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1
Poems and Poets / The Revolutionary by D. H. Lawrence
« on: Today at 02:02:38 PM »
THE REVOLUTIONARY by D. H. Lawrence

Look at them standing there in authority
The pale-faces,
As if it could have any effect any more.
Pale-face authority,
Caryatids,
Pillars of white bronze standing rigid, lest the skies fall.
What a job they’ve got to keep it up.
Their poor, idealist foreheads naked capitals
To the entablature of clouded heaven.
When the skies are going to fall, fall they will
In a great chute and rush of débâcle downwards.
Oh and I wish the high and super-gothic heavens would come down now,
The heavens above, that we yearn to and aspire to.
I do not yearn, nor aspire, for I am a blind Samson.
And what is daylight to me that I should look skyward?
Only I grope among you, pale-faces, caryatids, as among a forest of pillars that hold up the dome of high ideal heaven
Which is my prison,
And all these human pillars of loftiness, going stiff, metallic-stunned with the weight of their responsibility
I stumble against them.
Stumbling-blocks, painful ones.{26}
To keep on holding up this ideal civilisation
Must be excruciating: unless you stiffen into metal, when it is easier to stand stock rigid than to move.
This is why I tug at them, individually, with my arm round their waist
The human pillars.
They are not stronger than I am, blind Samson.
The house sways.
I shall be so glad when it comes down.
I am so tired of the limitations of their Infinite.
I am so sick of the pretensions of the Spirit.
I am so weary of pale-face importance.
Am I not blind, at the round-turning mill?
Then why should I fear their pale faces?
Or love the effulgence of their holy light,
The sun of their righteousness?
To me, all faces are dark,
All lips are dusky and valved.
Save your lips, O pale-faces,
Which are slips of metal,
Like slits in an automatic-machine, you columns of give-and-take.
To me, the earth rolls ponderously, superbly
Coming my way without forethought or afterthought.
To me, men’s footfalls fall with a dull, soft rumble, ominous and lovely,
Coming my way.{27}
But not your foot-falls, pale-faces,
They are a clicketing of bits of disjointed metal
Working in motion.
To me, men are palpable, invisible nearnesses in the dark
Sending out magnetic vibrations of warning, pitch-dark throbs of invitation.
But you, pale-faces,
You are painful, harsh-surfaced pillars that give off nothing except rigidity,
And I jut against you if I try to move, for you are everywhere, and I am blind,
Sightless among all your visuality,
You staring caryatids.
See if I don’t bring you down, and all your high opinion
And all your ponderous roofed-in erection of right and wrong
Your particular heavens,
With a smash.
See if your skies aren’t falling!
And my head, at least, is thick enough to stand it, the smash.
See if I don’t move under a dark and nude, vast heaven
When your world is in ruins, under your fallen skies.
Caryatids, pale-faces.
See if I am not Lord of the dark and moving hosts
Before I die.
Florence.


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2
Poems and Poets / Grapes by D. H. Lawrence
« on: Today at 01:57:13 PM »
GRAPES by D. H. Lawrence

So many fruits come from roses
From the rose of all roses
From the unfolded rose
Rose of all the world.
Admit that apples and strawberries and peaches and pears and blackberries
Are all Rosaceæ,
Issue of the explicit rose,
The open-countenanced, skyward-smiling rose.
What then of the vine?
Oh, what of the tendrilled vine?
Ours is the universe of the unfolded rose,
The explicit,
The candid revelation.
But long ago, oh, long ago
Before the rose began to simper supreme,
Before the rose of all roses, rose of all the world, was even in bud,
Before the glaciers were gathered up in a bunch out of the unsettled seas and winds,
Or else before they had been let down again, in Noah’s flood,
There was another world, a dusky, flowerless, tendrilled world
And creatures webbed and marshy,{23}
And on the margin, men soft-footed and pristine,
Still, and sensitive, and active,
Audile, tactile sensitiveness as of a tendril which orientates and reaches out,
Reaching out and grasping by an instinct more delicate than the moon’s as she feels for the tides.
Of which world, the vine was the invisible rose,
Before petals spread, before colour made its disturbance, before eyes saw too much.
In a green, muddy, web-foot, unutterably songless world
The vine was rose of all roses.
There were no poppies or carnations,
Hardly a greenish lily, watery faint.
Green, dim, invisible flourishing of vines
Royally gesticulate.
Look now even now, how it keeps its power of invisibility
Look how black, how blue-black, how globed in Egyptian darkness
Dropping among his leaves, hangs the dark grape!
See him there, the swart, so palpably invisible:
Whom shall we ask about him?
The negro might know a little.
When the vine was rose, Gods were dark-skinned.
Bacchus is a dream’s dream.
Once God was all negroid, as now he is fair.
But it’s so long ago, the ancient Bushman has forgotten more utterly than we, who have never known.{24}
For we are on the brink of re-remembrance.
Which, I suppose, is why America has gone dry.
Our pale day is sinking into twilight,
And if we sip the wine, we find dreams coming upon us
Out of the imminent night.
Nay, we find ourselves crossing the fern-scented frontiers
Of the world before the floods, where man was dark and evasive
And the tiny vine-flower rose of all roses, perfumed,
And all in naked communion communicating as now our clothed vision can never communicate.
Vistas, down dark avenues
As we sip the wine.
The grape is swart, the avenues dusky and tendrilled, subtly prehensile,
But we, as we start awake, clutch at our vistas democratic, boulevards, tram-cars, policemen.
Give us our own back
Let us go to the soda-fountain, to get sober.
Soberness, sobriety.
It is like the agonised perverseness of a child heavy with sleep, yet fighting, fighting to keep awake;
Soberness, sobriety, with heavy eyes propped open.
Dusky are the avenues of wine,
And we must cross the frontiers, though we will not,
Of the lost, fern-scented world:
Take the fern-seed on our lips,
Close the eyes, and go
Down the tendrilled avenues of wine and the otherworld.

