From The School Of The Renowned Philosopher
For two years he studied with Ammonios Sakkas,
but he was bored by both philosophy and Sakkas.
Then he went into politics.
But he gave that up. That Prefect was an idiot,
and those around him, somber-faced officious nitwits:
their Greek—poor fools—absolutely barbaric.
After that he became
vaguely curious about the Church: to be baptized
and pass as a Christian. But he soon
changed his mind: it would certainly have caused a row
with his parents, ostentatious pagans,
and—horrible thought—
they would have cut off at once
their extremely generous allowance.
But he had to do something. He began to haunt
the corrupt houses of Alexandria,
every secret den of debauchery.
In this fortune favored him:
he’d been given an extremely handsome figure.
And he enjoyed the divine gift.
His looks would last
at least another ten years. And after that?
Maybe he’ll go back to Sakkas.
Or if the old man has died meanwhile,
he’ll go to another philosopher or sophist:
there’s always someone suitable around.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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In the Tavernas
I wallow in the tavernas and brothels of Beirut.
I didn't want to stay
in Alexandria. Tamides left me;
he went off with the Prefect's son to earn himself
a villa on the Nile, a mansion in the city.
It wouldn't have been right for me to stay in Alexandria.
I wallow in the tavernas and brothels of Beirut.
I live a vile life, devoted to cheap debauchery.
The one thing that saves me,
like durable beauty, like perfume
that goes on clinging to my flesh, is this: Tamides,
most exquisite of young men, was mine for two years,
and mine not for a house or a villa on the Nile.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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A Prince from Western Libya
Aristomenis, son of Menelaos,
the Prince from Western Libya,
was generally liked in Alexandria
during the ten days he spent there.
As his name, his dress, modest, was also Greek.
He received honors gladly,
but he did not solicit them; he was unassuming.
He bought Greek books,
especially history and philosophy.
Above all he was a man of few words.
It got around that he must be a profound thinker,
and men like that naturally don't speak very much.
He was neither a profound thinker nor anything else—
just a piddling, laughable man.
He assumed a Greek name, dressed like the Greeks,
learned to behave more or less like a Greek;
and all the time he was terrified he would spoil
his reasonably good image
by coming out with barbaric howlers in Greek
and the Alexandrians, in their usual way,
would make fun of him, vile people that they are.
This was why he limited himself to a few words,
terribly careful of his syntax and pronunciation;
and he was driven almost out of his mind, having
so much talk bottled up inside him.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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The chemistry of love is something which is extremely extremely unbelievable. This is something we have planned for more than two years, so I hope that we are going to start in the beginning of next year.
quote by Lennart Nilsson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Julian in Nicomedia
Things impolitic and dangerous:
praise for Greek ideals,
supernatural magic, visits to pagan temples.
Enthusiasm for the ancient gods.
Frequent talks with Chrysanthios.
Speculation with Maximus, the astute philosopher.
And look what's happened. Gallos is extremely worried.
Konstantios has become suspicious.
Julian's advisors weren't at all prudent.
The matter, says Mardonios, has gone too far,
the talk it has aroused must be stopped at all cost.—
So Julian goes to the church at Nicomedia,
a lector again, and there
with deep reverence he reads out loud
passages from the Holy Scriptures,
and everyone marvels at his Christian piety.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Wish You Were Here
Funny how the years
They just pass us by
Seems like yesterday
You were in my life
You always wanted
To start a family
I was way too young
I was runnin' free
If you could only see me now
You'd realize
I'm not the boy who
Made you cry
You gave yourself
I didn't see it
You died in me
I should've saved you
Oh
Wish you were here with me
I thought I knew it all
How stupid could I be?
I think of all I had
And it makes me weak
If you could only see me now
You'd realize
I'm not the boy who
Made you cry
You gave yourself
I didn't see it
You died in me
I should've saved you
Oh
Wish you were here with me
Sometimes
You hurt the ones who love you most
And sometimes
You hold the ones who leave you lost
And sometimes
You learn but it's too late
It's too late
You gave yourself
I didn't see it
You died in me
I should've saved you
You gave yourself
Why did you give yourself to me?
