A Poem Thread

The Wings of Time

The Bird of Time flew by once again,
But the bird chaser could never on it gain,
For, the bird lived in a perpetual ‘now’ (not then)—
A constant sunrise in which, for sure,
It ever flew forward, into the future.

One wing of the bird was black
And the other was white, in fact.

As the bird flew overhead and around,
A checkerboard pattern, they’d found,
Had formed all over the ground.

“What can it mean?” she wondered aloud.

“I think I’m starting to catch on,” said her partner, proud.

“The wings of Time are black and white,
For one is the day and one is the night—
For fluttering ‘round the night flies the daylight.”

“Yes, I knew it too, and still!
We are all players on the checkerboard’s till,
Of days and nights, as on a calendar, until...”

“...Until the game ends our persistence,
And we’re put back in the box of nonexistence.”

“But, in the meanwhile, I thank Destiny’s Dame,
For at least letting me play the game!”

“Of course, my dearest;
We’ll make a game of that fuss
Which makes as much of us!”

“Let’s play!”

“I’m game, I say.”

And so they traveled on, those loves,
Ready to make their moves.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zVQ5FVdq6IQ
 
Splish Splash

by Bobby Darin


Splish Splash, I was takin' a bath
Long about a saturday night, yeah
Rub-a-dub, just relaxin' in the tub
Thinkin' everything was alright

Well, I stepped out the tub, put my feet on the floor,
I wrapped the towel around me
And I opened the door, and then
Splish, Splash! I jumped back in the bath
Well how was I to know there was a party going on

They was a-splishin' and a-splashin',
Reelin' with the feelin', moving and a-groovin,
Rockin' and a-rollin', yeah!

Bing bang, I saw the whole gang
Dancing on my living room rug, yeah!
Flip flop, they was doing the bop
All the teens had the dancin bug

There was lollipop with-a Peggy Sue
Good Golly, Miss Molly was-a even there, too!
A-well-a, Splish Splash, I forgot about the bath
I went and put my dancin shoes on, yeah...

I was a rollin' and a strollin', reelin' with the feelin',
Movin and a groovin', splishin' and a splashin, yeah!

Yes, I was a-splishin' and a splashin'
I was a-rollin' and a-strollin'
Yeah, I was a-movin' and a-groovin'...woo!
We was a-reelin' with the feelin'..ha!
We was a-rollin' and a-strollin'
Movin with the groovin'
Splish splash, yeah!

I was a-splishin' and a splashin' one time
I was a-splishin' and a splashin'..woo-woo!
I was a-movin' and a-groovin'...

http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&sour...kMz4DA&usg=AFQjCNGYcOz613TFXRaKhCMDltVLWQibjA
 
"As Once the Winged Energy of Delight"
By Rainer Maria Rilke

*"As once the winged energy of delight
carried you over childhood's dark abysses,
now beyond your own life build the great
arch of unimagined bridges.

Wonders happen if we can succeed
in passing through the harshest danger;
but only in a bright and purely granted
achievement can we realize the wonder.

To work with Things in the indescribable
relationship is not too hard for us;
the pattern grows more intricate and subtle,
and being swept along is not enough.

Take your practiced powers and stretch them out
until they span the chasm between two
contradictions...For the god
wants to know himself in you."
 
Not Affraid

By Eminem


I'm not afraid to take a stand
Everybody come take my hand
We'll walk this road together, through the storm
Whatever weather, cold or warm
Just let you know that, you're not alone
Holla if you feel that you've been down the same road

(Intro)

Yeah, It's been a ride...
I guess I had to go to that place to get to this one
Now some of you might still be in that place
If you're trying to get out, just follow me
I'll get you there

(Verse 1)

