The latest page I've been working is about the organization of the pantheon of the gods. Who's indebted to whom, how they are related, who screwed whose uncle or grandmother, all of that.
quote by Ben Nicholson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Screwed Up
(young - young)
Get ready
You think your kinda tough
Youre walkin kinda rough
When you want any more
You go fast wo wo wo
Things go tough
And you strut your stuff
And I want your thing
Then youre out of luck
Yes you are
Its all screwed up
All screwed up
Its all screwed up
All screwed up
Take you out to kick some butt
Work you over screw you nuts
And when you cant take no more
Then she push you out that door
And things go hard
Like a dog gone mad
She can pack some punch
Then youre out to lunch, back at one
Its all screwed up
All screwed up
Its all screwed up
All screwed up
Its all screwed up
Its all screwed up
Cant tell Im comin
All screwed up, yeah
I said its all screwed up
All screwed up, yeah
Said youre all screwed up
All screwed up
Its all screwed up, yes it is
All screwed up
Its all screwed up
All screwed up
Screwed up
Its all screwed up
Its all screwed up
Said you think you got some balls
But youre always out to lunch
Its all screwed up
Its all screwed up
Its all screwed up, yes it is
All screwed up
Its all screwed up, yeah
2000, j. albert & son, pty.
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My uncle was a hero, Lewis Roundtree. He was not even related to me really, but he was always called my uncle. He was like a father to me. I was closer to him than I was my father.
quote by Ed Bradley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Good, Old-Fashioned People
When we hear Uncle Sidney tell
About the long-ago
An' old, old friends he loved so well
When _he_ was young--My-oh!--
Us childern all wish _we'd 'a'_ bin
A-livin' then with Uncle,--so
We could a-kindo' happened in
On them old friends he used to know!--
The good, old-fashioned people--
The hale, hard-working people--
The kindly country people
'At Uncle used to know!
They was God's people, Uncle says,
An' gloried in His name,
An' worked, without no selfishness,
An' loved their neighbers same
As they was kin: An' when they biled
Their tree-molasses, in the Spring,
Er butchered in the Fall, they smiled
An' sheered with all jist ever'thing!--
The good, old-fashioned people--
The hale, hard-working people--
The kindly country people
'At Uncle used to know!
He tells about 'em, lots o' times,
Till we'd all ruther hear
About 'em than the Nurs'ry Rhymes
Er Fairies--mighty near!--
Only sometimes he stops so long
An' then talks on so low an' slow,
It's purt'-nigh sad as any song
To listen to him talkin' so
Of the good, old-fashioned people--
The hale, hard-working people--
The kindly country people
'At Uncle used to know!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Styles Of Beggary 1
A board of pantheon brassy on a plate
Encircled currency insufficient, gods beg
To aid a wedding, heal the sick
Holy tonsuring of the crown..
Untidy sins succumbed to the gods
Well, tamed gods forget their ride
Forgotten elephant follows
Obsolete gourmet, out of rice and jaggery
Modest animal lies sick
Uptrunked- salute for bucks alone
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Grandmother Told Me So
The declaration has been spoken,
For Grandmother told me so.
The darkeys have got their fetlocks broken,
For Grandmother told me so.
Oh, won't they have a lot of iron on hand!
And when the news travels,
Oh, won't it be grand!
'Twill sweep like a sugarcane over the land,
For Grandmother told me so.
American Eagle! hysterical bird!
Oh, flap your wing and crow!
The slaves are embellished--yes, that's the word,
For Grandmother told me so!
There's curious times in that ur section,
For Grandmother told me so.
They think they will have a resurrection,
For Grandmother told me so.
The penholders raving like persons insane --
The darkeys in exodus, raising cane,
And singing like martingales after a rain,
For Grandmother told me so.
But President Abe forgot Kentucky,
For Grandmother told me so.
And Geneses, too -- and that's unlucky,
For Grandmother told me so.
