My experience in Amsterdam is that cyclists ride where the hell they like and aim in a state of rage at all pedestrians while ringing their bell loudly, the concept of avoiding people being foreign to them.
quote by Terry Prachett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is a fundamental difference between the Polish experience of the state and the Russian experience. In the Polish experience, the state was always a foreign power. So, to hate the state was a patriotic act.
quote by Ryszard Kapuscinski
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paradise... is something else
You don't have to die to visit the luxury of paradise;
Similarly, you don't have to close forever your eyes,
To experience the miseries, or to feel the fire of hell.
Contrary to ordinary beliefs, you are in total control
Of your destiny. If you keep on ringing the right bell,
And following the correct path, you shall protect your soul.
You can create your own hell, or your own paradise,
By rocking too hard or rolling too slow the imaginary dice.
Modesty and moderation are the keys to reach your goal.
You don't have to die to experience the beauty of paradise.
You can create your own heaven; you are always in total control.
You can create your own hell, by selling too cheap your soul.
Paradise is not what you think it is; it is something else.
Hell, on the other hand, is exactly what you think it is.
It is not doing what you ought to do, it is the ease.
It is the convenience to destroy yourself and others.
You always have a choice to either follow the chief or the soldiers.
Paradise is not what you think it is; it is something else.
poem by Hebert Logerie
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Wall Of Death
Richard Thompson)
Let me ride on the wall of death one more time
Let me ride on the wall of death one more time
You can waste your time on the other rides
but this is the nearest to being alive
Let me take my chances on the Wall of Death
You can go with the crazy people in the crooked house
You can fly away on the rocket or spin in the mouse
The tunnel of love might amuse you
And Noah's Ark might confuse you but
Let me take my chances on the Wall of Death
On the Wall of Death
All the World is far from me
On the Wall of Death
It's the nearest to being free
Well you're going nowhere when you ride on the carousel
And maybe you're strong, but what's the use of ringing a bell
The switchback will make you crazy
Beware of the bearded lady
Oh let me take my chances on the Wall of Death
You are going nowhere when you ride on the carousel
And maybe you're strong, but what's the use of ringing a bell
The switchback will make you crazy
Beware of the bearded lady
Let me take my chances
Let me take my chances
Let me take my chances
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aboard At A Ship's Helm
ABOARD, at a ship's helm,
A young steersman, steering with care.
A bell through fog on a sea-coast dolefully ringing,
An ocean-bell--O a warning bell, rock'd by the waves.
O you give good notice indeed, you bell by the sea-reefs ringing,
Ringing, ringing, to warn the ship from its wreck-place.
For, as on the alert, O steersman, you mind the bell's admonition,
The bows turn,--the freighted ship, tacking, speeds away under her
gray sails,
The beautiful and noble ship, with all her precious wealth, speeds
away gaily and safe.
But O the ship, the immortal ship! O ship aboard the ship! 10
O ship of the body--ship of the soul--voyaging, voyaging, voyaging.
poem by Walt Whitman
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While Going On A Highway
We were going on a holiday,
And as we came on the highway.
I quietly prayed
For one nagging fact
Was weighing on my mind-
The state of the highway and the bumpy ride.
I shifted my glance to the wayside farms,
And tried to remain calm.
Though my nerves were taut
I took out my pen and pad and wrote.
Soon my mind got distracted,
And the sights of the road attracted
And aroused my sense of humour.
I was overcome with fervour.
A herd of donkeys and a truck overloaded with sugarcane
Caught my eye from the windowpane,
There were pedestrians and cyclists
Who were trying to save themselves from being hit.
In a mad race
All trying to find space.
I began to feel light
It was truly a sight.
The road was full of chaos
It filled me with pathos.
Blaring horns, mad rush to overtake,
Who cares if others lives are at stake?
Is India really on the move?
The traffic on the road didn’t prove.
We really have no civic sense,
I helplessly felt.
I put my head against the back rest
And recalled the expressions of the guests,
From overseas, who are amazed
How we can drive and remain unfazed.
I said it is not really funny,
But the truth is we put our fate in the hands of destiny.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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The Funeral Bell
The funeral bell is ringing a reminder of our mortality
Farewelling a deceased soul one day 'twill ring for me
Ringing in the stillness of this cool Autumn day
Across the rural city in the morning damp and gray.
The funeral bell is pealing for one a last farewell
And few sounds sadder than the slow peals of the loud funeral bell
Above the streets and houses it echoes to the sky
For one bound for her or his last resting place the cemetery nearby.
The peewees in the town park distinctive in their call
And the magpie on a wattle pipe on this cool morning in the Fall
And for one who will not breathe again the eulogy is read
And the funeral bell is tolling in memory of the dead.
The funeral bell is ringing for one a last goodbye
And on the clock of our mortality the hours just seem to fly
Respect to the departed is all that we can pay
And for each and everyone of us a final night and day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Duet
Milestone:
All my troubles disappear,
When the dinner-bell I hear,
Over woodland, dale, and fell,
Swinging slow with solemn swell,---
The dinner-bell! the dinner-bell!