You can try and read my lyrics off of this paper before I lay 'em
But you won't take this thing out these words before I say 'em
Cause ain't no way I'm let you stop me from causing mayhem
When I say 'em or do something I do it, I don't give a damn
What you think, I'm doing this for me, so fuck the world
Feed it beans, it's gassed up, if a thing's stopping me
I'mma be what I set out to be, without a doubt undoubtedly
And all those who look down on me I'm tearing down your balcony
No if ands or buts don't try to ask him why or how can he
From Infinite down to the last Relapse album he's still shit'n
Whether he's on salary, paid hourly
Until he bows out or he shit's his bowels out of him
Whichever comes first, for better or worse
He's married to the game, like a fuck you for christmas
His gift is a curse, forget the earth he's got the urge
To pull his dick from the dirt and fuck the universe

(Hook)

I'm not afraid to take a stand
Everybody come take my hand
We'll walk this road together, through the storm
Whatever weather, cold or warm
Just let you know that, you're not alone
Holla if you feel that you've been down the same road

(Verse 2)
Ok quit playin' with the scissors and shit, and cut the crap
I shouldn't have to rhyme these words in the rhythm for you to know it's a rap
You said you was king, you lied through your teeth
For that fuck your fillings, instead of getting crowned you're getting capped
And to the fans, I'll never let you down again, I'm back
I promise to never go back on that promise, in fact
Let's be honest, that last Relapse CD was "ehhhh"
Perhaps I ran them accents into the ground

Relax, I ain't going back to that now
All I'm tryna say is get back, click-clack BLAOW
Cause I ain't playin' around
There's a game called circle and I don't know how
I'm way too up to back down
But I think I'm still tryna figure this crap out
Thought I had it mapped out but I guess I didn't
This fucking black cloud still follow's me around
But it's time to exercise these demons
These motherfuckers are doing jumping jacks now!

(Hook)

I'm not afraid to take a stand
Everybody come take my hand
We'll walk this road together, through the storm
Whatever weather, cold or warm
Just let you know that, you're not alone
Holla if you feel that you've been down the same road

(Bridge)

And I just can't keep living this way
So starting today, I'm breaking out of this cage
I'm standing up, Imma face my demons
I'm manning up, Imma hold my ground
I've had enough, now I'm so fed up
Time to put my life back together right now

(Verse 3)

It was my decision to get clean, I did it for me
Admittedly I probably did it subliminally for you
So I could come back a brand new me, you helped see me through
And don't even realise what you did, believe me you
I been through the ringer, but they can do little to the middle finger
I think I got a tear in my eye, I feel like the king of
My world, haters can make like bees with no stingers, and drop dead
No more beef flingers, no more drama from now on, I promise
To focus soley on handling my responsibility's as a father
So I solemnly swear to always treat this roof like my daughters and raise it
You couldn't lift a single shingle on it
Cause the way I feel, I'm strong enough to go to the club
Or the corner pub and lift the whole liquor counter up
Cause I'm raising the bar, I shoot for the moon
But I'm too busy gazing at stars, I feel amazing and

(Hook)

I'm not afraid to take a stand
Everybody come take my hand
We'll walk this road together, through the storm
Whatever weather, cold or warm
Just let you know that, you're not alone
Holla if you feel that you've been down the same road
 
The Living Pen

In the midst of a scenic meadow
They were surprised to see, oh,
What looked like a very large pen walking by.

“What are you?” she asked of the large pen.

“I’m the artist’s stylus,” replied the pen.
“I am finally freed from the pen!”

“How so?” he asked,
So he could know.

“I will no longer illustrate the written word.
From now on I will draw whatever is seen and heard.
Then writers and poets can re-de-scribe
My sketches with their wondrous words and jive!”

“I get it. The proof of writing is in the living of it,
Especially one’s philosophical advice, as writ.
Live it, feel it, and then write it.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=smdOzZS4U2c
 
The Living Poem

Next they ran into a living poem,
A companion of the artist’s pen.

“What are you?”

“I deal with ever enduring themes,
Those universal to everyone’s means.
As you can see, I am structured,
Intense, rhythmic, melodic, and pure;
I am a unified body of sensation,
Thoughts, and passions.
I translate all that is felt, suchly,
Although sometimes only very roughly.”

“Are you essence
Or existence?”

