Number23 said:

I'm sure many feel that way, hence the celebrity of the folks mentioned

Sweeny79 said:

Wow, no it's not. The crack of light splitting the sacred and the mundane in human relationships, I love it! I've never known anyone who knew anything about literature or poetry. I know I'm missing out on so much. I need to start reading more things ike this but I'm too proud to ask anyone to point me in the right direction, probably.


1. The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock


S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.


LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats 5
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question … 10
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, 15
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, 20
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; 25
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate; 30
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go 35
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— 40
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare 45
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, 50
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all— 55
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? 60
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress 65
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets 70
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! 75
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? 80
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, 85
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while, 90
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”— 95
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while, 100
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: 105
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
. . . . . 110
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use, 115
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old … 120
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me. 125

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown 130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
[Edited 8/9/06 16:27pm]

I believe in too

sometimes I do too.

applekisses said:

Well I'm not a book snob or anything. I really only read science and history books. Like I said, I can bluff my way thought poetic intellectualism but I really don;t have a clue. I haven't read any of them.

Number23 said:

It's beautiful isn't it? It'as so damn bare bones true...

I read a lot , always have... don't know how good i'd be at making suggestions... I would say there are a few you must read ( I'll note you later and you can nod and smile and delete it, or read some of it if you like)... but 9s would be the best person to ask I reckon.

CarrieMpls said:

Oh, behave yourself. You know it's real.

Number23 said:

only when i'm feeling it.

i believe in santa, jesus and the boogieman.

Number23 said:

What I'm saying -- in a round about way -- is that you don't sound presumptious or arrogant.

Number23 said:

Love (with the big "L") is definitely real...romantic love...not so much...

CarrieMpls said:

Love in general, or are we talking specifics here!!!?

I only do details!


...
[Edited 8/9/06 16:38pm]

CarrieMpls said:

My dream last night was some sort of sensational premonition. I was dead, and looking down at my body from the ceiling of my giant cold black castle. My dead body had been lying there for weeks, months, and the servants had no idea I was gone; possibly because I wasn't real enough in the first place to emit any kind of deathly odor so they'd be able to track their way into my boarded-up lair.

Then, I realized suddenly that I had no soul and there was nowhere left to go. I had either spent my life creating a void where something once was, or maybe I was never anything anywhere to begin with. It's been plaguing me since. Nothing's chosen, maybe. It could be something larger that's decided I type this.

You can erase love until it's gone forever- from the body, from the mind, and finally, the entire soul itself, as that's what connects souls at all. after it's gone, life is useless.

LleeLlee said:

ok. do you love me?

INSATIABLE said:

I just felt the need to hug you now.

INSATIABLE said:

It's never really gone...just locked away... love can't be gone from us, love is what we are.. it's the energy that allows us to wake up everyday and sleep at night...and when it's not in our bodies anymore it goes somewhere else and it breathes and walks around and sleeps in another form...love can't go away, love is everything.

Least that's what I think

CarrieMpls said:

Hey, I think you're one of the most beautiful people in the world.
[Edited 8/9/06 16:45pm]

CarrieMpls said:

Me too, actually (and you too, Carrie )

Sweeny79 said:

It has to be true. Hey, I'm going to be a teacher soon. Get ready to block my frantic orgNotes.

INSATIABLE said:

Cool! What are you going to teach? I'd love to be of help, anything you have a question on I'll do my best to answer!

INSATIABLE said:

What's with all the compliments lately? I'm going to end up with a head the size of Texas.


That said, thank you. Coming from you, that means quite a bit.

Sweeny79 said:

I'd appreciate that, Kim, I really would. I'm really not well read at all but arrogance and inverted snobbery has held me back, I suppose.

Number23 said:

has/have. I'm not a fucking idoiot. I learned myself whow to read on an orange talking plastic spelltyper when I was three!!

Number23 said:

Speak and spell!! I always wanted a speak and spell. My little neighbor friend had one and I always wanted to play with it when I went over to her house.

INSATIABLE said:

What happens in the new Nip/Tuck?

sinisterpentatonic said:

I would love you if you made me a sandwich.

Did anyone try that new Pepsi Strawberries N Cream??

OHHHHH YEAHHHHH

It's AWESOME!!!!!

CarrieMpls said:

My auntie bought me it. I remember asking my mum 'Is that a word?' with things I'd typed. One of my proudest geek moments was reading the entire Spot The Dog book in Primary One to my first teracher when none of the rest of the class could make out a word.

Number23 said:

it's pretty clear you are far from an idiot.