I've gone through the village of my songwriting and my artistry, and I've gone through lots of different phases, including one where it has been very quiet and abandoned me for a few years.
quote by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the globalized world that is ours, maybe we are moving towards a global village, but that global village brings in a lot of different people, a lot of different ideas, lots of different backgrounds, lots of different aspirations.
quote by Lakhdar Brahimi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Charlie
Three years ago, I found
an eight-week-old kitten
abandoned in the street.
Everywhere I went she followed me,
eventually I stopped and picked her up
and put her inside my shirt to keep her warm.
I was frightened she might be killed
if I left her wandering there.
I made enquires to find her home,
but no one came forward to claim her.
We had her examined by our Vet
making sure she was OK
before introducing her
to our two boys that we already had.
Three years later,
she is a very loving and affectionate cat
who always loves to play.
She integrated well with the boys
and they all curl up together.
When they play no claws ever come out,
there are no hisses or snarls
only lots of preening done to one another.
They each have their own space
that they like when they want to be alone.
Charlie’s is an old shoebox under my desk
where she will curl up in whenever I am working.
The fools that abandoned her
never knew the prize they had.
A most loving pet
anyone could ever wish for.
19 July 2008
poem by David Harris
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a village in Iberia
A Village in Iberia
Drove to the village where I was born, hadn’t been there
for forty years, the lane was muddy and houses deserted;
this village had been abandoned long time ago; what was
I thinking of coming here? A tree had grown right through
our cottage, roof smashed now walls were tumbling down.
Puny human dwellings, here today and gone in less than
Ten decades, the tree seemed to say. What a nostalgic fool
I’m, this idea of returning, rebuild the old house and live
here in happy retirement.
This was no longer a village but a graveyard, houses were
tombstones of a past that had nothing to offer but poverty,
glassless window resembled crosses of a defunct faith.
I sat on a stone smoking a cigarette the aroma of wafted
through the drab silence, from behind a broken wall a dog
came, young, and it looked eerily like Stella the dog I loved
all those years ago, don’t tell me she has waited for five
dog generations, to return from the wasteland of eternity
just for me?
“I’ll call you Stella”, I said and stroked the dog’s head.
She knitted her brows together as to say, “What else? ”
I opened the right hand car door, Stella jumped in like she
had done this a thousand time before, drove off and didn’t
look back once, the only memory I need of my childhood,
was alive and snoozing in the seat beside me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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A Village
A Village in Iberia
Drove to the village where I was born, hadn’t been there
for forty years, the lane was muddy and houses deserted;
this village had been abandoned long time ago; what was
I thinking of coming here? A tree had grown right through
our cottage, roof smashed now walls were tumbling down.
Puny human dwellings, here today and gone in less than
Ten decades, the tree seemed to say. What a nostalgic fool
I’m, this idea of returning, rebuild the old house and live
here in happy retirement.
This was no longer a village but a graveyard, houses were
tombstones of a past that had nothing to offer but poverty,
glassless window resembled crosses of a defunct faith.
I sat on a stone smoking a cigarette the aroma of wafted
through the drab silence, from behind a broken wall a dog
came, young, and it looked eerily like Stella the dog I loved
all those years ago, don’t tell me she has waited for five
dog generations, to return from the wasteland of eternity
just for me?
“I’ll call you Stella”, I said and stroked the dog’s head.
She knitted her brows together as to say, “What else? ”
I opened the right hand car door, Stella jumped in like she
had done this a thousand time before, drove off and didn’t
look back once, the only memory I needed of my childhood,
was alive and snoozing in the seat beside me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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I've got time, I hope, to make lots of quiet records. So quiet you won't be able to hear them.
quote by Evan Dando
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There are lots of other issues in policy including the stem cell issue.
quote by David Baltimore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There were 15 people in the village, including five of us. If my father arrested somebody in the winter, he'd have to wait until the thaw to turn him in.
quote by Leslie Nielsen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Asking God
Something 'intentionally' done,
Can be forgiven.
It is hard.
The scars are there.
Although the wounds may not appear...
A 'forgetting' still lingers.
And the best remedy for disguising that?
Lots of prayer.
Lots of quiet time...
And asking God,
To carry that crap on His back!
He will!
He knows you are still,
A work-in-progress!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Flossie Cabanis
From Bindle's opera house in the village
To Broadway is a great step.
But I tried to take it, my ambition fired
When sixteen years of age,
Seeing "East Lynne" played here in the village
By Ralph Barrett, the coming
Romantic actor, who enthralled my soul.
True, I trailed back home, a broken failure,
When Ralph disappeared in New York,
Leaving me alone in the city --
But life broke him also.
In all this place of silence
There are no kindred spirits.
