Wednesday, February 15, 2006

The Prophet on love

On Love

Then said Almitra, "Speak to us of Love."

And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them. And with a great voice he said:

When love beckons to you follow him,

Though his ways are hard and steep.

And when his wings enfold you yield to him,

Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,

Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,

So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.

He threshes you to make you naked.

He sifts you to free you from your husks.

He grinds you to whiteness.

He kneads you until you are pliant;

And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,

Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,

Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.

Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;

For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, I am in the heart of God."

And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.

But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;

And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;

To return home at eventide with gratitude;

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

Sunday, February 12, 2006

Better Days Lyrics

Better Days Lyrics
by Anthony Hamilton


There was times I didn't want to bother you
You were at work all night I didn't want to complain
And I realize the compromise that love ones make
I'm holding on for the future some more better days
With you

Be without you
Oh wouldn't be with out you
Oh I live for your love
For you

Say word I'm there when you need me
My job is to protect you although I know
That women get emotional in need of love
So I tried to learn your species and one day we'll grow
Grow

Be without you
Oh wouldn't be with out you
Oh I live for your love
For you

I live for ya.... live ya
I live for ya lovin baby
Without you..without your love

Be without you
Oh wouldn't be with out you
Oh I live for your love
For you

I wouldn't be without you
I couldn't live without you
Never gonna smile without you
Won' be without you

Saturday, February 11, 2006

Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand

Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand
BY
Walt Whitman



Whoever you are holding me now in hand,
Without one thing all will be useless,
I give you fair warning before you attempt me further,
I am not what you supposed, but far different.


Who is he that would become my follower?
Who would sign himself a candidate for my affections?


The way is suspicious, the result uncertain, perhaps destructive,
You would have to give up all else, I alone would expect to be your
sole and exclusive standard,
Your novitiate would even then be long and exhausting,
The whole past theory of your life and all conformity to the lives
around you would have to be abandon'd,
Therefore release me now before troubling yourself any further, let
go your hand from my shoulders,
Put me down and depart on your way.


Or else by stealth in some wood for trial,
Or back of a rock in the open air,
(For in any roof'd room of a house I emerge not, nor in company,
And in libraries I lie as one dumb, a gawk, or unborn, or dead,)
But just possibly with you on a high hill, first watching lest any
person for miles around approach unawares,
Or possibly with you sailing at sea, or on the beach of the sea or
some quiet island,
Here to put your lips upon mine I permit you,
With the comrade's long-dwelling kiss or the new husband's kiss,
For I am the new husband and I am the comrade.


Or if you will, thrusting me beneath your clothing,
Where I may feel the throbs of your heart or rest upon your hip,
Carry me when you go forth over land or sea;
For thus merely touching you is enough, is best,
And thus touching you would I silently sleep and be carried eternally.


But these leaves conning you con at peril,
For these leaves and me you will not understand,
They will elude you at first and still more afterward, I will
certainly elude you.
Even while you should think you had unquestionably caught me, behold!
Already you see I have escaped from you.


For it is not for what I have put into it that I have written this book,
Nor is it by reading it you will acquire it,
Nor do those know me best who admire me and vauntingly praise me,
Nor will the candidates for my love (unless at most a very few)
prove victorious,
Nor will my poems do good only, they will do just as much evil,
perhaps more,
For all is useless without that which you may guess at many times
and not hit, that which I hinted at;
Therefore release me and depart on your way [or love me forever].

Of the Terrible Doubt of Appearances by Walt

Of the Terrible Doubt of Appearances
BY
Walt Whitman


Of the terrible doubt of appearances,
Of the uncertainty after all, that we may be deluded,
That may-be reliance and hope are but speculations after all,
That may-be identity beyond the grave is a beautiful fable only,
May-be the things I perceive, the animals, plants, men, hills,
shining and flowing waters,
The skies of day and night, colors, densities, forms, may-be these
are (as doubtless they are) only apparitions, and the real
something has yet to be known,
(How often they dart out of themselves as if to confound me and mock me!
How often I think neither I know, nor any man knows, aught of them,)
May-be seeming to me what they are (as doubtless they indeed but seem)
as from my present point of view, and might prove (as of course they
would) nought of what they appear, or nought anyhow, from entirely
changed points of view;
To me these and the like of these are curiously answer'd by my
lovers, my dear friends,
When he whom I love travels with me or sits a long while holding me
by the hand,
When the subtle air, the impalpable, the sense that words and reason
hold not, surround us and pervade us,
Then I am charged with untold and untellable wisdom, I am silent, I
require nothing further,
I cannot answer the question of appearances or that of identity
beyond the grave,
But I walk or sit indifferent, I am satisfied,
He ahold of my hand has completely satisfied me.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes by Walt

