Atlantis Online
March 28, 2024, 04:52:59 pm
Welcome, Guest. Please login or register.

Login with username, password and session length
News: Scientists to drill beneath oceans
http://atlantisonline.smfforfree2.com/index.php/topic,8063.0.html
 
  Home Help Arcade Gallery Links Staff List Calendar Login Register  

Atlantis, the sacred writing abused by man. Part 2

Pages: [1] 2   Go Down
  Print  
Author Topic: Atlantis, the sacred writing abused by man. Part 2  (Read 1258 times)
0 Members and 101 Guests are viewing this topic.
Hermocrates
Hero Member
*****
Posts: 206


« on: October 09, 2015, 01:44:39 pm »

Atlantis is an Zaraostrian tale, and used by Plato for a geopolitical allegory of the war by Athens/Hellas against the Persian hordes. What a very amusing notion! But I think, my friends, that you are much mistaken in your friend Parta/Rennes, if you imagine that he has frightened all of us on this site, so that we will abandon, at a little noise, the tradition of many generations; our search for truth of the lost continent; and possibly, you think that his assailant, Hermocrates, was in earnest, sparring with bird-brain idiots? No such thing crossed my mind; I was only trying to swat away a pest fly without exterminating it. However, I'm still here, as my time is not yet, to return to my native land. Nor is it time for me to, completely, reveal the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth in every detail, as to every detail given by Plato. That time is approaching and is nearer than near. But God only knows the hour. And my usual sign, which prevents only, but does not urge me on, is preventing me from revealing all, at this time. But remember also that ten thousand years must elapse before the soul of each one can return to the place from whence she came. So those that have not fully grown their wings, will have to remain here and face the greatest calamities which man has not yet known, nor ever imagined could take place.

And thus, dear friends and seekers, I have made and paid my recantation, as well and as fairly as I could; more especially in the matter of the poetical figures which I was compelled to use, because Parta/Rennes would have them. And now forgive the past and accept the present, and be gracious and merciful to me, and do not in thine anger deprive me of this site, or take from me the art of love which God hast given me, but grant that I may be, yet, more esteemed in the eyes of the fair. And if Parta/Rennes, this multi-headed bird, or I myself said anything rude in our first speeches, blame Stupidity, who is the father of this brat, and multi-headed bird, and let us have no more of his progeny; bid him study philosophy, like his brother Nikas; and then his fans and friends on this site will no longer halt between two opinions, but will dedicate himself wholly to love and to philosophical discourses.

You seem to be unconscious, Parta/Rennes, that the "sweet elbow" of the proverb is really the long arm of the Nile. And you appear to be equally unaware of the fact that this sweet elbow of theirs is also a long arm of the law. For there is nothing of which our great poets and sophist are so fond as of writing speeches and bequeathing them to posterity. And they add their admirers' names at the top of the writing, out of gratitude to them.

Any one may see that there is no disgrace in the mere fact of writing. The disgrace begins when a man writes not well, but badly. And what is well and what is badly-need we ask Pindar, or any other poet or orator, who ever wrote or will write either a political or any other work, in metre or out of metre, poet or prose writer, to teach us this? Need we? For what should a man live if not for the pleasures of discourse? Surely not for the sake of bodily pleasures, which almost always have previous pain as a condition of them, and therefore are rightly called slavish.

There is time enough for us to continue our discussion, but shall we not pace ourselves?  And I believe that the grasshoppers chirruping after their manner in the heat of the sun over our heads are talking to one another and looking down at us. What would they say if they saw that we, like the many, are not conversing, but slumbering at mid-day, lulled by their voices, too indolent to think? Would they not have a right to laugh at us? They might imagine that we were slaves, who, coming to rest at a place of resort of theirs, like sheep lie asleep at noon around the well. But if they see us discoursing, and like Odysseus sailing past them through the westernmost part of the Mediterranean's gates of Heracles, on his way to the Newfoundland peninsula, the part facing Gadera, deaf to their siren voices, they may perhaps, out of respect, give us of the gifts which they receive from the gods that they may impart them to men.

What gifts do I mean? No, Parta/Rennes, not lollipops. You never heard of any?

