If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears different drummer, let him step to the music he hears, however measured or faraway. - Thoreau
If something is impossible, it is probably not necessary.
How is it to feel tinglingly alive and exhilarated, unbelievably lucky and fortunate?
People change and grow in response to challange.
Get your rear in gear.
Life is good and life is bad, there is much evidence on both sides.
Accept the person, but not their bad behavior.
Trouble with people is not that they are ignorant, but that they know so many things that ain't so.
You can't think about what you don't want to think about without thinking about it.
Where attention goes, energy flows.
Only way we resist change is counciously.
Confusion is a state just before we learn something new.
No confusion...no learning.
To change, be prepared to give up successes of old ways.
Ultimate tragic mistake is belief that your perceptions are a description of what reality actually is.
Once you realize that the world in which you are living is completely made up, you can make up whole new world that benefits everyone including you.
Instead of looking for "what's wrong" and fixing it, think of ways life can be enriched.
What are you going to evolve yourself to become today?
When you hesitate, you act as if you are immortal.
Always do something representative of your full potential as a person, you can afford no less as your last act in this world.
Imagine...let it happen...or may be just pretend.
Core drives
What drives people? Here is the list of things what are the core motives for everyone's action:
1. Eat
2. Romance/Sex
3. Tranquility/Peace
4. Acceptance/Approval
5. Curiosity
6. Family
7. Honour
8. Idealism
9. Independence
10. Order
11. Physical activity
12. Power over self or others
13. Savings
14. Social contacts
15. Status
16. Vengeance
Take any action, chunk it up and at the end one or more of these drivers would be found.
1. Eat
2. Romance/Sex
3. Tranquility/Peace
4. Acceptance/Approval
5. Curiosity
6. Family
7. Honour
8. Idealism
9. Independence
10. Order
11. Physical activity
12. Power over self or others
13. Savings
14. Social contacts
15. Status
16. Vengeance
Take any action, chunk it up and at the end one or more of these drivers would be found.
Gandhi
A simple man
who wore
next to nothing
in protest
and in sympathy
to his beloved people
The man believed
in non-violence
truth, peace
and universal harmony
said, he has nothing new
to teach to the world
He was only human
yet, he was a saint
The mighty empire
bowed at his feet
not from fear
but from his love
For all the evils
the empire had done
he believed
"Return with gladness
good for evil done"
No words can match
what Einstein said
"Generations to come
will scarce believe
that such a one as this
walked the earth
in flesh and blood"
With the name of God
on his lips
third shot rang
and the great man fell.
Written on Saturday, October 01 2005
who wore
next to nothing
in protest
and in sympathy
to his beloved people
The man believed
in non-violence
truth, peace
and universal harmony
said, he has nothing new
to teach to the world
He was only human
yet, he was a saint
The mighty empire
bowed at his feet
not from fear
but from his love
For all the evils
the empire had done
he believed
"Return with gladness
good for evil done"
No words can match
what Einstein said
"Generations to come
will scarce believe
that such a one as this
walked the earth
in flesh and blood"
With the name of God
on his lips
third shot rang
and the great man fell.
Written on Saturday, October 01 2005
Destiny?
Few days back a bird laid an egg on a stairs leading to my terrace. As the nest was on 3rd or 4th step and cat frequenting that area the egg was surely going to be cat snack.
In all my good intension I decided to move the nest to some place safer. So I created a new home for the birdie with a wire cloth hanger and an aluminum plate. When I came back at night from office I was disappointed not to see the bird in new place, however that disappointment quickly turned to smug satisfaction of having saved a life when I saw the bird sitting in the nest next morning.
I was happy to see the bird every mornings and evenings.
Fast forward to today, huge gust of wind blew away the nest, egg splattered on the floor.
In all my good intension I decided to move the nest to some place safer. So I created a new home for the birdie with a wire cloth hanger and an aluminum plate. When I came back at night from office I was disappointed not to see the bird in new place, however that disappointment quickly turned to smug satisfaction of having saved a life when I saw the bird sitting in the nest next morning.
I was happy to see the bird every mornings and evenings.
Fast forward to today, huge gust of wind blew away the nest, egg splattered on the floor.
New year resolution - little late
"Work like you don't need the money, love like you've never been hurt, and dance like you do when nobody's watching."
Aganjú
I have no idea what the song means as it is in Portuguese, but I love it.
Here is what someone summarized it:
A Daydream Unfolding | Reviewer: Lao Tzu Bravo | 1/4/2008
"Imagine lying on a hammock made of clouds, rocking in a cool breeze on a warm summer day. Add to this a daydream of love: lost, found or yearned for. As you nestle into this spot, this song is the sound you'll hear..."
Lyrics
Here is what someone summarized it:
A Daydream Unfolding | Reviewer: Lao Tzu Bravo | 1/4/2008
"Imagine lying on a hammock made of clouds, rocking in a cool breeze on a warm summer day. Add to this a daydream of love: lost, found or yearned for. As you nestle into this spot, this song is the sound you'll hear..."
Lyrics
SAVE THE BONES FOR HENRY JONES
(Danny Barker / Vernon Lee aka Michael H. Goldson)
Nat King Cole & Johnny Mercer
We’re gonna have a supper
We’ll eat some food that’s rare
And at the head of the table
We’ll place brother Henry’s chair
Invite all the local big dogs
We’ll laugh and talk and eat
But we’ll save the bones for Henry Jones
‘Cause Henry don’t eat no meat
Today I’ll go to market
Buy up a lotta fish
Well, that will thrill brother Henry
‘Cause fish is his special dish
Get a large can of molasses
Have something really sweet
But we’ll save the bones for Henry Jones
‘Cause Henry don’t eat no meat
Henry is not a drinker
He rarely takes a nip
He don’t need a napkin
‘Cause the things he eats don’t drip – blip!
One day we had a banquet
It really was a bake
They started off with short ribs
Then finished off with steak
But when the feast was over
Brother Henry just kept his seat
And we served the bones to Henry Jones
‘Cause Henry don’t eat no meat
Our banquet was most proper
Right down to demitasse
From soup to lox and bagels
And pheasant under glass – class!
We thought the chops were mellow
He said his chops were beat – reet!
We served the bones to Henry Jones
‘Cause Henry don’t eat no meat
He’s an egg man
Henry don’t eat no meat
He loves a pullet
Henry don’t eat no meat
A vegetarian
Henry?
Coming mother!
Soup’s on
Nat King Cole & Johnny Mercer
We’re gonna have a supper
We’ll eat some food that’s rare
And at the head of the table
We’ll place brother Henry’s chair
Invite all the local big dogs
We’ll laugh and talk and eat
But we’ll save the bones for Henry Jones
‘Cause Henry don’t eat no meat
Today I’ll go to market
Buy up a lotta fish
Well, that will thrill brother Henry
‘Cause fish is his special dish
Get a large can of molasses
Have something really sweet
But we’ll save the bones for Henry Jones
‘Cause Henry don’t eat no meat
Henry is not a drinker
He rarely takes a nip
He don’t need a napkin
‘Cause the things he eats don’t drip – blip!
One day we had a banquet
It really was a bake
They started off with short ribs
Then finished off with steak
But when the feast was over
Brother Henry just kept his seat
And we served the bones to Henry Jones
‘Cause Henry don’t eat no meat
Our banquet was most proper
Right down to demitasse
From soup to lox and bagels
And pheasant under glass – class!
We thought the chops were mellow
He said his chops were beat – reet!
We served the bones to Henry Jones
‘Cause Henry don’t eat no meat
He’s an egg man
Henry don’t eat no meat
He loves a pullet
Henry don’t eat no meat
A vegetarian
Henry?
Coming mother!
Soup’s on
Adult Resignation
To Whom It May Concern:
I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult. I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of a 6 year old again.
I want to go to McDonald's and think that it's a four star restaurant.
I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make ripples with rocks.
I want to think M&Ms are better than money, because you can eat them.
I want to play kickball during recess and paint with watercolors in art.
I want to lie under a big Oak tree and run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summers day.
I want to return to a time when life was simple.
I want to know only colors, addition tables and simple nursery rhymes.
I want to think that the world is fair and that everyone in it is honest and good.
Somewhere in my youth...I matured and I learned too much.
I learned of nuclear weapons, war, prejudice, starvation and abused children.
I learned of lies, unhappy marriages, suffering, illness, pain and death.
I learned of a world where men left their families to go and fight for our country, and returned only to end up living on the streets... begging for their next meal.
