To live, To die
We look to the sky
To love, To live
We learn to give
To care, To nurture
We build the future
To laugh, To cry
We learn to fly
Me.
Touche! well said
YouTube - Bloodhound gang - The roof is on fire
the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire,
the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire,
the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire,
we don't need no water let the mother****er burn,
burn mother****er burn.
hello my name is jimmy pop and i'm a dumb white guy,
i'm not old or new but middle school fifth grade like junior high,
i don't know mofo if y'all peeps be buggin' give props to my ho cause she all fly,
but i can take the heat cause i'm the other white meat known as 'kid funky fried',
yeah i'm hung like planet pluto hard to see with the naked eye,
but if i crashed into uranus i would stick it where the sun don't shine,
cause i'm kind of like han solo always stroking my own wookie,
i'm the root of all that's evil yeah but you can call me cookie,
the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire,
the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire,
the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire,
we don't need no water let the mother****er burn,
burn mother****er burn.
yo yo this hard-core ghetto gangster image takes a lot of practice,
i'm not black like barry white no i am white like frank black is,
so if man is five and the devil is six than that must make me seven,
this honkey's gone to heaven,
but if i go to hell then i hope i burn well,
i'll spend my days with j.f.k., marvin gaye, martha raye, and lawrence welk,
and kurt cobain, kojak, mark twain and jimi hendrix's poltergeist,
and webster yeah emmanuel lewis cause he's the anti-christ,
the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire,
the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire,
the roof, the roof, the roof is on fire,
we don't need no water let the mother****er burn,
burn mother****er burn.
...
awsome , i have this song on my mp3 listen to it all the time
I'm not sure how to up load a video from you tube so here is the link
YouTube - Closing Time - - - Leonard Cohen
Closing time
"Closing Time"
Ah we're drinking and we're dancing
and the band is really happening
and the Johnny Walker wisdom running high
And my very sweet companion
she's the Angel of Compassion
she's rubbing half the world against her thigh
And every drinker every dancer
lifts a happy face to thank her
the fiddler fiddles something so sublime
all the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
and it's partner found, it's partner lost
and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops:
it's CLOSING TIME
Yeah the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
and it's partner found, it's partner lost
and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops:
it's CLOSING TIME
Ah we're lonely, we're romantic
and the cider's laced with acid
and the Holy Spirit's crying, "Where's the beef?"
And the moon is swimming naked
and the summer night is fragrant
with a mighty expectation of relief
So we struggle and we stagger
down the snakes and up the ladder
to the tower where the blessed hours chime
and I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
the Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
but CLOSING TIME
I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
the Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
CLOSING TIME
I loved you for your beauty
but that doesn't make a fool of me:
you were in it for your beauty too
and I loved you for your body
there's a voice that sounds like God to me
declaring, declaring, declaring that your body's really you
And I loved you when our love was blessed
and I love you now there's nothing left
but sorrow and a sense of overtime
and I missed you since the place got wrecked
And I just don't care what happens next
looks like freedom but it feels like death
it's something in between, I guess
it's CLOSING TIME
Yeah I missed you since the place got wrecked
By the winds of change and the weeds of sex
looks like freedom but it feels like death
it's something in between, I guess
it's CLOSING TIME
Yeah we're drinking and we're dancing
but there's nothing really happening
and the place is dead as Heaven on a Saturday night
And my very close companion
gets me fumbling gets me laughing
she's a hundred but she's wearing
something tight
and I lift my glass to the Awful Truth
which you can't reveal to the Ears of Youth
except to say it isn't worth a dime
And the whole damn place goes crazy twice
and it's once for the devil and once for Christ
but the Boss don't like these dizzy heights
we're busted in the blinding lights,
busted in the blinding lights
of CLOSING TIME
The whole damn place goes crazy twice
and it's once for the devil and once for Christ
but the Boss don't like these dizzy heights
we're busted in the blinding lights,
busted in the blinding lights
of CLOSING TIME
Oh the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
It's CLOSING TIME
And it's partner found, it's partner lost
and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops
It's CLOSING TIME
I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
It's CLOSING TIME
The Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
But CLOSING TIME
I loved you when our love was blessed
I love you now there's nothing left
But CLOSING TIME
I miss you since the place got wrecked
By the winds of change and the weeds of sex.
