless reality; leave us best as UNMARRIED…

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Our life is frittered away by detail. An honest man has hardly need to count more than his ten fingers, or in extreme cases he may add his ten toes, and lump the rest. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity!

Henry David Thoreau in Walden, or Life in the woods
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lisa

I admire you from afar
You've changed the way I see
I used to think that I
Should make you be like me
But after this short time
Watching what you do
I realise that I
Should strive to be like you

Whenever I am near you
I tread so awkwardly
Afraid someone may steal you
I guard you jealously

Then sing the world your praises
Let everybody know
That I just saw the future
A place I want to go

I admire you from afar
You've changed the way I see
I used to think that I
Should make you be like me
But after this short time
Watching what you do
I realise that I
Should strive to be like you

I hear you when you're talking
Untouched simplicity
Alive with expectations
In search of what might be

I admire you from afar
You've changed the way I see
I used to think that I
Should make you be like me
But after this short time
Watching what you do
I realise that I
Should strive to be like you

Then sing the world your praises
Let everybody know
That I just saw the future
A place I want to go

I hear you when you're talking
Untouched simplicity
Alive with expectations

[...] Read more

song performed by UB40 from Guns In The Ghetto
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Superlative Story

Superlative Story

I Syntaxical Sequence

II Strange Stanza Succession Starts

III Scenario Synopsis

IV Sensuality, sense, sensibility,

V Substitute Spousal Suggestions

VI Seesaw Simplicity: Seraglio Simularities Spurned

VII Solution

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I SYNTAXICAL SEQUENCE

Special scansion ‘S’ syllabic
specious solicisms scraps,
solo solving sounds strabismic,
syllogistic systole scraps.
Syllables spring, shuffle, scuttle,
skittle syntax, scintillate
syntonically sans snuffle, shuttle –
synonyms shake sides, spine straight.

Stanza stanza swift succeeding
senses sweeps, song swifter swims,
succulent succession seeding
substitutions, surface skims.
Scrupulous semantics subtle
switchback spiral, summarize,
seek solutions smart, scrolled, supple,
solve set spectrum's smallish size.

Synonymous synchronising
sympathetic symphony
scores - Socratic symbolizing –
swivelling sonority.
Scansion salvo salvo scansion
strong succeeds, succeeding sends
successors streamlined sampling surging –
sanction seems so slight, scourge spends.

Systematic symbol spreading
'sses something sacred, seeks, -

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Book Sixth [Cambridge and the Alps]

THE leaves were fading when to Esthwaite's banks
And the simplicities of cottage life
I bade farewell; and, one among the youth
Who, summoned by that season, reunite
As scattered birds troop to the fowler's lure,
Went back to Granta's cloisters, not so prompt
Or eager, though as gay and undepressed
In mind, as when I thence had taken flight
A few short months before. I turned my face
Without repining from the coves and heights
Clothed in the sunshine of the withering fern;
Quitted, not loth, the mild magnificence
Of calmer lakes and louder streams; and you,
Frank-hearted maids of rocky Cumberland,
You and your not unwelcome days of mirth,
Relinquished, and your nights of revelry,
And in my own unlovely cell sate down
In lightsome mood--such privilege has youth
That cannot take long leave of pleasant thoughts.

The bonds of indolent society
Relaxing in their hold, henceforth I lived
More to myself. Two winters may be passed
Without a separate notice: many books
Were skimmed, devoured, or studiously perused,
But with no settled plan. I was detached
Internally from academic cares;
Yet independent study seemed a course
Of hardy disobedience toward friends
And kindred, proud rebellion and unkind.
This spurious virtue, rather let it bear
A name it now deserves, this cowardice,
Gave treacherous sanction to that over-love
Of freedom which encouraged me to turn
From regulations even of my own
As from restraints and bonds. Yet who can tell--
Who knows what thus may have been gained, both then
And at a later season, or preserved;
What love of nature, what original strength
Of contemplation, what intuitive truths
The deepest and the best, what keen research,
Unbiassed, unbewildered, and unawed?

The Poet's soul was with me at that time;
Sweet meditations, the still overflow
Of present happiness, while future years
Lacked not anticipations, tender dreams,
No few of which have since been realised;
And some remain, hopes for my future life.
Four years and thirty, told this very week,

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poem by William Wordsworth
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