I learned of a world where children knew how to kill...and did.
I want to be oblivious to the complexity of life and be overly excited by little things once again.
I want to return to the days when reading was fun and music was clean.
I want television to be something I watch for fun, not something I use for escape from the things I should be doing.
I want to live knowing the little things I find exciting will always make me as happy as when I first learned them.
I want to believe that anything is possible.
I want to be naive and thinking that everyone was happy because I was.
I want to walk on the beach and only think of the sand between my toes and the prettiest seashell I could find.
I want to spend my afternoon climbing trees and riding my bike.
Somewhere in my youth...I matured and I learned too much.
I learned of computer crashes of mountains of paperwork.
I learned of depressing news of how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank.
I learned of doctor bills, gossip, illness and loss of loved ones.
I learned of politics, rasicism and discrimination.
I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs and a kind word.
I want to see the world not as a whole, but rather being aware of only the things that directly concerned me.
I want to be naive enough to think that if I'm happy, so is everyone else.
I want to spend my afternoons climbing trees and riding my bike.
I want to wonder what I'll do when I grow up, and what I'll be.
I want to live simple again.
I want that time back.
I want to be 6 again.
And if you want to discuss this further, you'll have to catch me first, cause,
"Tag! You're It."
From http://houghi.org/
I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult. I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of a 6 year old again.
I want to go to McDonald's and think that it's a four star restaurant.
I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make ripples with rocks.
I want to think M&Ms are better than money, because you can eat them.
I want to play kickball during recess and paint with watercolors in art.
I want to lie under a big Oak tree and run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summers day.
I want to return to a time when life was simple.
I want to know only colors, addition tables and simple nursery rhymes.
I want to think that the world is fair and that everyone in it is honest and good.
Somewhere in my youth...I matured and I learned too much.
I learned of nuclear weapons, war, prejudice, starvation and abused children.
I learned of lies, unhappy marriages, suffering, illness, pain and death.
I learned of a world where men left their families to go and fight for our country, and returned only to end up living on the streets... begging for their next meal.
I learned of a world where children knew how to kill...and did.
I want to be oblivious to the complexity of life and be overly excited by little things once again.
I want to return to the days when reading was fun and music was clean.
I want television to be something I watch for fun, not something I use for escape from the things I should be doing.
I want to live knowing the little things I find exciting will always make me as happy as when I first learned them.
I want to believe that anything is possible.
I want to be naive and thinking that everyone was happy because I was.
I want to walk on the beach and only think of the sand between my toes and the prettiest seashell I could find.
I want to spend my afternoon climbing trees and riding my bike.
Somewhere in my youth...I matured and I learned too much.
I learned of computer crashes of mountains of paperwork.
I learned of depressing news of how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank.
I learned of doctor bills, gossip, illness and loss of loved ones.
I learned of politics, rasicism and discrimination.
I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs and a kind word.
I want to see the world not as a whole, but rather being aware of only the things that directly concerned me.
I want to be naive enough to think that if I'm happy, so is everyone else.
I want to spend my afternoons climbing trees and riding my bike.
I want to wonder what I'll do when I grow up, and what I'll be.
I want to live simple again.
I want that time back.
I want to be 6 again.
And if you want to discuss this further, you'll have to catch me first, cause,
"Tag! You're It."
From http://houghi.org/
Random Quote
"Most of my poems are written in haste, and therefore resultantly lacking in taste. Yet people who read them and think they are fine, must surely have taste just as rotten as mine." From "B.C Right On" by Johnny Hart
Found it here http://rfte.blogspot.com/
Found it here http://rfte.blogspot.com/
A poem in C
/***********************************************************/
/* Short Poem */
/***********************************************************/
#include
/***********************************************************/
main () /* Poem */
{
printf ("Astronomy is %dderful \n",1);
printf ("And interesting %d \n",2);
printf ("The ear%d volves around the sun \n",3);
printf ("And makes a year %d you \n",4);
printf ("The moon affects the sur %d heard \n",5);
printf ("By law of phy%d great \n",6);
printf ("It %d when the the stars so bright \n",7);
printf ("Do nightly scintill%d \n",8);
printf ("If watchful providence be%d \n",9);
printf ("With good intentions fraught \n");
printf ("Should not keep up her watch divine \n");
printf ("We soon should come to %d \n",0);
}
Guess what the output is of the above c code, click on the 'comment' to find out.
/* Short Poem */
/***********************************************************/
#include
/***********************************************************/
main () /* Poem */
{
printf ("Astronomy is %dderful \n",1);
printf ("And interesting %d \n",2);
printf ("The ear%d volves around the sun \n",3);
printf ("And makes a year %d you \n",4);
printf ("The moon affects the sur %d heard \n",5);
printf ("By law of phy%d great \n",6);
printf ("It %d when the the stars so bright \n",7);
printf ("Do nightly scintill%d \n",8);
printf ("If watchful providence be%d \n",9);
printf ("With good intentions fraught \n");
printf ("Should not keep up her watch divine \n");
printf ("We soon should come to %d \n",0);
}
Guess what the output is of the above c code, click on the 'comment' to find out.
A Little Poem About Now
There is now
Is there now?
Now there is.
Is there now?
Now there is.
Now is there?
This little poem sprang into my mind one night a few years ago, just out of the blue. Just three words, three orders, and reversed. But is it more than just wordplay? I continue to ponder what it means… and how it can have meaning.
There was now
Was there now?
Now there was…
_______________
From http://www.chromakode.com/blog
Is there now?
Now there is.
Is there now?
Now there is.
Now is there?
This little poem sprang into my mind one night a few years ago, just out of the blue. Just three words, three orders, and reversed. But is it more than just wordplay? I continue to ponder what it means… and how it can have meaning.
There was now
Was there now?
Now there was…
_______________
From http://www.chromakode.com/blog
"Description"
George said, "God is short and fat."
Nick said, "No, He's tall and lean."
Len said, "With a long white beard."
"No," said John, "He's shaven clean."
Will said, "He's black," Bob said, "He's white."
Rhonda Rose said, "He's a She."
I smiled but never showed 'em all
The autographed photograph God sent to me.
-- Shel Silverstein
Nick said, "No, He's tall and lean."
Len said, "With a long white beard."
"No," said John, "He's shaven clean."
Will said, "He's black," Bob said, "He's white."
Rhonda Rose said, "He's a She."
I smiled but never showed 'em all
The autographed photograph God sent to me.
-- Shel Silverstein
Dearest creature in creation
The matter is settled. The poem has been signaled in Drop Your Foreign Accent - Engelse
Uitspraakoefeningen, by G. Nolst Trenite ("with an accent on the last e", as my source revealed), 5th revised edition, published by H.D.Tjeenk Willink & Zoon, Haarlem 1929. Many thanks to C.J. Koster for unearthing the context of the poem.
Dearest creature in creation,
Study English pronunciation.
I will teach you in my verse
Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse.
I will keep you, Suzy, busy,
Make your head with heat grow dizzy.
Tear in eye, your dress will tear,
So shall I! Oh hear my prayer.
Liberty, library, heave and heaven,
Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven.
We say hallowed but allowed,
People, leopard, towed, but vowed.
Mark the differences, moreover,
Between mover, cover, clover;
Leeches, breeches, wise, precise,
Chalice, but police and lice;
Camen, constable, unstable,
Principle, disciple, label.
Just compare heart, beard, and heard,
Dies and diet, lord and word,
Sword and sward, retain and Britain
(Mind the latter, how it's written).
Now I surely will not plague you
With such words as plaque and ague.
But be careful how you speak:
Say break and steak, but bleak and streak.
Petal, panel, and canal,
Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal.
Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair,
Senator, spectator, mayor.
Tour, but our and succour, four.
Gas, alas, and Arkansas.
Cloven, oven, how and low,
Script, receipt, show, poem, toe.
Hear me say, devoid of trickery,
Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore,
Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles,
Exiles, similes, and reviles;
Scholar, vicar, and cigar,
Solar, mica, war and far;
One anemone, Balmoral,
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel;
Gertrude, German, wind and mind,
Scene, Melpomene, mankind.
Sea, idea, Korea, area,
Psalm, Maria, but malaria.
Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean.
Doctrine, turpentine, marine.
Compare alien with Italian,
Dandelion and battalion.
Sally wil ally, yea, ye,
Eye, I, ay, aye, when, and key.
Say aver, but ever, fever,
Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver.
Heron, granary, canary.
Crevice and device and aerie.
