This is Sublime
The tablecloth of time can be reused without
disturbing the cutlery and plates of events al-
though residual stains reveal inconsistencies
such as OOParts, Velikovsky’s discoveries,
mismatched historical periods are explained
by quantum’s Many Worlds theory; some-
where the apocalypse have taken place
Somewhere there is an Atlantis, earth is called
Gaia, someplace Biblical leprosy is nuclear fall-
out, in other places Mars is cleft by a meteorite,
in a parallel universe Earth is Tiamat, halved by
the passing of Niburu - everything imagined
happens somewhere; there is a place where
conspiracies and underground cities exist
Infinity gives you room for everything new, Terry
Pratchett uses James Bond and Tibetan Monks
containing a Lobsang in a story of Time where
the present equals the future and past and
procrastinators wind and unwind time while
anthropomorphic personifications stalk the
realms outside time – this is sublime!
Thief of Time – Terry Pratchett, Corgi Books,
2002, p.108
OOParts (Out Of Place Artifacts)
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Related quotes
Same Place, Same Time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
The coffee’s hot
And the company is good
Conversation flows, as it should
A joke or two
And when all is said and done
We’re right back to where we begun
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
These crowded streets
I balance tight roped on the curb
Car screeches past, a scream is heard
De ja vu
Yes I’ve been here before
Time moves slowly as traffic stalls
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Break
It was good
You were sublime
I’m so glad that we spent the time
Time is short
What we have is rare
Love is oxygen with you there
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Same place, same time
Copyright 2006 (updated 2010)
poem by Colin Coplin
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These Bends
I’m more than a little lost and found
But this town, it is dead
And there’s to many hypocrisies in my head
And it just wind, wind, unwinds me out
Just give me some time
Then give me a place, (somewhere new)
Bewildering concepts of time and space
They all just wind, unwind, wind out of me
A year and a day and three broken hearts are
Books lined up on the shelves of
Too many words I said
But I just wind, wind, unwind myself
Ghosts of a thousand memories
Have taken over this place just
Faces in dreams and corners
They help me wind, wind unwind myself out
Of this place and at this time
I need a new escape
When is my next escape?
Or release, from me, my mind, my fears, my dreams
So I don’t wind, wind, unwind, myself out of here
poem by Victoria Mcvicar
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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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Timeless
All time that we face down here, whether that time is far or near,
Will just become a period behind, as the future comes to mind,
Here, the present, future and past, are periods that will not last,
As all the time we come to see, are just spans towards Eternity.
Eternity is what we have in view, when time will be eternally new,
When we leave our earthly place, where life is in time and space,
As we move into Heaven sublime, with no limit on space or time,
When past and future is no more, and present will forever endure.
A time we now can’t comprehend, but, where we’ll forever spend.
Within an endless realm with Christ, as we enter into Eternal Life,
And timeless will be that place, which we’ll enter by God’s Grace,
Far away from this earthly sphere, of time and space, down here.
That place, that is prepared for us, was prepared by Christ Jesus,
The world’s only timeless man, the architect of God’s eternal plan,
A scope of which we can’t conceive, even those who truly believe,
And never seen by a mortal’s eye; all God has made for you and I.
So I’ll continue in the present time, on hills and valleys yet to climb,
As I move on to that destination, afforded to me through Salvation,
And at times I will contemplate, life with no space or time constraint,
Until I’m changed by God’s Grace, to enter Heaven’s timeless space.
