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It's inappropriate and vulgar and absolutely unacceptable to use your private life to sell anything commercially.

quote by Lauren Bacall
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Golden Age

Long ere the Muse the strenuous chords had swept,
And the first lay as yet in silence slept,
A Time there was which since has stirred the lyre
To notes of wail and accents warm with fire;
Moved the soft Mantuan to his silvery strain,
And him who sobbed in pentametric pain;
To which the World, waxed desolate and old,
Fondly reverts, and calls the Age of Gold.

Then, without toil, by vale and mountain side,
Men found their few and simple wants supplied;
Plenty, like dew, dropped subtle from the air,
And Earth's fair gifts rose prodigal as prayer.
Love, with no charms except its own to lure,
Was swiftly answered by a love as pure.
No need for wealth; each glittering fruit and flower,
Each star, each streamlet, made the maiden's dower.
Far in the future lurked maternal throes,
And children blossomed painless as the rose.
No harrowing question `why,' no torturing `how,'
Bent the lithe frame or knit the youthful brow.
The growing mind had naught to seek or shun;
Like the plump fig it ripened in the sun.
From dawn to dark Man's life was steeped in joy,
And the gray sire was happy as the boy.
Nature with Man yet waged no troublous strife,
And Death was almost easier than Life.
Safe on its native mountains throve the oak,
Nor ever groaned 'neath greed's relentless stroke.
No fear of loss, no restlessness for more,
Drove the poor mariner from shore to shore.
No distant mines, by penury divined,
Made him the sport of fickle wave or wind.
Rich for secure, he checked each wish to roam,
And hugged the safe felicity of home.

Those days are long gone by; but who shall say
Why, like a dream, passed Saturn's Reign away?
Over its rise, its ruin, hangs a veil,
And naught remains except a Golden Tale.
Whether 'twas sin or hazard that dissolved
That happy scheme by kindly Gods evolved;
Whether Man fell by lucklessness or pride,-
Let jarring sects, and not the Muse, decide.
But when that cruel Fiat smote the earth,
Primeval Joy was poisoned at its birth.
In sorrow stole the infant from the womb,
The agëd crept in sorrow to the tomb.
The ground, so bounteous once, refused to bear
More than was wrung by sower, seed, and share.

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Austin
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Haggis Of Private McPhee

"Hae ye heard whit ma auld mither's postit tae me?
It fair maks me hamesick," says Private McPhee.
"And whit did she send ye?" says Private McPhun,
As he cockit his rifle and bleezed at a Hun.
"A haggis! A Haggis!" says Private McPhee;
"The brawest big haggis I ever did see.
And think! it's the morn when fond memory turns
Tae haggis and whuskey--the Birthday o' Burns.
We maun find a dram; then we'll ca' in the rest
O' the lads, and we'll hae a Burns' Nicht wi' the best."

"Be ready at sundoon," snapped Sergeant McCole;
"I want you two men for the List'nin' Patrol."
Then Private McPhee looked at Private McPhun:
"I'm thinkin', ma lad, we're confoundedly done."
Then Private McPhun looked at Private McPhee:
"I'm thinkin' auld chap, it's a' aff wi' oor spree."
But up spoke their crony, wee Wullie McNair:
"Jist lea' yer braw haggis for me tae prepare;
And as for the dram, if I search the camp roun',
We maun hae a drappie tae jist haud it doon.
Sae rin, lads, and think, though the nicht it be black,
O' the haggis that's waitin' ye when ye get back."

My! but it wis waesome on Naebuddy's Land,
And the deid they were rottin' on every hand.
And the rockets like corpse candles hauntit the sky,
And the winds o' destruction went shudderin' by.
There wis skelpin' o' bullets and skirlin' o' shells,
And breengin' o' bombs and a thoosand death-knells;
But cooryin' doon in a Jack Johnson hole
Little fashed the twa men o' the List'nin' Patrol.
For sweeter than honey and bricht as a gem
Wis the thocht o' the haggis that waitit for them.

Yet alas! in oor moments o' sunniest cheer
Calamity's aften maist cruelly near.
And while the twa talked o' their puddin' divine
The Boches below them were howkin' a mine.
And while the twa cracked o' the feast they would hae,
The fuse it wis burnin' and burnin' away.
Then sudden a roar like the thunner o' doom,
A hell-leap o' flame . . . then the wheesht o' the tomb.

