maybe an thematic brother to "Dust in the wind" is Ozymandias.
here's Bryan Cranston reading it as a promo for Breaking Bad.
http://www.amctv.com/breaking-bad/video ... eaking-bad
I think it's better without the video, as the video ties the reading to the TV show. But close your eyes and imagine the scene he describes.
Nice.
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What's playing in your head today?
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Do not promote books in this forum. Instead, promote your books in either Authors: Tell us about your FICTION book! or Authors: Tell us about your NON-FICTION book!.
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All other Community Rules apply in this and all other forums.
- johnson1010
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Re: What's playing in your head today?
In the absence of God, I found Man.
-Guillermo Del Torro
Are you pushing your own short comings on us and safely hating them from a distance?
Is this the virtue of faith? To never change your mind: especially when you should?
Young Earth Creationists take offense at the idea that we have a common heritage with other animals. Why is being the descendant of a mud golem any better?
-Guillermo Del Torro
Are you pushing your own short comings on us and safely hating them from a distance?
Is this the virtue of faith? To never change your mind: especially when you should?
Young Earth Creationists take offense at the idea that we have a common heritage with other animals. Why is being the descendant of a mud golem any better?
- Penelope
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- One more post ought to do it.
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Re: What's playing in your head today?
No, for it to be a gift - there must be a donor and you don't believe in the donor, or do you? It's a while since I spoke to you and maybe you have adjusted your opinions. I certainly adjust mine all the time. Or, then again, maybe I have misunderstood, which is easy when we are discussing such esoteric, abstract matters. I found Krishna Murti's teaching helpful only recently when he spoke about living/behaving without desire. So, we can enjoy discussing such matters if we are not desiring to be admired, or to impress, or to convert the other to your way of thinking. Just exploring ideas without desire, I have found a very helpful lecture. My problem is that I always want to please people, and I always want everyone to like me.......(a very female trait) but it is a problem that needs to be addressed because it isn't very honest and it also gives people the impression that one is 'too sweet to be wholesome'.ant:
What a gift we've all been "given" by the creative acts of Nature.
Whilst the need to put ideas down in words concentrates the mind.....it also loses out through not being able to hear the tone of voice or to see the expression in the eyes of the explorer. Leads to hurt feelings......but then the only people who can hurt my feelings are the people I care about....so I have learned caution.....
I'm not very receptive to songs about Fathers as my relationship with my own father was not good, so not fair of me to judge this.chris:
Dust in the Wind is one of my all-time favorites. As Ant says the song is eye opening. Not all songs are meant to make you smile. Some will make you cry.
How about "Cats in the Cradle" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=etundhQa724
I have to admit that music often makes me weep - especially classical music and not usually vocal. Bruch's Violin Concerto No. 1 absolutely leaves me awash, as does Mozart's Requiem. This Neil Sedaka song always has me in tears, although it owes as much to the quality of Neil's voice as to the words........but the words are very relevant to a certain stage in life:
Girl we made it to the top
We went so high we couldn't stop
We climbed the ladder leading us nowhere
Two of us together, building castles in the air
We spun so fast we couldn't tell
The gold ring from the carousel
How could we know the ride would turn out bad
Everything we wanted, was everything we had
I miss the hungry years, the once upon a time
The lovely long ago, we didn't have a dime
Those days of me and you, we lost along the way
How could I be so blind, not to see the door
Closing on the world, I now hunger for
Looking through my tears, I miss the hungry years
We shared our daydreams one by one
Making plans was so much fun
We set our goals and reached the highest star
Things that we were after, were much better from afar
Here we stand just me and you
With everything and nothing too
It wasn't worth the price we had to pay
Honey, take me home, let's go back to yesterday
I miss the hungry years, the once upon a time
The lovely long ago, we didn't have a dime
Those days of me and you, we lost along the way
How could I be so blind, not to see the door
Closing on the world, I now hunger for
Looking through my tears, I miss the hungry years
I miss the hungry years
I am surprised that quite a few of you have joined in this discussion. Don't be annoyed with me, but can I suggest that you don't just upload the lyrics, or YouTube link - but a little explanation of why/how the song affects you.
Ingratiating???? Moi??? Oh God!!! Is there any hope?
OK - putting it bluntly - you're all males of the species - you're not going to talk about why/how the song affects you emotionally, or not - because men don't talk about their emotions or feelings, unless they are musicians, or poets...... or gay........do they?