You died in me
Why was I too blind to see?
Oh
Oh
Oh
Wish you were here with me
Funny how the years
Just pass us by
song performed by by Enrique Iglesias
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Base Of All Metaphysics
AND now, gentlemen,
A word I give to remain in your memories and minds,
As base, and finale too, for all metaphysics.
(So, to the students, the old professor,
At the close of his crowded course.)
Having studied the new and antique, the Greek and Germanic systems,
Kant having studied and stated--Fichte and Schelling and Hegel,
Stated the lore of Plato--and Socrates, greater than Plato,
And greater than Socrates sought and stated--Christ divine having
studied long,
I see reminiscent to-day those Greek and Germanic systems, 10
See the philosophies all--Christian churches and tenets see,
Yet underneath Socrates clearly see--and underneath Christ the divine
I see,
The dear love of man for his comrade--the attraction of friend to
friend,
Of the well-married husband and wife--of children and parents,
Of city for city, and land for land.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Wish You Were Here (With Me)
Funny how the years,
They just pass us by
Seems like yesterday,
You were in my life
You always wanted to start a family
I was way too young,
I was runnin' free
[Chorus]
If you could only see me now,
You'd realise
I'm not the boy who made you cry
You gave yourself,
I didn't see it
You died in me,
I should have saved you
Wish you were here with me
I thought i knew it all,
How stupid could i be
I think of what i had,
And it makes me weep
[Repeat chorus]
Sometimes,
You hurt the ones who love you most
And sometimes,
You hold the ones who leave you lost
And sometimes
You learn, but it's too late
It's too late
You gave yourself,
I didn't see it
You died in me,
I should have saved you
You gave yourself
Why did you give youself to me
You died in me,
Why was i too blind to see
Wish you were here with me
(funny how the years, they just pass us by)
song performed by by Enrique Iglesias
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bored
Hear me spit on you, wither i
Remold into gold and bury I from - sun
Reborn left to sigh, recure maybe ill
Be born and simplify - the way I lie - before
I get bored, I get bored, I get bored Im bored
Repent by you and trust to figure out
I burn that gift to you - doll and let it shine before
I get bored, I get bored, I get bored, I wish for a real one
Fit and confide, before me or i
I will come clean, it gets worse - its more
Get bored, I get bored, I get bored, a wish for a real one
Get bored, get bored, get bored, I wish for a real one
song performed by by Deftones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From Kelsey, I have learned among many other things the value of turning on a dime and how you can have an extremely funny and extremely poignant moment with absolutely no separation in between... and sometimes in the same moment.
quote by David Hyde Pierce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Witch At Church After Service Meeting
I was extremely lucky
early in life at primary school
I had the misfortune of
being taught several years
in a row by an extremely
opinionated female teacher?
Her learned perception
all small boys were bad...
I was seated in a group
she never taught
never talked to
never answered
questions from...
only down spoke to
with insulting
condescending remarks.
I as example was destined
at later primary school
she enthusiastically
informed her entire class in
another rage anger fit...
was destined to be arrested
put in prison where I belonged
being of no use to society.
Years later she recognized me
at a church after service meeting
stared at me with loathing hate
obviously church was not
where I belonged in her scheme
of judgement cosmic certainties...
I pleasantly ignored her
having missed her prophecy
incarceration destination
by then I was a journeyman
accredited qualified tradesman
bonus a university degree
never was I a vindictive
child soul destroying teacher
voicing rage as she was...
I had been at primary dyslexic undiagnosed
remedial reading elementary rage taught
will not aid or remedy special needs students...
post graduate Diploma Of Teaching I studied
Students With Special Learning Needs
taught with patience empathy diverse skills heart...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Would He Even Know Me Now?
The past is full of shades and shapes
Of people, come and gone,
'Whatever happened to so and so, '
We say, when the mood is on;
But closer still, our parents live
In the warmth of our hearts and minds,
And my father often returns to me
To haunt my quiet times.
How do you deal with a love so deep
That it tears your life apart?
The day that he left, he took a piece
Of my ever caring heart,
He died, and so did I that day,
But I couldn't even cry,
A loss so great to a fickle fate -
I wept, though my eyes were dry.
