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RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:31:24 PM   
matthewforan


Posts: 21051
Joined: 30/9/2005
From: My Hometown
We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. There he goes. One of God's own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die. With a bit of luck, his life was ruined forever. Always thinking that just behind some narrow door in all of his favorite bars, men in red woolen shirts are getting incredible kicks from things he'll never know. Look, there's two women fucking a polar bear! Few people understand the psychology of dealing with a highway traffic cop. A normal speeder will panic and immediately pull over to the side. This is wrong. It arouses contempt in the cop heart. Make the bastard chase you. He will follow. But he won't know what to make of your blinker signal that says you are about to turn right. This is to let him know you're pulling off for a proper place to talk. It will take him a moment to realize that he's about to make a 180 degree turn at speed, but you will be ready for it. Brace for the g's, and fast heel-toe work. We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a saltshaker half-full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, laughers, screamers... Also, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get into locked a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge, and I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon. No. We can't stop here. This is bat country.




_____________________________

"The Irish have always been victims of negative stereotyping. I mean people think we're all drunks and brawlers. And sometimes that gets you so mad all you wanna do is get drunk and punch somebody"

Clear Eyes Full Hearts Can't Lose

Punchdrunk RIP


(in reply to Olaf)
Post #: 61
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:32:31 PM   
TheManWithNoShame


Posts: 6767
Joined: 1/8/2006
Now, this is a story all about how
My life got flipped-turned upside down
And I liked to take a minute
Just sit right there
I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel Air

In west Philadelphia born and raised
On the playground was where I spent most of my days
Chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool
And all shootin some b-ball outside of the school
When a couple of guys
Who were up to no good
Startin making trouble in my neighborhood
I got in one little fight and my mom got scared
She said 'You're movin' with your auntie and uncle in Bel Air'

I begged and pleaded with her day after day
But she packed my suite case and send me on my way
She gave me a kiss and then she gave me my ticket.
I put my walkman on and said, 'I might as well kick it'.

First class, yo this is bad
Drinking orange juice out of a champagne glass.
Is this what the people of Bel-Air Living like?
Hmmmmm this might be alright.

But wait I hear there're prissy, wine all that
Is Bel-Air the type of place they send this cool cat?
I don't think sow
I'll see when I get there
I hope they're prepared for the prince of Bel-Air

Well, the plane landed and when I came out
There was a dude who looked like a cop standing there with my name out
I ain't trying to get arrested
I just got here
I sprang with the quickness like lightening, disappeared

I whistled for a cab and when it came near
The license plate said fresh and it had dice in the mirror
If anything I can say this cab is rare
But I thought 'Now forget it' - 'Yo homes to Bel Air'

I pulled up to the house about 7 or 8
And I yelled to the cabbie 'Yo homes smell ya later'
I looked at my kingdom
I was finally there
To sit on my throne as the Prince of Bel Air


_____________________________

sorry jbg :( i promise to stop being such a silly boy.

(in reply to VincentHanna)
Post #: 62
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:33:46 PM   
VincentHanna


Posts: 937
Joined: 3/10/2005
From: 30 minutes walk from Manchester city centre.
I dont know what happened! I mean, I just tried to talk to these guys, and then there was a dustbuster, a toupee and a life raft exploded... now one's bald, one's in a boat, and they're both unconscious!

_____________________________

No one's listening to you. If you wanna complain, write it on a piece of paper. And shove it up your ass.

(in reply to TheManWithNoShame)
Post #: 63
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:34:51 PM   
Olaf


Posts: 23709
Joined: 26/2/2007
From: 41°N 93°W
I hope you have a permit for that.

_____________________________

I tried to groan, Help! Help! But the tone that came out was that of polite conversation.

Empire Top 100 Albums Poll 2013: CLICK HERE

(in reply to VincentHanna)
Post #: 64
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:36:34 PM   
VincentHanna


Posts: 937
Joined: 3/10/2005
From: 30 minutes walk from Manchester city centre.
I pity you, you know that? I wish I could avoid being honest about this, but you've hurt me, and I want to hurt you, but I can't bring myself to hurt you......I just pity you, you sad fuck.

