MARTHA REEVES- no one there

I Am The Magnificent

I am the magnificent
I'm backed by the
Shack of a soul boast
Most turning, storming
Sound of soul

I am double U, oh, oh, oh
And I'm still up here again
Oww, hey

Work, work, work, work...

Build it up, one time
Work it on, baby
Mush, mush, mush, mush

Hit me one time
Uh uh uh uh uh
Work it up on me, ow
Push your hips now

Reggae, reggae, reggae...

You're good, baby, you're fine
And that was fun, baby
Move it, move it, uh

I am the magnificent
Double U, oh, oh, oh

Smirk it, smirk it
Smirk it, smirk it, smirk it
Good God, too much, I like it

Soul power
Work it up one time
Work it two time
Shock it, work it

I am the magnificent, baby
Double U, oh, oh, oh

This is the shack and
We pack it with soul, baby

Work it out, uh
Hit me one time, uh, uh

Two time now, uh uh uh 

Out of The Storm, by W H Hodgson.

"Hush!" said my friend the scientist, as I walked into his laboratory. I had opened my lips to speak; but stood silent for a few minutes at his request.

He was sitting at his instrument, and the thing was tapping out a message in a curiously irregular fashion--stopping a few seconds, then going on at a furious pace.

It was during a somewhat longer than usual pause that, growing slightly impatient, I ventured to address him.

"Anything important?" I asked.

"For God's sake, shut up!" he answered back in a high, strained voice.

I stared. I am used to pretty abrupt treatment from him at times when he is much engrossed in some particular experiment; but this was going a little too far, and I said so.

He was writing, and, for reply, he pushed several loosely-written sheets over to me with the one curt word, "Read!"

With a sense half of anger, half of curiosity, I picked up the first and glanced at it. After a few lines, I was gripped and held securely by a morbid interest. I was reading a message from one in the last extremity. I will give it word for word:-- "John, we are sinking! I wonder if you really understand what I feel at the present time--you sitting comfortably in your laboratory, I out here upon the waters, already one among the dead. Yes, we are doomed. There is no such thing as help in our case. We are sinking--steadily, remorselessly. God! I must keep up and be a man! I need not tell you that I am in the operator's room. All the rest are on deck--or dead in the hungry thing which is smashing the ship to pieces.

"I do not know where we are, and there is no one of whom I can ask. The last of the officers was drowned nearly an hour ago, and the vessel is now little more than a sort of breakwater for the giant seas.

"Once, about half an hour ago, I went out on to the deck. My God! the sight was terrible. It is a little after midday: but the sky is the color of mud--do you understand?--gray mud! Down from it there hang vast lappets of clouds. Not such clouds as I have ever before seen; but monstrous, mildewed-looking hulls. They show solid, save where the frightful wind tears their lower edges into great feelers that swirl savagely above us, like the tentacles of some enormous Horror.

"Such a sight is difficult to describe to the living; though the Dead of the Sea know of it without words of mine. It is such a sight that none is allowed to see and live. It is a picture for the doomed and the dead; one of the sea's hell-orgies--one of the Thing's monstrous gloatings over the living--say the alive-in-death, those upon the brink. I have no right to tell of it to you; to speak of it to one of the living is to initiate innocence into one of the infernal mysteries--to talk of foul things to a child. Yet I care not! I will expose, in all its hideous nakedness, the death-side of the sea. The undoomed living shall know some of the things that death has hitherto so well guarded. Death knows not of this little instrument beneath my hands that connects me still with the quick, else would he haste to quiet me.

"Hark you, John! I have learnt undreamt of things in this little time of waiting. I know now why we are afraid of the dark. I had never imagined such secrets of the sea and the grave (which are one and the same).

"Listen! Ah, but I was forgetting you cannot hear! I can! The Sea is--Hush! the Sea is laughing, as though Hell cackled from the mouth of an ass. It is jeering. I can hear its voice echo like Satanic thunder amid the mud overhead--It is calling to me! call--I must go-- The sea calls!

"Oh! God, art Thou indeed God? Canst Thou sit above and watch calmly that which I have just seen? Nay! Thou art no God! Thou art weak and puny beside this foul Thing which Thou didst create in Thy lusty youth. It is now God--and I am one of its children.

"Are you there, John? Why don't you answer! Listen! I ignore God; for there is a stronger than He. My God is here, beside me, around me, and will be soon above me. You know what that means. It is merciless. The sea is now all the God there is! That is one of the things I have learnt.