"Haw, Jock! Are ye hurtit?" says Private McPhun.
"Ay, Geordie, they've got me; I'm fearin' I'm done.
It's ma leg; I'm jist thinkin' it's aff at the knee;
Ye'd best gang and leave me," says Private McPhee.
"Oh leave ye I wunna," says Private McPhun;
"And leave ye I canna, for though I micht run,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
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In Private

Yo wussup baby?
Its been a while since I seen you.
See tonight we gonna do something a lil different.
See we gonna do it like this...
Oh weekend alone, waters running, bubbles bublin.
No kids, no work, no phones, pagers.
Im gon give you what youre worth.
I just wanna take all your worries away.
All away.
Meet me at our weekend getaway, just you and me.
When were in private.
I just wanna see the things that I dont get to see.
But now its you and me.
Were in private.
Call your girls and tellem you aint going nowhere.
Its getting hot in here.
In private.
Hot suds, good love, champagne, maintain in a heart-shaped tub.
In private.
Think of all the things we can do, well do.
When it's just me and you.
See this is an exclusive.
So damn secluded.
No one will know where were at.
Just me and you.
Ill eat strawberries of off you.
Before I get on top of you, baby.
I just wanna take all your troubles away.
So dont trip, no lip.
Lets get this love train goin.
I'm on my way.
When were in private.
I just wanna see the things that I dont get to see.
But now its you and me.
Were in private.
Call your girls and tellem you aint going nowhere.
Its getting hot in here.
In private.
Hot suds, good love, champagne,
maintain in a heart-shaped tub.
In private.
Think of all the things we can do, well do.
When it's just me and you.
You can let your hair down.
You can be freaky as you want to be.
No one can hear a sound.
Baby, you scream as loud...
When were in private.
I just wanna see the things that I dont get to see.
But now its you and me.

[...] Read more

song performed by Jagged Edge
Added by Lucian Velea
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Private Life

This is my private life
I have no friends to fear
Ive got no problems no cross to bear
If you can find me
Come and get me out of here
Chorus
This is my private life
This is my private life
This is my private life . . .
These are my private things
There they are against the wall
The dirty pictures, religious objects
These are my private things
Come and get them out of here
This is my private bed
This is where I lie at night
Staring at a light bulb hanging on the ceiling
Waiting for a dream to
Come and get me out of here
Bridge
Here in my humble room at night
I often wonder what goes on out there
What makes them runs o scared
I often stare at the people passing by
But they cant see me thru my window shades
Just like Im not even there
Chorus
This is my private life
This is my private life
This is my private life
Theres something dangerous I like
This is my private life
I know my problems arent your fault
What I really want to know
Has it always been this way
This is my private life
This is my private life
This is my private life
Come and get me out of here

song performed by Oingo Boingo
Added by Lucian Velea
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Private Joy

My little secret, my private joy
I could never let another play with my toy
My little angel from heaven above
oh oh oh oh oh I think I'm falling in love
And I ain't gonna tell nobody nobody 'bout my little pretty toy
All the other kids would love to love u but u're my little private joy
my private joy -- u're my private joy
private joy -- such a pretty toy
joy, u are my private joy
U're my little lover, Orgasmatron
Only I know, only I know, baby, what turns u on
U're my little secret neon light
Girl I wanna turn it on turn it on turn it on every night
Ain't gonna tell nobody nobody 'bout my little pretty toy
All the other kids would love to love u but u're my little private joy
my private joy -- u're my private joy
private joy -- such a pretty toy
joy -- oh my private joy
Shoot me up baby, let's take a trip
I can't get enough can't get enough of your private private joy joy
joy -- such a such a pretty toy
joy -- u are my private joy
joy -- shoot me up baby, let's take a trip
joy -- can't get enough of your private
joy -- come on honey baby get up, get up
I strangled Valentino (He strangled Valentino)
Been mine ever since (been his ever since)
If anybody asks u (if anybody asks u)
U belong to Prince (U belong to Prince)
come on baby, get up, get up, get up, get up

