The mind cannot support moral chaos for long. Men are under as strong a compulsion to invent an ethical setting for their behavior as spiders are to weave themselves webs.
quote by John Dos Passos
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I write because something inner and unconscious forces me to. That is the first compulsion. The second is one of ethical and moral duty. I feel responsible to tell stories that inspire readers to consider more deeply who they are.
quote by David Guterson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To An Ex....
what we told them that we did
was all those games of catching spiders
rested in their spun webs on the trees
beside the mountain river
we we really did they knew so well
but how can we ever ever tell?
that what they knew was not all that happened
as it was something else more that what spiders are
on their transparent
webs of illusions upon those trees
that in the first place
never existed
what we had were more than words
and thoughts
and so how can we ever tell ourselves
truly
that we have already forgotten?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Iron And Silk
Iron keeps dirty habits when united,
Followers of the metal shall be rewarded;
The contestant proves his worth,
After the judges and the judgement,
Before this nothing has a present.
Anarchy is housed by the intellectuals,
Intelligently the rules are spoken
And their moods are represented
By the organizations of the spiders.
Crawling about, sneaking towards
Their goal, and lifting their webs,
A reality has emerged of mounting
Pressure, often the windows are open.
Thoughts of the evening weave
Their ways towards the horizon,
But spiders wrongly imagine our
Difficulties.
Their iron is their silk, and we have strong
Iron, that wields not being spun,
Forever the roses have been in our wreaths,
And eternally the spots on the face
Are ignited.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Night Spiders Crawling
night spiders
crawling
crawling through
mind
encased
in black
satin
webs
deep
sleep
tra pped
drained
tread encased
in raw exhaustion
stung spun webs
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Weave In, Weave In, My Hardy Life
WEAVE in! weave in, my hardy life!
Weave yet a soldier strong and full, for great campaigns to come;
Weave in red blood! weave sinews in, like ropes! the senses, sight
weave in!
Weave lasting sure! weave day and night the weft, the warp, incessant
weave! tire not!
(We know not what the use, O life! nor know the aim, the end--nor
really aught we know;
But know the work, the need goes on, and shall go on--the death-
envelop'd march of peace as well as war goes on;)
For great campaigns of peace the same, the wiry threads to weave;
We know not why or what, yet weave, forever weave.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Raven Coloured Spiders
Raven coloured spiders
crawl inside my eyes,
fingering my thoughts,
with their black, extended legs....
Searching for a mind
a mind full of webs, confusion and emptiness.
poem by Heather Moreton
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How can an act done under compulsion have any moral element in it, seeing that what is moral is the free act of an intelligent being?
quote by Auberon Herbert
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A man is truly ethical only when he obeys the compulsion to help all life which he is able to assist, and shrinks from injuring anything that lives.
quote by Albert Schweitzer
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My work is based on the assumption that clarity and consistency in our moral thinking is likely, in the long run, to lead us to hold better views on ethical issues.
quote by Peter Singer
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Pathways
We're all special; different,
each of us with our own kind of glow.
Don't follow me, I'm drifting,
taking the slower route now.
You step ahead and take the lead,
careful, the road ahead is steep.
Mind the pot holes and the spiders,
mind the silken webs they seed.
Keep to the path, don't you stray
and at the end we'll meet again
where the sunset touches the sea,
some day.
poem by Ruth Walters
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MNchhausen
Just chaos!
Maybe he like to brag
Did he invent himself
He live 'till the end of time
Oh mnchhausen was a sun of a gun
He had his share of wild adventures
He rode the cannonball like no other man
And pulled himself up in the air
Just chaos!
Whether he liked to brag
He lives 'till the end of time
With his immortal lies
Oh mnchhausen took a trip to the moon
And beat the sultan and his navy
With a company containing just five
He gunned them down just by himself
Such a special baron man mnchhausen
He spread chaos around the world
Just chaos!
Maybe he liked...
song performed by by Ace Of Base
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spiders
Is the spider a monster in miniature?
His web is a cruel stair, to be sure,
Designed artfully, cunningly placed,
A delicate trap, carefully spun
To bind the fly (innocent or unaware)
In a net as strong as a chain or a gun.
There are far more spiders than the man in the street
supposes
And the philosopher-king imagines, let alone knows!
There are six hundred kinds of spiders and each one
Differs in kind and in unkindness.
In variety of behavior spiders are unrivalled:
The fat garden spider sits motionless, amidst or at the heart
Of the orb of its web: other kinds run,
Scuttling across the floor, falling into bathtubs,
Trapped in the path of its own wrath, by overconfidence
drowned and undone.
