Saturday, December 16, 2006

Touching Base

I haven't had the heart to add much here lately; too much going on and most of it sucks. But it is coming on Christmas so here's a Christmas poem:

Springfield Magical


In this, the City of my Discontent,
Sometimes there comes a whisper from the grass,
"Romance, Romance — is here. No Hindu town
Is quite so strange. No Citadel of Brass
By Sinbad found, held half such love and hate;
No picture-palace in a picture-book
Such webs of Friendship, Beauty, Greed and Fate!"

In this, the City of my Discontent,
Down from the sky, up from the smoking deep
Wild legends new and old burn round my bed
While trees and grass and men are wrapped in sleep.
Angels come down, with Christmas in their hearts,
Gentle, whimsical, laughing, heaven-sent;
And, for a day, fair Peace have given me
In this, the City of my Discontent!

Vachel Lindsay

1 Comments:

Blogger Bello (Buddy) Manjaro said...

Everyone is trying to get to the bar.

The name of the bar, the bar is called Heaven.

The band in Heaven plays my favorite song.

They play it once again, they play it all night long.



Heaven is a place where nothing ever happens.

Heaven is a place where nothing ever happens.



There is a party, everyone is there.

Everyone will leave at exactly the same time.

Its hard to imagine that nothing at all

could be so exciting, and so much fun.



Heaven is a place where nothing ever happens.

Heaven is a place where nothing ever happens.



When this kiss is over it will start again.

It will not be any different, it will be exactly

the same.

It's hard to imagine that nothing at all

could be so exciting, could be so much fun.



Heaven is a place where nothing every happens.

Heaven is a place where nothing every happens.

--David Byrne, Heaven

12:16 PM  

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