Not Heat Flames Up and Consumes
BY
Walt Whitman


Not heat flames up and consumes,
Not sea-waves hurry in and out,
Not the air delicious and dry, the air of ripe summer, bears lightly
along white down-balls of myriads of seeds,
Waited, sailing gracefully, to drop where they may;
Not these, O none of these more than the flames of me, consuming,
burning for his love whom I love,
O none more than I hurrying in and out;
Does the tide hurry, seeking something, and never give up? O I the same,
O nor down-balls nor perfumes, nor the high rain-emitting clouds,
are borne through the open air,
Any more than my soul is borne through the open air,
Wafted in all directions O love, for friendship, for you.
February 11, 2006

Friday, February 03, 2006

El Rey... Andrés Calamaro


El REY


Más duele
Andrés Calamaro.

Tengo tu mano apoyada en la mía así
ya te enseñé todo lo que sabía
si me quedo más que mareo
cuando no estás es feo
cuando no estás es muy feo
voy a ponerme la ropa mojada
voy a brindar con agua mineral
no hay relleno para la empanada
cuando no estás duele más
pues voy a olvidarme de todo
la única verdad es la verdad
el tiempo va a curarme de algún modo
cuando no estás, cuando no estás
duele más
mas duele cuando no estás
duele más
cuando no estás, más duele
cuando no estás, duele más
y es muy feo.



Te quiero igual
Andrés Calamaro.

Te quiero pero te llevaste la flor
y me dejaste el florero
te quiero me dejaste la ceniza
y te llevaste el cenicero
te quiero pero te llevaste marzo
y te rendiste en febrero
primero te quiero igual
te quiero , te llevaste la cabeza
y me dejaste el sombrero
te quiero pero te olvidaste abril
en el ropero pero igual
te quiero no me gusta esperar
pero igual te espero
primero te quiero igual
te quiero me dejaste el florero
y te llevaste la flor
pero igual
te quiero me dejaste el vestido
y te llevaste el amor
te quiero pero te olvidaste abril
en el ropero
primero te quiero igual
no sé si estoy despierto
o tengo los ojos abiertos
te quiero, no sé si estoy despierto
o tengo los ojos abiertos
sé que te quiero y que me esperan
más aeropuertos
te quiero te llevaste la vela
y me dejaste el entierro
primero te quiero igual
te quiero pero te llevaste la flor
y me dejaste el florero
te quiero me dejaste la ceniza
y te llevaste el cenicero
te quiero pero te llevaste marzo
y te rendiste en febrero
primero te quiero igual.


Jugando con fuego
Andrés Calamaro.

Yo tengo cuatro claveles
uno por cada motivo
el encuentro, tu mirada
mi secreto, nuestro olvido
estoy jugando con fuego
y en la yema de los dedos
tengo el tacto de los días
tengo el tacto de las noches
tengo el tacto de los dos
es inmoral sentirse mal
por haber querido tanto
debería estar prohibido
haber vivido
y no haber amado
por eso tírame un beso
que sigo preso
de nuestro encierro
jugar con fuego
si me quedé sin aliento
y no pude dar contigo
va a venir la noche negra
para quedarse conmigo
porque jugando con fuego
puede ser que se lastime
puede ser que se lastime
puede ser que sufra un poco
y nos queremos los dos
es inmoral sentirse mal
por haber querido tanto
debería estar prohibido
haber vivido
y no haber amado
por eso tirame un hueso que sigo preso
de nuestro encierro
jugar con fuego
estás jugando con fuego
por un tanto así
y muy juntitos los dos
para vos, reina.



February 03, 2006

Symposium on Behavioral Approaches to Bureaucratic Red Tape and Administrative Burden

CALL FOR PAPERS Public Administration Review Symposium Editors: Christopher Carrigan, The George Washington Universit...