Shall we discuss the rules of writing and speech as we were proposing? Have you not heard that he who would be a popular story teller has nothing to do with truth, but only with that which is likely to be approved by the many who sit in judgment; nor with the truly good or honorable, but only with opinion about those things, and that from opinion comes persuasion, and not from the truth. But should we not place importance as to the mind of the speaker, and the truth of the matter about which he is going to speak? The words of the wise are not to be set aside; for there is probably something in them. Therefore this tale of Atlantis is not hastily to be dismissed.  But I want you to consider this as an analogy of sort. Let us put the matter thus:-Suppose that I persuaded you to buy a horse and go to the wars. Neither of us knew what a horse was like, but I knew that you believed a horse to be of tame animals the one which has the longest ears. You would say that this is a ridiculous analogy, right? But there is something more ridiculous coming:-Suppose, further, that in sober earnest I, having persuaded you of this, went and composed a speech in honor of an ass, whom I entitled a horse beginning: "A noble animal and a most useful possession, especially in war, and you may get on his back and fight, and he will carry baggage or anything."

How ridiculous you are considering me to be with this analogy? Yes I am; but is not even a ridiculous friend better than a cunning enemy? And when the Atlantis seeker and expert, instead of putting an ass in the place of a horse puts on a show that they know all there is to know about Atlantis, versus divine madness, being themselves as ignorant of the true nature as to those on this site, on which he imposes his own ignorance; and having studied the notions of the multitude, falsely persuades them not about "the shadow of an ass," which he confounds with a horse, but about Atlantis as having been found, which he confounds with Plato's truth? What will be the harvest which rhetoric will be likely to gather after the sowing of that seed? Empty-handed they come to the public, moving further still from Plato's words on Atlantis. Outer-space is still not a fertile ground for finding Atlantis. To the world of the unseen needs must we go.

But perhaps rhetoric has been getting too roughly handled by us, and she might answer: What amazing nonsense you are talking! As if I forced any man to learn to speak in ignorance of the truth! Whatever my advice may be worth, I should have told him to arrive at the truth first, and then come to me. At the same time I boldly assert that mere knowledge of the truth will not give you the art of persuasion. And therefore, divine madness, and the truth it reveals, is not very persuasive to the uninitiated.

The art of disputation, then, is not confined to this site, nor to the courts and the assembly, but is one and the same in every use of language; this is the art, if there be such an art, which is able to find a likeness of everything to which a likeness can be found, and draws into the light of day the likenesses and disguises which are used by others?

Let me put the matter thus: When will there be more chance of deception-when the difference is large or small? When the difference is small, of course! And you will be less likely to be discovered in passing by degrees into the other extreme than when you go all at once. He, then, who would deceive others, and not be deceived, must exactly know the real likenesses and differences of things. And if he is ignorant of the true nature of any subject, how can he detect the greater or less degree of likeness in other things to that of which by the hypothesis he is ignorant? And when men are deceived and their notions are at variance with realities, it is clear that the error slips in through resemblances.

Then he who would be a master of the art must understand the real nature of everything; or he will never know either how to make the gradual departure from truth into the opposite of truth which is effected by the help of resemblances, or how to avoid it. I know that you do not understand me. Shall I propose that we look for examples of art and want of art, according to our notion of them?

Come out, fair children, and convince Parta/Rennes, who is an expert debater on Atlantis, that he will never be able to speak about anything as he ought to speak unless he have a knowledge of Plato's/Socrates' philosophy first, and then all else that pertains to the quest.

And so I go about the world, obedient to God, and search and make inquiry into the wisdom of any one, whether on this site or elsewhere, who appears to be wise about Atlantis; and if they are not wise, then in vindication of the oracle I show them that they are not wise; and my occupation quite absorbs me, and I have no time to give either to any public matter of interest or to any concern of my own, but I am in utter poverty by reason of my devotion to God. There is another thing:— young people of the richer classes, like Parta, who have not much to do, come about me of their own accord; they like to hear the pretenders examined, and they often imitate me, and proceed to examine others; there are plenty of persons, as they quickly discover, who think that they know something, but really know little or nothing; and then those who are examined by them instead of being angry with themselves are angry with me.

And now, Atlantis seekers, I am not going to argue for my own sake, as you may think, but for yours, that you may not sin against Plato and God by condemning me, who am his gift to you. For if you shun me you will not easily find a successor to me, who, if I may use such a ludicrous figure of speech, am a sort of gadfly, given to this site by God; and the site, Atlantis Online, is a great and noble steed who is tardy in his motions owing to his very size and all its nonsense subjects, and claims and theories, and requires to be stirred into life, since no true Atlantis of Plato has ever surfaced. I am that gadfly which God has attached to this site, and all day long and in all places am always fastening upon you, arousing and persuading and reproaching you. You will not easily find another like me, and therefore I would advise you to pay attention to me.