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Privat Joy

My little secret, my private joy
I could never let another play with my toy
My little angel from heaven above
Oh oh oh oh oh I think Im falling in love
And I aint gonna tell nobody nobody bout my little pretty toy
All the other kids would love to love u but ure my little private joy
My private joy -- ure my private joy
Private joy -- such a pretty toy
Joy, u are my private joy
Ure my little lover, orgasmatron
Only I know, only I know, baby, what turns u on
Ure my little secret neon light
Girl I wanna turn it on turn it on turn it on every night
Aint gonna tell nobody nobody bout my little pretty toy
All the other kids would love to love u but ure my little private joy
My private joy -- ure my private joy
Private joy -- such a pretty toy
Joy -- oh my private joy
Shoot me up baby, lets take a trip
I cant get enough cant get enough of your private private joy joy
Joy -- such a such a pretty toy
Joy -- u are my private joy
Joy -- shoot me up baby, lets take a trip
Joy -- cant get enough of your private
Joy -- come on honey baby get up, get up
I strangled valentino (he strangled valentino)
Been mine ever since (been his ever since)
If anybody asks u (if anybody asks u)
U belong to prince (u belong to prince)
Come on baby, get up, get up, get up, get up

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sell Me A Coat

La la la la la la la la la la la la la
A winters day, a bitter snowflake on my face
My summer girl takes little backward steps away
Jack frost took her hand and left me, jack frost aint so cool
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
And when she smiles, the ice forgets to melt away
Not like before, her smile was warming yesterday
See the trees like silver candy, feel my icy hand
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
See my eyes, my window pane
See my tears like gentle rain
Thats the memory of a summer day
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
La la la la la la

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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V. Count Guido Franceschini

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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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Prejudice

IN yonder red-brick mansion, tight and square,
Just at the town's commencement, lives the mayor.
Some yards of shining gravel, fenced with box,
Lead to the painted portal--where one knocks :
There, in the left-hand parlour, all in state,
Sit he and she, on either side the grate.
But though their goods and chattels, sound and new,
Bespeak the owners very well to do,
His worship's wig and morning suit betray
Slight indications of an humbler day

That long, low shop, where still the name appears,
Some doors below, they kept for forty years :
And there, with various fortunes, smooth and rough,
They sold tobacco, coffee, tea, and snuff.
There labelled drawers display their spicy row--
Clove, mace, and nutmeg : from the ceiling low
Dangle long twelves and eights , and slender rush,
Mix'd with the varied forms of genus brush ;
Cask, firkin, bag, and barrel, crowd the floor,
And piles of country cheeses guard the door.
The frugal dames came in from far and near,
To buy their ounces and their quarterns here.
Hard was the toil, the profits slow to count,
And yet the mole-hill was at last a mount.
Those petty gains were hoarded day by day,
With little cost, for not a child had they ;
Till, long proceeding on the saving plan,
He found himself a warm, fore-handed man :
And being now arrived at life's decline,
Both he and she, they formed the bold design,
(Although it touched their prudence to the quick)
To turn their savings into stone and brick.
How many an ounce of tea and ounce of snuff,
There must have been consumed to make enough !

At length, with paint and paper, bright and gay,
The box was finished, and they went away.
But when their faces were no longer seen
Amongst the canisters of black and green ,
--Those well-known faces, all the country round--
'Twas said that had they levelled to the ground
The two old walnut trees before the door,
The customers would not have missed them more.
Now, like a pair of parrots in a cage,
They live, and civic honours crown their age :
Thrice, since the Whitsuntide they settled there,
Seven years ago, has he been chosen mayor ;
And now you'd scarcely know they were the same ;
Conscious he struts, of power, and wealth, and fame ;

[...] Read more

poem by Jane Taylor
Added by Poetry Lover
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Vulgar Before Me

To you. seperation, only to put it down.
To you. desperation, only to be around.
So on and so under, misdirected in other words.
Always I wonder is there anything I can do for you?
Anything I can do? well I can do anything...
To some, Ive been singled out, always I take your fall.
To some, same and broken down,
All weve left is dropping around you.
And you know these lines theyre open ended.
These books were meant to be followed,
And your rules left to be read...
Is there anything I can do?
I can do anything. i can do anything,
Its vulgar before me...
Is there anything I can do?
I can do anything. I can do anything.
Its vulgar before me, vulgar before me...
Vulgar before me, vulgar before me.
Vulgar, vulgar before me.
Anything I can do?
I can do anything. I can do anything.
Vulgar before me, vulgar before me...

song performed by Candlebox
Added by Lucian Velea
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Absolutely Everybody