How I wish Duse could stand amid the pathos
Of these quiet fields
And read these words.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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I always recommend a sensible diet, including lots of carbohydrates and avoiding too much fat. Dancers don't need different fuel from other people - they just need more of it because they use more energy.
quote by Deborah Bull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Myriad Thoughts
I sit here in myriad thoughts
dancing around my head
too fed up to put them to bed.
Thoughts of the past,
thoughts of the future too,
thoughts of things this and that
and thoughts of what to do.
Memories invade at times
of pastures long gone by
as the myriad thoughts
fill my mind with anger and with love
and times; I wish I could have lingered with
when my years were young.
Things pass in phases,
hearts entwine then fall apart,
seasons readily appear,
stay awhile and then depart.
Here I sit in a lonely waste
thinking thoughts of what might have been
if the crystal ball I look into had only seen.
Now the myriad thoughts appear
to haunt me in quiet times
and carry me to distant places
the world has left behind.
Those little specks of moments
that still linger from the past
that lay waiting to capture me
before the quiet time has passed.
28 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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Vacancy, For Rent
walking the streets
of a small southern town...
empty buildings, empty houses,
'vacancy, for rent'
no one moving much,
even the church parking lots
are empty.... seems like
Jesus and His disciples
packed up, and moved on...
probably looking for work!
only a sense of quiet despair,
the sound of old cars rusting,
and the howling of a dog.
just read the news:
an elderly couple, married
67 years, murder suicide...
he'd been sick, she had
alzheimer's.... afraid there'd
be no one to take care of her...
another unmarked grave,
forgotten people, abandoned
by their own government.....
another empty house that
used to be a home...
'vacancy, for rent.'
just walking the streets
of a small southern town...
church bells are ringing...
and the smell of death
hangs in the air!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I have decided to follow in my sinful ways, and have largely abandoned the increasingly religious life I was leading over the previous months, including several hours of Talmudic study a day.
Lots Of Times
Lots of times we laugh and joke
And make funny faces
And lots of time we write notes
Telling each other hello
Lots of times we hung out
And made up funny games
And lots of times we stood together
And defended our beliefs
Lots of times I think of you
And how you're my best friend
And lots of times I know
That that will never end.
He Is Abandoned By The World
HE IS ABANDONED BY THE WORLD
He is abandoned by the world
Faces in the street pass by without speaking to him
The trees and the sky do not nod hello
He is cold and the wind does not care for him.
He is abandoned by the world
And all he has done
And all he has made
Mean nothing.
He is abandoned by the world.
And so he knows:
Every human being
who lives on this earth
will die
and not come back again.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Utsal
His vision,
Very much;
Her vision,
Very much;
But, a tree stood behind both of them!
And like a village full of elephants.
Of the dancers,
True to his words;
Of the flair!
True to her words;
Artistry,
To explore,
Welcoming,
Very authentic,
Young and old,
male and female! !
But, i am Utsal in the land of your love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Phillip Harrison was the production designer, though, I think he's uncredited. He's done most of my films like Blue Thunder. Lots and lots over the years.
quote by John Badham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Global Village
Global village
Though we are all human
we are made to be different
by forces beyond our clout
Yet they want remake us
in a new image of their choice
in a village too big to be safe
The world they now call
a single village in the globe
with a big brother to match
As long as we are second class
within that large village fashioned
we would be subjected to
someone’s standards
someone’s culture
someone’s technology
someone’s understanding
someone’s world view
someone’s theories and concepts
They try hard in harder ways
to make us part of that village
but we know we are different
and shall strive to leave outside
that fashioned unsafe village
poem by Yusuf Adamu
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I was on the set when I was five years old with Spencer Tracy. A lot of what I learned growing up in terms of artistry is very clean, very tidy, very organized.
quote by Robert Blake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night Life
(w. nelson, p. buskirk, w. breeland)
When the evenin
Sun goes down
You can find me
Hangin around
Oh the night life
Aint no good life
But its my life
Many people
Just like me
Dreaming of
Old used to bes
Oh the night life
It aint no good life
But its my life
Oh listen to the blues theyre playin
Oh listen to what the blues are sayin
Mine is just
Another scheme
In a world
Of broken dreams
Oh the night life
It aint no good life
But its my life
(play me some blues boys)
Oh listen to the blues theyre playin
Oh listen to what the blues are sayin
When the evenin
Sun goes down
You can find me
Hangin around
Oh the night life
It aint no good life
But its my life
The night life
Aint no good life
But its my life
Oh I love that song. you know I told you about the men
Who have influenced me in my music.
Well now I want to tell you about the women.
And theres lots of them.
But this first one I wanna tell you about,
I admired her for a long time .
First of all, it was because of her songwriting.
I liked the way she always told a story in her songs.
And then in her singing.
I always loved to listen to her sing.
She had a different style, a different quality about it.
Shes so witty, so personable and you know
No matter whether its her singing,
Her songwriting, or her acting,
Ill always be a big fan of dolly parton!
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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