In a work of art, however modest, the peculiar character of life is always reflected in the fact that it has no parts which keep their qualitative identity in isolation. In the simplest design, the virtual constituents are indivisible, and inalienable from the whole.
quote by Susanne Langer
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In a work of art, however modest, the peculiar character of life is always reflected in the fact that it has no parts which keep their qualitative identity in isolation. In the simplest design, the virtual constituents are indivisible, and inalienable from the whole.
quote by Susanne Langer
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The narrative constructs the identity of the character, what can be called his or her narrative identity, in constructing that of the story told. It is the identity of the story that makes the identity of the character.
quote by Paul Ricoeur
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Identity Of I
Identity is not what I promise others
Identity is what I do when I am alone
Identity is what I think of others
Knowing all the hatred they've shown
Identity is what every wound reminds me
Identity is what I learn and what I pass by
Identity is what I see in the mirror
After giving my best try
Identity is what I make out of my given chance
Identity is what I accept and what I deny
No one else has control over me
Life is about me, and what I identify
poem by Abhiraj Rajadhyaksha
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Isolation
In fear every day, every evening,
He calls her aloud from above,
Carefully watched for a reason,
Painstaking devotion and love,
Surrendered to self preservation,
From others who care for themselves.
A blindness that touches perfection,
But hurts just like anything else.
Isolation, isolation, isolation.
Mother I tried please believe me,
I'm doing the best that I can.
I'm ashamed of the things I've been put through,
I'm ashamed of the person I am.
Isolation, isolation, isolation.
But if you could just see the beauty,
These things I could never describe,
These pleasures a wayward distraction,
This is my one lucky prize
Isolation, isolation, Isolation, isolation, isolation.
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lonely Spider
The lonely spider reaches out
For what, you might ask?
If not to spin his web then for what?
For his identity
The identity of him
His identity...
The lonely spider calls out
For what, you might ask?
If not for his mate then for what?
For his identity
The identity of him
His identity...
The lonely spider waits
For what, you might ask?
If not for his food then for what?
For his identity
The identity of him
His identity...
'A spider doesn't have feelings! '
How should you know?
'A spider isn't that smart! '
That could be true.
'A spider can never have a real identity! '
And neither could you, or any of us
But we try to find one even if we're not looking
And thats our life... after which we die
What have we done with our life up until then?
Either we've thrown it away, gave it up, wrecked it, lived it up to the fullest, took it for granted, or got far in it.
We still had one.
It's up to us what we shall do with it
Just like the lonely spider
Who will probably just end up on the bottom of your shoe anyways
poem by Andreanna Atkins
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Virtual Life
Virtual life is a strange thing,
Something certainly abbreviating.
Despite the fact it's electronic
It's still a real one and sonic.
The same passion, love and vices,
The same problems, the same prices.
It's easier here to communicate,
It's harder here to offend and hate
It's possible to find love here
But virtual love brings real tears.
It's possible to look much younger
And no one will see your hunger.
Appearance depends on imagination,
Love to Photoshop without hesitation.
The inner world is more noticeable
The outer world is just agreeable.
Lies and deception are more here, of course
As virtual life has more sources.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 11th of April,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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I Hate The Fact
I hate the fact
that one can steal your heart
and leave it broken in many parts
I hate the fact
that one can make you feel
but then you looked he had turned the wheel
I hate the fact
that one can catch your eye
and finally find it was for a while
I hate the fact
that one can sweep you off your feet
into a fantasy that only you could feel
I hate the fact
that when you hear ones name
you remember he was once your dame
I hate the fact
that you had to go
and you left me here with a broken soul
I hate the fact
that love was there
but left me in pain that one cant bare
I hate the fact
that memories hurt
and that nothing ever seems to ever work
I hate the fact
that i cry so much
that everyday i long to feel your touch
I hate the fact
that i cant move on
but maybe its something that can make me strong
poem by Miri Tuecemo
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I was controlling what I thought was my own personality. I didn’t even know myself. Unbeknownst to me, I was designing a character, which we all do in life. We do it from an early age. We find out how we can fit in. Survival makes us design a character that we think will keep us in good stead to get through this life.