San Gervasio.


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3
Poems and Poets / Figs by D. H. Lawrence
« on: Today at 01:49:09 PM »
FIGS by D. H. Lawrence

The proper way to eat a fig, in society,
Is to split it in four, holding it by the stump,
And open it, so that it is a glittering, rosy, moist, honied, heavy-petalled four-petalled flower.
Then you throw away the skin
Which is just like a four-sepalled calyx,
After you have taken off the blossom with your lips.
But the vulgar way
Is just to put your mouth to the crack, and take out the flesh in one bite.
Every fruit has its secret.
The fig is a very secretive fruit.
As you see it standing growing, you feel at once it is symbolic:
And it seems male.
But when you come to know it better, you agree with the Romans, it is female.
The Italians vulgarly say, it stands for the female part; the fig-fruit:
The fissure, the yoni,
The wonderful moist conductivity towards the centre.
Involved,
Inturned,
The flowering all inward and womb-fibrilled;
And but one orifice.{19}
The fig, the horse-shoe, the squash-blossom.
Symbols.
There was a flower that flowered inward, womb-ward;
Now there is a fruit like a ripe womb.
It was always a secret.
That’s how it should be, the female should always be secret.
There never was any standing aloft and unfolded on a bough
Like other flowers, in a revelation of petals;
Silver-pink peach, Venetian green glass of medlars and sorb-apples,
Shallow wine-cups on short, bulging stems
Openly pledging heaven:
Here’s to the thorn in flower! Here is to Utterance!
The brave, adventurous rosaceæ.
Folded upon itself, and secret unutterable,
And milky-sapped, sap that curdles milk and makes ricotta,
Sap that smells strange on your fingers, that even goats won’t taste it;
Folded upon itself, enclosed like any Mohammedan woman,
Its nakedness all within-walls, its flowering forever unseen,
One small way of access only, and this close-curtained from the light;
Fig, fruit of the female mystery, covert and inward,
Mediterranean fruit, with your covert nakedness,
Where everything happens invisible, flowering and fertilisation, and fruiting{20}
In the inwardness of your you, that eye will never see
Till it’s finished, and you’re over-ripe, and you burst to give up your ghost.
Till the drop of ripeness exudes,
And the year is over.
And then the fig has kept her secret long enough.
So it explodes, and you see through the fissure the scarlet.
And the fig is finished, the year is over.
That’s how the fig dies, showing her crimson through the purple slit
Like a wound, the exposure of her secret, on the open day.
Like a prostitute, the bursten fig, making a show of her secret.
That’s how women die too.
The year is fallen over-ripe,
The year of our women.
The year of our women is fallen over-ripe.
The secret is laid bare.
And rottenness soon sets in.
The year of our women is fallen over-ripe.
When Eve once knew in her mind that she was naked
She quickly sewed fig-leaves, and sewed the same for the man.
She’d been naked all her days before,
But till then, till that apple of knowledge, she hadn’t had the fact on her mind.{21}
She got the fact on her mind, and quickly sewed fig-leaves.
And women have been sewing ever since.
But now they stitch to adorn the bursten fig, not to cover it.
They have their nakedness more than ever on their mind,
And they won’t let us forget it.
Now, the secret
Becomes an affirmation through moist, scarlet lips
That laugh at the Lord’s indignation.
What then, good Lord! cry the women.
We have kept our secret long enough.
We are a ripe fig.
Let us burst into affirmation.
They forget, ripe figs won’t keep.
Ripe figs won’t keep.
Honey-white figs of the north, black figs with scarlet inside, of the south.
Ripe figs won’t keep, won’t keep in any clime.
What then, when women the world over have all bursten into affirmation?
And bursten figs won’t keep?

