The Funeral Of An Animal
The funeral made me sink into an animal,
The room felt comfortable, more so than one’s mind.
I stare at the camera working my sleep
And sight became pleasure in the snivelling months.
You add a holy symbol to the deathly months and years,
A stuffed dog or cat betrays me further than this.
Alone and magnified by the sun of hard work,
Fibres in the organs of right stoop into oblivion.
After this cooking pleasure, the wine-cups are filled
To make the flames too wide for the animals.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Related quotes
June And July
June and July are right in the middle
Of a time that is a period to learn.
The months of our summer in this land
I call England,
Are like these months.
The other months work for these ones,
And those ones that are not these two months
Still believe in the sun and moon and planets.
They trust the stars, walk in the mind
And state our successes, in all our graveness.
The grave has no month, but lives in years
To manage the time in heaven.
For some June is like July,
But I think what they look is what they are.
poem by Naveed Akram
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I wanted to make a movie, because the whole life of the movies appealed to me. You work hard for three or four months, then you don't work at all for a couple of months.
quote by Gregory Hines
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forever
it's been days and months
it'll be years...forever
no one leaves unless they're left
the abandoned don't like
emptiness they stay with
filled with days and months
days and months and years
forever
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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When you become a mom you just learn how to function sleep deprived and you do get used to it. I came back to work when Finley was three months old and the first few months were rough. Then somehow you learn to exist on no sleep and now when he does upon occasion sleep through the night, which is like a full six hours, you're pretty sure he's suffocating. So you don't sleep anyway.
quote by Holly Marie Combs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ridicule
Gout that strives at you manages pleasure,
Due to homogeny of ridicule on the side.
Danger of honest honey matters most,
Gout arrives forming a honeycreeper.
This illness I confine to the organs
Envelops my mind most, then my feet and joints.
I am hominoid like the blessed men and women,
Piercing us with pleasure, pictures so pickled
With distaste of picnics.
Piety is the taste of death that gout brings,
For we are deathly on the side of angels
That caress the objects we design,
And there is more ridicule to come.
poem by Naveed Akram
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As a working actor, all I want to do is work. That's it. It's terrifying when you don't work. It's very hard when you don't work. There have been times when I've been out of work for like six months. I feel theatre to me is like manna.
Opposite displeasure
Success gives pleasure.
Conquest gives pleasure.
Revenge gives pleasure.
Hunting gives pleasure.
Coveting gives pleasure.
Mind; every pleasure
Gives equal and opposite
Displeasure to others.
In a way we act as sadists
04.05.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Days Glide
Days glided away from the seats of pleasure,
The quick spirit was mastered by the face;
Havoc of months and years persuaded me
To see the arrangements, and the several libraries
Of thoughts and endeavours.
I guessed of resemblances and letters,
Numbers pursued the words and words succumbed,
Each moment passed its time,
Months were old periods and designed to elate
The believers who repented for illnesses.
poem by Naveed Akram
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In the Boring Village
In the boring village where he works—
clerk in a textile shop, very young—
and where he's waiting out the two or three months ahead,
another two or three months until business falls off
so he can leave for the city and plunge headlong
into its action, its entertainment;
in the boring village where he's waiting out the time—
he goes to bed tonight full of sexual longing,
all his youth on fire with the body's passion,
his lovely youth given over to a fine intensity.
And in his sleep pleasure comes to him;
in his sleep he sees and has the figure, the flesh he longed for...
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Dance of the Season
The sun is like us in the dance of the season:
Summer, it lives within the body, mind and pleasure;
Brilliant summer and before it spring,
A wonderful creative work form God,
The one who made us hearing the heat,
And seeing the stars in the night.
The moon must pass as a hot star,
A very shadow of another moon,
Like an enchanting deathly object too hard to the touch.
We bring all this light to our eyes.
poem by Naveed Akram
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A Human-Animal!
Who is sexually interested much - guy or girl?
Guy says it openly but girl never though crazy!
Easiest way to pass time or forget oneself is sex!
Humans too are animals or human-animals ever!
Intellectually and spiritually human is far high;
But for procreation only animal way is for him!
Overcoming sexual desire is human's obligation;
Most of them have not transcended its realm ever;
Only then intellectual, intuitional powers work...!
Human body is a great wonder but it's finite ever;
Only human spirit is infinite on par with divinity
And that only can give eternal pleasure longer ever!
Knowing this why humans fail to overcome craziness?
Human is animal only though has mind and spirit ever!
poem by Ramesh T A
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First Year Blues
Written by ernest tubb 1941. rec. by e.t. 11-17-41
Key d demo recorded by hank williams, probably 1949.
(d) now Ive been married about six months,
Only six (d7) months you (g) see,
The (a7) first three months, was all ok,
But the last three is killin (d) me,
My wife began her hissin, cut down on her kissin,
And then she failed to (d7) shine my (g) shoes,
My (a7) shirts they came up wrinkled,
My pants with dirt were sprinkled,
And then I took the first year (d) blues.
(d) well then she started naggin,
She left the sink asaggin,
With dishes (d7) piled up (g) high,
No (a7) food upon the table, she said if she was able,
Shed cook something bye and (d) bye,
Then I began to wonder, if I had made a blunder,
When I (d7) said I (g) do, she (a7) must have read my thinkin,
Her eyes began to blinkin and that gal broke in -(d) - to.
(d) well I heard the dishes crashin,
And I began to dashin, gettin (d7) out of (g) sight,
For (a7) right there was my honey,
On who Id spent my money, turnin into dy - na - (d) - mite,
Then after shed exploded, her meanness all unloaded,
And things began to (d7) simmer (g) down,
I (a7) found myself ableedin, and very much aneedin,
Of stitches taken all a - (d) - round.
