Our Lord Is The Ultimate Artist

There's Da Vinci, Dali and Picasso,
They were truly a breed apart,
Either designing or painting on canvas,
Their creations are real works of art.

We had Eddison, Enstein and John Logie Baird,
Their ideas are still with us today,
Everything they achieved is still with us,
They were artists in their own way.

They say Columbus discovered America,
That's a statement which is quite unfair,
When he finally stepped foot on this great land,
There were people already there.

All life on Earth has been gifted with skills,
From the plants to the fish in the seas,
Everything alive has a reason to live,
From human beings to the rain forest trees.

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poem by Bri Mar
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20th Century Man

This is the age of machinery,
A mechanical nightmare,
The wonderful world of technology,
Napalm hydrogen bombs biological warfare,
This is the twentieth century,
But too much aggravation
Its the age of insanity,
What has become of the green pleasant fields of jerusalem.
Aint got no ambition, Im just disillusioned
Im a twentieth century man but I dont wanna be here.
My mama said she cant understand me
She cant see my motivation
Just give me some security,
Im a paranoid schizoid product of the twentieth century.
You keep all your smart modern writers
Give me william shakespeare
You keep all your smart modern painters
Ill take rembrandt, titian, da vinci and gainsborough,
Girl we gotta get out of here
We gotta find a solution

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song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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Call Up

Written by ian bairnson
No one ever lived a thousand years
Not like things we do or say
Some of those who really changed this world
We would welcome back today
They could really light the way
So call up otis
Call up marvin
Call for buddy. bring them on
Call for ludwig
And for johann
We need lennon. we mean john
Words live longer than a thousand years
Listen hard to what they say
Single voices that would change this world
We would welcome back today
They would really light the way
So call up jimi
Lets have stevie
Look for miles to take the floor

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song performed by Alan Parsons Project
Added by Lucian Velea
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Speaking Against ‘ Da Vinci Code’

What Jesus did until thirty
Years, isn’t mentioned in the Bible;
For next three years, he traveled wide,
To preach the Word of God’s Kingdom.

A busy man, a Master too –
With flock of Apostles behind:
He preached through parables to all,
And earned good respect ’midst people.

He spoke in parables;
He performed miracles;
His wisdom was so great,
That Pharisees did hate!

Yet, all the while, He knew His end!
A painful death on Holy Cross –
For sins of entire mankind;
He had His Father’s cause always!

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poem by John Celes
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Art Encompassed Interactive Across Centuries

Michelangelo carved poetry
into purest marble
painted it across ceiling
of adorned Sistine Chapel.
Leonardo Da Vinci
cunningly imprisoned it
within magnetic eyes
of portrait Mona Lisa.
Vincent Van Gogh ground pigment
mixed artistic paint tempera
then splashed poetry upon heaven’s
eternal Starry Starry Night.

Complete artist crazed benediction perfected
must encompassed be prophetic impassioned poet.
Diverse streams personify divine creativity
poetry effected obtains full unfettered expression.
An illuminated ardent ephemeral soul chisels
holy canvas tormented stupendous ablazed passions.

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Damnations Cellar

Did anybody notice, over marmalade and eggs
In between the princess legs
What with wars and floods and beggars
Not to mention stocks and shares
If you have a moment to spare
Can you write and reassure me that I have seen
Theyre constructing a time machine
There will be no need for the obituary pages
We can have any hero from the bygone ages
til the truth emerges, the argument rages
Chorus:
The major and the minor
Turn from tallow into tar
Should we leave them in their place?
Down in damnations cellar
When any form of deity that you might enjoy
Can be conjured with a test-tube and a flame
If its out there then science can explain it
Or at least remove the blame
And if theres is anyone youd like to see again

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song performed by Elvis Costello
Added by Lucian Velea
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Satan Speaks

“Now is the time for you to realize that many great artists captured the alchemical codes during the first Renaissance. These vibrations were brought down into the physical realm, and this art contains the codes for restructuring the whole planetary field as year 2012 approaches. What you do right now is of crucial importance, and the great Renaissance artists are in physical body now poised to fill the world with beauty and ecstasy. You have been waiting for this.