"Listen! it, is laughing again. God is it, not He.

"It called, and I went out on to the decks. All was terrible. It is in the waist--everywhere. It has swamped the ship. Only the forecastle, bridge and poop stick up out from the bestial, reeking Thing, like three islands in the midst of shrieking foam. At times gigantic billows assail the ship from both sides. They form momentary arches above the vessel--arches of dull, curved water half a hundred feet towards the hideous sky. Then they descend--roaring. Think of it! You cannot.

"There is an infection of sin in the air: it is the exhalations from the Thing. Those left upon the drenched islets of shattered wood and iron are doing the most horrible things. The Thing is teaching them. Later, I felt the vile informing of its breath; but I have fled back here--to pray for death.

"On the forecastle, I saw a mother and her little son clinging to an iron rail. A great billow heaved up above them--descended in a falling mountain of brine. It passed, and they were still there. The Thing was only toying with them; yet, all the same, it had torn the hands of the child from the rail, and the child was clinging frantically to its Mother's arm. I saw another vast hill hurl up to port and hover above them. Then the Mother stooped and bit like a foul beast at the hands of her wee son. She was afraid that his little additional weight would be more than she could hold. I heard his scream even where I stood--it drove to me upon that wild laughter. It told me again that God is not He, but It. Then the hill thundered down upon those two. It seemed to me that the Thing gave a bellow as it leapt. It roared about them churning and growling; then surged away, and there was only one--the Mother. There appeared to me to be blood as well as water upon her face, especially about her mouth; but the distance was too great, and I cannot be sure. I looked away. Close to me, I saw something further--a beautiful young girl (her soul hideous with the breath of the Thing) struggling with her sweetheart for the shelter of the charthouse side. He threw her off; but she came back at him. I saw her hand come from her head, where still clung the wreckage of some form of headgear. She struck at him. He shouted and fell away to lee-ward, and she--smiled, showing her teeth. So much for that. I turned elsewhere.

"Out upon the Thing, I saw gleams, horrid and suggestive, below H the crests of the waves. I have never seen them until this time. I saw a rough sailorman washed away from the vessel. One of the huge breakers snapped at him!--Those things were teeth. It has teeth. I heard them clash. I heard his yell. It was no more than a mosquito's shrilling amid all that laughter: but it was very terrible. There is worse than death.

"The ship is lurching very queerly with a sort of sickening heave--."I fancy I have been asleep. No--I remember now. I hit my head when she rolled so strangely.

My leg is doubled under me. I think it is broken; but it does not matter--

"I have been praying. I--I--What was it? I feel calmer, more resigned, now. I think I have been mad. What was it that I was saying? I cannot remember. It was something about--about--

God. I--I believe I blasphemed. May He forgive me! Thou knowest, God, that I was not in my right mind. Thou knowest that I am very weak. Be with me in the coming time! I have sinned:

but Thou art all merciful.

"Are you there, John? It is very near the end now. I had so much to say; but it all slips from me. What was it that I said? I take it all back. I was mad, and--and God knows. He is merciful, and I have very little pain now. I feel a bit drowsy.

"I wonder whether you are there, John. Perhaps, after all, no one has heard the things I have said. It is better so. The Living are not meant--and yet, I do not know. If you are there, John, you will--you will tell her how it was; but not--not--Hark! there was such a thunder of water overhead just then. I fancy two vast seas have met in mid-air across the top of the bridge and burst all over the vessel. It must be soon now--and there was such a number of things I had to say! I can hear voices in the wind. They are singing. It is like an enormous dirge-- "I think I have been dozing again. I pray God humbly that it be soon! You will not--not tell her anything about, about what I may have said, will you, John? I mean those things which I ought not to have said. What was it I did say? My head is growing strangely confused. I wonder whether you really do hear me. I may be talking only to that vast roar outside. Still, it is some comfort to go on, and I will not believe that you do not hear all I say. Hark again! A mountain of brine must have swept clean over the vessel. She has gone right over on to her side. . . . She is back again. It will be very soon now--

"Are you there, John? Are you there? It is coming! The Sea has come for me! It is rushing down through the companionway! It--it is like a vast jet! My God! I am dr-own-ing! I--am--dr--"

A Man and his Dog

A man and his dog were walking along a road.