“I am both—I am the form and the idea risen.
I am an object that is born of precision,
From one’s profoundest visions.
I am the image of feeling in diction.
I am, at once, all the remains—
Both the container and the contained.”

“You’re an expression of the mess
That may be difficult to express.”

“I am truth, fleshed in living words attended.
I express thoughts subtended,
Those that would otherwise go unapprehended.
I lift the veil that separates mind from soul—
And thereby show the proof of beauty told.
I am life’s image drawn in the eternal truths old.”

“You are immortal then” she spliced.

“Poetry makes immortal what is best in life
By freeing images from all the strife—
Those in our spirits that are deeply impressed,
For, these vanishing notions I arrest,
Clothe them in words the best,

And then send them forth, fully dressed.”

“So how is it known
If I’ve written a poem?”

“Well, use the highest powers of language and wit
To translate the nature into poetic words, lit.
The reader will translate the words back into spirit;
If the reader’s soul responds, then a poem you’ve writ!”

He and she tried to write a poem about love,
For that was the greatest thing know of,
But they couldn’t get it to rhyme.
In desperation, they came up with the following lines:

The Trouble with ‘Love’

Only a few words rhyme with the above,
Like the overflown ‘dove’, the heartless ‘shove’,
And the ill-fitting ‘glove’. Alas, ‘love’s’ rhymes
Remain unheard of, or aren’t well thought of.

They walked on along the earth,
Feeling their words’ worth.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s-62CsaTKI8
 
Amazed

Someone came running down the trail,
At a withering pace, then tripped and failed.

“Where are you going so fast to run!”
They asked him, their words in unison.

The quick-walker picked himself up, gazing afar.
“I want to see what’s up the road, down thar!”

“Down where?”
They asked together there,
Like the two fugal voices
Of the famous musical canon’s choices.

“Way, way down there;
The next trail blazes there!”

They looked, but the misty trails of haze
In the distance all blended into a maze.

“There’s a new road out there somewhere,
I’ve got to hurry up and get there.
I’m in a dither
And I must go hither,
Thither, and whither.”

“And when you get there, too,
THen what will you do?”

“Why, I guess I’ll hurry up yonder,
So I can get down the road even further.”

“Why don’t you stop and smell the roses’ brew?
This rapid pace is withering you!”

The inspiring revelation hit the quick-walking guy,
Like a thunderbolt from the sky,
So he sat down, no longer in a rushing mood, to cry.

“I am a fool’s errand thrown.
All around me is the beauty sown—
That this moment calls her very own,
And I’ve been looking on past the known.
I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.
What sense does it make—jeeze—
To live a life that has no time to nest?
Serenity will never find me, lest,
I slow down to smell, hear, feel, see, touch, bless,
And as such savor life’s loving caress.”

They left him with his sense,
He having said in his long slowed down sentence
All that they would have said and meant,
And so they walked the morning away,
Marveling at its beauteous sway.

( S l o w d o w n )

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Sl9Rbvgjuo
 
Hurricane

by: Bob Dylan

Pistols shots ring out in the barroom night
Enter Patty Valentine from the upper hall
She sees the bartender in a pool of blood
Cries out "My God they killed them all"
Here comes the story of the Hurricane
The man the authorities came to blame
For something that he never done
Put him in a prison cell but one time he could-a been
The champion of the world.

Three bodies lying there does Patty see
And another man named Bello moving around mysteriously
"I didn't do it" he says and he throws up his hands
"I was only robbing the register I hope you understand
I saw them leaving" he says and he stops
"One of us had better call up the cops"
And so Patty calls the cops
And they arrive on the scene with their red lights flashing
In the hot New Jersey night.

Meanwhile far away in another part of town
Rubin Carter and a couple of friends are driving around
Number one contender for the middleweight crown
Had no idea what kinda shit was about to go down
When a cop pulled him over to the side of the road
Just like the time before and the time before that
In Patterson that's just the way things go
If you're black you might as well not shown up on the street
'Less you wanna draw the heat.