Absolutely everybody,
Everybody needs a little loving,
Everybody needs somebody thinking of them.
Everybody needs a little respect,
And whatever it takes,
Im gonna get it.
Everybody needs a hand to hold,
Someone to cling to
When the nights are getting cold.
Im no different,
I am just the same,
A player in the game.
Absolutely everybody,
Everybody, everybody.
Absolutely everybody
In the whole wide world.
Absolutely everybody,
Every boy and every girl,
Absolutely everybody.
Everybody needs a human touch.
I cant live without it,
It means too much to me.
Everybody needs one true friend,
Someone wholl be there til the very end.
And absolutely everybody breathes,
And everybody, everybody bleeds.
Were no different,
Were all the same,
Players in the game.
Absolutely, everybody,
Everybody, everybody.
Absolutely everybody
In the whole wide world.
Everybody breathes,
And everybody needs.
Absolutely everybody.
Absolutely everybody.
Every boy and girl,
Every woman and child.
Every father and son.
I said now everyone,
Yes now everyone.
Everybody needs a human touch.
Everybody, everybody needs love.
Im no different,
I am just the same,
A player in the game.
Absolutely everybody.
Dream dealers pty ltd
Transistor music australia pty ltd

[...] Read more

song performed by Vanessa Amorosi
Added by Lucian Velea
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Private Room

Know what shes done to me, and I have been around
She sure can bring you pleasure, and she can bring you down
I should not tell you, if you want to learn
To take a tip from me now, dont turn your back on her
When shes promising you pleasure all night long
She may turn around and cut you to the bone
Chorus:
In a private room, shell dance for you
In a private room, with just her high heel shoes
In a private room, shell take your heart
And with you under her control, she will leave you all alone, all alone
I was a midnight runner on her side of town
I used to get there early, to watch her dance around
She had this way of movin, to tantalize a crowd
When she lays eyes on you, youd better watch out
While shes promising you pleasure all night long
She may turn around and cut you to the bone
In a private room, shell dance for you
In a private room, with just her high heel shoes
In a private room, shell take your heart
And when youre under her control, she will leave you all alone, all alone
Shes no angel
Late at night she might get lonely, I know what she really needs
Someone who can hold her all night long, all night long, in a private room
In a private room, shell dance for you, oh yeah
In a private room, with just her high heel shoes, not too much more
In a private room
In a private room, shell dance, shell dance, dance for you
Oh!

song performed by Starship
Added by Lucian Velea
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Private Eye

Ive got a private eye to see if youve a mother
Ive got a private eye to find out where you go
Ive got a private eye to see if youve a lover
Ive got a private eye to tell me what you know
You really should tread much more careful
Or youre going to get a stareful from my private eye
Ive got a private eye to search the seas and skies
Ive got a private eye to follow you around
Ive got a private eye to tear off your disguise
Ive got a private eye to make you look just like a clown
You really should...
Ive got a private eye to see if youve a mother...
It nearly stopped my heart from beating
When I found out you were meeting my private eye

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Private Eye

Ive got a private eye to see if youve a mother
Ive got a private eye to find out where you go
Ive got a private eye to see if youve a lover
Ive got a private eye to tell me what you know
You really should tread much more careful
Or youre going to get a stareful from my private eye
Ive got a private eye to search the seas and skies
Ive got a private eye to follow you around
Ive got a private eye to tear off your disguise
Ive got a private eye to make you look just like a clown
You really should...
Ive got a private eye to see if youve a mother...
It nearly stopped my heart from beating
When I found out you were meeting my private eye

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Peace!

A dark parody of Edwin Starr's War
Meant as satire only!

Peace! Huh-Yeah!
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing
Uh-huh

Peace! Huh-Yeah!
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing
Say it again y'all

Peace! Huh-Good God!
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing
Listen to me...

Ohhh....Peace!
I despise
Because it means no innocent lives lost
Not one single one
Damn!

Peace means joy in thousands of mother's eyes
When their sons get to stay home
Don't have to fight our war
Staying alive
What the hell fun is that
If there's no war to watch on my tv tonight

I said-peace! Huh-Good God y'all
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing
Say it again

Peace! Whoa, Lord
What is it good for?
Absolutely nothing
Listen to me...

Peace! It ain't nothing but a party wrecker
Peace! It ain't no friend at all to this undertaker
Peace! It's an enemy to all in my line of work
The thought of peace makes me wanna take a gun and blow my brains way
Yeah! It does!