Though that was twenty years ago
I remember in every way,
He'll always be just the way he was
On that final, desperate day;
But I have changed, I'm older now
And life has never been kind,
The years have indelibly traced their path
On my face, my body and mind.
My father knew me way back when,
A child, a teen, young man,
I hovered around the forty mark
When he left in the Lord's great plan;
But one thing worries my troubled mind
And it haunts my thoughts somehow,
If we were to pass on the street today
Would he even know me now?
5 March 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
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I've been in situations that could have been chaotic. So far, I haven't had to get involved in the kinds of politics that can make a project a war zone. You've got to choose your battles and choose them wisely. You're dealing with a lot of egos, a lot of extremely, extremely "sensitive people" in commercial television production.
quote by Eric Dane
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Going Shopping
En route to go shopping at our local grocery store,
I came across something which I hadn’t seen before.
A rustling sound within the trees, by me, was heard;
I just imagined it was either a cat or some kind of bird.
But what emerged in front of me, gave me a surprise;
A surprise which made me question my very own eyes!
Out of the trees, there very suddenly appeared,
An extremely lively, little brown deer.
I know that large herds of deer do reside
In the big forest, in the nearby countryside.
But never before in my life had I ever found
Any deer this close to the centre of our town.
As soon as he saw me, away he sprang,
But in my mind, alarm bells loudly rang.
For the deer, I began to feel a little scared,
As I wondered how, in a town, he would fair.
He was quite far from where he had grown,
And now, here he was, having to cope alone.
The countryside compared to the town are different places;
Here, he was faced with houses, cars and people’s faces.
I imagined the sheer panic which he felt inside,
And for that poor little deer, I almost cried.
To help him, there was nothing I could do.
He was so far away from all that he knew.
I thought about him for the rest of the day,
And couldn’t believe how far he had strayed.
A deer in the town was a strange thing to have sighted.
I just hope that, with his herd, he was safely reunited.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Words
Can you feel it when
Your throat dries?
Can you see it in the night sky?
Just a mumble round at tea time
Smile
When Im watching you
When I was a child
We were living in fear
Living in fear
When I was a child
Just a light year from here
Living in fear
Worlds may shatter
Years dont matter
Words came back to haunt you
Worlds may shatter
Years dont matter
Words came back to haunt you
Friends past missing
Reminiscing
Words came back to haunt you
Tolerating propaganda
And your girlfriend, alexandra
With her secret memoranda
Signs
For an interview
Searching for the light
In the world of the blahs
Masquerading as stars
How can this be right?
Youve been going too far
Leaving conscience ajar
Worlds may shatter
Years dont matter
Words came back to haunt you
Friends past missing
Reminiscing
Words came back to haunt you
When I was a child
We were living in fear
Living in fear
Worlds may shatter
Years dont matter
Words came back to haunt you
Worlds may shatter
Years dont matter
Words came back to haunt you
Friends past missing
Reminiscing
Words came back to haunt you
Worlds may shatter
Years dont matter
Words came back to haunt you
Friends past missing
Reminiscing
Words came back to haunt you
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Birth of Doctor John Celes
Oh look, the eighth child, baby boy is born!
On Valentine’s Day of Christian parents;
And it is very early in the morn;
The babe is blue but princely full of sense.
And therefore he is baptized Celestine,
The second boy fills parents’ hearts with joy;
He’s John Celes, the Bard, who writes on sin,
Man, God and thinks great even as a boy!
Who after years becomes a doctor-bard,
And takes the literary world by surprise;
His Poetic venture is divine/hard;
Fast/great and voluminous in its size.
In thirty months, he is world’s Sonnet-King!
Through him, God has destined a greater thing.
9-26-2002
poem by John Celes
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Out Of The Forest
I would say today...
These times we live,
Are getting extremely ridiculous.
'You must have just gotten out of 'rehab'.
Some kind of 'wholeness' program.
Where have you been?
When I began to see grown men,
Baring their behinds and women...
Wearing,
Or should I say 'not' wearing too much...
To leave to anyone's imagination,
It was 'then' mind disconnections started.'