The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him
that he was dead.
He remembered dying and that his dog had been dead for years.
He wondered where the road was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of
the road.  It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken
by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.

When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch
that looked like mother of pearl  and the street that led to the gate
looked like pure gold.  

He and the dog walked toward the gate and as they got closer, they
saw a man at a desk to one side. When they were close enough,
he called out, "Excuse me,  where are we?"  

"This is heaven, sir," the man answered.
"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the traveller asked.
"Of course, sir. Come right in, I'll have some ice water sent right up."
The man gestured and the gate began to open. 

"Can my friend," gesturing toward the dog, "come in too?" the traveller asked.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets." 

The man thought for a moment, and then, turning back towards the road,
continued the way they had been going.

After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, they came to
a dirt road which led through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed.

There was no fence. As they approached the gate, he saw a man inside,
leaning against a tree and reading a book.

"Excuse me!" he called to the reader. Do you have any water?".
 "Yeah,  sure,  there's a pump over there". The man pointed to a place that
couldn't be seen from outside the gate. "Come on in."   

"How about my friend here?". The traveller said, gesturing to the dog.
"There should be a bowl by the pump" said the man.

They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an
old fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it.

The traveller filled the bowl and took a long drink, then gave some to the dog.

When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man
who was standing by the tree waiting for them. 
"What do you call this place?" the traveller asked.
"This is heaven," was the answer."

"Well, that's confusing," the traveller said. "The man down the
road said that was heaven, too."

"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and the pearly gates?
Nope, that's hell."

"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?"
"Nope, I can see how you might think so, but we're just happy
that they screen out the folks who'll leave their best friends behind." 

Author unknown         

From;The Book of Delight..

The Fox and the Leopard

A leopard once lived in content and plenty; ever he found easy sustenance for his wife and children. Hard by there dwelt his neighbor and friend, the fox. The fox felt in his heart that his life was safe only so long as the leopard could catch other prey, and he planned out a method for ridding himself of this dangerous friendship. Before the evil cometh, say the wise, counsel is good. “Let me move him hence,” thought the fox; “I will lead him to the paths of death; for the sages say, ’If one come to slay thee, be beforehand with him, and slay him instead.’” Next day the fox went to the leopard, and told him of a spot he had seen, a spot of gardens and lilies, where fawns and does disported themselves, and everything was fair. The leopard went with him to behold this paradise, and rejoiced with exceeding joy. “Ah,” thought the fox, “many a smile ends in a tear.” But the leopard was charmed, and wished to move to this delightful abode; “but, first,” said he, “I will go to consult my wife, my lifelong comrade, the bride of my youth.” The fox was sadly disconcerted. Full well he knew the wisdom and the craft of the leopard’s wife. “Nay,” said he, “trust not thy wife. A woman’s counsel is evil and foolish, her heart hard like marble; she is a plague in a house. Yes, ask her advice, and do the opposite.”.... The leopard told his wife that he was resolved to go. “Beware of the fox,” she exclaimed; “two small animals there are, the craftiest they, by far–the serpent and the fox. Hast thou not heard how the fox bound the lion and slew him with cunning?” “How did the fox dare,” asked the leopard, “to come near enough to the lion to do it?”

http://www.authorama.com/delight-2.html

The Fear of Robert Frost

Moby Dick,or, The Whale, Selected Chapters

Chapter 58 - Brit

Steering north-eastward from the Crozetts, we fell in with vast meadows of brit, the minute, yellow substance, upon which the Right Whale largely feeds. For leagues and leagues undulated round us, so that we seemed to be sailing through boundless fields of ripe and golden wheat.

On the second day, numbers of Right Whales were seen, who, secure from the attack of a Sperm-Whaler like the Pequod, with open jaws sluggishly swam through the brit, which, adhering to the fringing fibres of that wondrous Venetian blind in their mouths, was in that manner separated from the water that escaped at the lips.

As morning mowers, who side by side slowly and seethingly advance their scythes through the long wet grass of marshy meads; even so these monsters swam, making a strange, grassy, cutting sound; and leaving behind them endless swaths of blue upon the yellow sea.*

*That part of the sea known among whalemen as the "Brazil Banks" does not bear that name as the Banks of Newfoundland do, because of there being shallows and soundings there, but because of this remarkable meadow-like appearance, caused by the vast drifts of brit continually floating in those latitudes, where the Right Whale is often chased.