Hippy:
What can bid my heart-ache fly?
What can bid my heart-ache die?
What can all the ills dispel,
In my morbid frame that dwell?
The dinner-bell! the dinner-bell!
Both:
Hark!---along the tangled ground,
Loudly floats the pleasing sound!
Sportive Fauns to Dryads tell,
'Tis the cheerful dinner-bell!
The dinner-bell! the dinner-bell!
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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Amsterdam
Looking good through the window
Shinin red and blue light
A little thick in the bottom
But still lookin allright, yeah
Got a pocket full of money
Got me a long night ahead
A quick stop by the bulldog
Score me some panama red, yeah
Wham, bam, oh amsterdam, yeah, yeah, yeah
Stone you like nothin else can, yeah, yeah, yeah
Hot damn, roll an amsterdam, yeah, yeah, yeah
If she cant, then nothin else can
Caught a plane outta moskow
Spent one cold night in berlin
Its a long hard way
But Im comin back again, yeah
Wham, bam, oh amsterdam, yeah, yeah, yeah
Stone you like nothin else can, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, come on now, roll an amsterdam, yeah, yeah, yeah
If she cant, then no one else can, yeah, yeah, yeah
Wham, bam, oh amsterdam, yeah, yeah, yeah
Stone you like nothin else can, yeah, yeah, yeah
Hot damn, roll an amsterdam, yeah, yeah, yeah
If she cant, then no one else can, yeah, yeah, yeah
Wham, bam, oh amsterdam, yeah, yeah, yeah
You dont have to worry about the man, yeah, yeah ,yeah
Hot damn, burn an amsterdam yea, yeah, yeah, yeah
Stone me like nothin else can, yeah, yeah, yeah
song performed by by Van Halen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cyclists, I work with a number of cyclists. They are great athletes; they are great aerobic athletes. If you ask them to hit a baseball or golf ball, they can't do that.
quote by Eric Heiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chris Benoit
From grace to grass
And so he fell
From hero's palace
to never ending hell
Rest your soul now
Because you're there to tell
Heaven is blessed
Because now they have the best
Hell is now damned
because they can feel your wrath
Rest your soul now beautiful one
because the bell has rang
Rest your soul now beautiful one
because it's time to fight
Rest your soul now beautiful one
because it's time for angel's smile
Rest your soul now beautiful one
because it's time for hell to cry
It's a testimony of what you can do
at the ringing of the bell
It's the testimony of what you can do
because you are the best.
poem by Olufunmbi Aransiola
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Child's words
Child's words, in the woods
Through the leaves, to my towns
Hey, hey, where are you?
Child's happiness fill the air
Covering the nervous heart but it still on shine
Child's words, in the seas
Swiming the fishes, around the earth
Hey, hey, who are you?
Child's innocence into the winds
Blowing the seamen and ringing the bell
Child's words, in my heart
Keep it beating, running the blood
Hey, hey, what did you do?
Child's something keep me young
Child's something I never found
poem by Old Amsterdam
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Welcome
Hear the sound
Of the tolling bell
Ringing in the change
The gates of hell
Opening jaws
To welcome me.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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Courtesy Of The Red, White And Blue
American Girls and American Guys
Wll always stand up and salute
>Wll always recognize
When we see Old Glory Flying
There's a lot of men dead
So we can sleep in peace at night
When we lay down our head
My daddy served in the army
Where he lost his right eye
But he flew a flag out in our yard
Until the day that he died
He wanted my mother, my brother, my sister and me
To grow up and live happy
In the land of the free.
Now this nation that I love
Has fallen under attack
A mighty sucker punch came flying in
From somewhere in the back
Soon as we could see clearly
Through our big black eye
Man, we lit up your world
Like the 4th of July
Hey Uncle Sam
Put your name at the top of his list
And the Statue of Liberty
Started shaking her fist
And the eagle will fly
Man, it's gonna be hell
When you hear Mother Freedom
Start ringing her bell
And it feels like the whole wide world is raining down on you
Brought to you Courtesy of the Red White and Blue
Justice will be served
And the battle will rage
This big dog will fight
When you rattle his cage
And you'll be sorry that you messed with
The U.S. of A.
'Cause we'll put a boot in your ass
It's the American way
Hey Uncle Sam
Put your name at the top of his list
And the Statue of Liberty
Started shaking her fist
And the eagle will fly
Man, it's gonna be hell
When you hear Mother Freedom
Start ringing her bell
And it feels like the whole wide world is raining down on you
Brought to you Courtesy of the Red White and Blue
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Live
Alive!
Here!
Now!
In the year two thousand and twelve!
How good it is to be alive!
February 11th - hoping life goes well
A year that only we will live to experience!
A year that only we will have the pleasure to experience!
A year that only we will have the misfortune of experiencing!
Every day we hold dear!
Every day we fear!
Every day we sit in an indecisive stupor!
Trying to decide - whether this is our eternity
Or this is our hell
Every day we live!
Every day we give!
Every day we relish in sanctity!
We were chosen for this life!