Here is one of my favorites, be warned Dylan is as long winded as Witman
)
YouTube - last thoughts on woody guthrie
Last thoughts on Woody
When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numb
When you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl of life's busy race
No matter what yer doing if you start givin' up
If the wine don't come to the top of yer cup
If the wind's got you sideways with with one hand holdin' on
And the other starts slipping and the feeling is gone
And yer train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood's easy findin' but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too long
And you start walkin' backwards though you know its wrong
And lonesome comes up as down goes the day
And tomorrow's mornin' seems so far away
And you feel the reins from yer pony are slippin'
And yer rope is a-slidin' 'cause yer hands are a-drippin'
And yer sun-decked desert and evergreen valleys
Turn to broken down slums and trash-can alleys
And yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'
And the lightnin's a-flashing and the thunder's a-crashin'
And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops a-shakin'
And yer whole world's a-slammin' and bangin'
And yer minutes of sun turn to hours of storm
And to yourself you sometimes say
"I never knew it was gonna be this way
Why didn't they tell me the day I was born"
And you start gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat
And you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite found yet
And yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer hands in the air
And the whole world's a-watchin' with a window peek stare
And yer good gal leaves and she's long gone a-flying
And yer heart feels sick like fish when they're fryin'
And yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feet
And you need it badly but it lays on the street
And yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beat
And you think yer ears might a been hurt
Or yer eyes've turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you figured you failed in yesterdays rush
When you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four flush
And all the time you were holdin' three queens
And it's makin you mad, it's makin' you mean
Like in the middle of Life magazine
Bouncin' around a pinball machine
And there's something on yer mind you wanna be saying
That somebody someplace oughta be hearin'
But it's trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
And it bothers you badly when your layin' in bed
And no matter how you try you just can't say it
And yer scared to yer soul you just might forget it
And yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer head
And yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead
And the lion's mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth
And his jaws start closin with you underneath
And yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied behind
And you wish you'd never taken that last detour sign
And you say to yourself just what am I doin'
On this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'
On this curve I'm hanging
On this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking
In this air I'm inhaling
Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard
Why am I walking, where am I running
What am I saying, what am I knowing
On this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm frailin'
On this mandolin I'm strummin', in the song I'm singin'
In the tune I'm hummin', in the words I'm writin'
In the words that I'm thinkin'
In this ocean of hours I'm all the time drinkin'
Who am I helping, what am I breaking
What am I giving, what am I taking
But you try with your whole soul best
Never to think these thoughts and never to let
Them kind of thoughts gain ground
Or make yer heart pound
But then again you know why they're around
Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop down
"Cause sometimes you hear'em when the night times comes creeping
And you fear that they might catch you a-sleeping
And you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin'
And you can't remember for the best of yer thinking
If that was you in the dream that was screaming
And you know that it's something special you're needin'
And you know that there's no drug that'll do for the healin'
And no liquor in the land to stop yer brain from bleeding
And you need something special
Yeah, you need something special all right
You need a fast flyin' train on a tornado track
To shoot you someplace and shoot you back
You need a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler
That's been banging and booming and blowing forever
That knows yer troubles a hundred times over
You need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race
That won't laugh at yer looks
Your voice or your face
And by any number of bets in the book
Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum craze
You need something to open up a new door
To show you something you seen before
But overlooked a hundred times or more
You need something to open your eyes
You need something to make it known
That it's you and no one else that owns
That spot that yer standing, that space that you're sitting
That the world ain't got you beat
That it ain't got you licked
It can't get you crazy no matter how many
Times you might get kicked
You need something special all right
You need something special to give you hope
But hope's just a word
That maybe you said or maybe you heard
On some windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve
But that's what you need man, and you need it bad
And yer trouble is you know it too good
"Cause you look an' you start getting the chills
"Cause you can't find it on a dollar bill
And it ain't on Macy's window sill
And it ain't on no rich kid's road map
And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity house
And it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain't on that dimlit stage
With that half-wit comedian on it
Ranting and raving and taking yer money
And you thinks it's funny
No you can't find it in no night club or no yacht club
And it ain't in the seats of a supper club
And sure as hell you're bound to tell
That no matter how hard you rub
You just ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub
No, and it ain't in the rumors people're tellin' you
And it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you
And it ain't in no cardboard-box house
Or down any movie star's blouse
And you can't find it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa Claus
And it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes
And it ain't in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons
And it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices
That come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'
Sayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my skin
Look at my skin shine, look at my skin glow
Look at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry
When you can't even sense if they got any insides
These people so pretty in their ribbons and bows
No you'll not now or no other day
Find it on the doorsteps made out-a paper mache_
And inside it the people made of molasses
That every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies
Who'd turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny
Who breathe and burp and bend and crack
And before you can count from one to ten
Do it all over again but this time behind yer back
My friend
The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl
And play games with each other in their sand-box world
And you can't find it either in the no-talent fools
That run around gallant
And make all rules for the ones that got talent
And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but think they do
And think they're foolin' you
The ones who jump on the wagon
Just for a while 'cause they know it's in style
To get their kicks, get out of it quick
And make all kinds of money and chicks
And you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be like that
Ain't there no one here that knows where I'm at
Ain't there no one here that knows how I feel
Good God Almighty
THAT STUFF AIN'T REAL"
No but that ain't yer game, it ain't even yer race
You can't hear yer name, you can't see yer face
You gotta look some other place
And where do you look for this hope that yer seekin'
Where do you look for this lamp that's a-burnin'
Where do you look for this oil well gushin'
Where do you look for this candle that's glowin'
Where do you look for this hope that you know is there
And out there somewhere
And your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads
Your eyes can only look through two kinds of windows
Your nose can only smell two kinds of hallways
You can touch and twist
And turn two kinds of doorknobs
You can either go to the church of your choice
Or you can go to Brooklyn State Hospital
You'll find God in the church of your choice
You'll find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital
Sumerian Mythology: Preface
Sumerian Mythology: Contents
Ancient Sumerian translations and History - Both Educational AND Interesting.(which is rare nowadays..
