Art I Like

January 2011

You dream about a day
When we take long country drives
For now let’s be content
To live our separate lives

I dream about a day
When I give you more than high fives
For now let’s rejoice
To live our separate lives



This is one of the most beautiful music video’s I’ve ever seen.  The thing about doing something like this, is that this guy is the one who is following true rationality, although everyone around him might think he is insane.  It takes guts to follow the truth wherever it will lead.  Much easier to stay in the matrix.





“But I have lived, and have not lived in vain;

My mind may lose its force, my blood its fire;

And my frame perish even in conquering pain;

But there is that within me which shall tire

Torture and Time, and breath when I expire.”

– Byron



“In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the LORD sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and the train of his robe filled the temple.  Above him stood the seraphim.  Each had six wings, with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew.  And one called to another and said:

‘Holy holy holy is the LORD of hosts;

the whole earth is full of his glory!’

And the foundations of the thresholds shook at the voice of him who called, and the house was filled with smoke.  And I said: ‘Woe is me!  For I am lost; for I am a a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!’

Then one seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a burning coal that he had taken with tongs from the altar.  And he touched my mouth and said: ‘Behold, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for.’

And I heard the voice of the LORD saying, ‘Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?’

Then I said, ‘Hear am I!  Send me.'”  Isaiah 6:1-8

Hear I am, send me.


“A thousand ages in thy sight

are like an evening gone;

short as the watch that ends the night

before the rising sun.

Time, like an ever-rolling stream,

bears all its sons away;

they fly, forgotten, as a dream

dies at the opening day.”

Sir Isaac Watts (1719)



On the Ning Nang Nong

“On the Ning Nang Nong

where the cows go Bong!

and the monkeys all say Boo!

there’s a Nong Nang Ning

where the trees go Ping!

and the tea pots jibber jabber joo.

On the Nong Ning Nang

all the mice go Clang

and you just can’t catch ’em when they do!

So it’s Ning Nang Nong

Cows go Bong!

Nong Nang Ning

Trees go Ping!

Nong Ning Nang

Mice go Clang!

What a noisy place to belong

is the Ning Nang Ning Nang Nong!”

Spike Milligan


Sonnet XVII

“I don’t love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz

or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:

I love you as certain dark things are loved,

secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,

and thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,

I love you simply, without problems or pride:

so I love you because I know no other way

than this: in which there is no I or you,

so close that your hand, on my chest, is my hand,

so close that when you close your eyes, I fall asleep.”

Pablo Neruda



“How much, preventing God, how much I owe

To the defenses thou hast round me set;

Example, custom, fear, occasion slow, –

These scorned bondmen were my parapet.

I dare not peep over this parapet

To gauge with glance the roaring gulf below,

The depths of sin to which I had descended,

Had not these me against myself defended.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson


“An hour is a Sea

Between a few and me –

With them would Harbor be -”

Emily Dickinson

“What are days for?

Days are where we live.

They come, they wake us,

time and time over.

Where else can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question

Brings the priest and the doctor in

Their long coats, running over the fields.

To prove our almost instinct almost true.

What will survive of us is love.”


“Your absence has gone through me

Like thread through a needle.

Everything I do is stitched with its colour.”

– Poem on the Underground

“Proud readers

Hide behind tall newspapers.

The young are all arms and legs

Knackered by youth.

Tourists sit bolt upright

Trusting in nothing.

Only the drunk and the crazy

Aspire to converse.

Only the poet

Peruses his poem among the adverts.

Only the elderly person

Observes the request that the seat be offered to an elderly person.”

– Poem on the Underground


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