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Previous post: Mars
Intellectual disgrace
Stares from every human face,
And the seas of pity lie
Locked and frozen in each eye.
Follow, poet, follow right
To the bottom of the night,
With your unconstraining voice
Still persuade us to rejoice.
With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress.
In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountains start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.
– – WH Auden
Sometimes it seems I had a dream, and, as a dreamer woke immersed in mineral baths closed within a cool, dark chamber fed by streams flowing in from the center of nowhere.
Hanging from the granite ceiling a kerosene lantern cast shards of light through the pale steam rising from the surface of the pools.
Ripples radiated outwards from the edges of my body and tapping faintly on the rock revealed the edges of the chamber.
Outside I could hear the wind slide across the spine of the mountains, speaking in a language that I remembered but could no longer understand.
Steam filled my nostrils and heat penetrated my bones until, after a time, I had no body, only a sense of silence and distance and calm.
As if I had just woken from all water into dream.
— Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, 1973
FSA/8d22000/8d224008d22491a.tif
The steel mill sky is alive.
The fire breaks white and zigzag
shot on a gun-metal gloaming.
Man is a long time coming.
Man will yet win.
Brother may yet line up with brother:
This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.
There are men who can’t be bought.
The fireborn are at home in fire.
The stars make no noise,
You can’t hinder the wind from blowing.
Time is a great teacher.
Who can live without hope?
In the darkness with a great bundle of grief
the people march.
In the night, and overhead a shovel of stars for keeps, the people
march:
“Where to? what next?”
— Carl Sandberg
Down valley a smoke haze
Three days heat, after five days rain
Pitch glows on the fir-cones
Across rocks and meadows
Swarms of new flies.
I cannot remember things I once read
A few friends, but they are in cities.
Drinking cold snow-water from a tin cup
Looking down for miles
Through high still air.
BY GARY SNYDER
Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look
Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse
An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
Van der Leun: The Normblog Bio of Your Host
That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God’s holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
– – W. B. Yeats, 1865 – 1939
Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated
Challengers of oblivion
Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down,
The square-limbed Roman letters
Scale in the thaws, wear in the rain. The poet as well
Builds his monument mockingly;
For man will be blotted out, the blithe earth die, the brave sun
Die blind and blacken to the heart:
Yet stones have stood for a thousand years, and pained
thoughts found
The honey of peace in old poems.
— Robinson Jeffers
Sometimes it seems I had a dream, and, as a dreamer woke immersed in mineral baths closed within a cool, dark chamber fed by streams flowing in from the center of nowhere.
Hanging from the granite ceiling a kerosene lantern cast shards of light through the pale steam rising from the surface of the pools.
Ripples radiated outwards from the edges of my body and tapping faintly on the rock revealed the edges of the chamber.
Outside I could hear the wind slide across the spine of the mountains, speaking in a language that I remembered but could no longer understand.
Steam filled my nostrils and heat penetrated my bones until, after a time, I had no body, only a sense of silence and distance and calm.
As if I had just woken from all water into dream.
— Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, 1973
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Uncle Creeper is in charge of America….wow
Hey! It is just part of the price of showing that you are “down” with Dah Man. Ain’t like he gets to take her home or like he pee’d on someone’s leg. Just a little grope and snuffle. How’s that balance against the possibility of great career advancement? That used to be backroom stuff, or late in the party, but now it is a photo-Op. The “B” seems proud of his skill with the females. Victory pix seem to run in the family.
The video creeped me out. It reminded me of a Saturday night back in the 80’s.
The dinner house/bar combination was an easy Saturday night out. I’d hit the Black Angus, or El Torrito, have too many beers, and once in a while even dance, or hit on some chicks. One Saturday night the remnants of a wedding party were all together in the lounge, and dance floor at the B.A. It was getting late, and I was chatting with a few of the regulars I’d see there. We watched some pudgy, balding guy in his mid-late 40’s, still in his suit, pull this, maybe ten year old girl in her party dress out onto the dance floor. The guy had had a few. Surely he thought he was playing it cool. He wasn’t. It was startlingly obvious. You could see the guy was jonesing bad to get his hands on that kid. He was so patently lecherous, that the poor girl looked mortified, and the dude was getting the stink-eye, HARD, from everyone in the bar. I’m not kidding, it was gut-dropping creepy to see.
