Art is beauty, the perpetual invention of detail, the choice of words, the exquisite care of execution.
quote by Theophile Gautier
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Crowd At The Ball Game
The crowd at the ball game
is moved uniformly
by a spirit of uselessness
which delights them—
all the exciting detail
of the chase
and the escape, the error
the flash of genius—
all to no end save beauty
the eternal—
So in detail they, the crowd,
are beautiful
for this
to be warned against
saluted and defied—
It is alive, venomous
it smiles grimly
its words cut—
The flashy female with her
mother, gets it—
The Jew gets it straight— it
is deadly, terrifying—
It is the Inquisition, the
Revolution
It is beauty itself
that lives
day by day in them
idly—
This is
the power of their faces
It is summer, it is the solstice
the crowd is
cheering, the crowd is laughing
in detail
permanently, seriously
without thought
poem by William Carlos Williams
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In other words, what is supposedly found is an invention whose inventor is unaware of his act of invention, who considers it as something that exists independently of him; the invention then becomes the basis of his world view and actions.
quote by Paul Watzlawick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Inventions
My invention carries grim events,
At last the night has observed a rest;
To me you sound like my invention,
Opening of pages, closing of books.
These families of words rest and relax
Like the inhalation of the air by the lungs.
My heart has twitched and feared
From the slight whispers and customs.
My invention is sweet for the eyes of the public,
My inventions improve by the day.
My inventions cause us to be substances
So pure and lovely, to the touch and taste,
But do not just smell or sniff,
Also care for the people who are inventing.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Execution Day
I stare in the mirror, my eyes refuse to blink
Sympathy for me, hell I cant even think
Send for the iceman, my temperature is startin to rise
Ive heard it before n I know the truth from the lies
Chorus:
Is it any wonder heavens racked with thunder
And all of my dreams go under like the fallin rain
Execution day, execution day (execution day, execution day) - execution day
Execution day
Voices like locusts keep smothering me
Twisting and turning my senses like a cyclone at sea
Dont touch me now, wont let you crucify me
You aint no damn jury, you cant pass no sentence on me
(chorus)
Whose blood on whose hands, wheres the promises they preached for this land
Standin there with bibles clutched in their hand
Whose blood on whose hands, whose blood on whose hands
(whose blood, whose hands)
Execution day, execution day
Father my hands are shakin, I see the light, its breakin
Show me the way to set my soul free, I hope it rains on me
Let it rain on me
Execution day, execution day
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But every company of the future is going to be in the business of exquisite care - which means quick turnaround time and convenience. To deliver exquisite care, you need an organization that coordinates well and listens well.
quote by Fernando Flores
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cataclysmic Soul
Divided
soul still abided?
What is this soul of man
how can it stand?
Divided deep cavern
cataclysm within split nature itself
war mischievous natures’ leaven
a rogue mischief-maker hell-bent elf.
Magical powers forces
nature scientifically wrought to bind
harnessing force invisible
splitting atomic bound fusing time.
Conflict soul torn seeking
perpetual peace perpetual war
wherefore is creator mentor
rapport peace amour to implore?
Free choice?
Human choice?
Your choice?
Support for peace or war?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Exquisite Beauty
She's as pretty as the moon! As vibrant as the flower in blossom? as beautiful as a poem! like marble scuiped to our exquisite splendour.The exquisite beauty of my heart.she's the last of the beauties God created.
poem by Tijani Adebowale Destiny
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Thugs
everyone's got their breaking point
with me it's spiders and with you it's me
thugs in perpetuity
when we're excited little birds around the feeder
the cat's indifferent or he's just furious
it seems that he's never neither
I do the rolling you do the detail
I do the rolling you do the detail
hair bird plucks a hair from a sleeping dog
to build her nest she said I've looked around
and I like your hair the best
I do the rolling you do the detail
I do the rolling you do the detail
Ruby
song performed by by The Tragically Hip from Day For Night
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Heights
There was an unease in the flock
of lovebirds. The lynx was on
calling again every night.
An execution on a wheel
was a better choice
than to die without speed of kill.
Cannibalism becomes alive
when you start eating live-
words without shedding a dropp of blood.
What was the urgency to invite
Ginsberg on paper? The ink
was still superstitious.
It was invisible.
The destruction of an impregnable.
When the moon explodes, where will you go?
poem by Satish Verma
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An artist is an artist only because of his exquisite sense of beauty, a sense which shows him intoxicating pleasures, but which at the same time implies and contains an equally exquisite sense of all deformities and all disproportion.
quote by Charles Baudelaire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Exquisite Dead Guy
Exquisite dead guy
Rotating in his display case
Exquisite dead guy
Swear I saw his mouth move
Exquisite dead guy
Outside my high rise apartment
Exquisite dead guy
Hanging from a skyhook
How am I supposed to let you know the way I feel
About you
How am I supposed to let you know the way I feel
About you
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Success, which is not always a proof of merit, depends more often on the choice of a subject than on its execution.
Pierre Choderlos de Laclos in Dangerous Liaisons (1782)
Submitted by Simona Enache
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The beauty within
The beauty of choice is you get to choose,
Wheather to live your life, or ruin it,
to live or die,
love or hate,
care or not care,
break, or heal,
steal, or buy,
help, or leave,
stay or go,
many possibilities.