Every day we relish in ourselves!
For we are life!
We are death!
We are concept!
We are end!
Fulfillment is well!
Our lives are only complete!
When we escape our hell!
poem by C.S. Smith
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Ich Liebe Dich Amsterdam
Ich liebe dich
Amsterdam
Ich liebe dich Amsterdam
Because you are a beautiful city
And I just landed at the Schiphol Airport
And my driver that was provided for me from work will drive me
To the hotel
And I am very lucky because inside of that limousine there is a computer
So I can do my work while mydriver takes me to my hotel
And my work won't be wasted
Rather than to have the work done on time
Ich liebe dich
Amsterdam
And now I am arriving at my hotel where I will stay for couple nights
I don't know what to expect from dowtown Amsterdam
poem by Aldo Kraas
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America?
America, can you hear me?
America, I’m screaming across the seas, can you hear me?
America, I’m pounding on the doors of every inner city family in the states — climbing the gates of every upper class family in this place, can you hear me?
Can you feel my beating heart, America? This beat that greets each pair of feet as they make their way through the piss stained streets to meet their ultimate fate with a plastic smile and handshake covering their rage like melting crayons in a cardboard box — can you hear me, America?
America, I’m screaming from the top of my mind and the bottom of my soul –
Where’d my independence go?
I’m screaming for you like it’s everything I know and I have nothing left to show but my calloused hands and my ragged, drawn-out lungs.
America, I’m trying to sing the songs that have yet to be sung.
I’m pulling people up the social ladder on the bottom rung
But the steps are too creaky and the people’s faucets are leaking and they’re moving their mouths but you can’t hear them speaking.
I’m speaking for them, America! Dammit, I’m shrieking!
I haven’t forgotten them yet — it’s for them my heart is beating!
Remember me, America? Remember my name?
My hands may be empty, but my soul’s still the same.
We entered like brothers but somewhere you changed and I forfeit the game of placing blame –
That gives us nothing — just more of the same.
Remember my drive, my will and my spine?
Remember the years we both spent intertwined on a bed of shared values we created together?
And the world we promised each other we’d make better?
I’ll never forget you and I won’t forget them,
and I’ll keep yelling and singing and ringing until then.
I’m here on your doorstep, I’m ringing your bell.
Freedom’s ringing, America, and I miss you like hell.
poem by Emilia Barrosse
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Saints In Hell
They laughed at their gods
And fought them in vain
So he turned his back on them
And left them in pain
Now here come the saints
With their banners held high
Each one of them martyrs
Quite willing to die
Wake the dead, the saints are in hell
Wake the dead, theyve come for the bell
Cover your fists
Razor your spears
Its been our possession
For 8,000 years
Fetch the scream eagles
Unleash the wild cats
Set loose the king cobras
And blood sucking bats
Wake the dead, the saints are in hell
Wake the dead, theyve come for the bell
We are saints
In hell
We are saints
In hell
Were going down
Into the fire
Were going down
Into the fire
The streets run with blood from the mass mutilation
As carnage took toll for the bell
Abattoir, abattoir, mon dieu quelle horreur
For a time is was like second hell
Saints in hell
Saints in hell
The battle is over, the saints are alive
How can we all thank you, we felt so despised
Saints in hell
Saints in hell
Saints in hell
Saints in hell
Saints in hell
Saints in hell
(fade)
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bell Tolls
The bell tolls not to alarm us
about a break of war
The bell tolls not to announce
the funeral of a great magician
The bell tolls not for classes
to start the school-year calendar.
But it is ringing for you and me
to bend our knees,
To intercede for our land
and for ourselves
The bell tolls to say a prayer
that opens up
avenues to God's love and mercy.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Burned By An Unsuspecting Heat
It is difficult for me,
To embrace the extended family...
Concept.
Or even accept that,
In my current state of mind.
When burned by an unsuspecting heat...
The experience of it cautions one,
As to what is safe to believe.
And what one feels safely to leave behind,
With no need to repeat.
It is difficult for me,
To embrace the concept of unity!
What is it?
And what does this mean to human beings?
A unity of what?
And for what purpose?
An agreed upon taste for ethnic foods?
I know that sounds sarcastic.
But what else do people do?
Or a socializing done,
To ensure everyone appearing in a physical likeness,
In not bored to tears and 'is' having fun?
A fun that is done until a sweating comes?
Or is it...
To whisper and gossip in divisions of cliques.
With the real issues being ignored?
And no advancement achieved,
That is witnessed in time to benefit.
Especially those of like minds,
Observing the nothingness!
And desiring to tackle a 'reality' to define!
It is difficult for me to approve,
A gathering of people...
Who are undecided,
As to which direction a 'group' should move.
And argue amongst themselves as to who is qualified...
To say with authority,
What it takes for them to improve!
Or how an agenda with such diversity,
Can and could survive to thrive.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When they come to Europe, they are confronted by still closed borders. Thus, the concept of open borders is a very selective concept, one that is not taken seriously at all in the experience of non-Europeans.
quote by Ulrich Beck
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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