(Copyright ©12/2010)
Decisions in Agreement
Reality lives in people’s heads, Terry
Pratchett says in application of
quantum physics theories
I have changed my reality so often
today, I am not sure in which
parallel reality I am
Within the knotted cable or free-
floating already in the lane of a
separate string
Weaving history while including all
its alternatives in bulging knots
that make the story interesting
The main direction never wavers, held in
place by many decisions in agreement
while the details create
As many bobbles as every dreamer
can ever wish to see…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Far Away
I learnt the universe is infinitely huge; not
confined to the Milky Way Galaxy as I had
read in Arthur Mee’s Children’s Encyclopaedia
when I was small - there are infinite galaxies;
a stupendous discovery that left me high
with excitement
I was enthralled by Vincent Gaddis’ Invisible
Horizons and The Secret Life Of Plants early
in life, later discovering Charles Fort and his
rains of fishes and strange footprints which
just added grist to my mill
Erich von Daniken and Zechariah Sitchin
destroyed all fear of a prosaic life; the small,
Calvinist world of my youth with pain and duty
was reduced to a miniscule part of this
wonderfully exciting inter-subjective
illusion
Reading about Atlantis, Lemuria, Mu and
ancients astronauts gives me infinite delight,
I became an instant a Pyramidiot on discovery
of Graham Hancock, Charles Bauval’s and
Wayne Herchel’s theories – and I keep
reading Charles von Berlitz’s books
I love the mystery of the disappearance of the
Marie Celeste, the lost fighter pilots and ships
in Bermuda’s green mist, enchanted by accounts
of the Philadelphia Experiment and explanations
of crew men in deep freeze
I am amazed by occult mediums introduced by
Arthur Findlay and Arthur Conan Doyle’s support
for attempts to probe consciousness surviving
physical life; and I ponder Peter Wilcock’s
hexagonal distribution of galaxy
structures
I enjoy reading about extraterrestrial contacts,
octaves of colours, sounds and forms, Mayan
prophecies, astrogenetics by Maurice Cotterel
and Lyall Watson explaining Chladni’s figures
making geometric patterns in sand, grounding
Dr Emoto’s ideas on water crystals
I am amazed by quantum physics, quarks and Many
World’s theory, adore the holographic universe, am
thrilled by pyramids being built without identifiable
technology, by OOPARTS and ziggurats and
ancient alien visitors from the stars –
- and I must live in a prosaic world of boredom, no
accomplishment and squashed dreams – thank
heaven, Terry Pratchett saves me from all this by
recording, expanding and embroidering the ideas
and theories I love
Presenting by mouth of his youthful characters,
combining mystery and fun, speculation and free
imagination in one heady mixture that sets my
imagination alight, takes me on spiritual flights,
far, far away from this little life…
(Good Omens, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman,
Corgi Books,2006)
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Only in our dreams are we free. The rest of the time we need wages.
quote by Terry Pratchett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Definition of happiness
ITS A place we have all been to:
a place were difficulties are forgotten
were only joyful events are certain
its a place you cant go to everyday
when you get there not long enough you can stay
a place safe and secure
a shield that deflects any bad thing that could accrue
a place were poise and pride are not neglected
a place were negative thoughts, ideas are not selected
a place far away from here
a place that does not recognize fear
a place that needs along time to get to
yet you arrive and forget any negative thing you have been through
a place that effects so deep
a place were you cant fall asleep
a place that does not exist
yet we have all been there I still insist
a place that’s not defined as a dream or a fantasy
a place that is only called happiness and ecstasy
Yet it is the most beautiful place
where sound of laughter and shape of smile race
on ones face like it would be in grace
poem by Ayesha Sartawi
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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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Real stupidity beats artificial intelligence every time.
Terry Pratchett in Hogfather
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Magic On The Quiet
Charmed by the wonderful wit of Terry Pratchett
in Carpe Jugulum, sharing Agnes Nitt’s admiration
for the Right Reverend Mightily Oats’ kindness in
helping Granny Weatherwax under the ruse that
she was helping him and Granny’s grudging res-
pect for a priest of Om no longer burning witches,
not burning in holy fire himself meaning he is truly
an honest man and bringer of light to dark places
The ramifications of the situations which reveal the
true nature of the protagonists who face them, form
a string of magical events that glisten and shine in
my imagination just as they do in Indra’s heaven
where every pearl reflects all the other pearls
The logical consistent action of Pratchett’s main
characters forming a musical theme that plays
through all his books, carefully camouflaged from
the regard of the casual passer-by who does not
pick up the shining strands to follow them to their
harmonious conclusions
Led astray by the science of materialism used to
lull unobservant connoisseurs into believing that
empiricism forms the basis of Pratchett’s edifice –
And I shall leave it at that, delighting in magic
on the quiet…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Scintillating Humour
French class is cancelled, I remain stuck in my
little space, faced with administration, Tim LaHaye
is ready to tell me about temperament and marital
presence, the last thing I want to hear today, a forced
break have me enjoying phrases by Terry Pratchett
like a gourmet enjoying culinary delights
The cool spearmint of Pratchett's scintillating humour
makes the heavy meals of Cataclysmic Egyptian events
more palatable while I'm spicing my Bibliotherapy with
the mixed chocolate and strawberry ices provided by
the temperament theories of Tim LaHaye
"Igneous had always found the general denial more
reliable than the specific refutation" - and I am even
more amused by "If you want to be successful in the
criminal world, you need a reputation for honesty"
Ohmygoodness, this is wisdom indeed, I love it!
Feet of Clay - Terry Pratchett - Victor Gollancz,1996
p.81
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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“Right Place - Right Time” “Wrong Place – Wrong Time”
“Right Place - Right Time” “Wrong Place – Wrong Time”
We all end up there
We believe it’s the right place
We believe it’s the right time
Why do we want it to be the right place?
Why is it always the wrong place?
Why is it always the wrong time?
“Right Place - Right Time” “Wrong Place – Wrong Time”
We are happy when we are in the right place at the right time
Yet when we are in the wrong place at the wrong time
We are lost
We feel like noting
We are sad
We cry
Our feelings getting hurt
Why can’t we be in the right place all the time?