Billet does not rhyme with ballet,
Bouqet, wallet, mallet, chalet.
Blood and flood are not like food,
Nor is mould like should and would.
Viscous, viscount, load and broad,
Toward, to forward, to reward.
And your pronunciation's OK
When you correctly say croquet,
Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve,
Friend and fiend, alive and live.
Face, but preface, not efface.
Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass.
Large, but target, gin, give, verging,
Ought, out, joust and scour, scourging.
Ear, but earn and wear and tear
Do not rhyme with here but ere.
Seven is right, but so is even,
Hyphen, roughen, nephew Stephen,
Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk,
Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work.
Ivy, privy, famous; clamour
And enamour rhyme with hammer.
River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb,
Doll and roll and some and home.
Stranger does not rhyme with anger,
Neither does devour with clangour.
Sould but foul, haunt but aunt,
Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant,
Shoes, goes, does*. Now first say finger,
And then singer, ginger, linger,
Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge, gauge,
Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.
Pronunciation - think of Psyche!
Is a paling stout and spikey?
Won't it make you lose your wits, writing groats and
saying grits?
It's a dark abyss or tunnel:
Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale,
Islington and Isle of Wight,
Housewife, verdict and indict.
Query does not rhyme with very,
Nor does fury sound like bury.
Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth.
Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath.
Though the difference seems little,
We say actual but victual.
Refer does not rhyme with deafer.
Foeffer does, and zephyr, heifer.
Mind, pint, senate and sedate;
Dull, bull, and George ate late.
Scenic, Arabic, Pacific,
Science, conscience, scientific.
Finally, which rhymes with enough -
Though, through, plough, dough, or cough?
Hiccough has the sound of cup,
My advice is to give it up!!!
* No, you are wrong. This is the plural of doe.
________________________
From SUSE LINUX mailing list, where geeks talk.
Uitspraakoefeningen, by G. Nolst Trenite ("with an accent on the last e", as my source revealed), 5th revised edition, published by H.D.Tjeenk Willink & Zoon, Haarlem 1929. Many thanks to C.J. Koster for unearthing the context of the poem.
Dearest creature in creation,
Study English pronunciation.
I will teach you in my verse
Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse.
I will keep you, Suzy, busy,
Make your head with heat grow dizzy.
Tear in eye, your dress will tear,
So shall I! Oh hear my prayer.
Liberty, library, heave and heaven,
Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven.
We say hallowed but allowed,
People, leopard, towed, but vowed.
Mark the differences, moreover,
Between mover, cover, clover;
Leeches, breeches, wise, precise,
Chalice, but police and lice;
Camen, constable, unstable,
Principle, disciple, label.
Just compare heart, beard, and heard,
Dies and diet, lord and word,
Sword and sward, retain and Britain
(Mind the latter, how it's written).
Now I surely will not plague you
With such words as plaque and ague.
But be careful how you speak:
Say break and steak, but bleak and streak.
Petal, panel, and canal,
Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal.
Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair,
Senator, spectator, mayor.
Tour, but our and succour, four.
Gas, alas, and Arkansas.
Cloven, oven, how and low,
Script, receipt, show, poem, toe.
Hear me say, devoid of trickery,
Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore,
Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles,
Exiles, similes, and reviles;
Scholar, vicar, and cigar,
Solar, mica, war and far;
One anemone, Balmoral,
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel;
Gertrude, German, wind and mind,
Scene, Melpomene, mankind.
Sea, idea, Korea, area,
Psalm, Maria, but malaria.
Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean.
Doctrine, turpentine, marine.
Compare alien with Italian,
Dandelion and battalion.
Sally wil ally, yea, ye,
Eye, I, ay, aye, when, and key.
Say aver, but ever, fever,
Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver.
Heron, granary, canary.
Crevice and device and aerie.
Billet does not rhyme with ballet,
Bouqet, wallet, mallet, chalet.
Blood and flood are not like food,
Nor is mould like should and would.
Viscous, viscount, load and broad,
Toward, to forward, to reward.
And your pronunciation's OK
When you correctly say croquet,
Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve,
Friend and fiend, alive and live.
Face, but preface, not efface.
Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass.
Large, but target, gin, give, verging,
Ought, out, joust and scour, scourging.
Ear, but earn and wear and tear
Do not rhyme with here but ere.
Seven is right, but so is even,
Hyphen, roughen, nephew Stephen,
Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk,
Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work.
Ivy, privy, famous; clamour
And enamour rhyme with hammer.
River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb,
Doll and roll and some and home.
Stranger does not rhyme with anger,
Neither does devour with clangour.
Sould but foul, haunt but aunt,
Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant,
Shoes, goes, does*. Now first say finger,
And then singer, ginger, linger,
Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge, gauge,
Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.
Pronunciation - think of Psyche!
Is a paling stout and spikey?
Won't it make you lose your wits, writing groats and
saying grits?
It's a dark abyss or tunnel:
Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale,
Islington and Isle of Wight,
Housewife, verdict and indict.
Query does not rhyme with very,
Nor does fury sound like bury.
Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth.
Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath.
Though the difference seems little,
We say actual but victual.
Refer does not rhyme with deafer.
Foeffer does, and zephyr, heifer.
Mind, pint, senate and sedate;
Dull, bull, and George ate late.
Scenic, Arabic, Pacific,
Science, conscience, scientific.
Finally, which rhymes with enough -
Though, through, plough, dough, or cough?
Hiccough has the sound of cup,
My advice is to give it up!!!
* No, you are wrong. This is the plural of doe.
________________________
From SUSE LINUX mailing list, where geeks talk.
A Plan for the Improvement of English Spelling by Mark Twain
For example, in Year 1 that useless letter "c" would be dropped
to be replased either by "k" or "s", and likewise "x" would no longer
be part of the alphabet. The only kase in which "c" would be retained
would be the "ch" formation, which will be dealt with later. Year 2
might reform "w" spelling, so that "which" and "one" would take the
same konsonant, wile Year 3 might well abolish "y" replasing it with
"i" and Iear 4 might fiks the "g/j" anomali wonse and for all.
Jenerally, then, the improvement would kontinue iear bai iear
with Iear 5 doing awai with useless double konsonants, and Iears 6-12
or so modifaiing vowlz and the rimeining voist and unvoist konsonants.
Bai Iear 15 or sou, it wud fainali bi posibl tu meik ius ov thi
ridandant letez "c", "y" and "x" -- bai now jast a memori in the maindz
ov ould doderez -- tu riplais "ch", "sh", and "th" rispektivli.
Fainali, xen, aafte sam 20 iers ov orxogrefkl riform, wi wud
hev a lojikl, kohirnt speling in ius xrewawt xe Ingliy-spiking werld.
to be replased either by "k" or "s", and likewise "x" would no longer
be part of the alphabet. The only kase in which "c" would be retained
would be the "ch" formation, which will be dealt with later. Year 2
might reform "w" spelling, so that "which" and "one" would take the
same konsonant, wile Year 3 might well abolish "y" replasing it with
"i" and Iear 4 might fiks the "g/j" anomali wonse and for all.
Jenerally, then, the improvement would kontinue iear bai iear
with Iear 5 doing awai with useless double konsonants, and Iears 6-12
or so modifaiing vowlz and the rimeining voist and unvoist konsonants.
Bai Iear 15 or sou, it wud fainali bi posibl tu meik ius ov thi
ridandant letez "c", "y" and "x" -- bai now jast a memori in the maindz
ov ould doderez -- tu riplais "ch", "sh", and "th" rispektivli.
Fainali, xen, aafte sam 20 iers ov orxogrefkl riform, wi wud
hev a lojikl, kohirnt speling in ius xrewawt xe Ingliy-spiking werld.
A blade of grass - Brian Patten
You ask for a poem.
I offer you a blade of grass.
You say it is not good enough.
You ask for a poem.
I say this blade of grass will do.
It has dressed itself in frost,
It is more immediate
Than any image of my making.
You say it is not a poem,
It is a blade of grass and grass
Is not quite good enough.
I offer you a blade of grass.
You are indignant.
You say it is too easy to offer grass.
It is absurd.
Anyone can offer a blade of grass.
You ask for a poem.
And so I write you a tragedy about
How a blade of grass
Becomes more and more difficult to offer,
And about how as you grow older
A blade of grass
Becomes more difficult to accept.
I offer you a blade of grass.
You say it is not good enough.
You ask for a poem.
I say this blade of grass will do.
It has dressed itself in frost,
It is more immediate
Than any image of my making.
You say it is not a poem,
It is a blade of grass and grass
Is not quite good enough.