Am I making an unfair request of you all? Never mind the manner, which may or may not be good; but think only of the truth of my words, and give heed to that: let the speaker speak truly and the judge decide justly.

Now do you really imagine that I could have survived all these years, if I had led a public life, supposing that like a good man I had always maintained the right and had made the true Atlantis known to those that have not an inkling about it, as I ought, the first thing? No indeed, men and women of Atlantis, neither I nor any other man. But I have been always the same in all my actions, public as well as private, and never have I yielded any base compliance to those who are slanderously termed my disciples, or to any other. Not that I have any regular disciples. But if any one likes to come and hear me while I am pursuing my mission, whether they be young or old, they are not excluded. Nor do I converse only with those who pay; but any one, whether they be rich or poor, or total idiots, may ask and answer me and listen to my words; and whether they turn out to be bad or a good ones, neither result can be justly imputed to me; for I never taught or professed to teach them anything, except the truth about Atlantis. And if any one says that he has ever learned or heard anything from me in private which all the world will hear, let me tell you that they are lying. Is it my fault that I cannot convince all the non-believers in Atlantis; no it's the individuals' own stupidity. But God Himself will deal with those bird-brains, as only God can open their cranium and stuff them with knowledge. But those who, faithfully, follow Plato will reap mighty rewards.

I've been alone all the years, so many ways to count the tears, I never change, I never will, and I'm so afraid the way I feel about those days when the rain and the sun are gone; black as night agony's torn at my heart too long. So afraid, I slip and fall, and I fail to save, and many will perish needless to say. I have been alone with this knowledge, and always down, as no one cared to stay around. But I never change, I never will. But I'm so afraid the way I feel, and know of those Days when the rain and the sun are gone; Black as night Agony's torn at my heart too long. So afraid, Slip and I fail to warn you, and then comes the Deluge of all Deluges; it has already started, you see? The Atlantic is in anger and cries many tears on land; soon, soon, the mud shoals begin. When it is all done and finished, and the rain and sun are gone, He, the true Lord and Judge will tell us all which way we go; through the door to the heavenly realm, or the one leading beneath, where many will cringe, and some will not be released, not in a thousand years, at least. And fewer still, will they not release for longer still. But those like Parta/Rennes, will be permanent guests in Tartarus, circling those circles, endlessly debating with those caretakers and guardians of that realm, thinking themselves better still, as they are being dragged around as examples of what tyranny (stupidity) can do to a poor and disillusioned soul, bent on evil victory even in debating with the Devil himself. They, poor souls, keep drinking too much water of forgetfulness in-between lives, and, like dumb asses, too stubborn and mean to even listen to sound advice from their charioteers.

                                          -------------------------------------------------------End of Part 2----------------------------------------------------------------------
Report Spam   Logged

Share on Facebook Share on Twitter

parta
Sr. Member
****
Posts: 82


« Reply #1 on: October 09, 2015, 02:06:42 pm »

if somewhere in there you said there were atlanteans in the americas i would agree. i would look at the earliest idols and pots in the americas and compare them to stuff from the times of the exoduses from the danube. specifically valdivia, jalisco, poverty point etc and later and neater even fort walton florida. there is a copper disk from spider rock texas that blew my mind

re hercules in newfoundland... near to newfoundland but a little farther south where wild grapes grow... when my grandmother was a child they put the railroad bed threw the front of their land grant on the riverbank. their farm was beside a very distinctive volcano plug now belonging to unb. anyway the diggers discovered a man buried in what the diggers told the young kids was a copper kettle but she thought it was gold. the workers chopped up the kettle and discarded the bones. the mikmaq and maliseet both revered the mountain. thats my true hercules in canada story.

luv
parta

Report Spam   Logged
parta
Sr. Member
****
Posts: 82


« Reply #2 on: October 09, 2015, 02:11:34 pm »

this disk





the owners just wonder what it is. to me its mind boggling because its so accurate.
Report Spam   Logged
Hermocrates
Hero Member
*****
Posts: 206


« Reply #3 on: October 09, 2015, 03:39:19 pm »

I'm glad that you are getting in the spirit, and are giving more than one stupid line; now you are giving more of them.