)
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
THE GUEST HOUSE POEM - BY Jelalludin Rumi
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
-- Jelaluddin Rumi,
translation by Coleman Barks
love Rumi....
Something I wrote a few years ago ... chirp chirp
"Butterfly With A Voice" (little story)
«
on: March 31, 2007, 06:56:27 PM »
~ The Butterfly With A Voice~
Once upon a time there lived this Butterfly collector.
He was well known throughout his village as the man with the most beautiful Butterfly collection.
He was so well known that people from all the surrounding villages and towns would come and see his wonderful collection.
One day when the collector was outside attending his Butterfly's he spotted the most beautiful Butterfly he had ever seen. This particular Butterfly seemed especially beautiful , as he stood there watching her flutter her delicate wings arround his Apple trees.
. He thought to himself. I must have her for my collection. Surely she is the most spirited, the most delicate Butterfly he had ever seen.
He waited for her to be still upon the branch, he then grabbed his net and gently swooshed it across the air entrapping the creature.
As time passed by, one of the collector's neighbors noticed that this mans favorite Butterfly was not fluttering her wings like she use to. She had lost that fierce spirit, that was making her so special, her wings barely moved at all. Perhaps just a little flutter here and a little flutter there. Even her bright vibrant colors of her wings seemed to be fading. This made the neighbor very sad. Deciding to tell the collector what he had seen. The collector promised the man he would take her outside tomorrow where she could sun and enjoy the warm air again, as she listened to the birds.
And the following day that is exactly what he did.
But the owner had forgotten about her being outside and later that evening he retired to his bed.
That evening a wild storm came overhead and the strong winds knocked the cage over.
The door of the cage flew open, and the Butterfly sat there feeling the wind and rain on her delicate wings. Slowly she fluttered one wing, and then the other, within moments she found her wings fluttering with the ferver that they use to. Before she was caged.
Off she flew to the branch of the Apple Tree, where she found some cover under the leaves . She slept.
Very early the next morning the man awoke, he remembered he had left his favorite Butterfly outside all night. He ran outside as fast as he could. Only to discover the opened cage lying on the ground gently rocking back and forth to the rhythm of the breeze.
The man stood there in his silence , his face to the ground, he then looked up , he looked to the left and to the right and behind him. But he could not see his favorite Butterfly anywhere.
And then just as the sun was pearching itself in the sky , the man saw his Butterfly flying towards him. She fluttered for a moment in front of the mans eyes, then she perched herself on his left shoulder. There she sat. The man did not know what to think, as he had never seen such a bold response from any other Butterfly he had ever known.
She then did something quite peculiar. She opened her mouth and in her own Butterfly voice she said to the man:
"I died to life and now a voice"
I was not your Butterfly without choice"
"My spirit is my essense you see"
"Please do not take it away from me"
She smiled and then she took to flight, circling arround and arround, and higher and higher she flew.
As she did this, the man noticed her bright colorful wings again. He had forgotten how once her bright and colorful her wings had been, before he had caged her. As he watched her fly up and out of his sight in that spirited way that he so loved. He realised she was truly much more happy and much more beautiful in her freedom, than she was in a cage.
~ The Butterfly With A Voice~
Once upon a time there lived this Butterfly collector.
He was well known throughout his village as the man with the most beautiful Butterfly collection.
He was so well known that people from all the surrounding villages and towns would come and see his wonderful collection.
One day when the collector was outside attending his Butterfly's he spotted the most beautiful Butterfly he had ever seen. This particular Butterfly seemed especially beautiful , as he stood there watching her flutter her delicate wings arround his Apple trees.
. He thought to himself. I must have her for my collection. Surely she is the most spirited, the most delicate Butterfly he had ever seen.
He waited for her to be still upon the branch, he then grabbed his net and gently swooshed it across the air entrapping the creature.
As time passed by, one of the collector's neighbors noticed that this mans favorite Butterfly was not fluttering her wings like she use to. She had lost that fierce spirit, that was making her so special, her wings barely moved at all. Perhaps just a little flutter here and a little flutter there. Even her bright vibrant colors of her wings seemed to be fading. This made the neighbor very sad. Deciding to tell the collector what he had seen. The collector promised the man he would take her outside tomorrow where she could sun and enjoy the warm air again, as she listened to the birds.
