In Heaven Also (Revised)
The worst thing about heaven is it only boasts
two world-class composers: Liszt and Elgar,
the best of the rest – Bach, Beethoven, Brahms
and Mozart apparently all went to hell:
I shall gladly join them there
Hope to meet Bizet and Strauss as well and that
some enchanting demon finally teaches me to
dance properly, preferably a waltz and a
wonderful tango – like the one Death danced
dramatically with Renate Flitworth
I hope Vivaldi with his regular beat and
Stravinsky with his musical themes in
single row explosions are in heaven
also where I shall not be – and never
need listen to again
“Good Omens” – Terry Pratchett
Corgi edition published 1991
p 55
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Related quotes
Vivaldi
Being forced to listen to Vivaldi by
a compilation of classical music, his
musical themes & unwavering beat,
his notes like stiff-necked soldiers
marching on with robotlike idiocy
drive me insane
Awakening memories of ALL things that
irked me recently, the contrast between
the delight reading Pratchett and being
enraged by Vivaldi-effigies led to the
suspicion there is a poem on anger
waiting in the wings
Meantime, these cold notes on the deficiency
of three-dimensional holographic images as
simile of reality made me reflect on life’s
shortcomings - but Men At Arms is lying
next to me, their mischievous irrational
levity is waiting
To grab me again and whisk me away from
inadequate, imperfect and painful reality –
up to the heights of cloud nine…
“Men At Arms” – Terry Pratchett, Corgi edition
published 1994
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Miracle Disclosure (Revised)
Reading ‘Good Omens’ – Antichrist Adam Young and
his gang have fun with Tibetans and Flying Saucers –
in conjunction with The Science of Discworld which
‘David Attenboroughishly’ explains evolution as if it
were an already proven and therefore universally
accepted Gospel Truth – while it
is still only another childish theory, a speculative
hypothesis no better or worse than Creationism, but
creating the same reputation for itself by launching
attacks on other theories and posing as the Modern
Age equivalent of Miracle Disclosure; while ALL
these theories are illusion
made-up narratives explaining mysteries of existence
with no entitlement to claim any final revelation of the
true state – sanctimonious and condescending tones of
New Western Materialism sounds even worse than the
Middle Ages Inquisition – and in our universe ALL
being as speculative and unprovable as each other!
“Good Omens” – Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman,
Corgi Edition 1991
“The Science of the Discworld 1” Revised Edition
Jack, Pratchett, Terry, Stewart and Ian Cohen
Kindle – bought from Amazon
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Experience The Divine - Best Gift
Maria von Trapp complained
she couldn’t stop singing and
saying everything that comes
into her mind, in tribute to his
favourite flibbertigibbet
Pratchett invented the Chattering
Order of Saint Beryl Articulatus with
Sister Loquacious and Sister Voluble
who were free to be quiet for one hour
on Thursdays only
Pratchett’s causal narrative makes
redress for all past injustice, fills me
with inspiration to visualise the office
as a Chattering Convent and to project
the holiday resort
Which we are going to visit as a corner
of unsullied paradise and YOU as the
best gift the universe could ever provide,
thank you for every moment of time
you spend
It is the highest compliment and when you
polish uneven lines, you do the work of
angels and change my consciousness
into an experience of the Divine…
Good Omens – Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
Corgi edition published 1991, pp 33,36,38, & 41
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Friends Within The Darkness
I can remember starving in a
small room in a strange city
shades pulled down, listening to
classical music
I was young I was so young it hurt like a knife
inside
because there was no alternative except to hide as long
as possible--
not in self-pity but with dismay at my limited chance:
trying to connect.
the old composers -- Mozart, Bach, Beethoven,
Brahms were the only ones who spoke to me and
they were dead.
finally, starved and beaten, I had to go into
the streets to be interviewed for low-paying and
monotonous
jobs
by strange men behind desks
men without eyes men without faces
who would take away my hours
break them
piss on them.
now I work for the editors the readers the
critics
but still hang around and drink with
Mozart, Bach, Brahms and the
Bee
some buddies
some men
sometimes all we need to be able to continue alone
are the dead
rattling the walls
that close us in.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Roll over Beethoven
She loves her classical music does Val
as Tchaikovsky helps her to unwind
then again so does Handel as well
and a bit of Stravinsky she doesn't mind.