Okay.
So...
What would 'you' call these times.
We are definitely living our last days on Earth.
'Oh...
Now 'that' to me is extreme.
If that was true...
My last last days would have been many years ago.
I remember my mother telling me that.
'Boy, if you don't get out of my face,
You will soon see your last days.'
Yeah,
I think we all got on somebody's nerves as children.
But nothing makes sense any more.
'I think it does.
At least the hypocrites are exposed for what they are.
And those who say religion and politics don't mix...
Either lie to themselves or are being deceived by reality.
I see religion and politics having everything to do,
With how these times are.'
You know you will be called blasphemous,
For saying that.
'Hey...
You wanted to know what I would call these days?
I would say...
They are religiously delusional.
And politics continue to play a major part of it.'
You express a lot of bitterness.
'Yep,
I knew it.
You are on some kind of medication.
I am out of the forest.
I've seen 'those' trees before!
And I am glad I am not so blinded by the leaves.
People today are self expressing their insanity.
That's it.
And accusing those who are 'sane',
As the reason and cause for their problems.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My parents were founders of the Cuban Communist Party, and I grew up extremely poor.
quote by Guillermo Cabrera Infante
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Returning Back to Normal
Whatever lies have been told...
Realities have been forever changed.
And returning back to normal,
Is going to be extremely difficult...
Since that state of mind,
Got us where we are today!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Introduction: More Beasts for Worse Children
The parents of the learned child
(His father and his mother)
Were utterly aghast to note
The facts he would at random quote
On creatures curious, rare, and wild;
And wondering, ask each other:
'An idle little child like this,
How is it that he knows
What years of close analysis
Are powerless to disclose?
Our brains are trained, our books are big,
And yet we always fail
To answer why the Guinea-pig
Is born without a tail.
Or why the Wanderoo should rant
In wild, unmeaning rhymes,
Whereas the Indian Elephant
Will only read The Times.
Perhaps he found a way to slip
Unnoticed to the Zoo,
And gave the Pachyderm a tip,
Or pumped the Wanderoo.
Or even by an artful plan
Deceived our watchful eyes,
And interviewed the Pelican,
Who is extremely wise.'
'Oh! no,' said he, in humble tone,
With shy but conscious look,
'Such facts I never could have known
But for this little book.'
poem by Hilaire Belloc
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I Have This Philosophy
As a child I had threatened to run away.
In fact...
It was either the fourth or the fifth time,
When I made that anoouncement...
To come to realize,
No one was paying me any attention at all.
And on one of those occasions,
My mother told me to take out the garbage...
Before I went anywhere!
She really didn't understand the severity of the moment.
I was all of ten years old and extremely serious.
I was trying to make this point...
I was going to be missed!
My niece, Shayla, did the same thing.
But she came back home to say to her parents,
She had a need for her checkbook and had forgotten it.
Like me...
She has excellent penmanhip.
AND she doesn't play.
Or has time for nonsense.
She's all business and serious.
'Go Shayla.
I'm so glad you discovered adulthood! '
We both had lots to learn about life.
Especially the part of life that one learns...
DO NOT BITE THE HAND THAT FEEDS,
Anythng connected to your survival.
Including those who give lucrative allowances...
To afford our checkbooks...to forget!
I love my niece.
As young people,
We begin to test those independent waters...
Early.
Many of us were forced to.
But as we grow...
Those 'come-and-find-me' games,
Are a bit childish, tired and very old.
And when one plays them over fourty...
Something should connect in their minds,
They play these games alone.
I have this philosophy about life...
If you can not teach a grown cat hygiene,
And if an adult runs into hiding...
In fear of reprisals for something wrong they've done.
Only to seek, ultimately, a pat on the back.
To be stroked like a missing cat when they return....
That person is in need more than 'a' lesson to learn.
That litter box needs to be put outside of the house for good.
'What does that mean? '
I did not say it was a 'good' philosophy...
To be quickly understood.
Some philosophies have to sit and marinate,
Longer than some.
I said I 'have' this philosophy about life.
You figure it out!
It has to be lived to enable it to make sense.
And stop looking at me like that!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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