Such an accurate image of the future



This is what you I can recommend as your physician.

Well I woke up this morning
In a, In a cloud of despair
I ran my hand across my head
And pulled out a pile of worried hair
I went to my physician
Who was buried in his thoughts
He said, "Son, you've been reading too much Elephant Talk"
(Chit-chat)

He said, "The thing about depression is,
well, you just can't let it get you down.
You have to see the world for what it is:
a circus full of freaks and clowns
and you'll never please everybody,
it's a well established fact."
He said, "I recommend a fifth of Jack and a bottle of Prozac"

What can you give a man
Who has everything?
Can you give him back his edge?
Can you make him want to sing?
No, you can only take from him,
and there's nothing he can do.
I've got the "driving me to drink and eat a bottle of Prozac" blues.

Well, I woke up this morning and I shaved off my head.
By the time I realized what I had done, I was already dead
I went to see the gatekeeper who was standing by Heaven's door
He said, "I hope you brought a good supply of... you know"
(Oh, don't worry)


Report Spam   Logged
Hermocrates
Hero Member
*****
Posts: 206


« Reply #4 on: October 09, 2015, 03:51:00 pm »

this disk





the owners just wonder what it is. to me its mind boggling because its so accurate.

This is even a more accurate representation of me.
Report Spam   Logged
parta
Sr. Member
****
Posts: 82


« Reply #5 on: October 09, 2015, 03:58:40 pm »

just sayin that there might even be crazier things than you out there. that copper disk is pretty crazy like you say.
Report Spam   Logged
Hermocrates
Hero Member
*****
Posts: 206


« Reply #6 on: October 09, 2015, 04:58:56 pm »

just sayin that there might even be crazier things than you out there. that copper disk is pretty crazy like you say.

Not a chance, buddy.......There is nothing crazier or holier than Lucifer out there. And Lucifer works for God. God is the superlative of everything, in everything.   

The purple piper plays his tune,
The choir softly sing;
Three lullabies in an ancient tongue,
For the court of the crimson king.
The keeper of the city keys
Puts shutters on the dreams.
I wait outside the pilgrim's door
With insufficient schemes.
The black queen chants the funeral march,
The cracked brass bells will ring;
To summon back the fire witch
To the court of the crimson king.
The gardener plants an evergreen
Whilst trampling on a flower.
I chase the wind of a prism ship
To taste the sweet and sour.
The pattern juggler lifts his hand;
The orchestra begins;
As slowly turns the grinding wheel
In the court of the crimson king.
On soft grey mornings widows cry,
The wise men share a joke.
I run to grasp divining signs
To satisfy the hoax.
The yellow jester does not play
But gently pulls the strings
And smiles as the puppets dance
In the court of the crimson king.

There is nothing which for my part I like better, Parta, than conversing with aged men; for I regard them as travelers who have gone a journey which I too may have to go, God forbid, and of whom I ought to inquire, whether the way is smooth and easy, or rugged and difficult. And this is a question which I should like to ask of you who have arrived at that time which the poets call the ‘threshold of old age’ —Is life harder towards the end, or what report do you give of it? I will tell you, Hermocrates, he said, what my own feeling is. Men of my mind flock together; we are birds of a feather, as the old proverb says; and at our meetings the tale of my acquaintance commonly is —I cannot eat, I cannot drink; the pleasures of youth and love are fled away: there was a good time once, but now that is gone, and life is no longer life, but Hell. How well I remember the aged poet Sophocles, when in answer to the question, How does love suit with age, Sophocles, — are you still the man you were? Peace, he replied; most gladly have I escaped the thing of which you speak; I feel as if I had escaped from a mad and furious master. I listened in admiration, and wanting to draw him out, that he might go on —Yes, Parta, I said: but I rather suspect that people in general are not convinced by you when you speak thus; they think that old age sits lightly upon you, not because of your happy disposition, but because you are rich, and wealth is well known to be a great comforter. What do you consider to be the greatest blessing which you have reaped from your wealth? One, he said, of which I could not expect easily to convince others. For let me tell you, Socrates, that when a man thinks himself to be near death, fears and cares enter into his mind which he never had before; the tales of a world below and the punishment which is exacted there of deeds done here were once a laughing matter to him, but now he is tormented with the thought that they may be true: either from the weakness of age, or because he is now drawing nearer to that other place, he has a clearer view of these things; suspicions and alarms crowd thickly upon him, and he begins to reflect and consider what wrongs he has done to others. And when he finds that the sum of his transgressions is great he will many a time like a child start up in his sleep for fear, and he is filled with dark forebodings. But to him who is conscious of no sin, sweet hope, as Pindar charmingly says, is the kind nurse of his age: Hope, he says, cherishes the soul of him who lives in justice and holiness and is the nurse of his age and the companion of his journey; —hope which is mightiest to sway the restless soul of man. How admirable are his words! And the great blessing of riches, I do not say to every man, but to a good man, is, that he has had no occasion to deceive or to defraud others, either intentionally or unintentionally; and when he departs to the world below he is not in any apprehension about offerings due to the gods or debts which he owes to men. Now to this peace of mind the possession of wealth greatly contributes; and therefore I say, that, setting one thing against another, of the many advantages which wealth has to give, to a man of sense this is in my opinion the greatest. Well said, Parta, I replied.