She's in heaven listening to Bach
and dreamland to the sounds of Debussy
Mendelssohn sends her all of a quiver
but Borodin too so she's not that fussy.
Beethoven is another favourite though
but Ravel's Bolero she reckons is tops
she dances around her house when it's on
and even when she's down at the shops.
But she likes the volume up really high
especially when it's Mozart or Liszt
but this upsets her next door neighbour
who bangs on the wall with his fist.
So the next time you hear loud classical music
that'll probably be coming from Val Dohrens house
but don't worry she'll be doing her housework
while waltzing about to the sounds of Strauss!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Dreams of Vienna
Solstice elves quiet as a fox
Light and snow on the morning pines
Vivaldi writes for the seasons
Symphony of grace and beauty
I wish I were in Vienna
Covered in the jeweled myths
Calling Bach, Mozart, Beethoven
Evening gowns swirl to a waltz
Fall leaves dance like elegant notes
Carriages with ladies dressed like flowers
Poise, science, enlightenment
Music reflecting faith and hope
Male and female in Greek ideals
The reformation sighing freedom
Renascence spurring the arts
Classic forms touching the world
Concert Halls like portals of angels
Vivacious architecture for the ages
A string section like a bolt of heaven
Dreams of Vienna under the starry night
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Damien-kid
Hunting for recipe books in the bookshop, I bought
Good Omens, what FUN, the Damien-kid playing
Spanish Inquisition, dunking the witch, a little girl
tied to a chair, in the pond until the Inquisitors so
hot, they dunked themselves
Never thought of playing this when I was small, just
danced around in my mother’s wide dress and sang
songs, my brothers’ gang sat on the rafters, tried
sleeping in a hole in the ground though it got too
cold and they crept back inside
A theme running like gold thread through the book
all tapes turn into Queen’s music if left in the car for
too long, Freddy Mercury replacing the classics to
the demon’s chagrin, brings on fits of laughter;
Sister Loquacious switching the babies
So Damien’s hell-hound changed into a sweet little
doggie; both demon and angel lamenting imminent
Armageddon as heaven is too boring - its highlight
the Sound of Music* and hell’s excitements too
painful - both trying to save the world
Since human beings are the source of real grace and
real heart-stopping evil*, both demons and angels are
needed – the secret is, they only exist inside the
human mind, once humanity is destroyed, they
also lose their existence
Good Omens, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman,
Corgi Books,2006
* Quoted from p.93
Damien –The Omen – An ominous film
The Sound of Music – A film about the life of Maria
von Trapp, changed her story too much, read the book,
though the film is good fun, don’t watch it over and over
too much syrup makes people go funny in the end
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Thing About Dreams
Wonderful thing about dreams
kept in the closet until it seems
the time is right to dream again
I still cannot dance, so the dream
about Death dancing a tango with
me as Renate Flitworth, is ever new
Any dream can be rekindled by the
merest nuance triggered by a soft
whisper designed to create a fairy-
tale romance – whenever my Mary
Poppins dream of being allowed to
help people in need by means of
magical, earth-shattering love, is
awakened, I am off, inflated like a
balloon, full of romance, floating on
currents of fantasy, I float on the words
of those who describe fairytale ideas –
knowing my delight will take me to
More such beautiful sounds – tonight
I shall dance again held in Death’s arms
wearing the dress he brought for me, the
diamond he stole round my neck, Death
as anthropomorphic idea is a guarantee
my fantasy is safe and I may dream
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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If you go to Japan for instance, you should know that they have a different way of playing Beethoven or Brahms. But if you play with them Mozart, Debussy, Mendelssohn, they have a wonderful light feeling for that.
quote by Kurt Masur
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Never Danced
Between heaven and earth
Theres a ballroom floor
Where the couples glide
In the evermore.