San Gervasio.


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4
Poems and Poets / Medlars and Sorb-Apples by D. H. Lawrence
« on: Today at 01:45:40 PM »
MEDLARS AND SORB-APPLES by D.H. Lawrence

I love you, rotten,
Delicious rottenness.
I love to suck you out from your skins
So brown and soft and coming suave,
So morbid, as the Italians say.
What a rare, powerful, reminiscent flavour
Comes out of your falling through the stages of decay:
Stream within stream.
Something of the same flavour as Syracusan muscat wine
Or vulgar Marsala.
Though even the word Marsala will smack of preciosity
Soon in the pussy-foot West.
What is it?
What is it, in the grape turning raisin,
In the medlar, in the sorb-apple,
Wineskins of brown morbidity,
Autumnal excrementa;
What is it that reminds us of white gods?
Gods nude as blanched nut-kernels,
Strangely, half-sinisterly flesh-fragrant
As if with sweat,
And drenched with mystery.{16}
Sorb-apples, medlars with dead crowns.
I say, wonderful are the hellish experiences
Orphic, delicate
Dionysos of the Underworld.
A kiss, and a vivid spasm of farewell, a moment’s orgasm of rupture,
Then along the damp road alone, till the next turning.
And there, a new partner, a new parting, a new unfusing into twain,
A new gasp of further isolation,
A new intoxication of loneliness, among decaying, frost-cold leaves.
Going down the strange lanes of hell, more and more intensely alone,
The fibres of the heart parting one after the other
And yet the soul continuing, naked-footed, ever more vividly embodied
Like a flame blown whiter and whiter
In a deeper and deeper darkness
Ever more exquisite, distilled in separation.
So, in the strange retorts of medlars and sorb-apples
The distilled essence of hell.
The exquisite odour of leave-taking.
Jamque vale!
Orpheus, and the winding, leaf-clogged, silent lanes of hell.
Each soul departing with its own isolation,
Strangest of all strange companions,
And best.{17}
Medlars, sorb-apples
More than sweet
Flux of autumn
Sucked out of your empty bladders
And sipped down, perhaps, with a sip of Marsala
So that the rambling, sky-dropped grape can add its music to yours,
Orphic farewell, and farewell, and farewell
And the ego sum of Dionysos
The sono io of perfect drunkenness
Intoxication of final loneliness.
San Gervasio.


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5
SK Bioscience, the South Korean pharmaceutical company backed by Bill Gates, may be capable of producing 200 million coronavirus vaccine kits by next June, the Microsoft Corp. co-founder said in a letter to South Korean President Moon Jae-in.

Gates is seeking to cooperate closely with South Korea, the presidential office in Seoul said Sunday, citing the July 20 letter, without elaborating on what else it said.

The U.S. billionaire’s foundation gave $3.6 million in May to SK Bioscience to accelerate the development of COVID-19 vaccines. Besides working on its own vaccine candidates, the company is also one of the contract manufacturers tapped by AstraZeneca Plc to make its vaccine. The company declined further comment on Monday. - source: Flipboard


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6
USA and Canada / Trump Slamps Election Mail Balloting
« on: Today at 08:50:05 AM »
 By Jaclyn Peiser
August 14, 2020 at 6:22 p.m. GMT+8
On Thursday, President Trump repeated his attacks against mail balloting, saying it would lead to “the greatest rigged election in history” and “the greatest fraud ever perpetrated.”

At the same time, his own absentee ballot to vote in Florida’s primary election on Tuesday was en route to Mar-a-Lago. According to the Palm Beach County elections website, the president and first lady Melania Trump both requested absentee ballots on Wednesday.


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7
Quotable Quotes / Action is Supreme Over Dreaming
« on: Today at 08:46:04 AM »
Dreaming is wonderful, goal setting is crucial, but action is supreme. To make something great happen you must get busy and make it happen. Take that action step today that will put you on your path to achievement. - Greg Werner


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8
Bible Study / Amos Chapter 5 Faithful Version
« on: Today at 08:42:54 AM »
Amos 5 Faithful Version
 1  Hear this word which I take up against you, even a lamentation, O house of Israel.

