To the Additional Examiner for 1875

Queen Cram went straying
Where Tait was swaying,
In just hands weighing,
With care immense,
Dry proofs made pleasant
By Routh or Besant
For one who hasn’t
Got too much sense.
Nor marked how, quicker
Than mounts the liquor
In brains made thicker
By College beer,
The murderous maiden,
Mistake, walks laden
With tips forgotten and slips so queer.

How, like a spider,
She still spreads wider,
O’er bookwork, rider,
And problem too,
Her flimsy curtain
Of terms uncertain,
Till all seems dirt in
The marker’s view.
For if Cram were not,
Which markers spare not,
Wise men would care not
To pluck too soon,
Seeing all life’s season
Of budding reason
Finds good stiff work for a wooden spoon.

As Tait sat joking,
And marked while smoking,
Still slyly poking
Where jests might hit,
She came, soft-gliding,
Her false face hiding,
Rich food providing
For Tait’s sharp wit.
Through symbols tangled,
The Wranglers wrangled
Like sweet bells jangled
And out of tune.
For though their music
Would soon make you sick
The tides they measure and guide the moon.

Cram found no cover
Wherein to hover,
For still above her
Tait held his pen,
Which, onward creeping,
Might find her sleeping,
But left her weeping
O’er ruined men.
For, like a blister,
Mistake, Cram’s sister,
Would wring and twist her
In awkward ways,
Till all the knowledge
Acquired at College
Had passed from thought(49) in the last six days.

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If we had this back, and in full measure; if society were infused by it, through and through, and men lived its life, and in its life, philosophy would take care of itself and the nature of our institutions would not matter.

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By the time I entered college, I had decided not to have children, a decision that was never regretted. Accordingly, I was careful to court only girls who wanted to have professional careers.

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O little year, cram full of duty

O little year, cram full of duty,
Rapture and sorrow, too,
Show me the way from old paths of beauty
Into the fields of dew.
Strange lorn fields where the moon goes riding
Over a lonely sky.
Kind little year, in your onward gliding
Let me not pass them by.

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Final Exams

Final Exams are such a big hassle
But I suppose it is worth all the stress
If it is for the cap, gown and tassel
Even though I wish the stress was much less
If only the finals were trouble-free
No one would worry this much or freak out
And we'd be done quick and effortlessly
Finals being easy? I really doubt
So I'll keep trying to get a good grade
And from a big college I'll graduate
Then when I'm a doctor, I'll have it made
But first, my finals, before it's too late
So here I am, still taking my exam
Using everything I just had to cram

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London

London and all that's within,
Is brimming with grime and grim,
To many it seems quite vile,
But to others appealing.
All are welcome to cram in,
The rich, poor, wise and the dim,
Bar the corrupt and hostile,
Lest there's more dodgy dealing.

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William Shakespeare

You cram these words into mine ears against the stomach of my sense.

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Albert Einstein

One had to cram all this stuff into one's mind for the examinations, whether one liked it or not. This coercion had such a deterring effect on me that, after I had passed the final examination, I found the consideration of any scientific problems distasteful to me for an entire year.

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True as this is, it is also true that for one who won through there were many who gained nothing, and it was, and is, the sheer weight of numbers of those who failed of this that has made their influence on the modern life as pervasive and controlling as it is.

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Alien Outpost

Adrian Paul, Reiley McClendon, Rick Ravanello, Andy Davoli, Douglas Tait, Joe Reegan, Matthew Holmes

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We usually don't have applications in mind. They come later.

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Ode To Dennis Ferguson

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
Free candy in the back of my car,

Be ware of Pedophiles young children.

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In revolt against this new and very evil thing came the republicanism of the eighteenth century, inspired and directed in large measure by members of the fast perishing aristocracy of race, character and tradition.

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La Puce Et Le Pianiste

Paroles et musique : Yves Duteil
(c) 1977 by les ditions de l'critoire
1 Un jour sur un piano
Une puce lut domicile
Elle posa son sac dos
Ses affaires de ville
Elle avait beaucoup voyag
Beaucoup saut, beaucoup piqu
Et pour ne pas qu'on la voie
Sur une noire elle s'installa
2 Mais soudain la lumire apparut
Et ses sons frapprent son oreille
Une main lui marchait dessus
Sa colre fut sans pareille
Elle suivit ses volutions
Avec des yeux pleins d'attention
Pour essayer de grimper
Sur la main qui l'avait pitine
3 Lorsqu'enfin elle y parvint
Elle affina son aiguille
Et se mit piquer la main
Tout en dansant le quadrille
Mais soudain la main s'agita
Et son rythme s'acclra
Et la puce tout excite
De plus belle se remit piquer
4 Dans la douleur et la dmangeaison
La main se faisait plus rapide
Ne suivait plus la partition
Et n'avait plus aucun guide
Mais dans la salle on applaudissait
Sans deviner que c'tait
Grce une puce nerve
Que le jazz tait n

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The Great War was a progressive revelation and disillusionment.

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What's a man's age He must hurry more, that's all Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold.

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What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all; Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold.

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Towards the end of the eighteenth century the industrial-financial revolution began.

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The Unseen Spider

Across the college porch, there stood a piece –
A model of our college that looked fine,
Within a glass-case placed on a table,
And made to scale and painted in nice way!

The medical college looked so lovely,
Located ’midst flora and good fauna –
With trees of every sort and gardens neat,
Where snakes and scorpions and pea-fowls abound!

The campus was a natural beauteous scene,
Alluring on-lookers with natural ease;
The spell-bound parents left their wards to learn
In Nature’s lap, and noiseless air and peace!

The model old seemed beautifully made;
A bit of cob-web lay that never moved!
The spider lone was traceless on the scene:
Perhaps, it died without enough of food!

The strand of cob-web made the model great!
No human hands can match a spider’s legs!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 17-11-11

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I Lost My Way

I lost my way
The day I was taught to grab and not share
I was filled with knowledge
That brought no wisdom
But only pride devoid humility
I was given a religion by birth
I had a God Almighty and was told
It was the only true God!
I lost my way
The day I was sent to an institution
To cram a structured knowledge
Endless information was heaped on me
To make me clever and ready for life
A knowledge that taught me to mind my worth
Only in terms of material success
Drove me in pursuit of an elusive happiness!
I lost my way
The day I learnt alphabets
And poured on volumes of books
That shaped a mind of rigid dogmas
But no tolerance for others' thoughts
I was given an education
That taught me to be patriotic
And wall the world with boundaries!

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But freedom, liberty, is an attribute of the soul and it may exist even when the body is in bondage.

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