Why can we be in the right time?
“Right Place - Right Time” “Wrong Place – Wrong Time”
poem by Keith Young
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Every Time We Love Sincerely
Every time we love sincerely, from our depths, from our core, not only do such moments exist forever but they create gaps, they are pure inspiration, of life of life, they become gaps in time and place, that metamorphose the very laws and processes of manifest creation to be more in accordance with the harmonized state of being of paradise.
Such experiences are of spirit, are inspiration, and are soul's fulfillment.
Such moments purify past incarnations and guide future embodiments.
Every time you love sincerely you change the universe. You help it be more of what it is meant to be
Paradise, awakened infinity.
Eternity, unconscious infinity
poem by Michael Kavuoti
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A Comeback
takes time to realize
that the place you hate
the place you left years ago
now on your return
becomes your hiding place
away from sorrow
the place where you bury
your past
now becomes your future
story.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We Can't Rewind
You're just a face in the crowd
A tiny hole in the cloud
You're trying to find your way in
To let your soul shine back out
We're just a twist in a seam
A splash of paint on a screen
We're making all kinds of shapes
Somehow we can straighten out the bends
This is our time, we can't rewind,
Our place to shine out, and we can live it anyway
This is our time to feel sublime,
Our place to shine now, and we can do it anyway
We can't rewind
Do you think we can change?
A different colour and shade?
I guess a new kind of thing
Somehow we can straighten out the bends
This is our time, we can't rewind,
Our place to shine out, and we can live it anyway
This is our time to feel sublime,
A place to shine now, and we can do it anyway
Oh yes, we can do it our way then
Stop taking me for a fool now
I've got this feeling inside me
But I guess you knew
We can work it out
We can find some place new
We can't rewind
We can't rewind
You're just a face in a crowd
A tiny hole in the cloud
This is our time, we can't rewind,
Our place to shine out, and we can live it anyway
This is our time to feel sublime,
A place to shine now, and we can do it anyway
This is our time, we can't rewind,
A place to shine out, and we can live it anyway
This is our time to feel sublime,
A place to shine now, and we can do it anyway
song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Same Mother
They each shared
the same mother
shared the same loss of her
when the time came
gave the same
last wave
when she was
driven off
to crematorium
and then grave
but each had
their own mother
whom they shared
with no other
one with whom
they shared
a particular time
or place
sitting quietly
face to face
sharing a secret
or confessing
a deed done
or just
the mother to child meeting
with just the two
at some given time
at some particular place
some given year
to share a problem
or tears or anxieties
or deeper fears
and knowing
she would listen
as only mother's can
or do
sharing the time and love
with each particular
person called you
whether daughter or son
she shared
her equal love and time
and yet each knew her
each thought
they knew her best
and carried away
their own best times
in her company
without the rest
their own moments shared
but deep down
they knew
she had her love for each
and each was equal
to the rest
for she never had
a favourite
nor considered
any one the best
so they all shared
the same mother
in the end
all grieved her going
each in their own way
hoping or believing
they would share her
once again
some better place
some future day.
poem by Terry Collett
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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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In Another Place & Time
I cant lie
I was attracted too
Somehow the feelings
Were so strong inside
But Im not free to be
In love with you maybe
Things would be different
In another place and time
And I cant give you
All you want me to
And I know you deserve
The best from me
But I cant give you more
Of all that you long for
I would have loved you
In another place and time
Dreams arent always bound to come true
But thats no reason you should cry
cos I would have loved you
Really loved you
In another place and time
Im hurting deep inside
Just want you to know
Oh, I would have loved you
Oh yeah, in another place and time
Fate cant always be led by you
The time aint right for you and i
In another place and time
In another place and time...
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Passing of time
The passing of time through the changing pattern of our thought
Is like a fish passing water over its gills,
Or like a cosmic engine
And not unlike the stream of light passing through pictures
It is leading to our irreversible changing,
It is triggering our memories,
Those emotions that are often evoked
When hearing a piece of music from our past.
The time is perfect..
Present perfect, past perfect, future perfect...
Every time we understand more about ourselves
We are going through an invisible portal
In our awareness.
And every time we think about our awareness
We understand that our cages are within,
Created by fear and the walls we
Have built around our heart.
It is our imperfection the place where our story lives..
We pretend to be perfect, but we hurt each other and
We fail to live up to our own standards...
We are so imperfect and have so much love of ourselves..
Maybe this is why we need to create those perfect moments
For glorious memories,
Resisting the passing of time through the changing pattern of our thought...
Maybe this is why our time together is so precious...
Copyright © ® Marieta Maglas. All rights reserved.
8 March 2010.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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