I offer you a blade of grass.
You are indignant.
You say it is too easy to offer grass.
It is absurd.
Anyone can offer a blade of grass.
You ask for a poem.
And so I write you a tragedy about
How a blade of grass
Becomes more and more difficult to offer,
And about how as you grow older
A blade of grass
Becomes more difficult to accept.
"A Note"
Life is the only way
to get covered in leaves,
catch your breath on the sand,
rise on wings;
to be a dog,
or stroke its warm fur;
to tell pain
from everything it's not;
to squeeze inside events,
dawdle in views,
to seek the least of all possible mistakes.
An extraordinary chance
to remember for a moment
a conversation held
with the lamp switched off;
and if only once
to stumble upon a stone,
end up soaked in one downpour or another,
mislay your keys in the grass;
and to follow a spark on the wind with your eyes;
and to keep on not knowing
something important.
-- by Wislawa Szymborska
(Translated from the Polish, by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh.)
Visit Szymborska's Nobel acceptance speech.
to get covered in leaves,
catch your breath on the sand,
rise on wings;
to be a dog,
or stroke its warm fur;
to tell pain
from everything it's not;
to squeeze inside events,
dawdle in views,
to seek the least of all possible mistakes.
An extraordinary chance
to remember for a moment
a conversation held
with the lamp switched off;
and if only once
to stumble upon a stone,
end up soaked in one downpour or another,
mislay your keys in the grass;
and to follow a spark on the wind with your eyes;
and to keep on not knowing
something important.
-- by Wislawa Szymborska
(Translated from the Polish, by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh.)
Visit Szymborska's Nobel acceptance speech.
Science Quote
"Science works whether you believe in it or not. That's what's really cool about it"
A quote by The American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS)
A quote by The American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS)
A woman has a close male friend.
DragonflyBlade21: A woman has a close male friend. This means that he is probably interested in her, which is why he hangs around so much. She sees him strictly as a friend. This always starts out with, you're a great guy, but I don't like you in that way. This is roughly the equivalent for the guy of going to a job interview and the company saying, You have a great resume, you have all the qualifications we are looking for, but we're not going to hire you. We will, however, use your resume as the basis for comparison for all other applicants. But, we're going to hire somebody who is far less qualified and is probably an alcoholic. And if he doesn't work out, we'll hire somebody else, but still not you. In fact, we will never hire you. But we will call you from time to time to complain about the person that we hired.
__________________
Found on www.bash.org.
__________________
Found on www.bash.org.
Poem For People That Are Understandably Too Busy To Read Poetry
Relax. This won't last long.
Or if it does, or if the lines
make you sleepy or bored,
give in to sleep, turn on
the T.V., deal the cards.
This poem is built to withstand
such things. Its feelings
cannot be hurt. They exist
somewhere in the poet,
and I am far away.
Pick it up anytime. Start it
in the middle if you wish.
It is as approachable as melodrama,
and can offer you violence
if it is violence you like. Look,
there's a man on a sidewalk;
the way his leg is quivering
he'll never be the same again.
This is your poem
and I know you're busy at the office
or the kids are into your last nerve.
Maybe it's sex you've always wanted.
Well, they lie together
like the party's unbuttoned coats,
slumped on the bed
waiting for drunken arms to move them.
I don't think you want me to go on;
everyone has his expectations, but this
is a poem for the entire family.
Right now, Budweiser
is dripping from a waterfall,
deodorants are hissing into armpits
of people you resemble,
and the two lovers are dressing now,
saying farewell.
I don't know what music this poem
can come up with, but clearly
it's needed. For it's apparent
they will never see each other again
and we need music for this
because there was never music when he or she
left you standing on the corner.
You see, I want this poem to be nicer
than life. I want you to look at it
when anxiety zigzags your stomach
and the last tranquilizer is gone
and you need someone to tell you
I'll be here when you want me
like the sound inside a shell.
The poem is saying that to you now.
But don't give anything for this poem.
It doesn't expect much. It will never say more
than listening can explain.
Just keep it in your attache case
or in your house. And if you're not asleep
by now, or bored beyond sense,
the poem wants you to laugh. Laugh at
yourself, laugh at this poem, at all poetry.
Come on:
Good. Now here's what poetry can do.
Imagine yourself a caterpillar.
There's an awful shrug and, suddenly,
You're beautiful for as long as you live.
by Stephen Dunn
Or if it does, or if the lines
make you sleepy or bored,
give in to sleep, turn on
the T.V., deal the cards.
This poem is built to withstand
such things. Its feelings
cannot be hurt. They exist
somewhere in the poet,
and I am far away.
Pick it up anytime. Start it
in the middle if you wish.
It is as approachable as melodrama,
and can offer you violence
if it is violence you like. Look,
there's a man on a sidewalk;
the way his leg is quivering
he'll never be the same again.
This is your poem
and I know you're busy at the office
or the kids are into your last nerve.
Maybe it's sex you've always wanted.
Well, they lie together
like the party's unbuttoned coats,
slumped on the bed
waiting for drunken arms to move them.
I don't think you want me to go on;
everyone has his expectations, but this
is a poem for the entire family.
Right now, Budweiser
is dripping from a waterfall,
deodorants are hissing into armpits
of people you resemble,
and the two lovers are dressing now,
saying farewell.
I don't know what music this poem
can come up with, but clearly
it's needed. For it's apparent
they will never see each other again
and we need music for this
because there was never music when he or she
left you standing on the corner.
You see, I want this poem to be nicer
than life. I want you to look at it
when anxiety zigzags your stomach
and the last tranquilizer is gone
and you need someone to tell you
I'll be here when you want me
like the sound inside a shell.
The poem is saying that to you now.
But don't give anything for this poem.
It doesn't expect much. It will never say more
than listening can explain.
Just keep it in your attache case
or in your house. And if you're not asleep
by now, or bored beyond sense,
the poem wants you to laugh. Laugh at
yourself, laugh at this poem, at all poetry.
Come on:
Good. Now here's what poetry can do.
Imagine yourself a caterpillar.
There's an awful shrug and, suddenly,
You're beautiful for as long as you live.
by Stephen Dunn
If Sex Is Dirty
If sex is dirty
and babies come from sex
then babies must be dirty.
If babies are dirty
and babies become adults
then adults must be dirty.
If adults are dirty
and adults live a life
then life must be dirty.
If life is dirty
and God gives life
then God must be dirty.
If God is dirty
and God created sex
then a whole lot of people need to take a bath.
Robert M Wilson
and babies come from sex
then babies must be dirty.
If babies are dirty
and babies become adults
then adults must be dirty.
If adults are dirty
and adults live a life
then life must be dirty.
If life is dirty
and God gives life
then God must be dirty.
If God is dirty
and God created sex
then a whole lot of people need to take a bath.
Robert M Wilson
And on and on and on by Charles Lara
The fat sun
has gone away
and the fire
has become
a flickering thin flame
The moon shaves itself
And perfumes its dark side
Under the sugar stars
Beyond the laughter of God
A silver pinhead
a tiny dot
is what begins
to show between
bright cotton clouds
Young winter dances
While early autumn
fucks the days away
and life goes on
and so do we
and on and on and on…
has gone away
and the fire
has become
a flickering thin flame
The moon shaves itself
And perfumes its dark side
Under the sugar stars
Beyond the laughter of God
A silver pinhead
a tiny dot
is what begins
to show between
bright cotton clouds
Young winter dances
While early autumn
fucks the days away
and life goes on
and so do we
and on and on and on…
Useless Junk?
There's so much
of a useless junk.
Like the other day,
I was watching a movie
the one I had seen
a long time back;
wasn't even watching it
forgotten all about it
just hearing what was going on,
I remembered, every word said
and the next line that would be said.
Just a useless junk
forgotten
it's all still there
so are many other things
that I do not remember.
of a useless junk.
Like the other day,
I was watching a movie
the one I had seen
a long time back;
wasn't even watching it
forgotten all about it
just hearing what was going on,
I remembered, every word said
and the next line that would be said.
Just a useless junk
forgotten
it's all still there
so are many other things
that I do not remember.
Sometimes it Happens by Brian Patten
And sometimes it happens that you are friends and then
You are not friends,
And friendship has passed.
And whole days are lost and among them
A fountain empties itself.
And sometimes it happens that you are loved and then
You are not loved,
And love is past.
And whole days are lost and among them
A fountain empties itself into the grass.
And sometimes you want to speak to her and then
You do not want to speak,
Then the opportunity has passed.