_____________________________

No one's listening to you. If you wanna complain, write it on a piece of paper. And shove it up your ass.

(in reply to Olaf)
Post #: 65
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:37:01 PM   
matthewforan


Posts: 21051
Joined: 30/9/2005
From: My Hometown
Two hearts fading, like a flower.
And all this waiting, for the power.
For some answer, to this fire.
Sinking slowly. The wateras higher.
Desire

With no secrets. No obsession.
This time I'm speeding with no direction.
Without a reason. What is this fire?
Burning slowly. My one and only.
Desire

You know me. You don't mind waiting.
You just can't show me, but God I'm praying,
That you'll find me, and that you'll see me,
That you run and never tire.
Desire


_____________________________

"The Irish have always been victims of negative stereotyping. I mean people think we're all drunks and brawlers. And sometimes that gets you so mad all you wanna do is get drunk and punch somebody"

Clear Eyes Full Hearts Can't Lose

Punchdrunk RIP


(in reply to Olaf)
Post #: 66
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:37:55 PM   
Stewie_Griffin


Posts: 6968
Joined: 3/10/2005
From: St.Albans, Hertfordshire
Yes, I also blame them for 9/11

< Message edited by Stewie_Griffin -- 5/5/2009 12:16:40 AM >


_____________________________

Welcome to Sesame Street, kids. Today's word is "Expiation"

(in reply to matthewforan)
Post #: 67
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:38:55 PM   
VincentHanna


Posts: 937
Joined: 3/10/2005
From: 30 minutes walk from Manchester city centre.
Really, you've never been to the circus? Oh, the fun we're going to have!

_____________________________

No one's listening to you. If you wanna complain, write it on a piece of paper. And shove it up your ass.

(in reply to Stewie_Griffin)
Post #: 68
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:39:05 PM   
Olaf


Posts: 23709
Joined: 26/2/2007
From: 41°N 93°W
I hope you don't kill yourself because you couldn't get a Dark Knight cover.

_____________________________

I tried to groan, Help! Help! But the tone that came out was that of polite conversation.

Empire Top 100 Albums Poll 2013: CLICK HERE

(in reply to Stewie_Griffin)
Post #: 69
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:39:28 PM   
Horror Nut


Posts: 4161
Joined: 23/11/2006
From: Outpost 31
You know somethin Mean Gene.......I am the lord of the dance.

_____________________________

"Justin, someone just came on your cat".

"It's impossible to reconcile. It's kind of in a purgatory of it's own: you're not in heaven, you're not in hell......you're in Hollywood".

The New and Improved Horror Nut.......in 3D!!!

(in reply to Stewie_Griffin)
Post #: 70
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:40:11 PM   
matthewforan


Posts: 21051
Joined: 30/9/2005
From: My Hometown
Mean Girls is an alright movie.

_____________________________

"The Irish have always been victims of negative stereotyping. I mean people think we're all drunks and brawlers. And sometimes that gets you so mad all you wanna do is get drunk and punch somebody"

Clear Eyes Full Hearts Can't Lose

Punchdrunk RIP


(in reply to Horror Nut)
Post #: 71
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:40:21 PM   
VincentHanna


Posts: 937
Joined: 3/10/2005
From: 30 minutes walk from Manchester city centre.
No I'm tired, so why don't you row for a bit and I'll just sit here and watch the world go by.

_____________________________

No one's listening to you. If you wanna complain, write it on a piece of paper. And shove it up your ass.

(in reply to Horror Nut)
Post #: 72
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:42:17 PM   
Olaf


Posts: 23709
Joined: 26/2/2007
From: 41°N 93°W
You gave me influenza, you jackass! My career is ruined!

_____________________________

I tried to groan, Help! Help! But the tone that came out was that of polite conversation.