Especially on here - because the most interesting posters are atheists, and feeling and emotions are of the soul.....and you seem to insist that there is no such thing as the soul.....Now, Chris, don't give me another broadside saying that I am portraying myself as being all sweetness whilst implying that you all are unfeeling....I know that is not so.....but that you don't explore your feelings....(being male....not because you are atheist!!!)You once said that some book discussions were disappointing because people were inclined to say, 'I enjoyed that book', and some one else says, 'Yeah, great book'.
Oh you can have a good discussion about a non-fiction book full of theories and I have enjoyed so many of those - but music and poetry is not about theory and fact.......
Only those become weary of angling who bring nothing to it but the idea of catching fish.
He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world is mad....
Rafael Sabatini
He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world is mad....
Rafael Sabatini
- Penelope
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Re: What's playing in your head today?
Ahem! After that last post....this is what I feel like:-
http://www.trueactivist.com/13-pictures ... on-cliffs/
http://www.trueactivist.com/13-pictures ... on-cliffs/
Only those become weary of angling who bring nothing to it but the idea of catching fish.
He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world is mad....
Rafael Sabatini
He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world is mad....
Rafael Sabatini
- Chris OConnor
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Re: What's playing in your head today?
Your poor relationship with your father is precisely why you can and should appreciate the song, "Cats in the Cradle." The song is meant for people who have or could one day take their relationships for granted. It sounds like the much desired loving relationship that we all want to have with our parents was missed between you and your father.Penelope wrote:I'm not very receptive to songs about Fathers as my relationship with my own father was not good, so not fair of me to judge this.
I'm in the same boat. My father died several years ago so I can say this knowing he won't be reading it and feeling the remorse and pain. But my dad gave me and my brother away when we were little boys. He literally signed over custody of us to the welfare department in Ohio. "Cats in the Cradle" stabs me in the heart when I hear it because my father is just like the father in the song. He was too busy working and chasing girls to stop, look down and see his kids. He threw us away like trash.
- Penelope
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Re: What's playing in your head today?
Chris, I remember your father dying just when I first joined BT.
Of course I didn't know the circumstances of your relationship.
Well, I know that our relationships with our parents, or with our children are seldom 'story book' perfect. My Dad wasn't unkind to me, in fact we never had a cross word between us. My parents separated when I was two years old and I 'found' my Dad when I was in my thirties with help from a kind man in the registry of electors office in the town where I knew he lived.
He had married again, late in life, to his childhood sweetheart, Vi. I loved Vi, she had daughters of her own, from her first husband, but she was lovely to me. When she died, my Dad became indifferent to me. Indifference hurts more than downright hatred. He actually asked me not to go and see him anymore and no one would have believed he said that except that my husband happened to be with me at the time. We were very alike my Dad and me. We liked the same poetry, even though we hadn't been together....we looked very alike and I am told we were very similar personalities......He was very loved by his brothers' children, all my cousins who had grown up knowing him.......but it seems he just couldn't even like me a bit. It hurt, but I just had to be indifferent myself and I am....except sometimes. The fact that my mother and father in law both loved me and treated me like their own, helped to heal the pain a bit......it was only disappointment, after all.
I know that I am a bit prickly on the subject of fatherhood.....'cos I like to think of mine as 'a silly old bugger'.
Of course I didn't know the circumstances of your relationship.
Well, I know that our relationships with our parents, or with our children are seldom 'story book' perfect. My Dad wasn't unkind to me, in fact we never had a cross word between us. My parents separated when I was two years old and I 'found' my Dad when I was in my thirties with help from a kind man in the registry of electors office in the town where I knew he lived.
He had married again, late in life, to his childhood sweetheart, Vi. I loved Vi, she had daughters of her own, from her first husband, but she was lovely to me. When she died, my Dad became indifferent to me. Indifference hurts more than downright hatred. He actually asked me not to go and see him anymore and no one would have believed he said that except that my husband happened to be with me at the time. We were very alike my Dad and me. We liked the same poetry, even though we hadn't been together....we looked very alike and I am told we were very similar personalities......He was very loved by his brothers' children, all my cousins who had grown up knowing him.......but it seems he just couldn't even like me a bit. It hurt, but I just had to be indifferent myself and I am....except sometimes. The fact that my mother and father in law both loved me and treated me like their own, helped to heal the pain a bit......it was only disappointment, after all.
I know that I am a bit prickly on the subject of fatherhood.....'cos I like to think of mine as 'a silly old bugger'.
Only those become weary of angling who bring nothing to it but the idea of catching fish.
He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world is mad....
Rafael Sabatini
He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world is mad....
Rafael Sabatini
- johnson1010
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Tenured Professor
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Re: What's playing in your head today?