Your dreams flare up, they suddenly vanish.
And also it happens that there is nowhere to go and then
There is somewhere to go,
Then you have bypassed.
And the years flare up and are gone,
Quicker than a minute.
So you have nothing.
You wonder if these things matter and then
As soon you begin to wonder if these things matter
They cease to matter,
And caring is past.
And a fountain empties itself into the grass.
You are not friends,
And friendship has passed.
And whole days are lost and among them
A fountain empties itself.
And sometimes it happens that you are loved and then
You are not loved,
And love is past.
And whole days are lost and among them
A fountain empties itself into the grass.
And sometimes you want to speak to her and then
You do not want to speak,
Then the opportunity has passed.
Your dreams flare up, they suddenly vanish.
And also it happens that there is nowhere to go and then
There is somewhere to go,
Then you have bypassed.
And the years flare up and are gone,
Quicker than a minute.
So you have nothing.
You wonder if these things matter and then
As soon you begin to wonder if these things matter
They cease to matter,
And caring is past.
And a fountain empties itself into the grass.
Infinite Monkeys
The advertisement in a daily read
"Wanted computer savy infinite monkeys
perks: best bananas in the industry"
Thus putting togather infinite monkeys
sitting them all at computer keyboards
teaching them to type, the work began:
Works of all bards, and all philosophers
of the past and the infinite time to come
all the old and many new masterpieces galore.
Now the big problem that was encountered
finding monkey that produced the masterpieces,
so infinite monkeys were put on sorting task.
There were reports that Encyclopedia Britannica
all of the volumes were spotted in Esperanto
Entire works of Shakespeare in ancient Martian.
Amongst the infinite gems and gibberish
this poem was discovered by some monkeys
all it took was one monkey an hour to write.
According to the second Borel-Cantelli lemma, given enough time, a chimpanzee at random will almost certainly eventually type out a copy of one of Shakespeare's plays. So monkeys, go on, keep hitting the keyboards.
For further reading visit here
"Wanted computer savy infinite monkeys
perks: best bananas in the industry"
Thus putting togather infinite monkeys
sitting them all at computer keyboards
teaching them to type, the work began:
Works of all bards, and all philosophers
of the past and the infinite time to come
all the old and many new masterpieces galore.
Now the big problem that was encountered
finding monkey that produced the masterpieces,
so infinite monkeys were put on sorting task.
There were reports that Encyclopedia Britannica
all of the volumes were spotted in Esperanto
Entire works of Shakespeare in ancient Martian.
Amongst the infinite gems and gibberish
this poem was discovered by some monkeys
all it took was one monkey an hour to write.
According to the second Borel-Cantelli lemma, given enough time, a chimpanzee at random will almost certainly eventually type out a copy of one of Shakespeare's plays. So monkeys, go on, keep hitting the keyboards.
For further reading visit here
Love doesn't die...
by an anonymous author.
When I die if you need to weep
Cry for your brother or sister
Walking the street beside you
And when you need me put your arms around anyone
And give them what you need to give me.
I want to leave you something
Something better than words or sounds.
Look for me in the people I've known or loved
And if you cannot give me away
At least let me live in your eyes and not on your mind.
You can love me most by letting hands touch hands
And by letting bodies touch bodies
And by letting go of children that need to be free.
Love doesn't die, people do
So when all that is left of me is love
Give me away.
When I die if you need to weep
Cry for your brother or sister
Walking the street beside you
And when you need me put your arms around anyone
And give them what you need to give me.
I want to leave you something
Something better than words or sounds.
Look for me in the people I've known or loved
And if you cannot give me away
At least let me live in your eyes and not on your mind.
You can love me most by letting hands touch hands
And by letting bodies touch bodies
And by letting go of children that need to be free.
Love doesn't die, people do
So when all that is left of me is love
Give me away.
When I Learned to Whistle by Gordon Lea written at age eleven
I remember the day when I learned to whistle,
It was in Spring and new sounds were all around.
I was five or six and my front teeth were missing,
But I blew until my cheeks stuck out.
I remember walking up and down the block,
Trying to impress those that heard me
With the tunes and sounds that came from my mouth,
For I sounded much better than the birds in the trees.
I remember being hurt, for nobody seemed to care,
And then I met an old man who stopped and smiles.
He too blew until his cheeks stuck out.
He sounded just like me, for his front teeth were missing.
It was in Spring and new sounds were all around.
I was five or six and my front teeth were missing,
But I blew until my cheeks stuck out.
I remember walking up and down the block,
Trying to impress those that heard me
With the tunes and sounds that came from my mouth,
For I sounded much better than the birds in the trees.
I remember being hurt, for nobody seemed to care,
And then I met an old man who stopped and smiles.
He too blew until his cheeks stuck out.
He sounded just like me, for his front teeth were missing.
The Gift by Rabindranath Tagore
I want to give you something, my child,
for we are drifting in the stream of the world.
Our lives will be carried apart,
and our love forgotten.
But I am not so foolish as to hope that
I could buy your heart with my gifts.
Young is your life, your path long, and
you drink the love we bring you at one draught
and turn and run away from us.
You have your play and your playmates.
What harm is there if you have no time
or thought for us.
We, indeed, have leisure enough in old age
to count the days that are past,
to cherish in our hearts what our
hands have lost for ever.
The river runs swift with a song,
breaking through all barriers.
But the mountain stays and remembers,
and follows her with his love.
for we are drifting in the stream of the world.
Our lives will be carried apart,
and our love forgotten.
But I am not so foolish as to hope that
I could buy your heart with my gifts.
Young is your life, your path long, and
you drink the love we bring you at one draught
and turn and run away from us.
You have your play and your playmates.
What harm is there if you have no time
or thought for us.
We, indeed, have leisure enough in old age
to count the days that are past,
to cherish in our hearts what our
hands have lost for ever.
The river runs swift with a song,
breaking through all barriers.
But the mountain stays and remembers,
and follows her with his love.
The Song of Creation
The Song of Creation
from Rgveda(Ancient Indian Text) translated by Max Mueller
Then there was not non-existent nor existent:
there was no realm of air, no sky beyond it.
What covered in, and where? and what gave shelter?
was water there, unfathomed depth of water?
Death was not then, nor was there aught immortal:
no sign was there, the day's and night's divider.
That one thing, breathless, breathed by its own nature
apart from it was nothing whatsoever.
Darkness there was: at first concealed in darkness,
this All was undiscriminated chaos.
All that existed then was void and formless;
by the great power of warmth was born that unit.
Thereafter rose desire in the beginning,
Desire the primal seed and germ of spirit.
Sages who searched with their heart's thought
discovered the existent's kinship in the non-existent.
Transversely was their severing line extended:
what was above it then, and what below it?
There were begetters, there were mighty forces,
free action here and energy of yonder.
Who verily knows and who can here declare it,
whence it was born and whence comes this creation?
The gods are later than this world's production.
Who knows, then, whence it first came into being?
He, the first origin of this creation,
whether he formed it all or did not form it,
Whose eye controls this world in highest heaven,
he verily knows it, or perhaps he knows it not.
Translated by John Muir
Then there was neither Aught nor Nought, no air nor sky beyond.
What covered all? Where rested all? In watery gulf profound?
Nor death was then, nor deathlessness, nor change of night and day.
That One breathed calmly, self-sustained; nought else beyond it lay.
Gloom hid in gloom existed first - one sea, eluding view.
That One, a void in chaos wrapt, by inward fervour grew.
Within it first arose desire, the primal germ of mind,
Which nothing with existence links, as sages searching find.
The kindling ray that shot across the dark and drear abyss-
Was it beneath? or high aloft? What bard can answer this?
There fecundating powers were found, and mighty forces strove-
A self-supporting mass beneath, and energy above.
Who knows, who ever told, from whence this vast creation rose?
No gods had then been born - who then can e'er the truth disclose?
Whence sprang this world, and whether framed by hand divine or no-
Its lord in heaven alone can tell, if even he can show.
from Rgveda(Ancient Indian Text) translated by Max Mueller
Then there was not non-existent nor existent:
there was no realm of air, no sky beyond it.
What covered in, and where? and what gave shelter?
was water there, unfathomed depth of water?
Death was not then, nor was there aught immortal:
no sign was there, the day's and night's divider.
That one thing, breathless, breathed by its own nature
apart from it was nothing whatsoever.
Darkness there was: at first concealed in darkness,
this All was undiscriminated chaos.
All that existed then was void and formless;
by the great power of warmth was born that unit.
