2001-12-10 - 11:12 p.m.

The skeptics psalm

a song for those who doubt and love and dont know.

but believe.

and praise.

Because sometimes you just need to thank.

Hallelujah.

Rufus Wainwright---Hallelujah

from Shrek

I've heard there was

A secret chord

That David played, and

It pleased the Lord

But you don't really care

For music, do you?

It goes like this:

The fourth, the fifth

The minor fall, the major lift

The baffled king

Composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

**Your faith was strong But you needed proof**

You saw her bathing

On the roof

Her beauty and the

Moonlight overthrew you

She tied you to a kitchen chair

She broke your throne

And she cut your hair (delilah)

And from your lips

She drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Maybe I've been here before

I know this room

I've walked this floor

I used to live alone

Before I knew you

I've seen your flag

On the marble arch

Love is not a victory march

It's a cold and

It's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

There was a time

You let me know

What's really going on below

But now you never show

It to me, do you?

I remember when

I moved in, you Your holy dark Was moving too

And every breath we drew

Was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Maybe there's a God above

And all I ever

Learned from love

Was how to shoot

At someone

Who outdrew you

It's not a cry

You can hear at night

It's not somebody

Who's seen the light

It's a cold and

It's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Plus I also Like the refernce to this classical poem:

(be warned i think its time for a poetry interlude)

A Lost Chord

Seated one day at the Organ,

I was weary and ill at ease,

And my fingers wandered idly

Over the noisy keys.

I do not know what I was playing,

Or what I was dreaming then;

But I struck one chord of music,

Like the sound of a great Amen.

It flooded the crimson twilight

Like the close of an angel's Psalm,

And it lay on my fevered spirit

With a touch of infinite calm.

It quieted pain and sorrow,

Like love overcoming strife;

It seemed the harmonious echo

From our discordant life.

It linked all perplex�d meanings

Into one perfect peace,

And trembled away into silence,

As if it were loath to cease.

I have sought, but I seek it vainly,

That one lost chord divine,

That came from the soul of the Organ

And entered into mine.

It may be that Death's bright angel

Will speak in that chord again,--

It may be that only in Heaven

I shall hear that grand Amen.

-Adelaide Anne Procter

I want to read poetry to someone. Can we do that before scaring anya night this week bryan? Or after. I will read poetry till you fall alseep. Because even when you aren't awak. even when you aren't doing anything, or saying anything

i still do. more then.

She Walks in Beauty

She walks in beauty like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies,

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to the tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One ray the more, one shade the less

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress

Or softly lightens o'er her face,

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek and o'er that brow

So soft, so calm yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow

But tell of days in goodness spent

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent.

-Lord Byron

Invictus

OUT of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

***I thank whatever gods may be ***

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud,

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

-William Ernest Henley

In Flanders Fields

IN Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

-John McCrae

( my father )

Ozymandias

I MET a traveller from an antique land

Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which still survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;

And on the pedestal these words appear:

***"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!" ***

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

-Percy Bysshe Shelley

Requiem

Under the wide and starry sky,

Dig the grave and let me lie.

Glad did I live and gladly die,

And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me:

'Here he lies where he longed to be;

Here is the sailor, home from the sea,

And the hunter home from the hill.'

-Robert Louis Stevenson

( my mother )

-bsg-

The past 12 months
18 months past
24 months past
36 months past
48 months past