Congratulations!
Thank you. All seems too fine just now. Awaiting regression to mean.
I'm in Birmingham today for a conference thing. I can't tell you how much I hate Birmingham.
I've been out of the car park for about 6 minutes and I've already forgotten where it is. It's called B4 parking... Someone remind me at 4pm please.
I've been out of the car park for about 6 minutes and I've already forgotten where it is. It's called B4 parking... Someone remind me at 4pm please.
Near the hospital?
In B4 Parking!
I haven't seen a sign for the hospital but possibly? I haven't a clue.
Dr Zoidberg... That looks like the one! £12 it's going to cost me. Good grief.
Dr Zoidberg... That looks like the one! £12 it's going to cost me. Good grief.
I happened across a remarkable poem, Tennyson's Locksley Hall. He wrote it in 1842. It's about a young man, a thwarted suitor, who daydreams what may happen in the future, a utopian world. In one piece of it however he grows angry and predicts something harsher...
"Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails,
Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with costly bales;
Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rain’d a ghastly dew
From the nations’ airy navies grappling in the central blue;"
I mean, Jesus! How's that for prophecy? The age of flight and commerce. And then comes a war, pilots screaming at each other over their R/T systems. 'And there rain'd a ghastly dew', no prizes there to figure what that means. And then putting it clear that final line. The poem then goes on to predict the UN once the war ceases.
Reading further, apparently Harry S. Truman carried a copy around in his wallet, and Churchill was greatly fascinated by its prophetic qualities.
So yeah, that's my, 'Woah' moment of the day.
"Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails,
Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with costly bales;
Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rain’d a ghastly dew
From the nations’ airy navies grappling in the central blue;"
I mean, Jesus! How's that for prophecy? The age of flight and commerce. And then comes a war, pilots screaming at each other over their R/T systems. 'And there rain'd a ghastly dew', no prizes there to figure what that means. And then putting it clear that final line. The poem then goes on to predict the UN once the war ceases.
Reading further, apparently Harry S. Truman carried a copy around in his wallet, and Churchill was greatly fascinated by its prophetic qualities.
So yeah, that's my, 'Woah' moment of the day.
Thanks for that. I'll have a proper read of it later.
I tend to avoid poetry because when it's bad it's awful but the truly great stuff always moves me and I really ought to read more.
At school my teacher's favourite punishment was to set a poem to learn by heart for the next day. I can still just about recite Wordsworth's 'Composed on Westminster Bridge'
I tend to avoid poetry because when it's bad it's awful but the truly great stuff always moves me and I really ought to read more.
At school my teacher's favourite punishment was to set a poem to learn by heart for the next day. I can still just about recite Wordsworth's 'Composed on Westminster Bridge'
What did you do wrong, Kern? I can't imagine naughty Kern.
Ooh, are we talking about poems? My favourite is "The Destruction of Sennacherib" by well-known programmer's dad-turned burger chef Lord Byron.
Here it is:
I also really like the awesomely-titled "Matilda Who Told Such Dreadful Lies (And Was Burned To Death)" as a child, and I still read it every now and then.
It's a bit longer, so I've spoilerededed it:
Here it is:
Quote:
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still.
And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.
And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail:
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord.
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still.
And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.
And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail:
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord.
I also really like the awesomely-titled "Matilda Who Told Such Dreadful Lies (And Was Burned To Death)" as a child, and I still read it every now and then.
It's a bit longer, so I've spoilerededed it:
ZOMG Spoiler! Click here to view!
Great stuff.
On similar morbid morality levels, I've always loved Struwwelpeter, especially "Die Geschichte vom Daumenlutscher".
On similar morbid morality levels, I've always loved Struwwelpeter, especially "Die Geschichte vom Daumenlutscher".
Mimi wrote:
I can't imagine naughty Kern.
Wow, congrats Mali! Didn't spot that most excellent news.