And the following day that is exactly what he did.
But the owner had forgotten about her being outside and later that evening he retired to his bed.
That evening a wild storm came overhead and the strong winds knocked the cage over.
The door of the cage flew open, and the Butterfly sat there feeling the wind and rain on her delicate wings. Slowly she fluttered one wing, and then the other, within moments she found her wings fluttering with the ferver that they use to. Before she was caged.
Off she flew to the branch of the Apple Tree, where she found some cover under the leaves . She slept.
Very early the next morning the man awoke, he remembered he had left his favorite Butterfly outside all night. He ran outside as fast as he could. Only to discover the opened cage lying on the ground gently rocking back and forth to the rhythm of the breeze.
The man stood there in his silence , his face to the ground, he then looked up , he looked to the left and to the right and behind him. But he could not see his favorite Butterfly anywhere.
And then just as the sun was pearching itself in the sky , the man saw his Butterfly flying towards him. She fluttered for a moment in front of the mans eyes, then she perched herself on his left shoulder. There she sat. The man did not know what to think, as he had never seen such a bold response from any other Butterfly he had ever known.
She then did something quite peculiar. She opened her mouth and in her own Butterfly voice she said to the man:
"I died to life and now a voice"
I was not your Butterfly without choice"
"My spirit is my essense you see"
"Please do not take it away from me"
She smiled and then she took to flight, circling arround and arround, and higher and higher she flew.
As she did this, the man noticed her bright colorful wings again. He had forgotten how once her bright and colorful her wings had been, before he had caged her. As he watched her fly up and out of his sight in that spirited way that he so loved. He realised she was truly much more happy and much more beautiful in her freedom, than she was in a cage.
"Butterfly With A Voice" (little story)
«
on: March 31, 2007, 06:56:27 PM »
~ The Butterfly With A Voice~
Once upon a time there lived this Butterfly collector.
He was well known throughout his village as the man with the most beautiful Butterfly collection.
He was so well known that people from all the surrounding villages and towns would come and see his wonderful collection.
One day when the collector was outside attending his Butterfly's he spotted the most beautiful Butterfly he had ever seen. This particular Butterfly seemed especially beautiful , as he stood there watching her flutter her delicate wings arround his Apple trees.
. He thought to himself. I must have her for my collection. Surely she is the most spirited, the most delicate Butterfly he had ever seen.
He waited for her to be still upon the branch, he then grabbed his net and gently swooshed it across the air entrapping the creature.
As time passed by, one of the collector's neighbors noticed that this mans favorite Butterfly was not fluttering her wings like she use to. She had lost that fierce spirit, that was making her so special, her wings barely moved at all. Perhaps just a little flutter here and a little flutter there. Even her bright vibrant colors of her wings seemed to be fading. This made the neighbor very sad. Deciding to tell the collector what he had seen. The collector promised the man he would take her outside tomorrow where she could sun and enjoy the warm air again, as she listened to the birds.
And the following day that is exactly what he did.
But the owner had forgotten about her being outside and later that evening he retired to his bed.
That evening a wild storm came overhead and the strong winds knocked the cage over.
The door of the cage flew open, and the Butterfly sat there feeling the wind and rain on her delicate wings. Slowly she fluttered one wing, and then the other, within moments she found her wings fluttering with the ferver that they use to. Before she was caged.
Off she flew to the branch of the Apple Tree, where she found some cover under the leaves . She slept.
Very early the next morning the man awoke, he remembered he had left his favorite Butterfly outside all night. He ran outside as fast as he could. Only to discover the opened cage lying on the ground gently rocking back and forth to the rhythm of the breeze.
The man stood there in his silence , his face to the ground, he then looked up , he looked to the left and to the right and behind him. But he could not see his favorite Butterfly anywhere.
And then just as the sun was pearching itself in the sky , the man saw his Butterfly flying towards him. She fluttered for a moment in front of the mans eyes, then she perched herself on his left shoulder. There she sat. The man did not know what to think, as he had never seen such a bold response from any other Butterfly he had ever known.
She then did something quite peculiar. She opened her mouth and in her own Butterfly voice she said to the man:
"I died to life and now a voice"
I was not your Butterfly without choice"
"My spirit is my essense you see"
"Please do not take it away from me"
She smiled and then she took to flight, circling arround and arround, and higher and higher she flew.
As she did this, the man noticed her bright colorful wings again. He had forgotten how once her bright and colorful her wings had been, before he had caged her. As he watched her fly up and out of his sight in that spirited way that he so loved. He realised she was truly much more happy and much more beautiful in her freedom, than she was in a cage.
