posted January 27, 2007 12:15 AM         

"A man's philosophy is his horizon.
It is exactly as if he were to say,
'I can see this far, and no farther.'"
- Novalis

"The horizon recedes on the crest of an eternal dusk."
- Valerian the Fool

posted January 27, 2007 12:22 AM         

Everything that keeps me together is falling apart,
I've got this thing that I consider my only art
of f *****in' people over

My boss just quit the job
he says he's goin out to find blind spots
and he'll do it

The 3rd Planet is sure that they're being watched
by an eye in the sky
and the camera stops
When you get to the promise land
your gonna shake that eye's hand

Your heart felt good
it was drippin pitch and made of wood
And your hands and knees
felt cold and wet on the grass to me
While outside naked,
shiverin' lookin' blue,
from the cold sunlight
that's reflected off the moon
Baby c** angels
fly around you
reminding you we used to be three
and not just two

And that's how the world began
And that's how the world will end

A 3rd had just been made
and we were swimming in the water,
didn't know then, was it a son,
was it a daughter
When it occurred to me
that the animals are swimming
around in the water
in the oceans in our bodies
and another had been found
another ocean on the planet
given that our blood
is just like the Atlantic

Well, the universe is shaped
exactly like the earth
If you go straight long enough
you'll end up where you were
The universe is shaped
exactly like the earth
If you go straight long enough
you'll end up where you were

Your heart felt good
it was drippin pitch and made of wood
And your hands and knees
felt cold and wet on the grass to me
While outside naked,
shiverin' lookin' blue,
from the cold sunlight
that's reflected off the moon
Baby c** angels
fly around you
reminding you we used to be three
and not just two

And that's how the world began
And that's how the world will end

posted January 27, 2007 12:38 AM         

And no one showed us to the land
And no one knows the wheres or whys
But something stirs and something tries
And starts to climb toward the light

Strangers passing in the street
By chance two separate glances meet
And I am you and what I see is me
And do I take you by the hand
And lead you through the land
And help me understand the best I can

And no one calls us to move on
And no one forces down our eyes
And no one speaks and no one tries
And no one flies around the sun

Cloudless every day you fall upon my waking eyes
Inviting and inciting me to rise
And through the window in the wall
Comes streaming in on sunlight wings
A million bright ambassadors of morning

And no one sings me lullabies
And no one makes me close my eyes
And so I throw the windows wide
And call to you across the sky

posted January 27, 2007 12:41 AM         

Often to pass the time on board, the crew
will catch an albatross, one of those big birds
which nonchalantly chaperone a ship
across the bitter fathoms of the sea.

Tied to the deck, this sovereign of space,
as if embarrassed by its clumsiness,
pitiably lets its great white wings
drag at its sides like a pair of unshipped oars.

How weak and awkward, even comical
this traveller but lately so adoit -
one deckhand sticks a pipestem in its beak,
another mocks the cripple that once flew!

The Poet is like this monarch of the clouds
riding the storm above the marksman's range;
exiled on the ground, hooted and jeered,
he cannot walk because of his great wings.

-- Charles Baudelaire

posted January 27, 2007 12:50 AM         

The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

posted January 27, 2007 01:02 AM         

His vision, from the constantly passing bars,
has grown so weary that it cannot hold
anything else. It seems to him there are
a thousand bars; and behind the bars, no world.

As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

Only at times, the curtain of the pupils
lifts, quietly --. An image enters in,
rushes down through the tensed, arrested muscles,
plunges into the heart and is gone.

posted January 27, 2007 01:07 AM         

With witness I speak this. But where I say
Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament
Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent
To dearest him that lives alas! away.

I am gall, I am heartburn. God's most deep decree
Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me;
Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse.

Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see
The lost are like this, and their scourge to be
As I am mine, their sweating selves, but worse.

posted January 27, 2007 01:11 AM         

Horses love to run, but something in the earth horse's nature seems constantly to thwart his attempts at claiming the freedom his horse nature demands. This 'something' is earth. He is paralyzed by a powerful conflict of wills, which, though difficult to endure, yet allows him to excercise an incredibly balanced judgment. He is called "the wise one".

I was also born in the hour of the Fire Horse. The year of the Fire Horse is notorious for having the fewest birth in China, as fire horses are considered too willful, independent, and disobedient.

posted January 27, 2007 01:22 AM         

The Artist ~ translated by Denise Levertov

The artist: disciple, abundant, multiple, restless.
The true artist: capable, practicing, skillfull;
maintains dialogue with his heart, meets things with his mind.
The true artist: draws out all from his heart,
works with delight, makes things with calm, with sagacity,
works like a true Toltec, composes his objects, works dexterously, invents;
arranges materials, adorns them, makes them adjust.

The carrion artist: works at random, sneers at the people,
makes things opaque, brushes across the surface of the face of things,
works without care, defrauds people, is a theif.

A Woman's Complaint ~ translated by Miguel Leon-Portilla

posted January 27, 2007 01:22 AM         

do not go gentle into that goodnight

“Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

posted January 27, 2007 01:32 AM         

I say, through the grace given unto me, to every man that is among you, not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think; but to think soberly, according as God hath dealt to every man the measure of faith.

For as we have many members in one body, and all members have not the same office:

So we, being many, are one body in Christ, and every one members one of another.

Having then gifts differing according to the grace that is given to us, whether prophecy, let us prophesy according to the proportion of faith;

Or ministry, let us wait on our ministering: or he that teacheth, on teaching;

Or he that exhorteth, on exhortation: he that giveth, let him do it with simplicity; he that ruleth, with diligence; he that sheweth mercy, with cheerfulness.

posted January 27, 2007 01:34 AM         

One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot was perfect and always
delivered a full portion of water.

At the end of the long walks from the stream to the house, the cracked pot
arrived only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the woman bringing home only
one and a half pots of water.

Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments.

But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable
that it could only do half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the
woman one day by the stream.
"I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak
out all the way back to your house."

The old woman smiled, "Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of
the path, but not on the other pot's side?"

"That's because I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower
seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water
them."

posted January 27, 2007 01:40 AM         

Listen up and I'll tell a story

About an artist growing old

Some would try for fame and glory

Others aren't so bold

Everyone, and friends and family

Saying, "Hey! Get a job!"

"Why do you only do that only?

Why are you so odd?

We don't really like what you do.

We don't think anyone ever will.

It's a problem that you have,

And this problem's made you ill."

Listen up and I'll tell a story

About an artist growing old

Some would try for fame and glory

Others aren't so bold

The artist walks alone

Someone says behind his back,

"He's got his gall to call himself that!

He doesn't even know where he's at!"

The artist walks among the flowers

Appreciating the sun

He does this all his waking hours

But is it really so wrong?

They sit in front of their TV

Saying, "Hey! This is fun!"

And they laugh at the artist

Saying, "He doesn't know how to have fun."

The best things in life are truly free

Singing birds and laughing bees

"You've got me wrong", says he.

"The sun don't shine in your TV"

Listen up and I'll tell a story

About an artist growing old

Some would try for fame and glory

Others aren't so bold

Everyone, and friends and family

Saying, "Hey! Get a job!"

"Why do you only do that only?

Why are you so odd?

We don't really like what you do.

We don't think anyone ever will.

It's a problem that you have,

And this problem's made you ill."

Listen up and I'll tell a story

About an artist growing old.