Jasmine Thompson's voice is incredible.
http://www.wimp.com/coverswrecking/
Her site.
http://jasminethompsonmusic.com/official/
http://www.wimp.com/coverswrecking/
Her site.
http://jasminethompsonmusic.com/official/
In the absence of God, I found Man.
-Guillermo Del Torro
Are you pushing your own short comings on us and safely hating them from a distance?
Is this the virtue of faith? To never change your mind: especially when you should?
Young Earth Creationists take offense at the idea that we have a common heritage with other animals. Why is being the descendant of a mud golem any better?
-Guillermo Del Torro
Are you pushing your own short comings on us and safely hating them from a distance?
Is this the virtue of faith? To never change your mind: especially when you should?
Young Earth Creationists take offense at the idea that we have a common heritage with other animals. Why is being the descendant of a mud golem any better?
- Cattleman
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Way Beyond Awesome
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Re: What's playing in your head today?
As I write this, my wife is watching Carrie Underwood in The Sound of Music on television. Carrie has just sung "My Favorite Things" which reminded me of Tom T. Hall's "I Love." The enjoyment of simple things expressed in both songs called from deep memory this poem which I remember reading in high school:
The Great Lover
by Rupert Brooke
I have been so great a lover: filled my days
So proudly with the splendour of Love's praise,
The pain, the calm, and the astonishment,
Desire illimitable, and still content,
And all dear names men use, to cheat despair,
For the perplexed and viewless streams that bear
Our hearts at random down the dark of life.
Now, ere the unthinking silence on that strife
Steals down, I would cheat drowsy Death so far,
My night shall be remembered for a star
That outshone all the suns of all men's days.
Shall I not crown them with immortal praise
Whom I have loved, who have given me, dared with me
High secrets, and in darkness knelt to see
The inenarrable godhead of delight?
Love is a flame:--we have beaconed the world's night.
A city:--and we have built it, these and I.
An emperor:--we have taught the world to die.
So, for their sakes I loved, ere I go hence,
And the high cause of Love's magnificence,
And to keep loyalties young, I'll write those names
Golden for ever, eagles, crying flames,
And set them as a banner, that men may know,
To dare the generations, burn, and blow
Out on the wind of Time, shining and streaming . . . .
These I have loved:
White plates and cups, clean-gleaming,
Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, faery dust;
Wet roofs, beneath the lamp-light; the strong crust
Of friendly bread; and many-tasting food;
Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of wood;
And radiant raindrops couching in cool flowers;
And flowers themselves, that sway through sunny hours,
Dreaming of moths that drink them under the moon;
Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon
Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss
Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is
Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; the keen
Unpassioned beauty of a great machine;
The benison of hot water; furs to touch;
The good smell of old clothes; and other such--
The comfortable smell of friendly fingers,
Hair's fragrance, and the musty reek that lingers
About dead leaves and last year's ferns. . . .
Dear names,
And thousand other throng to me! Royal flames;
Sweet water's dimpling laugh from tap or spring;
Holes in the ground; and voices that do sing;
Voices in laughter, too; and body's pain,
Soon turned to peace; and the deep-panting train;
Firm sands; the little dulling edge of foam
That browns and dwindles as the wave goes home;
And washen stones, gay for an hour; the cold
Graveness of iron; moist black earthen mould;
Sleep; and high places; footprints in the dew;
And oaks; and brown horse-chestnuts, glossy-new;
And new-peeled sticks; and shining pools on grass;--
All these have been my loves. And these shall pass,
Whatever passes not, in the great hour,
Nor all my passion, all my prayers, have power
To hold them with me through the gate of Death.
They'll play deserter, turn with the traitor breath,
Break the high bond we made, and sell Love's trust
And sacramented covenant to the dust.
----Oh, never a doubt but, somewhere, I shall wake,
And give what's left of love again, and make
New friends, now strangers. . . .
But the best I've known
Stays here, and changes, breaks, grows old, is blown
About the winds of the world, and fades from brains
Of living men, and dies.
Nothing remains.
O dear my loves, O faithless, once again
This one last gift I give: that after men
Shall know, and later lovers, far-removed,
Praise you, 'All these were lovely'; say, 'He loved.'
The Great Lover
by Rupert Brooke
I have been so great a lover: filled my days
So proudly with the splendour of Love's praise,
The pain, the calm, and the astonishment,
Desire illimitable, and still content,
And all dear names men use, to cheat despair,
For the perplexed and viewless streams that bear
Our hearts at random down the dark of life.
Now, ere the unthinking silence on that strife
Steals down, I would cheat drowsy Death so far,
My night shall be remembered for a star
That outshone all the suns of all men's days.