Malicious champagne will be open'd in vain,
Until we shall break the last ox-yoke and chain --
Till through the Benighted States freedom shall reign,
For Grandmother told me so.
poem by Henry Clay Work
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All Screwed Up
You think your kinda tough
You're walkin' kinda rough
When you want any more
You go fast wo' wo' wo'
Things go tough
And you strut your stuff
And I want your thing
Then you're out of luck
Yes you are
It's all screwed up
All screwed up
It's all screwed up
All screwed up
Take you out to kick some butt
Work you over screw you nuts
And when you can't take no more
Then she push you out that door
Things go hard
Like a dog gone mad
She can pack some punch
Then you're out to lunch
song performed by by AC/DC from Stiff Upper Lip
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm My Own Grandpa
It was many many years ago when I was twenty-three,
I was married to a widow, she's as pretty as can be.
This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red,
my father fell in lover with her, and soon these two were wed.
I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.
This made my dad my son-in-law and changed my very life:
My daughter was my mother 'cause she was my father's wife.
And then to complicate the matter, though it brought me joy,
I soon became the father of a bouncing baby boy.
This bouncing baby then became a brother-in-law to dad,
and so became my uncle, though it made me very sad,
for if he was my uncle then he also was the brother
of the widow's grown-up daughter, who, of course, was my step-mother.
I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.
Father's wife then had a son who kept them on the run.
And he became my grandchild, for he was my daughter's son.
My wife is now my mother's mother, and it makes me blue,
because although she is my wife, she's my grandmother, too.
Now if my wife is my grandmother, then I am her grandchild.
And every time I think of it, it nearly drives me wild.
For now I have become the strangest case you ever saw.
Husband of my grandmother, I am my own grandpa.
I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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We tend to think of the mind of an organization residing in the CEO and the organization's top managers, perhaps with the help of outside consultants that they call in. But that is not really how an organization thinks.
quote by Kevin Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Son Of The Sun
Pharaoh Akhenaten, a one god king
Worshiped the sun known as Aten
He destroyed Egypt after invoking
Ire of pantheon of gods forgotten
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Military organization, like religious organization, can be seen as a paradigm of organization in general.
quote by Robert Shea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Large organization is loose organization. Nay, it would be almost as true to say that organization is always disorganization.
quote by Gilbert K. Chesterton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The relationship..
How am I related to you when I steal from you?
I am a thief, you are a victim and I cheat you.
How is she related to him when she sells her body to him?
She is a business woman, he is her customer,
Her body is a commodity and the business is done.
When we take money from someone,
Who is neither related nor do we have any affection,
How are we related one another?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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When I hear music, I fear no danger. I am invulnerable. I see no foe. I am related to the earliest times, and to the latest.
quote by Henry David Thoreau
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem for my Grandmother
By the time
I knew grandmother
She was no more
It took sisteen-years
To know
Of her pains
On that sick bed,
My sisteen-year-old
Knowingness was shocked
To hear mum narrate her past
Grandmother as indeed a great
Woman n her life time.
Each time I go to her grave
I break down and cried for her,
I wish grandmother saw
The best of me
Before she was taken to the beyond
I know she would be proud of me
Let this poem of mine
Be for her,
My great grandmother.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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Two Tribes
(gill/johnson/o'toole)
Ladies and gentlemen, let me present
Frankie goes to hollywood
Possibly the most important thing
This side of the world.
Oh yeah, well ard!
You may pronounce us guilty a thousand times over, but the goddess of the
Eternal court of history will smile and tear to tatters the brief of the
State prosecutor and the sentence of this court, for she acquits us
Condemn me
Condemn me
Condemn me
History will absolve
Singing "this will be the day that i die".
Yeahhhhhaaaa
(if your grandmother or any other member of your family should die whilst in the shelter,
Put them outside, but remember to tag them first for identification purposes.)
Go to war
Go to war
Go to war
Heh
Just think, war breaks out and nobody turns up.