Report Spam   Logged
parta
Sr. Member
****
Posts: 82


« Reply #7 on: October 09, 2015, 05:35:10 pm »

everything i know is free. i would of course confirm it if there was anyone who actually cared. i don't think anyone does but you seem to get enraged enough to sing a song and write a new chapter sterquilinus... for any four sentence comment i make.


Report Spam   Logged
Hermocrates
Hero Member
*****
Posts: 206


« Reply #8 on: October 10, 2015, 05:18:23 pm »

everything i know is free. i would of course confirm it if there was anyone who actually cared. i don't think anyone does but you seem to get enraged enough to sing a song and write a new chapter sterquilinus... for any four sentence comment i make.




I remember my friend laughing when I told him of this; he said that he had himself discovered the true rule of art, which was to be neither long nor short, but of a convenient length. The reason is plain enough. You like it broad, and deep! Besides, should not I be giving you what arouses you and are craving? I am generous! Can you see how freely I give much? I'm not requesting any money from you as you are of me. As I told you from the start, when you took issue with my comments of the St. John post; when it comes to Plato, you are one ignorant SOB, and the B is for bird! You see, besides being generous, I'm also very frank with you!

Think twice, or even trice, as there is an old saying; "Who is making love to your old lady while you are out making love?" You think yourself astute and stealthy, and crafty, believing that you are getting to me, and with your one liners and dumb bait are soliciting my responses. Chuckle away, but be careful you don't choke, as you are the one being ridiculed and baited. That old saying of; "One has taken hook, line, and sinker" is too short for you. Because you have swallowed the rod and reel too! Fine fisherman you turned out to be; the fish swallowed you whole without even coming into the boat. The fish brought you into his realm to make an easy meal of you. But why, if I have a suspicion, do I keep this up instead of telling you where to go proper in just a sentence, and have done with you? I told you this before too. Not for your sake, but in order that the argument may proceed in such a manner as is most likely to set forth the truth. And that, Rennes/Parta/to the nth, was what I was suspecting to be your notion; yet I would not have you wonder if by-and-by I am found repeating a seemingly plain question; for I ask not in order to confute you, that is simple enough for a child to do, but as I was saying that the argument may proceed consecutively, and that we may not get the habit of anticipating and suspecting the meaning of one another’s words; I would have you develop your own views in your own way, whatever may be your hypothesis.

If you really are an experienced and expert debater, and have had great experience of disputations, then you must have observed, I think, that they do not always terminate in mutual edification, or in the definition by either party of the subjects which they are discussing; but disagreements are apt to arise-somebody says that another has not spoken truly or clearly; and then they get into a passion and begin to quarrel, both parties conceiving that their opponents are arguing from personal feeling only and jealousy of themselves, not from any interest in the question at issue. And sometimes they will go on abusing one another until the company at last are quite vexed at themselves for ever listening to such fellows. But I'm a stranger and a recent comer on this site, whereas you Rennes, have been cooped up here for a few years, and are likely to make a fool of yourself in front of all your friends on this site. And I, as you have pointed out, have not any friends to lose here. But, I'm really serious about what is the real meaning Plato wants this current generation to know, and it is really a prophetic message from God. For I imagine that there is no evil which a man can endure so great as an erroneous opinion about the matters of which we are speaking and if you claim to be one of my sort, let us have the discussion out, but if you would rather have done, no matter-let us make an end of it. It is not mandatory for you, or anyone else, to read my stuff. Surely, if you want to chuckle there are more things on this site that you can find more ridiculous, besides the Da Vinci Code subject matter, than my stuff. Besides, as I have said, you know zero about Plato the man, what he thinks, what he wanted to convey, and how to go about it. And without this knowledge you could not have the least idea of where I'm coming from, nor where I'm going next.