Grim! I love Hilaire Belloc's Cautionary Verse! My grandfather gave me a copy when I was little, it was a standard size green paperback with many entertaining line ink drawings in it of the hapless and ill-fated protagonists. My personal favourites:
Henry King, who chewed bits of string. and was early cut off in dreadful agonies. Rebecca who slammed doors for fun and perished miserably. And Godolphin Horne, who was cursed with the sin of pride, and became a boot-black.
One of those works inextricably bound with happy childhood memories too.
Grim! I love Hilaire Belloc's Cautionary Verse! My grandfather gave me a copy when I was little, it was a standard size green paperback with many entertaining line ink drawings in it of the hapless and ill-fated protagonists. My personal favourites:
Henry King, who chewed bits of string. and was early cut off in dreadful agonies. Rebecca who slammed doors for fun and perished miserably. And Godolphin Horne, who was cursed with the sin of pride, and became a boot-black.
One of those works inextricably bound with happy childhood memories too.
Kern wrote:
Great stuff.
On similar morbid morality levels, I've always loved Struwwelpeter, especially "Die Geschichte vom Daumenlutscher".
On similar morbid morality levels, I've always loved Struwwelpeter, especially "Die Geschichte vom Daumenlutscher".
I have a really old copy of this. I'll try to dig it out.
NervousPete wrote:
Henry King, who chewed bits of string. and was early cut off in dreadful agonies. Rebecca who slammed doors for fun and perished miserably. And Godolphin Horne, who was cursed with the sin of pride, and became a boot-black.
I didn't know about them! I will look them up.
My copy of Matilda Who Told etc. was included after the Black Beauty novel, for some reason. It had the drawings in, though. I'm pretty sure I've still got it somewhere.
Just Gutenberged it over to my Kindle.
Kern wrote:
Great stuff.
On similar morbid morality levels, I've always loved Struwwelpeter, especially "Die Geschichte vom Daumenlutscher".
On similar morbid morality levels, I've always loved Struwwelpeter, especially "Die Geschichte vom Daumenlutscher".
Ha, I read Grim...'s poem and went off to dig out a link for exactly that. We've been reading it to Mini Fop. I find it far more disturbing than she does.
Poetry, eh? Have some Duffy:
Those last two lines slay me every time.
[1] Shakespeare's wife, not the actress.
Quote:
VALENTINE
Not a red rose or a satin heart.
I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.
Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.
I am trying to be truthful.
Not a cute card or a kissogram.
I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.
Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding ring,
if you like.
Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.
Not a red rose or a satin heart.
I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.
Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.
I am trying to be truthful.
Not a cute card or a kissogram.
I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.
Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding ring,
if you like.
Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.
Quote:
ANNE HATHAWAY [1]
‘Item I gyve unto my wief my second best bed…’
(from Shakespeare’s will)
The bed we loved in was a spinning world
of forests, castles, torchlight, cliff-tops, seas
where he would dive for pearls. My lover’s words
were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses
on these lips; my body now a softer rhyme
to his, now echo, assonance; his touch
a verb dancing in the centre of a noun.
Some nights I dreamed he’d written me, the bed
a page beneath his writer’s hands. Romance
and drama played by touch, by scent, by taste.
In the other bed, the best, our guests dozed on,
dribbling their prose. My living laughing love –
I hold him in the casket of my widow’s head
as he held me upon that next best bed.
‘Item I gyve unto my wief my second best bed…’
(from Shakespeare’s will)
The bed we loved in was a spinning world
of forests, castles, torchlight, cliff-tops, seas
where he would dive for pearls. My lover’s words
were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses
on these lips; my body now a softer rhyme
to his, now echo, assonance; his touch
a verb dancing in the centre of a noun.
Some nights I dreamed he’d written me, the bed
a page beneath his writer’s hands. Romance
and drama played by touch, by scent, by taste.
In the other bed, the best, our guests dozed on,
dribbling their prose. My living laughing love –
I hold him in the casket of my widow’s head
as he held me upon that next best bed.
Those last two lines slay me every time.
[1] Shakespeare's wife, not the actress.
I have always been fond of the Litany Against Fear from Dune.