Wake up!

Wake up; as 2012 nears, carrying alchemical treasures and yes you could wait for the gods instead of awakening yourselves. You can be Michelangelo or Da Vinci, or you can be the sheep herded into groups waiting for the Apocalypse, cowering and waiting for the gods.

“The Apocalypse is the end of a great cycle, and the end of us. Look, I Satan am just the world’s boss who realizes he’s ruined the company, and am wondering what I will tell the stockholders. I am the U.S. President who realizes he’s blown it with NAFTA, as I watch world currencies tumble into the abyss. Events are getting too big for any one entity, and guess what? This is when an individual wakes up! I, Satan, am here to share the truth with you before I have to answer to The Most High. In the old days, the boss would loot the company and head for a tropical island, but there is no tropical island to run to anymore. I Satan am coming closer to your souls, my desires are activated. It’s like when you get close to a treasure, and you just want to grab it all. I have been known to be a pig, and so have you! As I get closer, I get blinded by the Light of the Sun. I know from the past that I think less clearly when I come into your presence, just like a man is blinded by the sight of beautiful nude woman. I hope you will seize the alchemy, as a pure gift from the Heavens right now, as you shout “Up yours Satan”.”

(Inspired by and dedicated to the writings of the most brilliant B.H.C)

Rayluc

poem by Ray Lucero
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Beacons

Reubens, river of forgetfulness, garden of sloth,
Pillow of wet flesh that one cannot love,
But where life throngs and seethes without cease
Like the air in the sky and the water in the sea.

Leonardo da Vinci, sinister mirror,
Where these charming angels with sweet smiles
Charged with mystery, appear in shadows
Of glaciers and pines that close off the country.

Rembrandt, sad hospital full of murmurs
Decorated only with a crucifix,
Where tearful prayers arise from filth
And a ray of winter light crosses brusquely.

Michelangelo, a wasteland where one sees Hercules
Mingling with Christ, and rising in a straight line
Powerful phantoms that in the twilight
Tear their shrouds with stretching fingers.

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poem by Charles Baudelaire
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National Vegetarian Week....Oct 1 to Oct 7, , , ,2010

Nothing will benefit human health and increase chances of survival for life on Earth as much as the evolution to a vegetarian diet.”
— Albert Einstein
“Vegetarian as a general concept is a brilliant thing. We've got to stop eating so much meat. We are eating too much meat.” — Jamie Oliver

“If slaughterhouses had glass walls, everyone would be a vegetarian.” — Paul McCartney

“The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.” — Mahatma Gandhi

“Now at last I can look at you in peace; I don't eat you anymore.” — Franz Kafka (Novelist)

“When we eat vegetarian foods, we needn't worry about what kind of disease our food died from; this makes a joyful meal! ” — John Harvey Kellogg, M.D.

“Animals are my friends... and I don't eat my friends.” — George Bernard Shaw

“We don't need to eat anyone who would run, swim, or fly away if he could.” — James Cromwell

“I expect to pass through this world but once. Any good, therefore, that I can do or any kindness I can show to any fellow creature, let me do it now. Let me not defer or neglect it for I shall not pass this way again.” — Stephen Grellet

“If you knew how meat was made, you'd probably lose your lunch.” — K.D. Lang

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poem by Ken e Hall
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The Lord's Prayer' As Jesus In Aramaic Spoke It

some of you may have thriller read
Dan Brown's 'The Da Vinci Code'
lies it contains host errors deliberate
truth there you cannot read all of it

but 'The Lord's Prayer' I will gift
accurate as Jesus in Aramaic spoke it
as it was given to Christ's disciples
truth beauty read now as life examples

'Oh Thou, from whom the breath of life comes,
who fills all realms of sound, light and vibration.
May Your light be experienced in my utmost holiest.
Your Heavenly Domain approaches.