Just hopefully you are not like a person I know,
He says he dont care but I know he does,
He says he hates the world but I know he loves it,
He says things he dont mean,
yet they hurt people around him,
He has seen many tears,
He has seen many years of pain,
He doesnt deserve anymore but that is merely his choice,
On wheather to love or to hurt,
to be nice or be crude,
To be happy or depressed all the time,
So its his choice on wheather people care anymore or not,
He is the owner of his life and no one can change his mind.
He can say he needs to hurt all he needs to,
He can hurt himself if he thinks that is what is right.
He can be the guy to ruin his life over nothing,
No one is going to help him if he doesnt let them.
If he dont listen no one will save him,
So he can either be saved or be left,
and frankly I think he is choosing death over life....
Sad isnt it? I tried helping but nothing worked.
So be it. He can do what he will do. Im done.
Im done with everything, every pain every hurt, every tear.
IM DONE. Bye.
poem by Jade Smith
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Wish I May, Wish I Might
Alas-wish I may, wish I might-
Lest I shan't take in the grace of her visage tonight,
Not until I lie myself down to sleep
Do I have the same, all the while, to keep!
Fault me not, for I am wanton of such,
Naught is there to compare with her tender touch!
Though long since have I heard her Angelic voice,
It has not been for lack of want, I had not a choice!
Blessed be the one who need not respite
To drink in this beauty, so exquisite:
For it is he who may celebrate in every way
As though it were always St. Valentine's Day!
Wish this do I, for me and the one unseen-
Pondering amorously, what should have been!
Maurice Harris,14 February 2009
poem by Maurice Harris
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Yes, yes, yes
What language has to do?
When eyes speak,
What beauty has to do?
When eyes don’t see it,
What words have to do?
When lack commitment,
What appearance has to do?
When lack inner beauty?
What are we meant for?
When don’t long for each other,
What we care for?
When nothing to take care of,
What is use of promise?
When said is undone,
What we search and look for?
When nothing special in it,
Why all mystery in it?
When no secret in it,
Yes, but everything in it,
When you ask for it,
You don’t stand for look,
You don’t find me as cook,
You shake head in yes,
I too say yes, yes yes
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Exquisite B.S.
Exquisite B.S.
Finessed at its best.
This wont sit to become fossilized.
Maneuvered?
Yes!
The finest B.S.
Gets to be marketed.
Exquisite B.S.
Tested for perfection.
To leave no guessing game to correct.
As this exquisite B.S. is set...
To endure without stopping.
To ensure its success.
No remnants will be left,
To forge with a defense...
By those unconvinced,
It is solidly based in cement.
And will not ferment...
As circumvented intentions meant,
Are sent.
This is exquisite B.S. to document!
To subdue those who protest.
And addict those who confess...
A weakness they get.
As if to crave a feeding,
With a licking of lips with a wish...
For more of it.
To induce into seduction,
With an unlimited fix.
Until the power of thinking,
Independently...
Lifts from minds,
That are drugged to drift!
Exquisite B.S.
Yes!
Yes!
YESSSSS!
And as delicious to offset,
Any cure that should manifest...
With attempts to correct!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Every New Invention
Every New Invention
The Press has still to mention,
we’ve yet to know about,
every new invention
that we can’t live without.
Prosperity seems fleeting,
mankind must comprehend
it can't continue cheating
Earth's resources pretend
they’re ever self-repeating
eternally extend
all generations greeting -
so spendthrift ways amend.
We live with central heating,
on science we depend,
and every day we’re meeting
new methods without end.
The layman’s comprehension
is stretched from nowt to doubt,
to up the spout - attention
strong’s sought from louts change flout.
We struggle, self-completing,
to balance ends, means, spend
time in between competing
choice options to defend
our rights to worthwhile pension,
planned obsolescence tout.
World enters new dimension
where friends, foes’ rout, want out!
robi3_0036 written 4 February 1975 revised 20 December 2008 previous version see below
Every New Invention
The Press has still to mention,
we’ve yet to know about,
every new invention
that we can’t live without.
We live with central heating,
on science we depend,
and every day we’re meeting
new methods without end.
4 February 1975
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Beauty Each Day Gives
THE BEAUTY EACH DAY GIVES
The beauty each day gives
The song and the soul
Beyond my words
Far beyond my words
In the words the music the poems
Of others.
That Beauty is too deep to name.
Oh how I have loved life so much
And how I am going to miss it
When I am not here.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The World Has Had Enough Of My Words
THE WORLD HAS HAD ENOUGH OF MY WORDS
The world has had enough of my words.
It didn’t care for them much anyway.
Let others come and write
A few of them will have the power and beauty
I have not.
The world has had enough of my words
And if I go on writing them
Let it be in knowing silence
That dare not disturb.
Let others do what I never could.
Perhaps there is still for some
Salvation in words.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Quality is never an accident; it is always the result of high intention, sincere effort, intelligent direction and skillful execution; it represents the wise choice of many alternatives.
quote by William A. Foster
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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