Shall I not crown them with immortal praise
Whom I have loved, who have given me, dared with me
High secrets, and in darkness knelt to see
The inenarrable godhead of delight?
Love is a flame:--we have beaconed the world's night.
A city:--and we have built it, these and I.
An emperor:--we have taught the world to die.
So, for their sakes I loved, ere I go hence,
And the high cause of Love's magnificence,
And to keep loyalties young, I'll write those names
Golden for ever, eagles, crying flames,
And set them as a banner, that men may know,
To dare the generations, burn, and blow
Out on the wind of Time, shining and streaming . . . .
These I have loved:
White plates and cups, clean-gleaming,
Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, faery dust;
Wet roofs, beneath the lamp-light; the strong crust
Of friendly bread; and many-tasting food;
Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of wood;
And radiant raindrops couching in cool flowers;
And flowers themselves, that sway through sunny hours,
Dreaming of moths that drink them under the moon;
Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon
Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss
Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is
Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; the keen
Unpassioned beauty of a great machine;
The benison of hot water; furs to touch;
The good smell of old clothes; and other such--
The comfortable smell of friendly fingers,
Hair's fragrance, and the musty reek that lingers
About dead leaves and last year's ferns. . . .
Dear names,
And thousand other throng to me! Royal flames;
Sweet water's dimpling laugh from tap or spring;
Holes in the ground; and voices that do sing;
Voices in laughter, too; and body's pain,
Soon turned to peace; and the deep-panting train;
Firm sands; the little dulling edge of foam
That browns and dwindles as the wave goes home;
And washen stones, gay for an hour; the cold
Graveness of iron; moist black earthen mould;
Sleep; and high places; footprints in the dew;
And oaks; and brown horse-chestnuts, glossy-new;
And new-peeled sticks; and shining pools on grass;--
All these have been my loves. And these shall pass,
Whatever passes not, in the great hour,
Nor all my passion, all my prayers, have power
To hold them with me through the gate of Death.
They'll play deserter, turn with the traitor breath,
Break the high bond we made, and sell Love's trust
And sacramented covenant to the dust.
----Oh, never a doubt but, somewhere, I shall wake,
And give what's left of love again, and make
New friends, now strangers. . . .
But the best I've known
Stays here, and changes, breaks, grows old, is blown
About the winds of the world, and fades from brains
Of living men, and dies.
Nothing remains.
O dear my loves, O faithless, once again
This one last gift I give: that after men
Shall know, and later lovers, far-removed,
Praise you, 'All these were lovely'; say, 'He loved.'
Love what you do, and do what you love. Don't listen to anyone else who tells you not to do it. -Ray Bradbury
Always listen to experts. They'll tell you what can't be done, and why. Then do it. -Robert A. Heinlein
Always listen to experts. They'll tell you what can't be done, and why. Then do it. -Robert A. Heinlein
- Saffron
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Re: What's playing in your head today?
The song that perfectly captures where my mind is today is The Beatles (John Lennon) song In My Life.
In My Life Lyrics
LENNON, JOHN WINSTON / MCCARTNEY, PAUL JAMES
There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more
In My Life Lyrics
LENNON, JOHN WINSTON / MCCARTNEY, PAUL JAMES
There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more
- Penelope
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- One more post ought to do it.
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Re: What's playing in your head today?
I'm voting this my favourite poem of all time - It is truely wonderful, is it not?:-
"Mr. Tambourine Man"
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.
Though I know that evenin's empire has returned into sand
Vanished from my hand
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping
My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming.
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.
Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship
My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wanderin'
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it.
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.
Though you might hear laughin', spinnin' swingin' madly across the sun
It's not aimed at anyone, it's just escapin' on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facin'
And if you hear vague traces of skippin' reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time, it's just a ragged clown behind
I wouldn't pay it any mind, it's just a shadow you're
Seein' that he's chasing.
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.
Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.
"Mr. Tambourine Man"
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.
Though I know that evenin's empire has returned into sand
Vanished from my hand
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping
My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming.
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.
Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship
My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wanderin'
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it.
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.
Though you might hear laughin', spinnin' swingin' madly across the sun
It's not aimed at anyone, it's just escapin' on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facin'
And if you hear vague traces of skippin' reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time, it's just a ragged clown behind
I wouldn't pay it any mind, it's just a shadow you're
Seein' that he's chasing.
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.
Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey ! Mr Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.
Only those become weary of angling who bring nothing to it but the idea of catching fish.
He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world is mad....
Rafael Sabatini
He was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world is mad....
Rafael Sabatini