 2  The virgin of Israel has fallen; she shall rise no more; she lies forsaken on her land. There is none to raise her up,

 3  For thus says the Lord GOD, "The city that went out by a thousand shall leave a hundred, and that which went out by a hundred shall have ten left in the house of Israel,"

 4  For thus says the LORD to the house of Israel, "Seek Me, and you shall live.

 5  But do not seek Bethel, nor enter into Gilgal, and do not pass to Beersheba; for Gilgal shall surely go into exile, and Bethel shall come to nothing.

 6  Seek the LORD and you shall live, lest He break out like a fire on the house of Joseph and devour it, and there be none to quench it in Bethel—

 7  You who turn judgment to wormwood and leave off righteousness in the earth!"

 8  Seek Him Who created the Pleiades and Orion, and Who turned the deep darkness into the morning, and Him Who darkened the day into night. Seek Him Who calls for the waters of the sea, and pours them out on the face of the earth— the LORD is His name,

 9  Who causes destruction to flash out against the strong, and destruction against the fortress.

 10  They hate him who rebukes in the gate, and they despise him who speaks uprightly.

 11  Therefore—because of your trampling upon the poor, and because you take tribute of grain from him—though you have built houses of carved stone, you shall not dwell in them; though you have planted desirable vineyards, you shall not drink wine from them,

 12  For I know your many transgressions and your many sins. They afflict the just, they take a bribe, and they turn aside the poor in the gate.

 13  Therefore the prudent shall keep silent in that time; for it is an evil time.

 14  Seek good and not evil, that you may live; and so the LORD, the God of hosts, shall be with you, as you have spoken.

 15  Hate the evil, and love the good, and establish judgment in the gate. It may be that the LORD God of hosts will be gracious to the remnant of Joseph.

 16  Therefore the LORD, the God of hosts, the Master, says this, "Wailing shall be in all streets; and they shall say in all the highways, 'Alas! Alas!' And they shall call the tiller to mourning, and those who are skillful in mourning to wailing.

 17  And there shall be wailing in all vineyards; for I will pass through you," says the LORD.

 18  Woe to those desiring the day of the LORD! What is this for you? The day of the LORD is darkness and not light;

 19  As if a man fled from a lion, and a bear met him; or went into the house and leaned his hand on the wall, and a snake bit him.

 20  Shall not the day of the LORD be darkness and not light? Even very dark, and no brightness in it?

 21  "I hate, I despise your feast days, and I will take no delight in your solemn assemblies.

 22  Though you offer Me burnt offerings and your grain offerings, I will not accept them. Nor will I regard the peace offerings of your fat animals.

 23  Take the noise of your songs away from Me; for I will not hear the melody of your harps.

 24  But let judgment roll down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.

 25  Have you offered sacrifices and offerings to Me forty years in the wilderness, O house of Israel?

 26  But now you have carried the tabernacle of your Moloch and Chiun, your images, the star of your gods which you made for yourselves.

 27  So I will cause you to go into exile beyond Damascus," says the LORD, Whose name is the God of hosts.



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9
Bible Study / Amos Chapter 4 Faithful Version
« on: Today at 07:57:01 AM »
Amos 4
 1  Hear this word, cows of Bashan who are in the mountain of Samaria—who oppress the poor, who crush the needy, who say to their husbands, "Bring in wine that we may drink."

 2  The Lord GOD has sworn by His holiness, "Behold, the days shall come upon you when they will lift you up with meat hooks, and your posterity with fishhooks.

 3  And you shall go out at the breaches in the walls, each woman straight before her. And you shall be cast off to Harmon," says the LORD.

 4  "Come to Bethel and transgress; to Gilgal and multiply transgressing at Gilgal. And bring your sacrifices for the morning, your tithes for three years;

 5  And offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving from that which is leavened, and cry out; call out the voluntary offerings, for so you love to do, O children of Israel!" says the Lord GOD.

 6  "And I also have given you cleanness of teeth in all your cities, and lack of bread in all your places, yet you have not returned to Me," says the LORD.

 7  "And I have also withheld the rain from you, when there were yet three months to the harvest. And I caused rain to fall on one city and caused it not to rain on another city; one field was rained on, and the field on which it did not rain dried up.

 8  So two or three cities wandered to one city to drink water, but they were not satisfied; yet you have not returned to Me," says the LORD.

 9  "I have stricken you with blasting and mildew. When your gardens and your vineyards, and your fig trees, and your olive trees increased, the creeping locust devoured them; yet you have not returned to Me," says the LORD.

 10  "I have sent the plague among you after the manner of Egypt; I have slain your young men with the sword, and have taken away your horses. And I have made the stench of your camps to come up into your nostrils; yet you have not returned to Me," says the LORD.