(d) well then she started cryin, I felt myself asighin,
And then I took her (d7) in my (g) arms,
I (a7) was afraid to scold her, so I just gently told her,
She didnt do a bit of (d) harm,
Now the first six months is over, and I am much the older,
And experienced (d7) with a (g) wife,
If (a7) I can stand the next six, my friends all say Ill be fixed,
To take it the rest of my (d) life.
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We will have close to 3 months of rehearsals to learn about 30 songs. Frank usually rehearsed a band for at least 3 months. If it took him that long to be comfortable we probably would need double the amount, but It's just not financially possible to do so.
quote by Dweezil Zappa
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I began directing episodes, which was a great light every couple of months. We never short-changed our audience, but it became something that you had to work at rather than something that was a pleasure.
quote by Patrick Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just One Of Those days
I'm so tired I dunno why..
I feel like I been working like a dog.
It's funny cus I haven't done
anything the whole day,
but sit lazily on this chair.
Its the weather, there's so much pressure
Its draggin me around
I really hate it.
September and April are the worst months of the year
transition months
I wish i could sleep those two months,
you know, writing a notice that goes like,
'wake me up when October comes' and
sleep all the way through September.
The same goes for April, but change the October to May.
The internet connection is awfully lazy today.
Maybe it is the weather again.
It's not worth downloading anything during the day
Funny how the weather is ruining everything.
I feel like doing something else
besides sitting on the computer
and writing this.
The weather is again to blame.
poem by Arsiema Berhane
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I Saw A Child Four Months Old Today
I SAW A CHILD FOUR MONTHS OLD TODAY
I saw a child four months old today
And was brought back to a most happy time in my life
When my children were very young-
Who could have believed this blessing would come again
And this small grandchild would make me feel
As I have not felt in years
That life itself is an incredible joy beyond any I ever could have expected
poem by Shalom Freedman
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It Was A Pleasure Then
It was a pleasure then
Could you just be here again
To know what there was to see
When all the sunday people
Where so quiet in the dark
Afraid to be better the next day
La la la ...
It was a pleasure then
When we could sit and stare again
Until the stars feel through the cloudy trees
Onto the grass
Stars to smile with us
Until they too had tears in their eyes
Tell us this and tell of how much we must not agree
It was a pleasure then
To see the dieing days again
In the horror of the night
Never, never, never, never, never, lise
Keep it secret
For to hide somewhere at last
As long as we could see
The sky confessed this crime
Of futile tasting hate romance
Above our shattered minds
It was a pleasure, it was a pleasure
La la la ...
song performed by by Velvet Underground
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After the Funeral (In memory of Ann Jones)
After the funeral, mule praises, brays,
Windshake of sailshaped ears, muffle-toed tap
Tap happily of one peg in the thick
Grave's foot, blinds down the lids, the teeth in black,
The spittled eyes, the salt ponds in the sleeves,
Morning smack of the spade that wakes up sleep,
Shakes a desolate boy who slits his throat
In the dark of the coffin and sheds dry leaves,
That breaks one bone to light with a judgment clout'
After the feast of tear-stuffed time and thistles
In a room with a stuffed fox and a stale fern,
I stand, for this memorial's sake, alone
In the snivelling hours with dead, humped Ann
Whose hodded, fountain heart once fell in puddles
Round the parched worlds of Wales and drowned each sun
(Though this for her is a monstrous image blindly
Magnified out of praise; her death was a still drop;
She would not have me sinking in the holy
Flood of her heart's fame; she would lie dumb and deep
And need no druid of her broken body).
But I, Ann's bard on a raised hearth, call all
The seas to service that her wood-tongud virtue
Babble like a bellbuoy over the hymning heads,
Bow down the walls of the ferned and foxy woods
That her love sing and swing through a brown chapel,
Blees her bent spirit with four, crossing birds.
Her flesh was meek as milk, but this skyward statue
With the wild breast and blessed and giant skull
Is carved from her in a room with a wet window
In a fiercely mourning house in a crooked year.
I know her scrubbed and sour humble hands
Lie with religion in their cramp, her threadbare
Whisper in a damp word, her wits drilled hollow,
Her fist of a face died clenched on a round pain;
And sculptured Ann is seventy years of stone.
These cloud-sopped, marble hands, this monumental
Argument of the hewn voice, gesture and psalm
Storm me forever over her grave until
The stuffed lung of the fox twitch and cry Love
And the strutting fern lay seeds on the black sill.
poem by Dylan Thomas
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In a Herber Green Asleep Whereas I Lay
In a herber green asleep whereas I lay,
The birds sang sweet in the middle of the day;
I dreamed fast of mirth and play:
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
Methought I walked still to and fro,
And from her company I could not go;
But when I wak'd it was not so:
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
Therefore my heart is surely pight
Of her alone to have a sight,
Which is my joy and heart's delight:
In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.
poem by Robert Wever
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Bike (excerpt)
I've got a bike, you can ride if you like
It's got a basket, a bell that rings
And things to make it look good
I'd give it to you if I could
But I borrowed it
You're the kind of girl
That fits in with my world
I'll give you anything, everything
If you want a thing
I've got a cloak, it's a bit of a joke
There's a tear up the front, it's red and black
I've had it for months
If you think it could look good
Then I guess it should
I know a mouse and he hasn't got a house
I don't know why I call him Gerald
He's getting rather old but he's a good mouse
I've got a clan of gingerbread men
Here a man, there a man, lots of gingerbread men
Take a couple if you wish, they're on the dish
I know a room of musical tunes
Some wine, some gin, most of them are clock work
Let's go into the other room and make them work
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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