Some would try for fame and glory

Others just like to watch the world.

posted January 27, 2007 01:42 AM         

People say I'm lazy dreaming my life away
Well they give me all kinds of advice designed to enlighten me
When I tell them that I'm doing fine watching shadows on the wall
Don't you miss the big time boy you're no longer on the ball

I'm just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round
I really love to watch them roll
No longer riding on the merry-go-round
I just had to let it go

People asking questions lost in confusion
Well I tell them there's no problem, only solutions
Well they shake their heads and they look at me as if I've lost my mind
I tell them there's no hurry, I'm just sitting here doing time

I'm just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round
I really love to watch them roll
No longer riding on the merry-go-round
I just had to let it go

I just had to let it go

posted January 27, 2007 01:52 AM         

The means for doing this have not yet been developed. We have not yet created a disciplined and systematic understanding of the soul. *astrology* We do not understand how our behaviors and activities affect the soul. when we see the personality in dysfunction, we do not think of what this aspect reveals about the soul. Yet the personality is specific aspects of the soul reduced to physical form. Therefore, dysfunctions of the personality cannot be understood without an understanding of the soul.
The fears, angers, and jealousies that deform the personality cannot be understood apart form the karmic circmstances that they serve. When you understand, and truly understand, that the experiences of your life are necessary to the balancing of the energy of your soul, you are free to not react to them personally, to not create more negative karma for your soul."

posted January 27, 2007 02:04 AM         

With time the child draws in
This whipping boy done wrong
Deprived of all his thoughts
The young man strugggles on and on he's known
A vow unto his own
That never from this day
His will they'll take away
Chorus

What i've felt
What i've known
Never shined through in what i've shown
Never be
Never see
Won't see what might have been
What i've felt
What i've known
Never shined through in what i've shown
Never free
Never me
So i dub thee UNFORGIVEN

They dedicate their lives
To running all of his
He tries to please them all
This bitter man he is
Throughout his life the same
He's battled constantly
This fight he cannot win
A tired man they see no longer cares
The old man then prepares
To die regretfully
That old man here is me
Chorus

posted January 27, 2007 02:19 AM         

And I feel like number one Yet I'm last in line
I watch my youngest son And it helps to pass the time
I take too many pills It helps to ease the pain
I made a couple of dollar bills still I feel the same

Everybody knows my name They say it way out loud
A lot of folks **** with me It's hard to hang out in crowds
I guess that's the price you pay To be some big shot like I am
Out stretched hands and one night stands Still I can't find love

And when your walls come tumbling down
I will always be around
And when your walls come tumbling down
I will always be around

People don't know bout the things I say and do
They don't understand about the **** that I've been through
It's been so long since I've been home
I've been gone, I've been gone for way too long

Maybe I forgot all the things I've missed
Oh somehow I know there's more to life than this
I said it too many times And I still stand firm
You get what you put in And people get what they deserve

Still I ain't seen mine No I ain't seen mine
I've been giving just ain't been gettin'
I've been walking that there line
So I think I'll keep on walking With my head held high
I'll keep moving on and only God knows why

Only God.....Only God
Only God knows why
Only God....knows....why, why, why oh only God knows why

posted January 27, 2007 02:20 AM         

Jesus freaks out in the street
Handing tickets out for God
Turning back she just laughs
The boulevard is not that bad

Piano man he makes his stand
In the auditorium
Looking on she sings the songs
The words she knows the tune she hums

But oh how it feels so real
Lying here with no one near
Only you and you can hear me
When I say softly slowly

Hold me closer tiny dancer
Count the headlights on the highway
Lay me down in sheets of linen
you had a busy day today

posted January 27, 2007 02:20 AM         

You're really in a laundry room
You're really in a laundry room
You're really in a laundry room
The clue that came to you, oh

And if you kill yourself
You will think you're happy
He'll keep you in a jar
Then you'll make him happy
He'll give you breathing holes
Then you'll think you're happy
He'll cover you with grass
Then you'll think you're happy now

You're really in a laundry room
You're really in a laundry room
You're really in a laundry room
The clue that came to you, oh

And if you fool yourself
You will make him happy
He'll keep you in a jar
Then you'll think you're happy
He'll give you breathing holes
Then you will seem happy
You'll wallow in the ****
Then you'll think you're happy now