Floating through the clouds
Dancing in the rain
Eyes that see no lies
Hearts that feel no pain.
Hope its not too late
We were more than friends
I can hardly wait
til we meet again.
If you dont really know
Where you want to go
It makes no difference
Which road you take.
Hope its not too late
We were more than friends
I can hardly wait
til we meet again.
We never danced
We never danced
We never danced the night away.
We never danced
We never danced
We never danced the night away.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dare I Hope?
Dare I hope to hope?
Is it safe? Is it right?
Am I hoping for nothing
But a black and empty night?
Hope should make me happy.
I should laugh, sing, and dance
Because I am hoping. Right?
Ha! Not a chance.
How is it that hope can leave me
Trembling in the darkness?
How is it that something so “good”
Should leave me feeling helpless?
Dare I hope to hope?
What difference does it make?
Fate will be fate in the end,
It will either “make or break.”
Does Fate regard my hope?
Does She listen? Or care?
Am I shooting for a star that
Simply isn’t there?
I cannot know! Oh, God
Why must I struggle with
This doubt that pulls at me
Rends me, limb from limb?
What sort of hope leaves pain
Where it should instead leave joy?
Is this hope at all? Or perhaps
Some wicked demon’s ploy?
I cannot know! Dear heaven!
How can I even begin to dare
To hope for something – anything?
Is no assurance there?
No promise? No guarantee?
I cannot stand it! I cannot!
The doubt is a plague
In my every thought.
Dare I hope to hope
In a hope that leaves me dry
And lost? How can I dare
To hope in hope? How can I?
poem by Sophia White
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Dare I Hope?
Dare I hope to hope?
Is it safe? Is it right?
Am I hoping for nothing
But a black and empty night?
Hope should make me happy.
I should laugh, sing, and dance
Because I am hoping. Right?
Ha! Not a chance.
How is it that hope can leave me
Trembling in the darkness?
How is it that something so 'good'
Should leave me feeling helpless?
Dare I hope to hope?
What difference does it make?
Fate will be fate in the end,
It will either 'make or break.'
Does Fate regard my hope?
Does She listen? Or care?
Am I shooting for a star that
Simply isn't there?
I cannot know! Oh, God
Why must I struggle with
This doubt that pulls at me
Rends me, limb from limb?
What sort of hope leaves pain
Where it should instead leave joy?
Is this hope at all? Or perhaps
Some wicked demon's ploy?
I cannot know! Dear heaven!
How can I even begin to dare
To hope for something – anything?
Is no assurance there?
No promise? No guarantee?
I cannot stand it! I cannot!
The doubt is a plague
In my every thought.
Dare I hope to hope
In a hope that leaves me dry
And lost? How can I dare
To hope in hope? How can I?
Sophia White
poem by Lolita Hiroshi
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Beat Patrol
Chorus:
Heaven move me, move my soul
Here comes the beat
Here comes the beat patrol
We will dance...
I will help you if I can
I can change the way you feel today
When your world turns upside down
Its time to make the break and dance into another day
And as the music starts to move you
Then its time to go
Into the streets you dance
And then you lose control
Heaven move me, move my soul
Here comes the beat
Here comes the beat patrol
We will dance, we will dance
Heaven move me, move my soul
Here comes the beat
Here comes the beat patrol
We will dance, we will dance
This is the age when you must win
Cos there is no gold upon the streets today
You must find it from within
Music brings the dream machine your way
And as the feeling starts to move you
Then its time to go
Into the streets you dance
And then you lose control
Heaven move me, move my soul
Here comes the beat
Here comes the beat patrol
We will dance, we will dance
Heaven move me, move my soul
Here comes the beat
Here comes the beat patrol
We will dance, we will dance
A say yeah, a say yeah, yeah, yeah
What you say here come the what
Here come the beat, here come the beat patrol
Here come the beat we will dance
Heaven move me, move my soul
Here comes the beat
Here comes the beat patrol
We will dance, we will dance
Heaven move me... I see it coming... it wont be long now
Here come the beat, here come the beat patrol
We will dance, we will dance
(heaven move me move my soul
Here comes the beat, here comes the beat patrol)...