Let Your will come true - in the universe (all that vibrates)
just as on earth (that is material and dense) .
Give us wisdom (understanding, assistance) for our daily need,
detach the fetters of faults that bind us, (karma)

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Art Encompassed: Renaissance Modern Rejecting Earlier Ideals

Michelangelo carved poetry
into purest marble
painted it across ceiling
of adorned Sistine Chapel.

Leonardo Da Vinci
cunningly imprisoned it
within magnetic eyes
of portrait Mona Lisa.

Vincent Van Gogh ground pigment
mixed artistic paint tempera
then splashed poetry upon heaven’s
eternal Starry Starry Night.

Complete artist crazed benediction perfected
must encompassed be prophetic impassioned poet.
Diverse streams personify divine creativity
poetry effected obtains full unfettered expression.

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Our Journey Of Art Curiousity

Forms, the sphinxes that seem to be obvious but misunderstood by the onlookers
In prehistory, they weren't and surely not today
Elements compositioned
Principles observed
Shhh! ! ! Art we admired
In chronology, the pigments receded, attracted, united, fought, persuaded & even symbolized
Before realised, hue had taken the dynamism & significance of colour and the trajectory between the wet & dry media had become the techniques well-practised & mastered by phenomenal artists of the days of old and now
It was then that it became bare that tempera & gouache assumed subordinate binders
Dots turned to be the only pointillistic vehicle that could draw from distant gaps the trades and rage of the markets scenes depicted by great-inventory artists whose preliminary findings never differed with the actual works
The byzantine, the grotto's, the classical re-awakening, the fore-runners; Cimabue & Giotto
Men whose signatures stood distinctive but were first among equals
Archaic, Classical & Hellenistic eras; Paleolithic, Mesolithic & Neolithic
Then, the PMN acronym stood astute
The cave paintings, the hieroglyphics & the modern-day alphabets
The Kuora's and the naked discus thrower; just under the tutelage of Alexander the 'great'
Bays and straits of Thessalonikka, Corinth, Mycene
The almost faultless works of Michelangelo, Da Vinci, Mattise, Braques and the many unsang heroes whose idealogies we've kept till now
The curiosity separates forth the symmetric and assymmetric balances
The colour theory that almost always proofed that red is adjacent to green on the wheel
And the final result of almost all or all the colours is black

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poem by Prince Kenny Osei
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0126 A Longstanding Question

It’s rather a delicate personal matter…
I could of course say I’m just asking for a friend…
but I guess You’d see through that, from what I hear…

I wouldn’t trouble You, but
it’s not a question that concerned Adam
since he had no comparative physiology
any more than he had comparative theology…
so it didn’t matter a figleaf to him…

and Moses had the bigger picture in mind, and in his position
had to keep up with the Tablets
to use a medical term which
we might refer to later…

as for Jesus, well it didn’t affect him personally, of course,
even as Son of Man,
unless of course the Da Vinci Code is true
but I’d rather not pursue such maudlin thoughts
with You…

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poem by Michael Shepherd
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Singing In Your Reign

SINGING IN YOUR REIGN

You are the seemly raiment of my heart;
that's why I now am singing in your reign,
for you're my queen who rules me with the art
of Cupid, to transfix me without pain
with artful arrows Cupid shoots from your
direction, having been by you directed.
His aim is just as steady and as sure
as yours, and does not need to be corrected.
I'm living in a house that's dedicated
to corporeal correction, which is stupid,
but thanks to you my spirit is elated,
in thrall to you while threesoming with Cupid.
This sonnet is no quid pro quo or payment
for what you have done, it is my raiment.

John Heilpern (Newsmen of La Mancha, " Vanity Fair, January 2011) writes about Sidney Harman:

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poem by Gershon Hepner
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Florence

City acclaimed from far-off days
Fair, and baptized in field of flowers,
Once more I scan, with eager gaze,
Your soaring domes, your storied towers.

Nigh on eight lustres now have flown
Since first with trembling heart I came,
And, girdled by your mountain zone,
Found you yet fairer than your fame.

It was the season purple-sweet,
When figs are plucked, and grapes are pressed,
And all your folk with following feet
Bore a dead Poet to sacred rest.

