Only by the form, the pattern,
Can words or music reach
The stillness, as a Chinese jar still
Moves perpetually in its stillness.
T. S. Eliot
Four Quartets
Briunt Norton

Thursday, September 17, 2009

EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES

I will not be posting again for a week or two

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Friday, September 4, 2009

The Fireman's Ball by Vachel Lindsay


By Vachel Lindsay ----- I am only reproducing the third section below. Anyone interested in reading the complete work can find it with many other Lindsay poems here.

Section Three

In Which, contrary to Artistic Custom, the moral of the piece
is placed before the reader.

(From the first Khandaka of the Mahavagga: "There Buddha
thus addressed his disciples: `Everything, O mendicants, is burning.
With what fire is it burning? I declare unto you it is burning
with the fire of passion, with the fire of anger, with the fire of ignorance.
It is burning with the anxieties of birth, decay and death,
grief, lamentation, suffering and despair. . . . A disciple, . . .
becoming weary of all that, divests himself of passion.
By absence of passion, he is made free.'")


[To be intoned after the manner of a priestly service.]
I once knew a teacher,
Who turned from desire,
Who said to the young men
"Wine is a fire."
Who said to the merchants: --
"Gold is a flame
That sears and tortures
If you play at the game."
I once knew a teacher
Who turned from desire
Who said to the soldiers,
"Hate is a fire."
Who said to the statesmen: --
"Power is a flame
That flays and blisters
If you play at the game."
I once knew a teacher
Who turned from desire,
Who said to the lordly,

"Pride is a fire."
Who thus warned the revellers: --
"Life is a flame.
Be cold as the dew
Would you win at the game
With hearts like the stars,
With hearts like the stars."
[Interrupting very loudly for the last time.]
SO BEWARE,
SO BEWARE,
SO BEWARE OF THE FIRE.
Clear the streets,
BOOM, BOOM,
Clear the streets,
BOOM, BOOM,
GIVE THE ENGINES ROOM,
GIVE THE ENGINES ROOM,
LEST SOULS BE TRAPPED
IN A TERRIBLE TOMB.
SAYS THE SWIFT WHITE HORSE
TO THE SWIFT BLACK HORSE: --
"THERE GOES THE ALARM,
THERE GOES THE ALARM.
THEY ARE HITCHED, THEY ARE OFF,
THEY ARE GONE IN A FLASH,
AND THEY STRAIN AT THE DRIVER'S IRON ARM."
CLANG . . . A . . . RANGA. . . . CLANG . . . A . . . RANGA. . . .
CLANG . . . CLANG . . . CLANG. . . .
CLANG . . . A . . . RANGA. . . . CLANG . . . A . . . RANGA. . . .
CLANG . . . CLANG . . . CLANG. . . .
CLANG . . . A . . . RANGA. . . . CLANG . . . A . . . RANGA. . . .
CLANG . . . CLANG . . . CLANG. . . .

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Mortimer Adler and Brian Lamb Discuss Books and Ideas

I love the ease with which he says, "I don't know the answer."
One

Two

Three