Obviously so, ’cause it was lurking around deep in the memory hole just waiting for something to bring it up.
Like footage of the President of the United States.
JWM
Says everything about the ruling elites.
Vain, smug, lecherous, rapacious, entitled, invulnerable in their own minds….
A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a
base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited,
hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a
lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson,
glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue;
one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a
bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but
the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar,
and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I
will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest
the least syllable of thy addition. [King Lear, Act 2, Scene 2]
“The rankest compound of villainous smell that ever offended nostril”
[The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act 3, Scene 5]
“That trunk of humours, that bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that grey Iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years?”
[Henry IV Part 1, Act 2, Scene 4]
“Your brain is as dry as the remainder biscuit after voyage.”
[As You Like It, Act 2, Scene 7]
Thou art a boil, a plague sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood. [King Lear, Act 2, Scene 4]
“Bloody, bawdy villain! Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain! [Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2]
“You starvelling, you eel-skin, you dried neat’s-tongue, you bull’s-pizzle, you stock-fish–O for breath to utter what is like thee!-you tailor’s-yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing tuck!”
[Henry IV, Part 1 Act 2, Scene 4]
“Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon”
[Timon of Athens, Act 4, Scene 3]
“Thou clay-brained guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou whoreson obscene greasy tallow-catch! [Henry IV Part 1, Act 2, Scene 4]
“Thou lump of foul deformity”
[Richard III, Act 1, Scene 2)
Trang,
Creepy Joe isn’t in charge of anything. I suspect he has someone change his diaper too.
Lance,
Their undoing will be that they are “invulnerable in their own minds”.
No one is invulnerable.
And to the question: Why are the emasculated fathers (and vacuous mothers) going along with this degenerate pervert touching and smelling their daughters?
Because these people care more about power and position than about protecting their families from leacherous predators….either that or they are perverts as well.
Separation of child from family is a basic marxist tenet- it seems effectively done with schooling, and as Biden illustrates the diminishing of child/adult moral boundaries.
The BLM frankly presented this precept on its webpage until brought into the light, at which point it was memory holed.
Why do adults tolerate this creepiness? Because they just can’t bring themselves to believe what their eyes are seeing. The creeper is usually someone who is highly respected or well loved. When I was 11 an old leecher tried to get his hands on me during the post-church service coffee time, when everyone would chat at the back of the church. He would creep closer trying to “pat” me, telling me how pretty I was, and I would just keep moving around the circle of my parents and their friends to keep out of his reach. Even at that young age, I knew instinctively that he was evil. We must have circled around about four times before he gave up. He had tried it before on other Sundays. I told my mom about it and how I didn’t want him near me, and she just dismissed it. She told me that he was just a sweet, old man who was friendly to everyone and just loved children. No. He was a dirty old leecher with wandering hands that touched little kids in their “swimsuit” areas. He moved on to other prey and none of the adults ever did anything about it.
Black hole sun won’t you come…
https://tinyurl.com/tbt3zds9
That lecherous old lizard would gladly sexually abuse those little girls. GDPOS.
I had to turn it off 6 minutes in when Biden stared sniffing and gripping.
“creep” is a legal term, as is “mope”.
“creeping’ is a charge, as is “moping”.
“moping with intent to creep”, another.
in the “loitering” magnitude.
That vid has more then enough evidence to lock that creep up. Why? We live in a two tier system. One for the rich and powerful, one for the common man and woman.
Don’t shit yourself, there are Men and Women whom are completely Above The Law!
VI
“The LAW?”
“THE LAW??”
(looks around) “What law Drew?”