Quote:
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
I find the Greek poet Cavafy's 'The God Abandons Antony' comforting when dealing with change and loss:
Quote:
When suddenly, at midnight, you hear
an invisible procession going by
with exquisite music, voices,
don’t mourn your luck that’s failing now,
work gone wrong, your plans
all proving deceptive—don’t mourn them uselessly.
As one long prepared, and graced with courage,
say goodbye to her, the Alexandria that is leaving.
Above all, don’t fool yourself, don’t say
it was a dream, your ears deceived you:
don’t degrade yourself with empty hopes like these.
As one long prepared, and graced with courage,
as is right for you who proved worthy of this kind of city,
go firmly to the window
and listen with deep emotion, but not
with the whining, the pleas of a coward;
listen—your final delectation—to the voices,
to the exquisite music of that strange procession,
and say goodbye to her, to the Alexandria you are losing.
an invisible procession going by
with exquisite music, voices,
don’t mourn your luck that’s failing now,
work gone wrong, your plans
all proving deceptive—don’t mourn them uselessly.
As one long prepared, and graced with courage,
say goodbye to her, the Alexandria that is leaving.
Above all, don’t fool yourself, don’t say
it was a dream, your ears deceived you:
don’t degrade yourself with empty hopes like these.
As one long prepared, and graced with courage,
as is right for you who proved worthy of this kind of city,
go firmly to the window
and listen with deep emotion, but not
with the whining, the pleas of a coward;
listen—your final delectation—to the voices,
to the exquisite music of that strange procession,
and say goodbye to her, to the Alexandria you are losing.
I love Steinbeck's poetry, but my favourite piece of his isn't a poem at all - it's a letter to his son about love.
http://www.rebellesociety.com/2012/09/2 ... o-his-son/
http://www.rebellesociety.com/2012/09/2 ... o-his-son/
Hillsbrough verdict comes in, totally exonerating fans and saying they were unlawfully killed.
27 years that took.
Fuck you, Sun newspaper, SY Police, et al.
27 years that took.
Fuck you, Sun newspaper, SY Police, et al.
Curiosity wrote:
Hillsbrough verdict comes in, totally exonerating fans and saying they were unlawfully killed.
27 years that took.
Fuck you, Sun newspaper, SY Police, et al.
27 years that took.
Fuck you, Sun newspaper, SY Police, et al.
Finally.
Lonewolves wrote:
Curiosity wrote:
Hillsbrough verdict comes in, totally exonerating fans and saying they were unlawfully killed.
27 years that took.
Fuck you, Sun newspaper, SY Police, et al.
27 years that took.
Fuck you, Sun newspaper, SY Police, et al.
Finally.
Curiosity wrote:
Hillsbrough verdict comes in, totally exonerating fans and saying they were unlawfully killed.
27 years that took.
Fuck you, Sun newspaper, SY Police, et al.
27 years that took.
Fuck you, Sun newspaper, SY Police, et al.
I imagine Stu will handle this with good grace hahahha nope couldn't deadpan that one
Good poems, all.
Doctor Glyndwr wrote:
Curiosity wrote:
Hillsbrough verdict comes in, totally exonerating fans and saying they were unlawfully killed.
27 years that took.
Fuck you, Sun newspaper, SY Police, et al.
27 years that took.
Fuck you, Sun newspaper, SY Police, et al.
I imagine Stu will handle this with good grace hahahha nope couldn't deadpan that one
Crikey, yes, quite.
All of these poems pale into insignificance when we let the Beex server do it, of course.
poetry3.1.php
Soul-rending.
poetry3.1.php
Quote:
They are just not nice.
What's wrong with mice?
Have you thought about storing everything in the cloud, Rich?
It's also easier to stream on the Xbox one using Twitch.
I don't own it, dude.
Any more for food?
What's wrong with mice?
Have you thought about storing everything in the cloud, Rich?
It's also easier to stream on the Xbox one using Twitch.
I don't own it, dude.
Any more for food?
Soul-rending.
Doctor Glyndwr wrote:
Curiosity wrote:
Hillsbrough verdict comes in, totally exonerating fans and saying they were unlawfully killed.
27 years that took.