Besides, I could just be putting on a show, as I'm writing a modern day comedy on Atlantis, and wanted to scout around to see what kind of minds are out there, and to know them a bit better, to see what moves them, and what sort of jargon I needed to write down to instigate and attract fools like you. I saw that it has to contain a little bit of mystery on the lines of the Da Vinci Code; the religious twist.

To know Plato; and what knowledge can be nobler? or what ignorance more disgraceful than this? And therefore I will begin by asking you whether you do not think that a man who is unjust and doing injustice can be happy, seeing that you think to make sport of someone just because you are ignorant of Plato and God knows what else? If you deem yourself happy in your chuckling and snickering, then you are the king of fools, and need no jester in your court, as you are king, jester, and subject all rolled into one.   

You see, I don't really know who you happen to be. You are just usernames, and as far that goes, I can only surmise that you may happen to be either a child, or a grown-up. Then, if you are a child, it would figure why you keep pestering me, being a senseless and a rude and spoiled brat. Now, if you are a grown-up, then, on the same tenet, you must be either a very silly old fart, or just some uncouth, uneducated, and very vulgar thug. Surely either way you are worthless. As child, if you keep this up, you will end up a silly old fart. And if you are an adult, then you have to wait until you get out of hell, before your next incarnation to make amends, and grow up as a responsible and proper citizen, deigned good enough to dwell in Socrates' Republic. Otherwise, if you do not change your ways, you will keep recycling in this world of shadows, which we call earth, for endless cycles. And if you make more serious errors, and be completely unjust, you will never be able to play monopoly, as you will not pass the go and collect your 200 dollars, because you will not have a get-out-of-jail diploma; destined to be a student in eternity. Which is fine with God, as He stands even outside of Eternity, and he can wait forever and forever more, for your graduation. It's no skin off His back. He gave you free choice to be either a nice guy or a silly ass. Do you chose wisely the next time around, and remember not to drink too much water in those fiery circles; it's best to stand the heat once or twice around, than forget about why you ended up there, and keep going back down, ignorant and a good for nothing whatever. 

Well then, illustrious friend, when I have said my say, do you reply to me. But, please and pretty please, make it short as usual; I have intolerance for your kind of nonsense.

I surrender, and declare you winner of the great debate. With the 3 dollars I owe you, I purchased brand, "spanking," new kingly crowns for your three heads. And I have also, of my own initiative, included a token of my generosity for having learned so much nonsense from you. God gave me a few of these to hand out to some of the more hopeless, dumb bird-brains. This is the first one I am issuing. But remember that the ticket is only good for a onetime use. And don't try to make copies; the Devil can spot those phony copies 50 stadia away. 

It would not be proper and consistent of me, if I did not include 3 odes, dedicated to your victory for each of your heads. So here they are, now sire and king:
------------------------------------------
Plato's spawn cold ivied eyes
Snare truth in bone and globe.
Harlequins coin pointless games
Sneer jokes in parrot's robe.
Two women weep, Dame Scarlet Screen
Sheds sudden theater rain,
Whilst dark in dream the Midnight Queen
Knows every human pain.

In air, fire, earth and water
World on the scales.
Air, fire, earth and water
Balance of change
World on the scales
On the scales.

Bishop's kings spin judgment's blade
Scratch "Faith" on nameless graves.
Harvest hags Hoard ash and sand
Rack rope and chain for slaves
Who fireside fear fermented words
Then rear to spoil the feast;
Whilst in the aisle the mad man smiles
To him it matters least.

Heroes hands drain stones of blood
To whet the scaling knife.
Magi blind with visions light
Net death in dread of life.
Their children kneel in Jesus till
They learn the price of nails,
Whilst all around our mother earth
Waits balanced on the scales.
-------------------------------------------
Said the straight man to the late man
Where have you been
I've been here and I've been there
And I've been in between.

I talk to the wind
My words are all carried away
I talk to the wind
The wind does not hear
The wind cannot hear.