Thereafter rose desire in the beginning,
Desire the primal seed and germ of spirit.
Sages who searched with their heart's thought
discovered the existent's kinship in the non-existent.
Transversely was their severing line extended:
what was above it then, and what below it?
There were begetters, there were mighty forces,
free action here and energy of yonder.
Who verily knows and who can here declare it,
whence it was born and whence comes this creation?
The gods are later than this world's production.
Who knows, then, whence it first came into being?
He, the first origin of this creation,
whether he formed it all or did not form it,
Whose eye controls this world in highest heaven,
he verily knows it, or perhaps he knows it not.
Translated by John Muir
Then there was neither Aught nor Nought, no air nor sky beyond.
What covered all? Where rested all? In watery gulf profound?
Nor death was then, nor deathlessness, nor change of night and day.
That One breathed calmly, self-sustained; nought else beyond it lay.
Gloom hid in gloom existed first - one sea, eluding view.
That One, a void in chaos wrapt, by inward fervour grew.
Within it first arose desire, the primal germ of mind,
Which nothing with existence links, as sages searching find.
The kindling ray that shot across the dark and drear abyss-
Was it beneath? or high aloft? What bard can answer this?
There fecundating powers were found, and mighty forces strove-
A self-supporting mass beneath, and energy above.
Who knows, who ever told, from whence this vast creation rose?
No gods had then been born - who then can e'er the truth disclose?
Whence sprang this world, and whether framed by hand divine or no-
Its lord in heaven alone can tell, if even he can show.
Warning to Children
Children, if you dare to think
Of the greatness, rareness, muchness
Fewness of this precious only
Endless world in which you say
You live, you think of things like this:
Blocks of slate enclosing dappled
Red and green, enclosing tawny
Yellow nets, enclosing white
And black acres of dominoes,
Where a neat brown paper parcel
Tempts you to untie the string.
In the parcel a small island,
On the island a large tree,
On the tree a husky fruit.
Strip the husk and pare the rind off:
In the kernel you will see
Blocks of slate enclosed by dappled
Red and green, enclosed by tawny
Yellow nets, enclosed by white
And black acres of dominoes,
Where the same brown paper parcel -
Children, leave the string alone!
For who dares undo the parcel
Finds himself at once inside it,
On the island, in the fruit,
Blocks of slate about his head,
Finds himself enclosed by dappled
Green and red, enclosed by yellow
Tawny nets, enclosed by black
And white acres of dominoes,
With the same brown paper parcel
Still untied upon his knee.
And, if he then should dare to think
Of the fewness, muchness, rareness,
Greatness of this endless only
Precious world in which he says
he lives - he then unties the string.
by Robert Graves
Of the greatness, rareness, muchness
Fewness of this precious only
Endless world in which you say
You live, you think of things like this:
Blocks of slate enclosing dappled
Red and green, enclosing tawny
Yellow nets, enclosing white
And black acres of dominoes,
Where a neat brown paper parcel
Tempts you to untie the string.
In the parcel a small island,
On the island a large tree,
On the tree a husky fruit.
Strip the husk and pare the rind off:
In the kernel you will see
Blocks of slate enclosed by dappled
Red and green, enclosed by tawny
Yellow nets, enclosed by white
And black acres of dominoes,
Where the same brown paper parcel -
Children, leave the string alone!
For who dares undo the parcel
Finds himself at once inside it,
On the island, in the fruit,
Blocks of slate about his head,
Finds himself enclosed by dappled
Green and red, enclosed by yellow
Tawny nets, enclosed by black
And white acres of dominoes,
With the same brown paper parcel
Still untied upon his knee.
And, if he then should dare to think
Of the fewness, muchness, rareness,
Greatness of this endless only
Precious world in which he says
he lives - he then unties the string.
by Robert Graves
Emptiness by Jalaluddin Rumi
When you are with everyone but me,
you're with no one.
When you are with no one but me,
you're with everyone.
Instead of being so bound up with everyone,
be everyone.
When you become that many, you're nothing.
Empty.
you're with no one.
When you are with no one but me,
you're with everyone.
Instead of being so bound up with everyone,
be everyone.
When you become that many, you're nothing.
Empty.
Tangible Dreams
Look beyond
That what you see
Might fill your mind
With mystery
Seek within
As well without
Those answers that
Dispel your doubt
Slumber with
What you have learned
For within dreams
Such knowledge burns
Then comes that
Fateful day at hand
You live your dreams
And understand
Written by Nazmythian
That what you see
Might fill your mind
With mystery
Seek within
As well without
Those answers that
Dispel your doubt
Slumber with
What you have learned
For within dreams
Such knowledge burns
Then comes that
Fateful day at hand
You live your dreams
And understand
Written by Nazmythian
When Death Comes by Mary Oliver
When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox:
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox:
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.
She Speaks of Death
Oblivion, she said
in a weary voice,
is what is after death.
There is nothing after death
but nothing
and that's all right with me.
It made good scientific sense,
nailed to the cathedral door
of her religious childhood.
And when her husband died
a few years later
oblivion
pinned against eternity
sagged in the middle
and in its folds
sweet disbelief surprised her
and the hope
she hadn't seen the last of him yet.
Written by Barbara Pescan
in a weary voice,
is what is after death.
There is nothing after death
but nothing
and that's all right with me.
It made good scientific sense,
nailed to the cathedral door
of her religious childhood.
And when her husband died
a few years later
oblivion
pinned against eternity
sagged in the middle
and in its folds
sweet disbelief surprised her
and the hope
she hadn't seen the last of him yet.
Written by Barbara Pescan
There is no god, the wicked sayeth
"There is no God," the wicked saith,
"And truly it's a blessing,
For what He might have done with us
It's better only guessing."
"There is no God," a youngster thinks,
"or really, if there may be,
He surely did not mean a man
Always to be a baby."
"There is no God, or if there is,"
The tradesman thinks, "'twere funny
If He should take it ill in me
To make a little money."
"Whether there be," the rich man says,
"It matters very little,
For I and mine, thank somebody,
Are not in want of victual."
Some others, also, to themselves,
Who scarce so much as doubt it,
Think there is none, when they are well,
And do not think about it.
But country folks who live beneath
The shadow of the steeple;
The parson and the parson's wife,
And mostly married people;
Youths green and happy in first love,
So thankful for illusion;
And men caught out in what the world
Calls guilt, in first confusion;
And almost everyone when age,
Disease, or sorrows strike him,
Inclines to think there is a God,
Or something very like Him.
-- Arthur Hugh Clough
"And truly it's a blessing,
For what He might have done with us
It's better only guessing."
"There is no God," a youngster thinks,
"or really, if there may be,
He surely did not mean a man
Always to be a baby."
"There is no God, or if there is,"
The tradesman thinks, "'twere funny
If He should take it ill in me
To make a little money."
"Whether there be," the rich man says,
"It matters very little,
For I and mine, thank somebody,
Are not in want of victual."
Some others, also, to themselves,
Who scarce so much as doubt it,
Think there is none, when they are well,
And do not think about it.
But country folks who live beneath
The shadow of the steeple;
The parson and the parson's wife,
And mostly married people;
Youths green and happy in first love,
So thankful for illusion;
And men caught out in what the world
Calls guilt, in first confusion;
And almost everyone when age,
Disease, or sorrows strike him,
Inclines to think there is a God,
Or something very like Him.
-- Arthur Hugh Clough
A Story Of A Wave
A wave in an ocean
acquired conciousness
just when he was on the rise
While he was rising
he had wonderful visions
he thought how mighty he was
he was proud of the way he moved
he felt being very special
he loved the way wind felt
and felt as if
he was riding the wind
Then he became aware
of other waves
some mightier than him,
some just a little ripples
He felt less special,
infact felt quite common
he was sad and was breaking apart
Yes he'd seen many joys and some sorrows
All of this lasted but an instant
Down he went and he was a wave no more
What was he?
What was he all the time
before he was a wave?
What would he be after
for eternal time to come?
Just a wave?
A wave that was?
Perhaps he didn't even exist at all!
As soon as he stopped being a wave
he became aware what he really was:
he was a mighty ocean
and all the waves and ripples
were nothing but himself
in all the glorious forms
almost came to believe being
just a wave, soon to be forgotten
Being, not being special,
feeling proud of achievements,
joys and sorrows
heaven and hell
didn't quite mean anything at all.
Just some words invented by waves
to last them that brief moment
they ride the winds.