Alfred Bello had a partner and he had a rap for the corps
Him and Arthur Dexter Bradley were just out prowling around
He said "I saw two men running out they looked like middleweights
They jumped into a white car with out-of-state plates"
And Miss Patty Valentine just nodded her head
Cop said "Wait a minute boys this one's not dead"
So they took him to the infirmary
And though this man could hardly see
They told him that he could identify the guilty men.

Four in the morning and they haul Rubin in
Take him to the hospital and they bring him upstairs
The wounded man looks up through his one dying eye
Says "Wha'd you bring him in here for ? He ain't the guy !"
Yes here comes the story of the Hurricane
The man the authorities came to blame
For something that he never done
Put in a prison cell but one time he could-a been
The champion of the world.

Four months later the ghettos are in flame
Rubin's in South America fighting for his name
While Arthur Dexter Bradley's still in the robbery game
And the cops are putting the screws to him looking for somebody to blame
"Remember that murder that happened in a bar ?"
"Remember you said you saw the getaway car?"
"You think you'd like to play ball with the law ?"
"Think it might-a been that fighter you saw running that night ?"
"Don't forget that you are white".

Arthur Dexter Bradley said "I'm really not sure"
Cops said "A boy like you could use a break
We got you for the motel job and we're talking to your friend Bello
Now you don't wanta have to go back to jail be a nice fellow
You'll be doing society a favor
That sonofabitch is brave and getting braver
We want to put his ass in stir
We want to pin this triple murder on him
He ain't no Gentleman Jim".

Rubin could take a man out with just one punch
But he never did like to talk about it all that much
It's my work he'd say and I do it for pay
And when it's over I'd just as soon go on my way
Up to some paradise
Where the trout streams flow and the air is nice
And ride a horse along a trail
But then they took him to the jailhouse
Where they try to turn a man into a mouse.

All of Rubin's cards were marked in advance
The trial was a pig-circus he never had a chance
The judge made Rubin's witnesses drunkards from the slums
To the white folks who watched he was a revolutionary bum
And to the black folks he was just a crazy nigger
No one doubted that he pulled the trigger
And though they could not produce the gun
The DA said he was the one who did the deed
And the all-white jury agreed.

Rubin Carter was falsely tried
The crime was murder 'one' guess who testified
Bello and Bradley and they both baldly lied
And the newspapers they all went along for the ride
How can the life of such a man
Be in the palm of some fool's hand ?
To see him obviously framed
Couldn't help but make me feel ashamed to live in a land
Where justice is a game.

Now all the criminals in their coats and their ties
Are free to drink martinis and watch the sun rise
While Rubin sits like Buddha in a ten-foot cell
An innocent man in a living hell
That's the story of the Hurricane
But it won't be over till they clear his name
And give him back the time he's done
Put him in a prison cell but one time he could-a been
The champion of the world.
 
SciWriter said:
Thanks for joining SciForums, Bob.
Click to expand...

I second the motion.

Finding Nirvana

Why do I often periodically fall down and let down unmethodically,

The cycles of my temper seem enlarged I can't settle,

As encounters I choose to test my mettle,

A destruction of desire and a need for its fire,

Could in a never-ending storm move me higher,

A storm of ideas and of natural high,

Will my soul have its rest will it lie,

Before a finishing act when I …,

I must begin to look for attunement,

My body must ask my mind for atonement and vice versa,

For this to enlightenment must be the precursor,

I must seek to move myself ever further,

In a direction of peace and true enjoyment fervour,

A likeness of self with the wealth it entrusts,

To me may come with the departure of lust,

And for true love for life to radiate my future,

May love for my self be the base for my sculpture.
A love for my self must be the base for my sculpture.
 
Difficult durational doleness

Difficult durational doleness, lives alongside the everyman,
Distant, longingly lingering for a chance,
Calls from the wild ones shriekly silent don’t fall,
“Fill me with that what (it) is I require of it,”
Lift your finger, hands and arms in salutation,
For all the done things do as they wish.