I'm on the outside looking inside
What do I see
Much confusion, disillusion
All around me.

You don't possess me
Don't impress me
Just upset my mind
Can't instruct me or conduct me
Just use up my time

I talk to the wind
My words are all carried away
I talk to the wind
The wind does not hear
The wind cannot hear.
----------------------------------
The wall on which the prophets wrote
Is cracking at the seams
Upon the instruments of death
The sunlight brightly gleams
When every man is torn apart
With nightmares and with dreams,
Will no one lay the laurel wreath
When silence drowns the screams

Confusion will be my epitaph
As I crawl a cracked and broken path
If we make it we can all sit back and laugh,
But I fear tomorrow I'll be crying,
Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying
Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying

Between the iron gates of fate,
The seeds of time were sown,
And watered by the deeds of those
Who know and who are known;
Knowledge is a deadly friend
When no one sets the rules
The fate of all mankind I see
Is in the hands of fools

The wall on which the prophets wrote
Is cracking at the seams
Upon the instruments of death
The sunlight brightly gleams
When every man is torn apart
With nightmares and with dreams,
Will no one lay the laurel wreath
When silence drowns the screams

Confusion will be my epitaph
As I crawl a cracked and broken path
If we make it we can all sit back and laugh,
But I fear tomorrow I'll be crying,
Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying

Report Spam   Logged
parta
Sr. Member
****
Posts: 82


« Reply #9 on: October 10, 2015, 05:58:03 pm »

i sincerely hope your friend you talk to isn't a tumor and you are neglecting treatment because you enjoy the conversations.

as long as you are not a threat to yourself and others in your village ramble on. sing your songs.
Report Spam   Logged
Hermocrates
Hero Member
*****
Posts: 206


« Reply #10 on: October 11, 2015, 12:24:59 pm »

i sincerely hope your friend you talk to isn't a tumor and you are neglecting treatment because you enjoy the conversations.

as long as you are not a threat to yourself and others in your village ramble on. sing your songs.

Why, will you not accept your victory in kind appreciation to the fallen? Must you kick a dead horse? But, as I consider you a friend and a fellow seeker of truth, it is my wish that you benefit from my prayers to God. And so I persevere until your silence signals your gratitude and gratification that I have satisfied your every need, because, repeatedly, have I gone deep and wide trying to please you, my master and victor of a great debate. Pindar I'm not, but in his style and gratitude will I keep praising you, the victor at all Olympian games.

To attempt a contest and be successful brings release from sadness. Wealth adorned with excellence brings many opportunities, rousing deep wild ambitions; it is a brilliant star, a man's true light, at least if one has and knows the future, that the reckless souls of those who have died on earth immediately pay the penalty—and for the crimes committed in this realm we call earth, there is a judge below the earth; with hateful compulsion he passes his sentence. But having the sun always in equal nights and equal days, the good receive a life free from toil, not scraping with the strength of their arms the earth, nor the water of the sea, for the sake of a poor sustenance. But in the presence of God, those who gladly kept their oaths enjoy a life without tears, while the others undergo a toil that is unbearable to look at. Those who have persevered three times, on either side, to keep their souls free from all wrongdoing, follow God's road to the end, to the tower of heaven, where ocean breezes blow around the island of the blessed, and flowers of gold are blazing, some from splendid trees on land, while water nurtures others. With these wreaths and garlands of flowers they entwine their hands according to the righteous counsels of reason and logic, whom the great father, Socrates, whose throne is above all others, as the Delphi temple declared, keeps close beside him as his partner our dear Plato. Peter and Paul are counted among them, and St. John the revelator, who was brought there, in vision only, by our Redeemer, sweet Jesus, born from a virgin mother, when she had persuaded the heart of God with her prayers— James, her son too, who laid low the irresistible, unswerving pillar of a dictum so true. “It is not by faith alone, but with works too,” that we need to honor his Brother too, who consigned to death death itself, Lucifer, the son of the Dawn, and Evening too. I have many swift arrows in the quiver under my arm, arrows that speak to the initiated. But the masses need interpreters. The man who knows a great deal by nature is truly skillful, while those who have only learned chatter with raucous and indiscriminate tongues in vain like crows against the divine bird of Zeus. Now, bend your bow toward the mark; tell me, my mind, whom are we trying to hit as we shoot arrows of fame from a gentle mind? I will aim at Canada, and speak with true intent a word sworn by oath: no country for a thousand years has given birth to a man more feathered in his mind or more beaked with his words than Parta/Rennes. But praise is confronted by greed, which is not accompanied by justice, but stirred up by depraved men, eager to babble and to bury the fine deeds of noble men. Since the sand of the shore is beyond all counting, who could number all the joys that Plato has given others? This Parta/Rennes, now Plato dishonors!