Empire Top 100 Albums Poll 2013: CLICK HERE

(in reply to VincentHanna)
Post #: 73
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:43:28 PM   
matthewforan


Posts: 21051
Joined: 30/9/2005
From: My Hometown
Let's talk about sex baby, let's talk about it.

_____________________________

"The Irish have always been victims of negative stereotyping. I mean people think we're all drunks and brawlers. And sometimes that gets you so mad all you wanna do is get drunk and punch somebody"

Clear Eyes Full Hearts Can't Lose

Punchdrunk RIP


(in reply to Olaf)
Post #: 74
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:43:34 PM   
VincentHanna


Posts: 937
Joined: 3/10/2005
From: 30 minutes walk from Manchester city centre.
I'm going to a gig tonight, to see my two new favourite bands: Scouting for Girls and The Feeling. Brilliant!

_____________________________

No one's listening to you. If you wanna complain, write it on a piece of paper. And shove it up your ass.

(in reply to Olaf)
Post #: 75
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:45:01 PM   
Olaf


Posts: 23709
Joined: 26/2/2007
From: 41°N 93°W
Two syllables are better than one.

_____________________________

I tried to groan, Help! Help! But the tone that came out was that of polite conversation.

Empire Top 100 Albums Poll 2013: CLICK HERE

(in reply to VincentHanna)
Post #: 76
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:45:45 PM   
TheManWithNoShame


Posts: 6767
Joined: 1/8/2006
"Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis vidi
in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent: Σιβυλλα
τι θελεις
; respondebat illa: αποθανειν θελω."
For Ezra Pound
il miglior fabbro.
 
I. The Burial of the Dead
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar kine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.    What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow.
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
               Frisch weht der Wind
               Der Heimat zu,
               Mein Irisch Kind,
               Wo weilest du?

"You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
"They called me the hyacinth girl."
–Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Oed' und leer das Meer.    Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
Had a bad cold, nevertheless
Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,
Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)
Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
The lady of situations.
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
One must be so careful these days.    Unreal City,
Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many.
Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying: "Stetson!
"You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!
"That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
"Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
"Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
"Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,
"Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!
"You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable—mon frère!"  
II. A Game of Chess
The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Glowed on the marble, where the glass
Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines
From which a golden Cupidon peeped out
(Another hid his eyes behind his wing)
Doubled the flames of seven branched candelabra
Reflecting light upon the table as
The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,
From satin cases poured in rich profusion;
In vials of ivory and coloured glass
Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes,
Unguent, powdered, or liquid—troubled, confused
And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air
That freshened from the window, these ascended
In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,
Flung their smoke into the laquearia,
Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.
Huge sea-wood-fed with copper
Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone,
In which sad light a carvèd dolphin swam.
Above the antique mantel was displayed.
As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene
The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king
So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale
Filled all the desert with inviolable voice
And still she cried, and still the world pursues,
"Jug Jug" to dirty ears.
And other withered stumps of time
Were told upon the walls; staring forms
Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed.
Footsteps shuffled on the stair.
Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair
Spread out in fiery points
Clawed into words, then would be savagely still.    "My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
"Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
   "What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
"I never know what you are thinking. Think."    I think we are in rats' alley
Where the dead men lost their bones.    "What is that noise?"
                              The wind under the door.
"What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?"
                              Nothing again nothing.
                                                            "Do
"You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember
"Nothing?"    I remember
Those are pearls that were his eyes.
"Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?"
                                                                          But O O O O that Shakespearean Rag—
It's so elegant
So intelligent
"What shall I do now? What shall I do?"
"I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street
"With my hair down, so. What shall we do to-morrow?
"What shall we ever do?"
                              The hot water at ten.
And if it rains, a closed car at four.
And we shall play a game of chess,
Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.    When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said—
I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself,
HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
Now Albert's coming back, make yourself a bit smart.
He'll want to know what you done with that money he gave you
To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there.
You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set,
He said, I swear, I can't bear to look at you.
And no more can't I, I said, and think of poor Albert,
He's been in the army four years, he wants a good time,
And if you don't give it him, there's others will, I said.
Oh is there, she said. Something o' that, I said.
Then I'll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look.
HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
If you don't like it you can get on with it, I said,
Others can pick and choose if you can't.
But if Albert makes off, it won't be for lack of telling.
You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique.
(And her only thirty-one.)
I can't help it, she said, pulling a long face,
It's them pills I took, to bring it off, she said.
(She's had five already, and nearly died of young George.)
The chemist said it would be alright, but I've never been the same.
You are a proper fool, I said.
Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I said,
What you get married for if you don't want children?
HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,
And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot—
HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME
Goodnight Bill. Goodnight Lou. Goodnight May. Goodnight.
Ta ta. Goodnight. Goodnight.
Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.  