Can a fault be found with the national heart aches that flourish,
The ongoing times are relentless and strong in their perseverant policy,
Living as we do just lives itself forward,
And hedgehogs encircle all in quills,
Queues form as we join the others in desperation,
Raising up our children for evermore.

Something new can come in hope,
An unfestered ideal in creative cognition wishes for it,
Do I convince my selfishness to agree with my ideal,
Something just bubbles away of its own volition,
God I seek to know too much of things,
As we should or just turn off the engine,
Valves seize their fellowship tightly and decisions are just made.

How shallow are we? Discoursing forcing, livable at least,
Solitude is assured as togetherness infinitely assures us,
Things in surety, confliction calluses,
Stop the wear, lick your feet.

Of one thing at least be sure.
 
The Garden Grows

The winds of May’s highs and lows
Were making love to the flowers that grow,
Moving them this way and that, to and fro,
Nurturing them so.

Spring seedlings reached for the light of day,
Drinking deep droughts of the sunny bouquet.
The woods were bursting bright,
With the joy of life’s delight.

“Perhaps Beauty’s pose
Is the name of the rose”.

He pointed to some flowers along the trail side;
“Many fine flowers are beginning to slide
From the ground that we share.
There’s the tulip, the lily, and the rose—
All growing together!”

“What does it mean so,
When they all together grow?”

“Well, the tulip is a very dependable sign of spring;
One can always count on what it brings.
So, tulips have always stood for truth.
The lily is often white, the proof,
So it represents purity and goodness bright.
As for the rose, it is the symbol of beauty’s might.

“So, these three combined together—
Truth, goodness, beauty, there—
Are extremely meaningful when braided in length—
For they make up love, giving it its strength.”

“We’ve grown our flowers with care.”

“Yes, and so the storms can never scatter them bare.”

“Love is not an easy thing to grow.”

“That’s good, because if love was so,
Then it wouldn’t be worth more than woe.”

They raised a cheer, slapped their hands to pledge,
And soon moved on, again refreshed to the edge,
By the ancient book’s insight and knowledge.

( Love = Truth + Beauty + Goodness )

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7BN-9SISfec
 
The Feast

She winked at him very soon,
Putting on the rare perfume
That they’d found encased in the book’s remains,
Of what they now called the Book of Quatrains.

The name of the scent was printed on the bottle
And was called ‘Omar’s Enchantment’, that’s all.

“It’s delightful. I must savor what it supposes.
It smells like a mix of incense, wine, and roses.
Oh, my, it’s stimulating my inner spirit; it composes.”

“It’s sublime.”

“It also has hints of sandalwood, jasmine,
Lotus, and saffron fine.”

“It’s some sort of an elixir of wine.”

“It says on the label that the ‘fume’ therein
Has escaped from an interment within,
And that it shall forever take the passerby unaware.
Oh, I’m already affected by it! Let’s stop here.”

“Yes. Let’s have lunch; it’s free;
There are ripe apples on the trees.”

“And there is clear water amidst the stream’s reeds.”

“Oftentimes, back in the monastery bred,
When the wine in my glass was as red
As the blood of Christ that he bled,
I longed for the clear water fed
From the wayside stream instead.”

They paused at a cliff high along the riverside,
Pushing some leaves around and aside
To make a cushion on which they could ride.

Here they ate lunch and held each other close.
The sun was warm on their skin but not a roast,
For the water was trading light breezes with the coast.

They pulled out a loaf of bread first,
A bottle of wine, and then the book of verse.

“What page are we on, this day, by the way?”

“It says, today,
That this is Heaven on Earth in every way!”

“That’s our page!”

They became intimately close, without words,
Resting in each others arms afterwards.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wlU1dKxmIBY
 
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)


Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou thinkst, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and souls' delivery.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stoke; why swellst thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death thou shalt die.