But it was only the sound they made as they parted the brit which at all reminded one of mowers. Seen from the mast-heads, especially when they paused and were stationary for a while, their vast black forms looked more like lifeless masses of rock than anything else. And as in the great hunting countries of India, the stranger at a distance will sometimes pass on the plains recumbent elephants without knowing them to be such, taking them for bare, blackened elevations of the soil; even so, often, with him, who for the first time beholds this species of the leviathans of the sea. And even when recognized at last, their immense magnitude renders it very hard really to believe that such bulky masses of overgrowth can possibly be instinct, in all parts, with the same sort of life that lives in a dog or a horse.

Indeed. in other respects, you can hardly regard any creatures of the deep with the same feeling that you do those of the shore. For though some old naturalists have maintained that all creatures of the land are of their kind in the sea; and though taking a broad general view of the thing, this may very well be; yet coming to specialties, where, for example, does the ocean furnish any fish that in disposition answers to the sagacious kindness of the dog? The accursed shark alone can in any generic respect be said to bear comparative analogy to him.

But though, to landsmen in general, the native inhabitants of the seas have ever regarded with emotions unspeakably unsocial and repelling; though we know the sea to be an everlasting terra incognita, so that Columbus sailed over numberless unknown worlds to discover his one superficial western one; though, by vast odds, the most terrific of all mortal disasters have immemorially and indiscriminately befallen tens and hundreds of thousands of those who have gone upon the waters; though but a moment's consideration will teach that, however baby man may brag of his science and skill, and however much, in a flattering future, that science and skill may augment; yet for ever and for ever, to the crack of doom, the sea will insult and murder him, and pulverize the stateliest, stiffest frigate he can make; nevertheless, by the continual repetition of these very impressions, man has lost that sense of the full awfulness of the sea which aboriginally belongs to it.

The first boat we read of, floated on an ocean, that with Portuguese vengeance had whelmed a whole world without leaving so much as a widow. That same ocean rolls now; that same ocean destroyed the wrecked ships of last year. Yea, foolish mortals, Noah's flood is not yet subsided; two thirds of the fair world it yet covers.

Wherein differ the sea and the land, that a miracle upon one is not a miracle upon the other? Preternatural terrors rested upon the Hebrews, when under the feet of Korah and his company the live ground opened and swallowed them up for ever; yet not a modern sun ever sets, but in precisely the same manner the live sea swallows up ships and crews.

But not only is the sea such a foe to man who is an alien to it, but it is also a fiend to its own off-spring; worse than the Persian host who murdered his own guests; sparing not the creatures which itself hath spawned. Like a savage tigress that tossing in the jungle overlays her own cubs, so the sea dashes even the mightiest whales against the rocks, and leaves them there side by side with the split wrecks of ships. No mercy, no power but its own controls it. Panting and snorting like a mad battle steed that has lost its rider, the masterless ocean overruns the globe.

Consider the subtleness of the sea; how its most dreaded creatures glide under water, unapparent for the most part, and treacherously hidden beneath the loveliest tints of azure. Consider also the devilish brilliance and beauty of many of its most remorseless tribes, as the dainty embellished shape of many species of sharks. Consider once more, the universal cannibalism of the sea; all whose creatures prey upon each other, carrying on eternal war since the world began.

Consider all this; and then turn to this green, gentle, and most docile earth; consider them both, the sea and the land; and do you not find a strange analogy to something in yourself? For as this appalling ocean surrounds the verdant land, so in the soul of man there lies one insular Tahiti, full of peace and joy, but encompassed by all the horrors of the half known life. God keep thee! Push not off from that isle, thou canst never return!

Tressell

"As Owen thought of his child's future, there sprang up within him a feeling of hatred and fury against his fellow workmen.

 They were the enemy - those ragged-trousered philanthropists, who not only quietly submitted like so many cattle to their miserable slavery for the benefit of others, but defended it and opposed and ridiculed any suggestion of reform.

 They were the real oppressors - the men who spoke of themselves as 'the likes of us' who, having lived in poverty all their lives, considered that what had been good enough for them was good enough for their children" 

Robert Tressell, "The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists" 

http://www.1066.net/tressell/ 

The Ventures - Bongo rock

Let's Dance!

Dance, Dance! wherever you may be!






'I would not,believe in , a God,who cannot Dance!-Friedrich Von Nietzsche