III. The Fire Sermon
The river's tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf
Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind
Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed.
Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,
Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends
Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed.
And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors;
Departed, have left no addresses.
By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept. . .
Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song,
Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.
But at my back in a cold blast I hear
The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.
A rat crept softly through the vegetation
Dragging its slimy belly on the bank
While I was fishing in the dull canal
On a winter evening round behind the gashouse
Musing upon the king my brother's wreck
And on the king my father's death before him.
White bodies naked on the low damp ground
And bones cast in a little low dry garret,
Rattled by the rat's foot only, year to year.
But at my back from time to time I hear
The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring
Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring.
O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter
And on her daughter
They wash their feet in soda water
Et O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole!    Twit twit twit
Jug jug jug jug jug jug
So rudely forc'd.
Tereu    Unreal City
Under the brown fog of a winter noon
Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant
Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants
C.i.f. London: documents at sight,
Asked me in demotic French
To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel
Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.    At the violet hour, when the eyes and back
Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits
Like a taxi throbbing waiting,
I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives,
Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see
At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives
Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea,
The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights
Her stove, and lays out food in tins.
Out of the window perilously spread
Her drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays,
On the divan are piled (at night her bed)
Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays.
I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs
Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest—
I too awaited the expected guest.
He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,
A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare,
One of the low on whom assurance sits
As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire,
The time is now propitious, as he guesses,
The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,
Endeavours to engage her in caresses
Which still are unreproved, if undesired.
Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;
Exploring hands encounter no defence;
His vanity requires no response,
And makes a welcome of indifference.
(And I Tiresias have foresuffered all
Enacted on this same divan or bed;
I who have sat by Thebes below the wall
And walked among the lowest of the dead.)
Bestows one final patronising kiss,
And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit. . .    She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
Hardly aware of her departed lover;
Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
"Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over."
When lovely woman stoops to folly and
Paces about her room again, alone,
She smoothes her hair with automatic hand,
And puts a record on the gramophone.    "This music crept by me upon the waters"
And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.
O City city, I can sometimes hear
Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,
The pleasant whining of a mandoline
And a clatter and a chatter from within
Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
Of Magnus Martyr hold
Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.
   The river sweats
Oil and tar
The barges drift
With the turning tide
Red sails
Wide
To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.
The barges wash
Drifting logs
Down Greenwich reach
Past the Isle of Dogs,
                  Weialala leia
                  Wallala leialala    Elizabeth and Leicester
Beating oars
The stern was formed
A gilded shell
Red and gold
The brisk swell
Rippled both shores
Southwest wind
Carried down stream
The peal of bells
White towers
                  Weialala leia
                  Wallala leialala    "Trams and dusty trees.
Highbury bore me. "Richmond and Kew
Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees
Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe."    "My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart
Under my feet. After the event
He wept. He promised 'a new start.'
I made no comment. What should I resent?"    "On Margate Sands.
I can connect
Nothing with nothing.
The broken fingernails of dirty hands.
My people humble people who expect
Nothing."
                  la la    To Carthage then I came    Burning burning burning burning
O Lord Thou pluckest me out
O Lord Thou pluckest burning  
IV. Death by Water
Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell
And the profit and loss.
                                   A current under sea
Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
He passed the stages of his age and youth
Entering the whirlpool.
                                 Gentile or Jew
O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.  
V. What the Thunder Said
After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and palace and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience    Here is no water but only rock
Rock and no water and the sandy road
The road winding above among the mountains
Which are mountains of rock without water
If there were water we should stop and drink
Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
If there were only water amongst the rock
Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit
There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain
There is not even solitude in the mountains
But red sullen faces sneer and snarl
From doors of mudcracked houses
                                           If there were water
   And no rock
   If there were rock
   And also water
   And water
   A spring
   A pool among the rock
   If there were the sound of water only
   Not the cicada
   And dry grass singing
   But sound of water over a rock
   Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees
   Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
   But there is no water    Who is the third who walks always beside you?
When I count, there are only you and I together
But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you
Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
I do not know whether a man or a woman
—But who is that on the other side of you?    What is that sound high in the air
Murmur of maternal lamentation
Who are those hooded hordes swarming
Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth
Ringed by the flat horizon only
What is the city over the mountains
Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air
Falling towers Jerusalem Athens Alexandria
Vienna London
Unreal    A woman drew her long black hair out tight
And fiddled whisper music on those strings
And bats with baby faces in the violet light
Whistled, and beat their wings
And crawled head downward down a blackened wall
And upside down in air were towers
Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours
And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.    In this decayed hole among the mountains
In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel
There is the empty chapel, only the wind's home
It has no windows, and the door swings,
Dry bones can harm no one.
Only a cock stood on the rooftree
Co co rico co co rico
In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust
Bringing rain    Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves
Waited for rain, while the black clouds
Gathered far distant, over Himavant.
The jungle crouched, humped in silence,
Then spoke the thunder
DA
Datta: what have we given?
My friend, blood shaking my heart
The awful daring of a moment's surrender
Which an age of prudence can never retract
By this, and this only, we have existed
Which is not to be found in our obituaries
Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider
Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor
In our empty rooms
DA
Dayadhvam: I have heard the key
Turn in the door once and turn once only
We think of the key, each in his prison
Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison
Only at nightfall, aethereal rumours
Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus
DA
Damyata: The boat responded
Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar
The sea was calm, your heart would have responded
Gaily, when invited, beating obedient
To controlling hands                                        I sat upon the shore
Fishing, with the arid plain behind me
Shall I at least set my lands in order?
London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down
Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina
Quando fiam uti chelidon
—O swallow swallow
Le Prince d'Aquitaine à la tour abolie
These fragments I have shored against my ruins
Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo's mad againe.
Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.
            Shantih shantih shantih