Other kinds - more and more kinds under the stars and
the sun -
Are carnivores: all are relentless, ruthless
Enemies of insects. Their methods of getting food
Are unconventional, numerous, various and sometimes
hilarious:
Some spiders spin webs as beautiful
As Japanese drawings, intricate as clocks, strong as rocks:
Others construct traps which consist only
Of two sticky and tricky threads. Yet this ambush is enough
To bind and chain a crawling ant for long
enough:
The famished spider feels the vibration
Which transforms patience into sensation and satiation.
The handsome wolf spider moves suddenly freely and relies
Upon lightning suddenness, stealth and surprise,
Possessing accurate eyes, pouncing upon his victim with the
speed of surmise.
Courtship is dangerous: there are just as many elaborate
and endless techniques and varieties
As characterize the wooing of more analytic, more
introspective beings: Sometimes the male
Arrives with the gift of a freshly caught fly.
Sometimes he ties down the female, when she is frail,
With deft strokes and quick maneuvres and threads of silk:
But courtship and wooing, whatever their form, are
informed
By extreme caution, prudence, and calculation,
For the female spider, lazier and fiercer than the male
suitor,
May make a meal of him if she does not feel in the same
mood, or if her appetite
Consumes her far more than the revelation of love's
consummation.
Here among spiders, as in the higher forms of nature,
The male runs a terrifying risk when he goes seeking for
the bounty of beautiful Alma Magna Mater:
Yet clearly and truly he must seek and find his mate and
match like every other living creature!
poem by Delmore Schwartz
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When spiders' webs unite, they can tie up a lion.
A country should be defended not by arms, but by ethical behavior.
quote by Vinoba Bhave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spiders In The Night
Spiders in the night
Creeping round the walls
Now you'll feel him
Crawling over you
Creepy crawly things
Filling up your bed
Soon you'll feel him
Crawling through your brains
You think he's there
Beware his bite
But when you look
The spider's not in sight
Spiders reappear
Taking peoples names
Everything is taken down insane
There's no way out
And there's no key
But here's a clue
The spider's really me
You're written in his book
The spider won't forget
You won't forget
The spiders in the night
The end is going night
Itsy witsy friends
The spiders disappearing from the night
You think he's gone
You think he's dead
There's no escape
The spiders in your head
All the spiders in the night
All the spiders in the night
All the spiders in the night
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne from Bark At The Moon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blackberry Picking
I have fond memories of going blackberrying
On Sundays, with my Dad, when I was a child.
Situated on the very outskirts of our little town,
The lane was long and winding, lonely and wild.
We worked our way along the prickly hedgerows,
Plucking perfect fruit from amongst the brambles,
But the berries, which were over ripe or under ripe,
Were left behind by us, during our country rambles.
We picked plenty of plump, juicy berries,
And popped them all in to our plastic pot.
Dad seemed to know the very best time to go,
So we always returned home with quite a lot.
Along the way, we spotted spiders in their webs;
Of spiders, I have always been a little scared.
So any fruit which was located round about,
Was more than welcome to stay right there!
The blackberries were taken home to Mum,
Who mixed them up with apples, inside a pie.
I always felt a small sense of pride, as we ate
Those blackberries, picked by my Dad and I.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Written laws are like spiders' webs, and will, like them, only entangle and hold the poor and weak, while the rich and powerful will easily break through them.
quote by Anacharsis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wavering Ways
I am as an ant
walking webs
sealing
symmetrical time.
As an ant
seeking searching
out safe
routes home.
With all
yet only
power determination
ability
of an ant.
Conceptualized
concentrated
within an
anaestheticised
anxious ant.
Walking webs
wreath wrestling
weave spun
wavering ways.
Maybe we in
frenzy urgency
will journey back.
In welcoming time.
We
are
spread
far
so thinly
those
with wonder
chime
filled
minds.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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If you don't have integrity, you have nothing. You can't buy it. You can have all the money in the world, but if you are not a moral and ethical person, you really have nothing.
quote by Henry Kravis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Caring Person
It takes strong arms
to support the weight
of a breaking heart.
It takes strong shoulders
to comfort someone
with a grieving soul.
It takes a caring person
to be that strong support.
We walk tall throughout the world,
but even a mighty branch can break.
This is when we seek out a caring person,
who can be our supporting frame.
Someone who will stand by us
when all the others have gone,
our support in time of need.
You need strong arms to hug someone
when they feel they cannot go on.
You need strong shoulders for someone to cry on
within their hour of grief.
You need both of these things
just to be the supporting kind.
22 February 2012
poem by David Harris
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