You seemed to fling your gates ajar,
And gently lead me by the hand,
Saying, ``Behold! henceforth you are
No stranger in this Tuscan land.''

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poem by Alfred Austin
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The Pangolin

Another armored animal–scale
lapping scale with spruce-cone regularity until they
form the uninterrupted central
tail row! This near artichoke with head and legs and
grit-equipped gizzard,
the night miniature artist engineer is,
yes, Leonardo da Vinci’s replica–
impressive animal and toiler of whom we seldom hear.
Armor seems extra. But for him,
the closing ear-ridge–
or bare ear licking even this small
eminence and similarly safe
contracting nose and eye apertures
impenetrably closable, are not;–a true ant-eater,
not cockroach-eater, who endures
exhausting solitary trips through unfamiliar ground at night,
returning before sunrise; stepping in the moonlight,
on the moonlight peculiarly, that the outside
edges of his hands may bear the weight and save the
claws

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poem by Marianne Moore
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Bomb

Budger of history Brake of time You Bomb
Toy of universe Grandest of all snatched sky I cannot hate you
Do I hate the mischievous thunderbolt the jawbone of an ass
The bumpy club of One Million B.C. the mace the flail the axe
Catapult Da Vinci tomahawk Cochise flintlock Kidd dagger Rathbone
Ah and the sad desparate gun of Verlaine Pushkin Dillinger Bogart
And hath not St. Michael a burning sword St. George a lance David a sling
Bomb you are as cruel as man makes you and you're no crueller than cancer
All Man hates you they'd rather die by car-crash lightning drowning
Falling off a roof electric-chair heart-attack old age old age O Bomb
They'd rather die by anything but you Death's finger is free-lance
Not up to man whether you boom or not Death has long since distributed its
categorical blue I sing thee Bomb Death's extravagance Death's jubilee
Gem of Death's supremest blue The flyer will crash his death will differ
with the climbor who'll fall to die by cobra is not to die by bad pork
Some die by swamp some by sea and some by the bushy-haired man in the night
O there are deaths like witches of Arc Scarey deaths like Boris Karloff
No-feeling deaths like birth-death sadless deaths like old pain Bowery
Abandoned deaths like Capital Punishment stately deaths like senators
And unthinkable deaths like Harpo Marx girls on Vogue covers my own

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poem by Gregory Corso (1958)
Added by Dan Costinaş
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Gioconda And Si-Ya-U

to the memory of my friend SI-YA-U,
whose head was cut off in Shanghai

A CLAIM

Renowned Leonardo's
world-famous
"La Gioconda"
has disappeared.
And in the space
vacated by the fugitive
a copy has been placed.

The poet inscribing
the present treatise
knows more than a little
about the fate
of the real Gioconda.
She fell in love
with a seductive

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poem by Nazim Hikmet
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Monna Innominata: A Sonnet of Sonnets

1

Lo dì che han detto a' dolci amici addio. - Dante
Amor, con quanto sforzo oggi mi vinci! - Petrarca

Come back to me, who wait and watch for you:--
Or come not yet, for it is over then,
And long it is before you come again,
So far between my pleasures are and few.
While, when you come not, what I do I do
Thinking "Now when he comes," my sweetest when:"
For one man is my world of all the men
This wide world holds; O love, my world is you.
Howbeit, to meet you grows almost a pang
Because the pang of parting comes so soon;
My hope hangs waning, waxing, like a moon
Between the heavenly days on which we meet:
Ah me, but where are now the songs I sang
When life was sweet because you call'd them sweet?

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poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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James Lee's Wife

I.—James Lee's Wife Speaks at the Window

I.
Ah, Love, but a day
And the world has changed!
The sun's away,
And the bird estranged;
The wind has dropped,
And the sky's deranged:
Summer has stopped.

II.
Look in my eyes!
Wilt thou change too?
Should I fear surprise?
Shall I find aught new
In the old and dear,
In the good and true,
With the changing year?

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poem by Robert Browning from Dramatis Personae (1864)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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