In this sonnet, Donne personifies death and addresses it directly, challenging the notion that death is terrible and all-powerful. In each quatrain (four-line section) he addresses one aspect of death and scornfully dismisses the beliefs on which it is based. Death, he argues, has no real power, it is just a longer sleep, and therefore gives us ease and comfort. He goes on to point out that has ugly company and is controlled by many other factors, denying its right to be proud. The couplet at the end sums up his central point which is based on his own religious conviction, that death it but a steppingstone to heaven, where death has no power.
 
The Nightmare and Her Foal

She fell asleep and had a bad dream
That she was toiling away, it seemed,
Back in the old working world of the abstract.
There she floated aimlessly, off track,
For there was little of substance to grasp onto.
She was lost, in all the time that flew,
For her roots no longer reached nature’s soil;
She was a floating flower in the dream’s coil.

She was the rose! She was dying—her heart;
She then suddenly awoke, with a start.

“What is it?” he said, alarmed,”A fit?”

“I was dreaming of a world I once knew,
A world in which some abstractions few,
And some generalizations, too,
Were king, and thus ruled all else to do.
It was a world in which people couldn’t care.
I was a rose that was lost somewhere,
Between heaven and earth, bare.
My rose was about to spoil
For the lack of any nourishing soil.”

“You’re here now. A safe bow.
It was just a nightmare. It’s over now.”

“Yes, I do see that was quite a swirl.
Here, we’ve reconstructed the world
That our dreams require, unfurled.”

“We’ve remolded it closer to the heart’s desire—
A world body of light, on fire—”

“—full of currents, scents, rights,
Textures, and subtle delights.”

“I, too, dreamt a lot during the winter moon,
When I was wrapped, thought bound, in a cocoon.”

“Me too. My imagination and memory were king!”

“Now the mind can rest, while the senses reign and sing,
For spring’s returned and our winter dreams take wing!”

They walked on, feeling rather sensational.

“This is so simple, so wonderful.
We have all that we need for the fest;
The simple things in life are truly the best.”

“We have health, friendship, love, nature,
Happiness, love, and great adventure.”

“Mix them all together and life’s recipe is rendered.”

“Yes, out here, under the sky,
We’re unspied by Care’s eagle eye!”

“We’ve left Misery far behind there.”

“And Stress was lost somewhere.”

“It’s back in the lair with the serpent Despair.”

“Here we have peace in which to delve.”

“We can hear the sounds of our inner selves.”

“Those are the voices of our inner choir.
One can hear them well, beyond the fire—
When one is not bombarded by noise and clamor.”

Such, they continued on again, singing the Pachelbel Canon.

(interlude)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rw90_7HugP0

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jhjvhA9muNA
 
The Fainting Embers of Yesterday

Off in the distance they could see on—
A wisp of smoke on the horizon.

“That’s all that’s left of the monastical village—
Of my monastery and your nunnery’s age.”

“All things arise, and then all things go where they went,
For life is transitory, volatile, and impermanent.”

“Flow and change are basic features of life;
In fact, they are life.”

“Pain begins when one resists the flow
That is inherent in the pattern of our changing row.”

“Yes. Empires come and go;
Sultan after Sultan rises to the throne,
But, after they’re gone and briefly known,
The summer still blooms with the rose,
And still the water in the river flows.”

“I had a dream last night, too, which granted.
“I dreamt I was living on another planet…
I was out walking at night with a child nigh,
Examining the lights of the night sky,
Explaining the names of the stars,
when suddenly the Earth blew up, quite afar;
It thoroughly exploded, in blazes solar,
Or perhaps even nuclear.
The child then said to me, clear,
‘Look! Oh, look, mon pere!
Look at the pretty shooting star!’”

“Such is the relative importance and worth
Of the Earth in the scheme of that which burst.”

“How insightful we are becoming trained,
Since reading this Book of Quatrains!”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2nOvDpx7_18
 
The Water of Life

They flowed thoughtfully onward along the trail,
Coming out into yet another arid region’s tail,
Ever hoping to find a fine village someday,
That they might call home and away.

They soon came upon a Sphinx
That was weathered and worn, yet thinks,
Crouching next to an oasis where camels drink.