(if any member the family should die whilst in the shelter, put them outside,
But remember to tag them first for identification purposes.)
(if your grandmother or any other member of the family should die whil... ...dentification purposes.)
Heh heh
It's enough to make you wonder sometimes if you're on the right planet.
Let's go
*when two tribes go to war
A point is all you can score
When two tribes go to war
A point is all you can score
Cowboy no. 1
A born-again poor man's son
On the air america
I modelled shirts by van heusen-yeah
You know
*(repeat)
Working on the black gas
Switch off your shield
Switch off and feel
I'm working on loving-yeah
Giving you back the good times
Ship it out-out
I'm working for the black gas
*(repeat)
We got two tribes
We got the bomb
We got the bomb-yeah
Sock it to me biscuits-now
Are we living in a land
Where sex and horror are the new gods?
Yeah
When two tribes go to war
A point is all you can score
song performed by by Frankie Goes To Hollywood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Uncle Lenny
There is an Italian who lives in New York City,
he is a sweetheart, he thinks I’m pretty.
He came down to see me and took me out to eat,
we talked of a stalker who lives on his street.
Yes, he is handsome for his age,
stalker lady goes through his mail reading one page.
Now Uncle Lenny has seen it all,
in NYC taxi cab he drove tourists with alot of gall.
Yes, Uncle Lenny drove a NYC taxi cab,
A safe driver award plaque he does have.
Now we went to Tampa and I heard some ghosts,
He said he didn’t hear any for his ears are toast.
He’s sweetheart who thinks of me,
He left surprises in my luggage for me to keep.
Now Uncle Lenny still can drive,
He is quick and has a sharp keen eye.
Thanks Uncle Lenny for the happy memories,
it was fun and very interesting!
(By Suzae Chevalier on August 10, 2011)
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Like Horny Men
Don’t let the chickens out
Uncle said
close the gate
we don’t want
the foxes getting in
and tearing them
to pieces
because they will you know
they’ll go in for the kill
but maybe only go off
with one
and you stared
at the chickens
running around
as Uncle went
into the henhouse
to collect eggs
amongst the straw
and hay and feathers
you want to come in
and find the eggs with me?
Uncle called
and you followed him
into the henhouse
and smelt the henny stink
and shit and closeness
of hay and straw
getting up your nose
and Uncle held up an egg
and said
be careful how you hold them
don’t want any broken ones
and you searched
amongst hay and straw
and feathers and picked out
a warm egg between
your little boy finger and thumb
as if it were some gem
pulled from a pile of dung
and you held it up
to the light coming through
the henhouse window
like some offering
to the gods
a fertility symbol
you knew nothing
about then
the ways
of wild women
and horny men.
poem by Terry Collett
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The only way to get people to like working hard is to motivate them. Today, people must understand why they're working hard. Every individual in an organization is motivated by something different.
quote by Rick Pitino
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Since, therefore, individuals as well as the public are so indebted to these writers for the benefits they enjoy, I think them not only entitled to the honour of palms and crowns, but even to be numbered among the gods.
quote by Marcus V. Pollio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Uncle Lenny
There is an Italian who lives in New York City,
he is a sweetheart, he thinks I'm pretty.
He came down to see me and took me out to eat,
we talked of a stalker who lives on his street.
Yes, he is handsome for his age,
stalker lady goes through his mail reading one page.
Now Uncle Lenny has seen it all,
in NYC taxi cab he drove tourists with alot of gall.
Yes, Uncle Lenny drove a NYC taxi cab,
A safe driver award plaque he does have.
Now we went to Tampa and I heard some ghosts,
He said he didn't hear any for his ears are toast.
He's sweetheart who thinks of me,
He left surprises in my luggage for me to keep.
Now Uncle Lenny still can drive,
He is quick and has a sharp keen eye.
Thanks Uncle Lenny for the happy memories,
it was fun and very interesting!
(By Suzae Chevalier on August 10,2011)
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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