song performed by by Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Knockin’ On Heaven’s Book
On heaven’s book
You go knocking
With hope to enter
A merciful piece,
A paradise' place
Which would avoid
All evil’s faces
Settled as a hook.
Such place doesn’t exist
And it will be vain
To knock at any doors,
Thinking that behind,
Heaven and Hell
Can be separated,
Can be isolated.
Such place doesn’t exist.
As long as there is
Night gloom then day light,
Heaven and Hell
Are from the same material.
The two sides
Of one single whole.
Heaven as Hell
Exist only in us even,
Deep in our heart.
The battle settles there,
And nowhere else.
On heaven’s book
You go knocking
With hope to enter
A peaceful land.
and this land does exist.
Its name is
YOUR SOUL
And it’s made
Of the same material
Than Heaven and Hell:
E.T.E.R.....N.I.T.Y
Note: dedicated to Shashendra Amalshan's poem 'The Devil's hook and the Heaven’s book'
poem by Jeffe Ovie
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Too Late
HOPE? What! hope !—you say there is hope for the long-lost one!
Hope! when the light is out; hope! when the oil is done;
Hope! No, no, good lady! no hope for me, at least;
No home for me but the clammy grave when life has ceased.
Hope! Well, there might have been hope had my mother lived; but, then,
5
God struck her dead, and I was left alone among men.
God knows how I loved her; and shall I never see her again?
Is there no glimpse of heaven for those who are doomed to pain?
Oh, cannot she come and kiss me? Oh, cannot she pray by my side,
As she did long ago on that terrible evening before she died?
10
If she prayed God would hear her, and perhaps—but no;
I'm too old a sinner for mercy—there is nothing for me but woe.
You say that I yet could be saved if I sorrowed for my sin;
That the Lord is at heaven's gate to take poor sinners in!
God knows that I hate my sin, but I feel that it cannot be;
15
I've so often forsaken Him, that He must have forsaken me.
Nay, don't offer a prayer for me, lady, it's only mocking at God:
Who knows but my tired heart still may rest beneath the sod?
For I always loved the sunny fields and the sweet, sweet flowers,
And longed to be pure once again like them, in my better hours.
20
But after I first had fallen the devil opened my eyes,
And I saw that the world knew my shame, and I hadn't the heart to rise;
So I gave up trying to be good, and sank down lower in sin,
Tho' the thought of poor dead mother made me always hate it within.
Oh, many's the night that I've wandered about thro' rain and snow,
25
Wandered about in the street, and didn't know where had to go;
And I've often crept to the river and looked at it, still and black,
And thought how every one spurned me—but something held me back.
I remember how once, when I stopped, half-dead, one rainy day,
To rest on his steps for a moment, the servants drove me away;
30
Drove me away like a dog from the door of the man for whom,
O God! I had given up all in this world and beyond the tomb.
But don't weep at my story, good lady; I'm not worth it living or dead!
Ha, ha! I'm not frightened of Death, nor the devils that dance round my bed:
There cannot be any hell deeper nor fuller of devils and strife
35
Than the hell that burns in my heart, and the fire that eats out life.
poem by Frederick George Scott
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Probability Curves
The lovely little antichrist, Adam Young, says at the
end of ‘Good Omens’ by Pratchett, if he declences
Armageddon and the Apocalypse and the forces of
hell defeats humankind calling down the wrath of
the heavenly hosts
Only one gang would be left and soon its members
would fight each other: the only way to peace is for
all life to cease and who wants that? Adam defeats
the four horsemen cum motorbikers, of the Apo-
calypse; continues his lovely life
Discovering the delights of this universe with variety
infinite - a myriad opinions - all different, enriching,
any Doomsday Prophecy merely wishful thinking
on the side of fanatic fundamentalists who want
to dominate one victorious gang
It is impossible in this quantum universe, probablitiy
curves create fields of possibility - no prediction is
guaranteed, no end-of-world threat carries final
authority, no single creed can ever claim final
victory – we are free, Free, FREE!