On the earth
a child was born...
somewhere a star was born...
a galaxy of stars is being born...
acquired conciousness
just when he was on the rise
While he was rising
he had wonderful visions
he thought how mighty he was
he was proud of the way he moved
he felt being very special
he loved the way wind felt
and felt as if
he was riding the wind
Then he became aware
of other waves
some mightier than him,
some just a little ripples
He felt less special,
infact felt quite common
he was sad and was breaking apart
Yes he'd seen many joys and some sorrows
All of this lasted but an instant
Down he went and he was a wave no more
What was he?
What was he all the time
before he was a wave?
What would he be after
for eternal time to come?
Just a wave?
A wave that was?
Perhaps he didn't even exist at all!
As soon as he stopped being a wave
he became aware what he really was:
he was a mighty ocean
and all the waves and ripples
were nothing but himself
in all the glorious forms
almost came to believe being
just a wave, soon to be forgotten
Being, not being special,
feeling proud of achievements,
joys and sorrows
heaven and hell
didn't quite mean anything at all.
Just some words invented by waves
to last them that brief moment
they ride the winds.
On the earth
a child was born...
somewhere a star was born...
a galaxy of stars is being born...
In Between the Storms
Since the beginning of the days
our life is tossed and turned
ripped apart by many a storms
These ones, the ones to come
shall all belong to the past
Looking out, through the dust
through the violent cruel winds
this world is not what it seems
Pure and tranquil it always is
as it is between the storms
When the sand storm like-
assault of thoughts begin
with dust blurring judgement
we are not what we think we are,
Just an incoherent caricatures
Let the storms of thoughts die
Let the dust of ignorance clear
Kill the commotions to reveal
our true self, as we always are
as we are in between the storms
our life is tossed and turned
ripped apart by many a storms
These ones, the ones to come
shall all belong to the past
Looking out, through the dust
through the violent cruel winds
this world is not what it seems
Pure and tranquil it always is
as it is between the storms
When the sand storm like-
assault of thoughts begin
with dust blurring judgement
we are not what we think we are,
Just an incoherent caricatures
Let the storms of thoughts die
Let the dust of ignorance clear
Kill the commotions to reveal
our true self, as we always are
as we are in between the storms
Strange Coincidence
After writing the post below a couple of days back, today I was randomly reading some poems, and I found not one but two of the similarly themed poems. The second one is a kind of parody of the first one.
Desiderata
Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be
in silence.
As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull
and ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you
compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always
there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your
achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in
the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue
there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full
of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about
love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial
as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of
youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do
not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and
loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you
have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the
universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and
whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep
peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful
world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
-- Max Ehrmannn
Deteriorata
Go placidly amid the noise and waste, remembering what comfort may be found
in owning a piece thereof. Avoid quiet and passive persons unless you are in
need of sleep.
Rotate your wheels, it is what they are for.
Speak glowingly of others greater than yourself, heed well their advice
even though they be turkeys. Know what to kiss, and when.
Consider that two wrongs never make a right. However, three do.
Wherever possible put people on hold and leave for the day. Be comforted
that, in the face of all aridity and disillusionment and despite the
changing fortunes of time, there will always be a big future in computer
maintenance.
Remember the Alamo. Strive at all times to bend, fold, spindle and
mutilate. Know yourself. If you do not, look in the mirror - that's you.
Exercise caution in your daily affairs, especially with those persons
closest to you. That turkey on your left for instance.
Fall not in love, it will stick to your face and smell of tuna.
Gracefully surrender the things of youth, burgers, coffee and obesity.
Hire people with hooks.
For a good time, Listen to a US foreign policy speech.
Take heart amid the deepening gloom that at least your cat is being fed
well; reflect that whatever misfortune may be your lot, at least you don't
live in Ohio.
You are a fluke of the universe: you have no right to be here. Whether or
not you can hear it, the Universe is laughing behind your back.
Therefore make your peace with God, whether you consider him to be clown or
President of the disUnited States.
With all its hopes, dreams and McDonalds, the world will continue to
deteriorate.
-- National Lampoon
Desiderata
Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be
in silence.
As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull
and ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you
compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always
there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your
achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in
the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue
there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full
of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about
love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial
as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of
youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do
not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and
loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you
have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the
universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and
whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep
peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful
world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
-- Max Ehrmannn
Deteriorata
Go placidly amid the noise and waste, remembering what comfort may be found
in owning a piece thereof. Avoid quiet and passive persons unless you are in
need of sleep.
Rotate your wheels, it is what they are for.
Speak glowingly of others greater than yourself, heed well their advice
even though they be turkeys. Know what to kiss, and when.
Consider that two wrongs never make a right. However, three do.
Wherever possible put people on hold and leave for the day. Be comforted
that, in the face of all aridity and disillusionment and despite the
changing fortunes of time, there will always be a big future in computer
maintenance.
Remember the Alamo. Strive at all times to bend, fold, spindle and
mutilate. Know yourself. If you do not, look in the mirror - that's you.
Exercise caution in your daily affairs, especially with those persons
closest to you. That turkey on your left for instance.
Fall not in love, it will stick to your face and smell of tuna.
Gracefully surrender the things of youth, burgers, coffee and obesity.
Hire people with hooks.
For a good time, Listen to a US foreign policy speech.
Take heart amid the deepening gloom that at least your cat is being fed
well; reflect that whatever misfortune may be your lot, at least you don't
live in Ohio.
You are a fluke of the universe: you have no right to be here. Whether or
not you can hear it, the Universe is laughing behind your back.
Therefore make your peace with God, whether you consider him to be clown or
President of the disUnited States.
With all its hopes, dreams and McDonalds, the world will continue to
deteriorate.
-- National Lampoon
Blue Print of Life - Rough Draft
Have few basic princples in life. It may be difficult at times, but stick to the rules. If Mother Theresa or Gandhi could do it, so can we.
We don't have to follow every principles of every great people. Just few that make our life worth living.
Live simple, live on minimum possible frills, eat and dress simple. If you have to indulge in luxuries, do it once in a while but always know the difference between need and necessacity. Enjoy thoroughly in any luxuries you indulge in. Never ever get adicted to anything.
Alway be truthful, even when you may think a white lie must be used.
Be passionate about your work up to the limit you enjoy what you are doing, change your work or working style once you stop enjoying.
We don't have to love every one in the world, just few people, love them with all of your heart. Never say no to anything those few people ask from you, it could be your time, or anything else.
If you come across sickness or sorrow, know that its just part of being alive. A part of life without which life will not exist.
When you come across less understanding, less fortunate, cruel or bad people in your lives, know that they are there for a reason, there are many lessons to be learnt from their behaviour.
Treat your emotions as a precious bank balance, you have very little of them to spend, spend them wisely. Balance is the key, cherish happy moments and make them last longer. In sad times dwell on happy moments, once you run out of those, quickly work on creating more of the happy moments. Happiness is your own currency, you can give any value you desire to it, accumulate those. Give as little value and time to sad moments, believe me, they are not worth anything.
Do not hurt anything or anyone out of hatred or revenge.
If you do not believe in any religion, that is fine, but believe in divinity of yourself, your actions should reflect that divinity. If you do not believe in any God, that is ok too, just find a friend who you can have complete faith in, even if the friend is an imaginary one.
* This is work in progress.
We don't have to follow every principles of every great people. Just few that make our life worth living.
Live simple, live on minimum possible frills, eat and dress simple. If you have to indulge in luxuries, do it once in a while but always know the difference between need and necessacity. Enjoy thoroughly in any luxuries you indulge in. Never ever get adicted to anything.
Alway be truthful, even when you may think a white lie must be used.
Be passionate about your work up to the limit you enjoy what you are doing, change your work or working style once you stop enjoying.
We don't have to love every one in the world, just few people, love them with all of your heart. Never say no to anything those few people ask from you, it could be your time, or anything else.
If you come across sickness or sorrow, know that its just part of being alive. A part of life without which life will not exist.
When you come across less understanding, less fortunate, cruel or bad people in your lives, know that they are there for a reason, there are many lessons to be learnt from their behaviour.
Treat your emotions as a precious bank balance, you have very little of them to spend, spend them wisely. Balance is the key, cherish happy moments and make them last longer. In sad times dwell on happy moments, once you run out of those, quickly work on creating more of the happy moments. Happiness is your own currency, you can give any value you desire to it, accumulate those. Give as little value and time to sad moments, believe me, they are not worth anything.
Do not hurt anything or anyone out of hatred or revenge.