_____________________________

sorry jbg :( i promise to stop being such a silly boy.

(in reply to VincentHanna)
Post #: 77
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:48:47 PM   
Olaf


Posts: 23709
Joined: 26/2/2007
From: 41°N 93°W
I went off with my hands in my torn coat pockets;
My overcoat too was becoming ideal;
I travelled beneath the sky, Muse! and I was your vassal;
Oh dear me! what marvellous loves I dreamed of!

My only pair of breeches had a big whole in them.
– Stargazing Tom Thumb, I sowed rhymes along my way.
My tavern was at the Sign of the Great Bear.
– My stars in the sky rustled softly.

And I listened to them, sitting on the road-sides
On those pleasant September evenings while I felt drops
Of dew on my forehead like vigorous wine;

And while, rhyming among the fantastical shadows,
I plucked like the strings of a lyre the elastics
Of my tattered boots, one foot close to my heart!

_____________________________

I tried to groan, Help! Help! But the tone that came out was that of polite conversation.

Empire Top 100 Albums Poll 2013: CLICK HERE

(in reply to TheManWithNoShame)
Post #: 78
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:49:04 PM   
Manchurian candidate


Posts: 11123
Joined: 13/6/2006
From: A Clear-Thinking Oasis
Ayyyyyyyl beeeeeee goooooooone
In a day or twwwwwwwwwwooooooooooooo

_____________________________

"Ford's economics are the worst thing that's happened to this country since pantyhose ruined finger-fucking."
Lyndon B. Johnson
"British Beatitudes! … Beer, beef, business, bibles, bulldogs, battleships, buggery and bishops"
-Ulysses, By James Joyce
"Rose McGowan is a fucking clown"
-Harry Lime
"Who's Keith"
- Rhubarb

(in reply to TheManWithNoShame)
Post #: 79
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:49:56 PM   
Horror Nut


Posts: 4161
Joined: 23/11/2006
From: Outpost 31
I heard the man couldn't read.

_____________________________

"Justin, someone just came on your cat".

"It's impossible to reconcile. It's kind of in a purgatory of it's own: you're not in heaven, you're not in hell......you're in Hollywood".

The New and Improved Horror Nut.......in 3D!!!

(in reply to TheManWithNoShame)
Post #: 80
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:51:00 PM   
TheManWithNoShame


Posts: 6767
Joined: 1/8/2006
quote:

ORIGINAL: Manchurian candidate

Ayyyyyyyl beeeeeee goooooooone
In a day or twwwwwwwwwwooooooooooooo


Breeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeathe. Oh Vienna!

< Message edited by TheManWithNoShame -- 9/9/2008 6:53:14 PM >


_____________________________

sorry jbg :( i promise to stop being such a silly boy.

(in reply to Manchurian candidate)
Post #: 81
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:51:50 PM   
matthewforan


Posts: 21051
Joined: 30/9/2005
From: My Hometown
By a lonely prison wall
I heard a young girl calling
Micheal they are taking you away
For you stole Trevelyn's corn
So the young might see the morn.
Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay.

Low lie the Fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly.
Our love was on the wing we had dreams and songs to sing
It's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry.

By a lonely prison wall
I heard a young man calling
Nothing matter Mary when your free,
Against the Famine and the Crown
I rebelled they ran me down
Now you must raise our child with dignity.

Low lie the Fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly.
Our love was on the wing we had dreams and songs to sing
It's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry.

By a lonely harbor wall
She watched the last star falling
As that prison ship sailed out against the sky
Sure she'll wait and hope and pray
For her love in Botany Bay
It's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry.

Low lie the Fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly.
Our love was on the wing we had dreams and songs to sing
It's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry

_____________________________

"The Irish have always been victims of negative stereotyping. I mean people think we're all drunks and brawlers. And sometimes that gets you so mad all you wanna do is get drunk and punch somebody"

Clear Eyes Full Hearts Can't Lose

Punchdrunk RIP


(in reply to Horror Nut)
Post #: 82
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:52:35 PM   
TheManWithNoShame


Posts: 6767
Joined: 1/8/2006
quote:

ORIGINAL: Olaf

I went off with my hands in my torn coat pockets;
My overcoat too was becoming ideal;
I travelled beneath the sky, Muse! and I was your vassal;
Oh dear me! what marvellous loves I dreamed of!

My only pair of breeches had a big whole in them.
– Stargazing Tom Thumb, I sowed rhymes along my way.
My tavern was at the Sign of the Great Bear.
– My stars in the sky rustled softly.

And I listened to them, sitting on the road-sides
On those pleasant September evenings while I felt drops
Of dew on my forehead like vigorous wine;

And while, rhyming among the fantastical shadows,
I plucked like the strings of a lyre the elastics
Of my tattered boots, one foot close to my heart!


If you're going to do Rimbaud, then at least do it properly.

Je m'en allais, les poings dans mes poches crevées ;
Mon paletot aussi devenait idéal ;
J'allais sous le ciel, Muse ! et j'étais ton féal ;
Oh ! là là ! que d'amours splendides j'ai rêvées !