“You cannot kill everybody who doesn't agree with you,
if you kill enough you'll soon be down to just you guys
disagreeing with each other… you can never get to where
you want to be by pushing against what you don’t want”
[Quoted from Abraham and Esther Hicks]
“Good Omens” Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman - Main
character called Adam Young instead of Daimien, never
undergoes influences of Evil Nanny and Hell Hound be-
cause the demon placed on earth to lead him into sub-
jecting the earth to the devil, lost track of him imme-
diately after his birth; he was raised as a rural happy-
go-lucky English boy who enjoys playing Spanish
Inquistition and dreams about the strange phenomena
of Charles Fort and wonders about spontaneous human
combustion; a whole universe of discovery waiting
for him, he will have no truck with
world destruction!
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Hope is a part of Life
Hope is for happiness to an ending
Hope is nothing if you don't beleive
Hope is a shooting star if you see one
Something can never end so, Hope is a part of Life
Hope is delicate from heaven to hell
Hope can't always help the gods
Hope shoudn't be about exciestence
Sometime when you're giving up on something, Hope is a part of Life
Hope can be an empty trail
Hope isn't for punishment or love
Hope is not a welcome guest
When is it that I saw you last time?
is it when we saw Hope is a part of Life
Hope can never be changed
What else that can be hope?
Hope is a passion
Hope can't always save you
Hope is something in Life that doesn't always happen everyday......
poem by Vanessa Sleeth
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I hope...
You are a wonderful person,
And I hope you know that,
Because you deserve to,
Nature is so beautiful,
And I hope it stays that way,
Because i want my children to see it,
The world is so cruel,
So I hope that I can manage,
Because I don't want to say good bye yet,
I hope that we all live life at it's fullest,
I hope we all find the love of our lives,
And finally I hope we all love our lives.
poem by Kathryn Miller
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I Hope U Dance
i hope you dance
in the middle of the night
when u can sleep
thinkin of something that will make u dance
may you take on single breath
when you stand by the wal
and when you see that cutie
i hope u dance
i hope u dance
i hope you never stop danceing
you can dance all night and all day
when you fell like danceing
give the skys above
i hope you dance
time will come when you want to dance
i hope you dance.
poem by AMANDA Lynch
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Heaven's Only Door
There is far too much presumption, concerning the time we pass away,
For so many fail to open The Word of God to see what He has to say.
For all men are destined once to die, and then must face judgment,
But many people die not knowing what's ahead, not even a tiny hint.
For some people are taught by others that everyone goes to Heaven,
But remember Jesus warned us to watch out for the Pharisee's leaven.
Many others turn away when you talk about Hell's Eternal Punishment,
They say He's a loving God and to such a place no one would be sent.
Another idea taught by many is that all roads will lead to the Lord,
This is taught by men who don't understand and The Bible is ignored.
Some believe they will enter Heaven when they see the life they had,
Resting in an empty hope, that their good will out weigh their bad.
There are also those who acknowledge God and know that He is Pure,
But comparing their self to Him they think they're in Hell for sure.
And some people don't believe in God or even in a life after death,
And believe they rot just like animals after their very last breath.
There is a Heaven to gain and a Hell to shun, this you can be sure,
Dear friend forget about all the views above and listen to The Lord.
He died on Calvary's Cross-for the entire world and you can be sure,
And Christ is the way, the truth, the life, and Heaven's Only Door.
(Copyright © 07/2002)