Take heed you, Pindar's son, as to peruse well what has been told above. There, truth abides, and many are the clues to what one knows and does not know. Give your wealth to the meek, and wealth you shall have in the island of the blessed; no more toiling for your senses, just all year around ocean breezes; much better than Florida, I may express.
Report Spam   Logged
parta
Sr. Member
****
Posts: 82


« Reply #11 on: October 11, 2015, 03:01:18 pm »

i believe poop arrows from sterquilinus were something the romans prayed for so i am confused. is this a present?. it would be interesting to see how you might make an arrow of poop. is it more like a shitsling?
Report Spam   Logged
Hermocrates
Hero Member
*****
Posts: 206


« Reply #12 on: October 12, 2015, 05:42:27 pm »

i believe poop arrows from sterquilinus were something the romans prayed for so i am confused. is this a present?. it would be interesting to see how you might make an arrow of poop. is it more like a ****sling?



Nato ai bordi di periferia
Dove i tram non vanno avanti piu
Dove l'aria popolare
piu facile sognare
Che guardare in faccia la realta

Quanta gente giovane va via
A cercare piu di quel che ha
Forse perche i pugni presi
A nessuno li ha mai resi
E dentro fanno male ancor di piu

Ed ho imparato che nella vita
Nessuno mai ci da di piu
Ma quanto fiato quanta salita
Andare avanti senza voltarsi mai

E ci sei adesso tu
A dare un senso ai giorni miei
Va tutto bene dal momento che
Ci sei

Adesso tu
Ma non dimentico
Tutti gli amici miei
Che sono ancora la

E ci si trova sempre piu soli
A questa et non sai non sai
Ma quante corse ma quanti voli
Andare avanti senz'arrivare mai

E ci sei adesso tu,
Al centro dei pensieri miei
La parte interna dei respiri tu sarai

La volonta che non si limita
Tu che per me sei gia
Una rivincita
adesso sai chi é
Quell'uomo che c' in me

Nato ai bordi di periferia
Dove non ci torno quasi piu
Resta il vento che ho lasciato
Come un treno gi passato

Oggi che mi sei accanto
Oggi che ci sei soltanto
Oggi che ci sei
Adesso tu


Report Spam   Logged
parta
Sr. Member
****
Posts: 82


« Reply #13 on: October 12, 2015, 06:08:50 pm »

W dużej sali duży stół
A przy nim gości tłum
Gospodarz zgięty wpół
Bije łychą w szklankę

Cisza chciałbym toast wznieść
Jak można to na cześć
Ojczyzny w której wieść przyszło życie nasze hej

Racja brachu

(Więc) wypijmy za to
(A) Kto z nami nie wypije
Tego we dwa kije
Prawy do lewego
Wypij kolego
Przecież wiemy nigdy nie ma tego złego

A na stole śledzik był
Zobaczył go pan Zbych
I pojął dobrze w mig
Że śledzik lubi pływać
Wstał by nowy toast wniesć
Za rodzinę świętą rzecz
No i teściowych też
Rodzina to jest siła!

Racja brachu……….

Dzisiaj młodzież już nie ta
Użalał się pan Stach
Lecz machnął ręką tak
Że wylał barszcz na panią

Nic to jednak przecież bo
Sukienkę można zdjąć
A toast wznosi ktoś Za dobre wychowanie

Racja brachu………

Pana Kazia kolej to
Więc krawat ściągnął bo
Przecież postarza go
I choć był już na bani

Bez pomocy z gracją wstał
Jąkając się dał znak
By wypić teraz za
Balony pani Mani

Racja brachu…………
Report Spam   Logged
parta
Sr. Member
****
Posts: 82


« Reply #14 on: October 12, 2015, 06:23:58 pm »



Report Spam   Logged
Pages: [1] 2   Go Up
  Print  
 
Jump to:  

Powered by EzPortal
Bookmark this site! | Upgrade This Forum
SMF For Free - Create your own Forum
Powered by SMF | SMF © 2016, Simple Machines
Privacy Policy