Fuck you, Sun newspaper, SY Police, et al.
27 years that took.
Fuck you, Sun newspaper, SY Police, et al.
I imagine Stu will handle this with good grace hahahha nope couldn't deadpan that one
He was still banging that drum fairly recently, despite all evidence to the contrary.
Not to mention Boris Johnson blamed the fans and said that the Liverpudlians liked to wallow in grief and were unfairly blaming the police and The Sun.
Curiosity wrote:
were unfairly blaming the police and The Sun.
I'm pretty sure it wasn't The Sun's fault.
Grim... wrote:
Curiosity wrote:
were unfairly blaming the police and The Sun.
I'm pretty sure it wasn't The Sun's fault.
Blaming The Sun for their reporting, rather than anything else.
Obviously.
But but but the fans were pushing. And I know an expert in crowd behaviour who agrees with me. etc.
Will be interested to see if he posts anything on this...
Will be interested to see if he posts anything on this...
Both sets of grandparents have now left and I have just crawled into bed.źzzzzzzzz
MaliA wrote:
Both sets of grandparents have now left and I have just crawled into bed.źzzzzzzzz
Grim... wrote:
All of these poems pale into insignificance when we let the Beex server do it, of course.
poetry3.1.php
Soul-rending.
poetry3.1.php
Quote:
They are just not nice.
What's wrong with mice?
Have you thought about storing everything in the cloud, Rich?
It's also easier to stream on the Xbox one using Twitch.
I don't own it, dude.
Any more for food?
What's wrong with mice?
Have you thought about storing everything in the cloud, Rich?
It's also easier to stream on the Xbox one using Twitch.
I don't own it, dude.
Any more for food?
Soul-rending.
Quote:
And fatalii vodka, and Carolina reaper vodka.
Chris Evans is excellent as Capt America.
I started drinking coffee after my daughter was born.
Although I'm normally a good three clicks from some porn.
Chris Evans is excellent as Capt America.
I started drinking coffee after my daughter was born.
Although I'm normally a good three clicks from some porn.
Chris Evans?
Mr Dave wrote:
I started drinking coffee after my daughter was born.
Although I'm normally a good three clicks from some porn.
Although I'm normally a good three clicks from some porn.
That's brilliant.
Quote:
I didn't like This War of Mine.
You deleted your post you swine.
Also, I totally recommended Thunderbird.
You should probably change your password.
The dynamite guy is, indeed, awesome.
Like, all of us: the whole forum.
You deleted your post you swine.
Also, I totally recommended Thunderbird.
You should probably change your password.
The dynamite guy is, indeed, awesome.
Like, all of us: the whole forum.
Mr Dave wrote:
Chris Evans?
Yes.
Beautiful Beex Poetry is glorious.
Quote:
I'm the only person in the world who isn't unique.
You should've seen the fun that I had last week.
It's going to hurt.
Occasionally a shirt.
You should've seen the fun that I had last week.
It's going to hurt.
Occasionally a shirt.
We've got a shit load of Norwegians in the office at the moment.. For some reason... Anyway, one of them just stared at my black colleague for ages!
She reckoned that he'd never seen anyone her colour before.
She reckoned that he'd never seen anyone her colour before.
So, I have a question about the Hillsborough trial. It's been going on for two years, is that right? If so, what happens with the jury? Surely they don't expect normal people to have two years off work?
Not a trial...it's an inquest that will (I assume) result in a criminal investigation. The jurors can go home now (...again, I am assuming).
However it's exactly the same as any other jury duty, where your employer isn't obliged to pay you, and there's a £130 a day cap on loss earnings claims. Basically, if you are well paid and you get selected for something like this, you'll have to attempt to defer your jury service claiming it will cause excessive hardship.
Any employer that doesn't pay employees their usual salary for time on Jury duty is an arse. Appreciate it's tough if you're a shop with three employees and have to cover someone who's out for a month, but, well tough.
Is the bit in the middle of a seesaw called a pivot or something else? Stand maybe? Any ideas?
Easy one to get out of Jury service for...just show up in a Man U Jersey...