tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3020960402708303830.post2299815860632633745..comments2024-03-28T14:53:38.827-04:00Comments on BLCKDGRD: I Replaced Your Crotch. Crotches. All of ThemUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3020960402708303830.post-49642400027940937912021-02-09T10:24:04.878-05:002021-02-09T10:24:04.878-05:00Per tomorrow's non-commentable-upon poest: htt...Per tomorrow's non-commentable-upon poest: https://thenapministry.wordpress.com<br />Aside: James Cone was my minister when I went to church, and went to church at Riverside in NYC.<br />Coffin was there for awhile. Met Jesse Jackson there. Cool place.Jim H.https://www.blogger.com/profile/02088100982761595050noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3020960402708303830.post-88614841196456760042021-02-08T11:55:55.923-05:002021-02-08T11:55:55.923-05:00Ulysses
by ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON
It little profit...<i>Ulysses</i><br />by ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON<br /><br />It little profits that an idle king,<br />By this still hearth, among these barren crags,<br />Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole<br />Unequal laws unto a savage race,<br />That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.<br />I cannot rest from travel: I will drink<br />Life to the lees: All times I have enjoy'd<br />Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those<br />That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when<br />Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades<br />Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;<br />For always roaming with a hungry heart<br />Much have I seen and known; cities of men<br />And manners, climates, councils, governments,<br />Myself not least, but honour'd of them all;<br />And drunk delight of battle with my peers,<br />Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.<br />I am a part of all that I have met;<br />Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'<br />Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades<br />For ever and forever when I move.<br />How dull it is to pause, to make an end,<br />To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!<br />As tho' to breathe were life! Life piled on life<br />Were all too little, and of one to me<br />Little remains: but every hour is saved<br />From that eternal silence, something more,<br />A bringer of new things; and vile it were<br />For some three suns to store and hoard myself,<br />And this gray spirit yearning in desire<br />To follow knowledge like a sinking star,<br />Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.<br /><br /> This is my son, mine own Telemachus,<br />To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,—<br />Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil<br />This labour, by slow prudence to make mild<br />A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees<br />Subdue them to the useful and the good.<br />Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere<br />Of common duties, decent not to fail<br />In offices of tenderness, and pay<br />Meet adoration to my household gods,<br />When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.<br /><br /> There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:<br />There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,<br />Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me—<br />That ever with a frolic welcome took<br />The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed<br />Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;<br />Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;<br />Death closes all: but something ere the end,<br />Some work of noble note, may yet be done,<br />Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.<br />The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:<br />The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep<br />Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,<br />'T is not too late to seek a newer world.<br />Push off, and sitting well in order smite<br />The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds<br />To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths<br />Of all the western stars, until I die.<br />It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:<br />It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,<br />And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.<br />Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'<br />We are not now that strength which in old days<br />Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;<br />One equal temper of heroic hearts,<br />Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will<br />To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.<br /><br />mistah charley, ph.d.https://www.blogger.com/profile/06303695341246058680noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3020960402708303830.post-60798182020421557792021-02-08T11:53:36.558-05:002021-02-08T11:53:36.558-05:001)i like what you're doing with the grid
2)i ...1)i like what you're doing with the grid<br /><br />2)i read elsewhere about the guy driving erratically, causing accidents, swinging a large piece of wood at people, hitting a sheriff's deputy with it, and being shot dead by said deputy<br /><br />maybe that was the way his story had to end, but then again maybe not - i wonder as i wander but i really don't have enough information to arrive at a conclusion<br /><br />3)you quote <b>liam kofi bright</b> as saying <i> a great many [people] don't care, or at least have passed a point of cynicism wherein they do not really think things can be otherwise. </i><br /><br />this is what i wonder about the man shot dead in montgomery county after his erratic behavior - could it have been otherwise? instead of a sheriff's deputy with a gun, what if someone skilled in martial arts training had been present, attempting to stop him from doing what he was doing? what then? but was there - or will there be in similar circumstances at a later date - any real possibility that things could have been meaningfully different? <br /><br />4)<b>lkb</b>, in the interview you quote from, says that<i> the full argument for the correct theory of the meaning [of] life </i>is given in the poem Ulysses by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.mistah charley, ph.d.https://www.blogger.com/profile/06303695341246058680noreply@blogger.com