Mon unique culotte avait un large trou.
- Petit-Poucet rêveur, j'égrenais dans ma course
Des rimes. Mon auberge était à la Grande Ourse.
- Mes étoiles au ciel avaient un doux frou-frou

Et je les écoutais, assis au bord des routes,
Ces bons soirs de septembre où je sentais des gouttes
De rosée à mon front, comme un vin de vigueur ;

Où, rimant au milieu des ombres fantastiques,
Comme des lyres, je tirais les élastiques
De mes souliers blessés, un pied près de mon coeur !


_____________________________

sorry jbg :( i promise to stop being such a silly boy.

(in reply to Olaf)
Post #: 83
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:52:59 PM   
Stewie_Griffin


Posts: 6968
Joined: 3/10/2005
From: St.Albans, Hertfordshire
Always on the outside always looking in
I was in this drop D metal band we called Requiem
And they’d say relax
But I can’t be a man this far down the map

I was sold for suspect drawings
Underneath a makeshift awning
Now I’m yours
Know I’m here
Read it all front and back
But I can’t relax
With my knees on the ground and a stick in my back
Sister Jack

I was on the outside
I was lookin in
I was in a drop D metal band we called Requiem
And I can’t relax
With my knees on the ground and a stick in my back
Sister Jack

No I can’t just relax
Knowing that you’re coming back
Sister Jack


This Thread is now about posting random song lyrics.

< Message edited by Stewie_Griffin -- 9/9/2008 6:54:28 PM >


_____________________________

Welcome to Sesame Street, kids. Today's word is "Expiation"

(in reply to Horror Nut)
Post #: 84
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:53:37 PM   
TheManWithNoShame


Posts: 6767
Joined: 1/8/2006
Ok, now you're just being copycats.

_____________________________

sorry jbg :( i promise to stop being such a silly boy.

(in reply to Stewie_Griffin)
Post #: 85
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:54:51 PM   
sanchia


Posts: 18340
Joined: 3/1/2006
From: Norwich
If you keep scratching it then it will become infected.

_____________________________

Nothing to see here.



(in reply to TheManWithNoShame)
Post #: 86
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:55:26 PM   
Manchurian candidate


Posts: 11123
Joined: 13/6/2006
From: A Clear-Thinking Oasis


_____________________________

"Ford's economics are the worst thing that's happened to this country since pantyhose ruined finger-fucking."
Lyndon B. Johnson
"British Beatitudes! … Beer, beef, business, bibles, bulldogs, battleships, buggery and bishops"
-Ulysses, By James Joyce
"Rose McGowan is a fucking clown"
-Harry Lime
"Who's Keith"
- Rhubarb

(in reply to Stewie_Griffin)
Post #: 87
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:56:37 PM   
VincentHanna


Posts: 937
Joined: 3/10/2005
From: 30 minutes walk from Manchester city centre.
If you look at me like that again, I may have to kiss you. Forcefully.
Yes, that's the effect you're having on me right now.

_____________________________

No one's listening to you. If you wanna complain, write it on a piece of paper. And shove it up your ass.

(in reply to Manchurian candidate)
Post #: 88
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:57:24 PM   
matthewforan


Posts: 21051
Joined: 30/9/2005
From: My Hometown
LETS GO RED SOX!

_____________________________

"The Irish have always been victims of negative stereotyping. I mean people think we're all drunks and brawlers. And sometimes that gets you so mad all you wanna do is get drunk and punch somebody"

Clear Eyes Full Hearts Can't Lose

Punchdrunk RIP


(in reply to TheManWithNoShame)
Post #: 89
RE: The react strangely to the last poster's post threa... - 9/9/2008 6:57:25 PM   
Manchurian candidate


Posts: 11123
Joined: 13/6/2006
From: A Clear-Thinking Oasis


_____________________________

"Ford's economics are the worst thing that's happened to this country since pantyhose ruined finger-fucking."
Lyndon B. Johnson
"British Beatitudes! … Beer, beef, business, bibles, bulldogs, battleships, buggery and bishops"
-Ulysses, By James Joyce
"Rose McGowan is a fucking clown"
-Harry Lime
"Who's Keith"
- Rhubarb

(in reply to VincentHanna)
Post #: 90
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