Peace has caused happiness in the younger generation
No induction
No destruction

[...] Read more

poem by Ramona Thompson
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A Political Fruit: A Political Solution!

A yokel’s assessment
loft pigeon holing
key kiwi politics
for term year 2001.

Under Labouring Leadership
exhibited by Prime Minister.
Housewife mentality not
her honourable Helen Clark.

“I’m glad I’m a kiwi
in the land of the free(?)
I wish I was a dog
and Jenny Shipley was a tree! ”

That former National Leader
of the N.Z. Socialist Welfare State.
Effectively exterminated some of
the old the sick the maimed not retained.
The (destained) . Supposedly unemployable.
Through effective long hospital waiting lists.
Patients patiently dying in sickening turn.
Waiting for their turn lifetime tax paid for.

Grossly government underfunded operations.
Patients could not live long enough to have.
Contrast increasing youth adult suicide rates.
Highlights dispirited dispossessed chose to die.
Rather than live with unstomachable shame.
Shame for their families to deal with if had one.

National gave their last paid jobs away to
cheaper ill fated foreign third world workers.
To even more socially exploited workers.
In even more exploited less fortunate lands.

Ensuring aspiring elite rich may free trade
grossing ever more greed upon greed
sweat and misery maximized equating to
an advanced global industrial slavery.

As Neo-liberal policies bite ever harder.

“Full employment is necessary
for capitalism
to grow”; did you never realize!

Shrinking profit rates! Economic Solution?

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Bad Side Of The Moon

(bernie taupin/elton john)
Published by songs of polygram international - bmi
Seems as though Ive lived my life on the bad side of the moon
To stir your dregs, and sittin still, without a rustic spoon
Now come on people, live with me, where the light has never shone
And the harlots flock like hummingbirds, speakin in a foreign tongue
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
It seems as though Ive lived my life on the bad side of the moon
To stir your dregs, and sittin still, without a rustic spoon
Now come on people, live with me, where the light has never shone
And the harlots flock like hummingbirds, speakin in a foreign tongue
Im a light world away, from the people who make me stay
Sittin on the bad side of the moon
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
There aint no need for watchdogs here, to justify our ways
We lived our lives in manacles, the main cause of our stay
And exiled here from other worlds, my sentence comes to soon
Why should I be made to pay on the bad side of the moon
Im a light world away, from the people who make me stay
Sittin on the bad side of the moon
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life
This is my life, this is my life, this is my life, my life

song performed by April Wine
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Interpretation of Nature and

I.

MAN, being the servant and interpreter of Nature, can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature: beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything.


II.

Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left to itself can effect much. It is by instruments and helps that the work is done, which are as much wanted for the understanding as for the hand. And as the instruments of the hand either give motion or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supply either suggestions for the understanding or cautions.

III.

Human knowledge and human power meet in one; for where the cause is not known the effect cannot be produced. Nature to be commanded must be obeyed; and that which in contemplation is as the cause is in operation as the rule.

IV.

Towards the effecting of works, all that man can do is to put together or put asunder natural bodies. The rest is done by nature working within.

V.

The study of nature with a view to works is engaged in by the mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and the magician; but by all (as things now are) with slight endeavour and scanty success.

VI.

It would be an unsound fancy and self-contradictory to expect that things which have never yet been done can be done except by means which have never yet been tried.

VII.

The productions of the mind and hand seem very numerous in books and manufactures. But all this variety lies in an exquisite subtlety and derivations from a few things already known; not in the number of axioms.

VIII.

Moreover the works already known are due to chance and experiment rather than to sciences; for the sciences we now possess are merely systems for the nice ordering and setting forth of things already invented; not methods of invention or directions for new works.

IX.

The cause and root of nearly all evils in the sciences is this -- that while we falsely admire and extol the powers of the human mind we neglect to seek for its true helps.

X.

The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety of the senses and understanding; so that all those specious meditations, speculations, and glosses in which men indulge are quite from the purpose, only there is no one by to observe it.

XI.

As the sciences which we now have do not help us in finding out new works, so neither does the logic which we now have help us in finding out new sciences.

XII.

The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to the errors which have their foundation in commonly received notions than to help the search after truth. So it does more harm than good.

XIII.

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poem by Sir Francis Bacon
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