Colin Farrell in Flaunt Magazine (2010)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Price You Pay
we pay a certain price for our
lies, these lies which are suppose to protect
us
from so much realities
(they trouble us and so we cope up
in order to proceed to another day
of joy and pretense)
others pay the higher price
of isolation
others have stiffer fines and penalties
that island of abandon
that river of tears
that misty mountain of oblivion
on your birthday today
no one remembers you because you have written
the wrong date
in your autobiography
on our guilt you tell the date of your birth
and so here we are
(on the spirits of Ariel, the gleams of a Gem
and the rest of the happy company)
singing: happy birthday friend
may you have more lies to come! (lol!)
ha ha ha typo error, may you have more
birthdays to come!
alright, blow your virtual candles on your virtual cake
and close your eyes and say your
virtual wishes....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Am A Virtual Poet In Virtual Hiding
I AM A VIRTUAL POET IN VIRTUAL HIDING
I am a virtual poet in virtual hiding
I do not want to be seen
Or known
I want to write my lines
And be worshipped from a distance
As if my person and my name
Had no real connection.
Praises and more praises are fine
Critical evaluations which admire – excellent
If non- existent and potentially embarrassing-
But please don’t come too near
With what you say-
I fear if you hear me
You will steal my essence-
And know this truth -
‘I am a virtual poet
In need of, fear of
An acclaim-
I don’t really believe I deserve.’
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Unlike the majority of the writers of his age, La Rochefoucauld was an aristocrat; and this fact gives a peculiar tone to his work.
quote by Lytton Strachey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mathematical science is in my opinion an indivisible whole, an organism whose vitality is conditioned upon the connection of its parts.
quote by David Hilbert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Watch Out
Watch your eyes
it may see reactions
Watch your reaction
it may enthuse emotions
Watch your emotion
it may compose thoughts
Watch your thought
it may become words
Watch your word
it may become a habit
Watch your habit
it may become character
Watch your character
it may become your identity
Finally, watch your identity
it may become your fate
poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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In The Virtual World
IN THE VIRTUAL WORLD
In the virtual world
I somehow am real-
I add to myself all the time
Without problem.
In the real world
I am less successful.
Less attention is paid
And I walk the streets of my own city
Unrecognized.
Praise is nice
And virtual praise also something I suppose
But a real embrace is something different.
One day soon too perhaps, you say,
Virtual embraces will be more than real ones
But it hasn't happened yet.
As it is now I am more real in the virtual world
Than in the real one.
No wonder I spend so much of my time here
Writing to strangers who have never smiled at me
And who I too am not really in touch with.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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So much of it is the design of the shot or the motion of the character; it's the work you do so that it has the same things that are in the movie. In just a few frames it's got to communicate something clearly and dramatically.
quote by Dennis Muren
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Many of our constituents have one option for cable TV and one price. Our constituents desire choice.
quote by Melissa Bean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reflected
Look upstanding with your head held high
You will be reflected
You looK outstanding with your eyes in disguise
Just beyond your glasses
Holy, how he would keep, it's devine
I'm surely glad, I'm surely over town
And even though I'm you will always here
Very rarely worry almost constantly
Could you be receptive
Our life's outstanding in a shower please
Wet my skins a plenty
Baby, what a day I love our town
I'm surely glad, I'm surely all around
And even since I knew it all so clear
You will be reflected
You will be reflected
You will be reflected
You will be reflected, reflected
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Character is one of most precious parts of you. You can't get involved in things that will damage your character.
A Most Peculiar Man
He was a most peculiar man
That's what Mrs. Riordan says and she should know
She lived upstairs from him
She said he was a most peculiar man
He was a most peculiar man
He lived all alone within a house
Within a room, within himself
A most peculiar man
He had no friends, he seldom spoke
And no one in turn ever spoke to him
'Cause he wasn't friendly and he didn't care
And he wasn't like them
Oh no! He was a most peculiar man
He died last Saturday
He turned on the gas and he went to sleep
With the windows closed so he'd never wake up
To his silent world and his tiny room
And Mrs. Riordan says he has a brother somewhere
Who should be notified soon
And all the people said,
"What a shame that he's dead
But wasn't he a most peculiar man?
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Most Peculiar Man
He was A Most Peculiar Man.
That's what Mrs. Riordan said and she should know;
She lived upstairs from him
She said he was A Most Peculiar Man.
He was A Most Peculiar Man.
The lived all alone within a house,
Within a room, within himself,
A Most Peculiar Man.
He had no friends, he seldom spoke
And no one in turn ever spoke to him,
'Cause he wasn't friendly and he didn't care
And he wasn't like them.
Oh, no! he was A Most Peculiar Man.
He died last Saturday.
He turned on the gas and he went to sleep
With the windows closed so he'd never wake up
To his silent world and his tiny room;
And Mrs. Riordan says he has a brother somewhere
Who should be notified soon.
And all the people said, "What a shame that he's dead,
But wasn't he A Most Peculiar Man?
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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