 11  "I have overthrown some among you as God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah, and you were like a firebrand plucked out of the burning; yet you have not returned to Me," says the LORD.

 12  "Therefore I will do this to you, O Israel; and because I will do this to you, prepare to meet your God, O Israel!"

 13  For lo, He forms the mountains and creates the wind, and declares to man what his thought is. He who makes the morning darkness, and treads upon the high places of the earth—the LORD, the God of hosts, is His name.

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10
Quotable Quotes / Clear Picture of Priorities
« on: Today at 07:20:26 AM »
Once you have a clear picture of your priorities that is values, goals, and high leverage activities organize around them. - Stephen Covey

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11
Quotable Quotes / Frame of Our Destiny
« on: Today at 07:16:06 AM »
We are not permitted to choose the frame of our destiny, but what we put into it is ours.

-Dag Hammarskiold

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12
Quotable Quotes / Imagination Sets the Goal Picture
« on: Today at 07:12:46 AM »
For imagination sets the goal picture which our automatic mechanism works on. We act, or fail to act, not because of will, as is so commonly believed, but because of imagination.

-Maxwell Maltz

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13
Quotable Quotes / Shoot for the moon even if
« on: Today at 07:11:14 AM »
Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars.

-Les Brown

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14
Quotable Quotes / Goal is a Dream
« on: Today at 07:02:29 AM »
A goal is a dream with a deadline.
Napoleon Hill

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15
Poems and Poets / Peach by D.H. Lawrence
« on: Yesterday at 07:42:37 PM »
PEACH by D.H. Lawrence
Would you like to throw a stone at me?
Here, take all that’s left of my peach.
Blood-red, deep;
Heaven knows how it came to pass.
Somebody’s pound of flesh rendered up.
Wrinkled with secrets
And hard with the intention to keep them.
Why, from silvery peach-bloom,
From that shallow-silvery wine-glass on a short stem
This rolling, dropping, heavy globule?
I am thinking, of course, of the peach before I ate it.
Why so velvety, why so voluptuous heavy?
Why hanging with such inordinate weight?
Why so indented?
Why the groove?
Why the lovely, bivalve roundnesses?
Why the ripple down the sphere?
Why the suggestion of incision?
Why was not my peach round and finished like a billiard ball?
It would have been if man had made it.
Though I’ve eaten it now.{14}
But it wasn’t round and finished like a billiard ball.
And because I say so, you would like to throw something at me.
Here, you can have my peach stone.
San Gervasio.

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16
Poems and Poets / Pomegranate by D.H. Lawrence
« on: Yesterday at 07:33:16 PM »
POMEGRANATE by D.H. Lawrence

You tell me I am wrong.
Who are you, who is anybody to tell me I am wrong?
I am not wrong.
In Syracuse, rock left bare by the viciousness of Greek women,
No doubt you have forgotten the pomegranate-trees in flower,
Oh so red, and such a lot of them.
Whereas at Venice
Abhorrent, green, slippery city
Whose Doges were old, and had ancient eyes,
In the dense foliage of the inner garden
Pomegranates like bright green stone,
And barbed, barbed with a crown.
Oh, crown of spiked green metal
Actually growing!
Now in Tuscany,
Pomegranates to warm your hands at;
And crowns, kingly, generous, tilting crowns
Over the left eyebrow.
And, if you dare, the fissure!
Do you mean to tell me you will see no fissure?
Do you prefer to look on the plain side?{12}
For all that, the setting suns are open.
The end cracks open with the beginning:
Rosy, tender, glittering within the fissure.
Do you mean to tell me there should be no fissure?
No glittering, compact drops of dawn?
Do you mean it is wrong, the gold-filmed skin, integument, shown ruptured?
For my part, I prefer my heart to be broken.
It is so lovely, dawn-kaleidoscopic within the crack.
San Gervasio in Tuscany.

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17
Anonymous Diary Blog / Jesus is not a Life Coach Mentor
« on: Yesterday at 07:18:09 PM »
He is the only Savior of our souls.

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18
Product Reviews / Review 3A Calcium Ultra by Lane Medical
« on: Yesterday at 07:14:59 PM »
Review 3A Calcium Ultra by Lane Medical. Click image below for details

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19
Product Reviews / Best 3A Calcium by Lane Medical
« on: Yesterday at 06:54:07 PM »
Best 3A Calcium by Lane Medical. Click image below for details.

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20
Product Reviews / Best Jointade Massage Oil by Rebel Herbs
« on: Yesterday at 06:51:46 PM »
Best Jointade Massage Oil by Rebel Herbs. Click image below for details.

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