If you do not believe in any religion, that is fine, but believe in divinity of yourself, your actions should reflect that divinity. If you do not believe in any God, that is ok too, just find a friend who you can have complete faith in, even if the friend is an imaginary one.
* This is work in progress.
Elephants Are Different to Different People
Wilson and Pilcer and Snack stood before the zoo elephant.
Wilson said, "What is its name? Is it from Asia or Africa? Who feeds
it? Is it a he or a she? How old is it? Do they have twins? How much does
it cost to feed? How much does it weigh? If it dies, how much will another
one cost? If it dies, what will they use the bones, the fat, and the hide
for? What use is it besides to look at?"
Pilcer didn't have any questions; he was murmering to himself, "It's
a house by itself, walls and windows, the ears came from tall cornfields,
by God; the architect of those legs was a workman, by God; he stands like
a bridge out across the deep water; the face is sad and the eyes are kind;
I know elephants are good to babies."
Snack looked up and down and at last said to himself, "He's a tough
son-of-a-gun outside and I'll bet he's got a strong heart, I'll bet he's
strong as a copper-riveted boiler inside."
They didn't put up any arguments.
They didn't throw anything in each other's faces.
Three men saw the elephant three ways
And let it go at that.
They didn't spoil a sunny Sunday afternoon;
"Sunday comes only once a week," they told each other.
-- Carl Sandburg
Wilson said, "What is its name? Is it from Asia or Africa? Who feeds
it? Is it a he or a she? How old is it? Do they have twins? How much does
it cost to feed? How much does it weigh? If it dies, how much will another
one cost? If it dies, what will they use the bones, the fat, and the hide
for? What use is it besides to look at?"
Pilcer didn't have any questions; he was murmering to himself, "It's
a house by itself, walls and windows, the ears came from tall cornfields,
by God; the architect of those legs was a workman, by God; he stands like
a bridge out across the deep water; the face is sad and the eyes are kind;
I know elephants are good to babies."
Snack looked up and down and at last said to himself, "He's a tough
son-of-a-gun outside and I'll bet he's got a strong heart, I'll bet he's
strong as a copper-riveted boiler inside."
They didn't put up any arguments.
They didn't throw anything in each other's faces.
Three men saw the elephant three ways
And let it go at that.
They didn't spoil a sunny Sunday afternoon;
"Sunday comes only once a week," they told each other.
-- Carl Sandburg
Seven Minutes for a Smile
I sit staring at you
waiting for that smile
Don't want to blink,
for I may miss
the precious sight, your smile
Can't wait for that moment
when you'd unveil
your beautiful smile
Seven minutes I wait
with my smile mile long
looking at you trying
to hide that smile
Here it comes now
If there ever was one
a smile well worth
seven minutes and more
waiting for that smile
Don't want to blink,
for I may miss
the precious sight, your smile
Can't wait for that moment
when you'd unveil
your beautiful smile
Seven minutes I wait
with my smile mile long
looking at you trying
to hide that smile
Here it comes now
If there ever was one
a smile well worth
seven minutes and more
Rain Drops
reach out your hand
and touch the rain drops
feel them
splash
against your skin
over and over again
head back
mouth open
taste the rain drops
fall onto your tongue
those small little rain drops
come down from the sky
very very high
they fall to the ground
but they're still alive
tiny little rain drops
come splash me again
come down from the sky
and wet my skin.
by Pyrochick
and touch the rain drops
feel them
splash
against your skin
over and over again
head back
mouth open
taste the rain drops
fall onto your tongue
those small little rain drops
come down from the sky
very very high
they fall to the ground
but they're still alive
tiny little rain drops
come splash me again
come down from the sky
and wet my skin.
by Pyrochick
A Circle of Enlightenment
A straight line
with no within
and without
bends unto itself
transforms into
a circle
The circle
little space inside
infinite space outside
Our minds, thats how it is
so little inside
and so much more outside
All Wisdom and religion
seek to erase
the boundries of ignorance
Misinterpreted
they just misshapen
a perfect circle
Yes, there's beauty
to behold in shaped
circle of ignorance
It's battered and bleeds
when tampered with
wisdom and reason
Religions and wisdom
with right intentions
stretches the horizon
a circle with centre
without any boundries
finally they enlighten
The metamorphosis of a closed mind to an open mind with a centre as an awareness of 'the self' and encompassing everything in existance, all knowledge, wisdom, time and space is 'enlightenment'. We start out as children with no self awareness (straight line) then as we grow older we create a circle around our self, no matter how large the circle is, it is still minute compared to neverending boundries of knowledge and wisdom. With introspection and wisdom, we seek to break this boundries. If we seek enlightenment outside, we would be limited by the horizon created by our sensory perception. It is only by looking within ourselves we would be able to erase the boundries of self created circle of psuedo knowledge/ignorance.
with no within
and without
bends unto itself
transforms into
a circle
The circle
little space inside
infinite space outside
Our minds, thats how it is
so little inside
and so much more outside
All Wisdom and religion
seek to erase
the boundries of ignorance
Misinterpreted
they just misshapen
a perfect circle
Yes, there's beauty
to behold in shaped
circle of ignorance
It's battered and bleeds
when tampered with
wisdom and reason
Religions and wisdom
with right intentions
stretches the horizon
a circle with centre
without any boundries
finally they enlighten
The metamorphosis of a closed mind to an open mind with a centre as an awareness of 'the self' and encompassing everything in existance, all knowledge, wisdom, time and space is 'enlightenment'. We start out as children with no self awareness (straight line) then as we grow older we create a circle around our self, no matter how large the circle is, it is still minute compared to neverending boundries of knowledge and wisdom. With introspection and wisdom, we seek to break this boundries. If we seek enlightenment outside, we would be limited by the horizon created by our sensory perception. It is only by looking within ourselves we would be able to erase the boundries of self created circle of psuedo knowledge/ignorance.
Time well spent by a Himalayan lake
When at a highland lake
sit there, spend couple of hours
in a mountain silence
enjoy few breaths of pure air
You could be there in early mornings
when gentle breeze is still chilly
and the surface of the lake
is still draped in a mysterious mist
You could spend an afternoon
when shadows are short,
and sun hangs high above
making every wavelets glimmer
Water is always crystal clear
still, it will never be known
what secrets stay unrevealed
and depth, you can just attempt a guess
On a moonlit nights
its quite a different place altogather:
You'd see strange shapes never seen before
forming and melting there on darkened surface
Its not about just the ripples on the lake,
sounds or shapes, imagined or real
Its about just being there
letting your thoughts discover its own depth
sit there, spend couple of hours
in a mountain silence
enjoy few breaths of pure air
You could be there in early mornings
when gentle breeze is still chilly
and the surface of the lake
is still draped in a mysterious mist
You could spend an afternoon
when shadows are short,
and sun hangs high above
making every wavelets glimmer
Water is always crystal clear
still, it will never be known
what secrets stay unrevealed
and depth, you can just attempt a guess
On a moonlit nights
its quite a different place altogather:
You'd see strange shapes never seen before
forming and melting there on darkened surface
Its not about just the ripples on the lake,
sounds or shapes, imagined or real
Its about just being there
letting your thoughts discover its own depth
The King of a Mango Orchard
Running around bare feet in my shorts
amongst the mango trees
The green mangoes down so low
that I reach up take a small bite
and leave a mango still hanging there
The fences around the orchard
I am sure are meant to keep
the cows and buffaloes strolling in
I can find my way inside
easily from any tiny breach
Peacocks, parrots and koels
all feast on mangoes, as free as me
Sitting up high in mighty tamarind tree
I survey the grandeur of my kingdom
mighty pleased with what I see
The smell of mango and tamarind flowers
in cool gentle summer breeze
feel of watered ground on my feet
lazying there listening to the music of birds
in shades of these mighty trees
There's could be nothing more in this world
that I can ask than this
amongst the mango trees
The green mangoes down so low
that I reach up take a small bite
and leave a mango still hanging there
The fences around the orchard
I am sure are meant to keep
the cows and buffaloes strolling in
I can find my way inside
easily from any tiny breach
Peacocks, parrots and koels
all feast on mangoes, as free as me
Sitting up high in mighty tamarind tree
I survey the grandeur of my kingdom
mighty pleased with what I see
The smell of mango and tamarind flowers
in cool gentle summer breeze
feel of watered ground on my feet
lazying there listening to the music of birds
in shades of these mighty trees
There's could be nothing more in this world
that I can ask than this
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