“My name is ‘Aquavita’, now retired.
I am all that remains of a once great empire.
Look around and see that nothing is left in place;
Read what is engraved on my nameplate.”

It read:

Aquavita

Time on its stream brings all sweet things to us;
Time is the drink that quenches human thirst.
Water of life—we drink time, it drinks us!
Time on its stream bears all sweet things from us.

“Look at the imprints in the rocks,” she said.

“These are fossils that can be read,”
Having studied the natural sciences bed,
By secretly perusing the library’s forbidden books,
While illustrating them in his sanctorium nook.
“They’re hundreds of millions of years old.”

“That’s sounds like a long time you’ve told.”

“Long enough for death to have chosen
The life path of many a species; some frozen.”

“And here we stand” she said proudly, fore,
“On the shoulders of all who have come before:
We are the present smile of eternity,
Wrought from eons of hardship’s fraternity.”

“We’re alive; it’s all ours! No retreat.
Nature has made it so! It’s quite a treat!”

“I won’t waste it. mild—
For how I could ever live, so wild,
By any other style
But to smile!”

They walked on, happy with reveling smiles,
In the present moment atop the miraculous pile,
Of those who came before, thankful for all their wiles.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ci7xs-jU6sI
 
Banking On It

“We’re here! It is now! All is sent.
There is no time like the present!”

“And there’s no present like the time spent,”
Said the magic book, joining their conversation.
“Revise your calendars! Invest in today’s conversion,
For the future contains a severe interest penalty reversion,
When the certainty of the moment is held mortgage
For the imagined Deeds of Futurity’s way;
The calendar contains only today.
The days are no longer numbered the old way!
Strike off dead yesterday and unborn tomorrow’s sun.
Now is the time of your present comprehension.
Now is when you have reality’s attention.
All else is not here, and is just a mention.
The past exists only in your memoration,
The future only in your imagination;
All creation takes place in the present station.”

When the book then went silent,
They knew it had finished its enlightenment.

“What then is tomorrow?” she asked her partner.

“Look to the eastern horizon;
See, it has but a dim glow on—
Tomorrow is just a faint gleam from afar;
But, what is yesterday’s par?”

She looked at the smoke and haze, westerly.
“Ah, yesterday is but a cold ash of thee.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KRgaBqPUwq8
 
Musical Song

They found a wide log, and sat on it to rest a while,
Again beginning to hum the Pachelbel’s Canon mild,
Adding words to it from a poem that they both knew,
Thereby creating a song, music through and thru!

It went something like, Then,
Where and when will we touch again…

“Why do people love songs so muchly?”

“Because songs can touch one’s spirit truly,
So very deeply and thoroughly.”

“But how? Why?”

“There are wordless rhythms in what we call the soul.
Poetry, in a rather approximate way, I’m told,
Attempts to translate the soul’s rhythms into words.
Melody, on the other hand, being already wordless,
Plays directly on the heart’s strings.
A song, being a poem set to music, sings,
And causes heart and soul to ring and blend
Into one grand and glorious experience.”

“Yes, and it all seems to flow so smoothly.”

“Music, like life, consists of the what-how
Of that which I would call a ‘smoothly rolling now’.”

“I feel that I know your meaning,
But, please explain the further seaming seeming.”

“Well, the total effect of music comes from, I’m sure,
The smooth transition through past, present, and future—
Thanks to a correspondence rationed—
In memory, sensation, and imagination.”

“Go on.”

“Memory recalls the past few musical tones
That have come just before the ‘now’ that we own;
Sensation lives ever in the ‘now’ as known,
And therefore savors the present tones;
Imagination looks to the future round,
Anticipating the coming sounds.”

“Ah, I get it. The delight is such as is known—
That none of the three could produce alone!”

“Yes, and similarly, there is an award:
For each one of life’s moment’s words
Contains eternal reward,
Since both past and the future
Are smoothly rolled up thereinward.”

“We live in the paradisal ‘now’, at last,
Wherein each moment is eternally vast.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gAuPl3bRGDQ
 
"Information Revolution"

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