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Poetry [ART & LIES}

Jeanette Winterson from her book Art & Lies
In the dark places that do not need light,
where light would be a lie,
overstating what is better understood invisibly,
it is possible to resist Time's pull.
The body ages and dies but the mind is free.
If the body is personal, the mind is transpersonal,
It's range is not limited by action or desire.
It's range is not limited by identity.

I need the dark places to get outside common sense.
To go beyond the smug ring of electric light that pretends to illuminate the world.
"Nothing exists beyond this,' sings the world, glaring at me from it's
yellow sockets, 'nothing exists beyond now."

I challenge the stale yellow light to a duel.

That which is only living can only die.

The spirit has gone out of the world.
I fear the dead bodies settling around me, the corpses of humanity, fly-blown and ragged.
I fear the executive zombies, the shop zombies, the church zombies, the writerly zombies, all mouthing platitudes, the language of the dead, all mistaking hobbies for passions, the folly of the dead.

There is no distinguishing among the dead.

Eat the same apples, day comes, night falls.
Read the same newspapers, day comes, night falls.
Turn on the Television, day comes, night falls.
Assert yourself with one voice, day comes, night falls.

The world is a charnal house racked with the dead.
The dead have no need of words, no desires that appetite cannot satisfy.
The dead, their greedy mouths, empty, their tongues torn out and hung up to dry.
The dried out shrivelled up babble of the morgue.
The sealed room where the same old words are everyday tortured and killed.

Too bitter? perhaps, but I have found that human nature is bitter, twisted roots of wormwood and gall, the buried death-in-life, that still fears the grave.
Having killed part of me, I fear it less than those who do their murdering with unconcious hands, the daily suicide that precedes all crimes.
Love of money.
Fear of death.
Twin engines of the human race.
Foolish then to search for wings?
Inhuman even?
But I dream of flight, not to be as the angels, but to rise above the smallness of it all.
The smallness that I am.
Against the daily death the iconography of wings.

She had been bricked around with lies.
music master 17.Dec.2002 04:11

*Rumi*

You that loves lovers,
this is your home. Welcome!

In the midst of making form, love
made this form that melts form,
with love for the door,
soul the vestibule.

Watch the dust grains moving
in the light near the window.

There dance is our dance.

We rarely hear the inward music,
but we're all dancing it nevertheless,

directed by the one who teaches us,
the pure joy of the sun,
our music master.

Bad Brains - lyrics 17.Dec.2002 15:58

GRINGO STARS gringo_stars@attbi.com

ATTITUDE
don't care what they may say
we got that attitude.
don't care what they may do
we got that attitude.
hey we got that pma
(positive mental attitude).
hey we got the pma.
hey we got the pma.


FEARLESS VAMPIRE KILLERS
the bourgeoisie had better watch out for me/
all throughout this so called nation/
we don't want your filthy money/
we don't need your innocent bloodshed/
we just wanna end your world/
well my mind's made up/
yes it's time for you to pay/
better watch out for me/
i'm a member of the f.v.k.


DON'T NEED IT
don't need no ivory liquid.
don't want no afro sheen.
don't need the latest fashions,
don't want my hair to smell clean.
i've got my automotion,
i've got that superpotion
and if you think i'm going crazy
then pretty baby it might be you babe.

don't need no first class,
do need no second class,
all of the best,
of all that can kiss my ass.
i've got my claim to fame.
i've got that positive flame
and if you think i'm going crazy,
then pretty baby it might be you babe.
Bad Brains - lyrics
Bad Brains - lyrics

Lyrics 2 17.Dec.2002 18:55

ap

The prophet reclined
In the Golan Heights
(Oh, the lonely boys)

He said "This land is my land"
To the Shiites
(Oh, the lonely boys)


And Jehova looked up from the sea of Galilee beneath
He said---"I see you, you thief!"
This land is MY land
And this sand is MY sand
And this band is MY band"
(Oh, the lonely boys)


Lookin' over their shoulder
Checkin out every boulder in the park
Where the gates are closed from hate
After dark
...

And the Pope rolled up in his armored van
He fell on his knees and kissed the land
He said something that I did not understand
(It was in polish!)
When up stepped an aide, he said "I will translate"...
and here is what His Holiness said:


Well I am the Chief Jesuit.
This land is JESUS' land.
And that is ALL
All that there is to it!"
...



And in New York City
The business Jim in his mohair suit
At the World Trade Center!
Puffs on his cheroot...
And he said ....

"Well I don't care who owns the desert sands,
My brief...
Is with the hydrocarbons underneath!"



And the sea of battle rages around the ancient tombs
And mother nature licks her wounds
And the lonely boys locked in their towers of faith
Who are nervous in the park when the gates are closed after dark




--Roger Waters, 1984
from the soundtrack "When The Wind Blows"

Not poetry 19.Dec.2002 09:49

=Eric

Usenet newsgroups and personal web sites are perfectly adequate repositories for literary efforts such as this, and IMC does no one, especially the authors, a service by publishing it.

=Eric