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Ξ June 26th, 2011 | → 0 Comments | ∇ Uncategorized |



 

Dont Pick A Fight With A Poet – Madeleine Peyroux

Ξ June 25th, 2011 | → 0 Comments | ∇ Uncategorized |


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Or, as Alan Moore put it:

"Now, as I understand it, the bards were feared. They were respected, but more than that they were feared. If you were just some magician, if you'd pissed off some witch, then what's she gonna do, she's gonna put a curse on you, and what's gonna happen? Your hens are gonna lay funny, your milk's gonna go sour, maybe one of your kids is gonna get a hare-lip or something like that -- no big deal. You piss off a bard, and forget about putting a curse on you, he might put a satire on you. And if he was a skilful bard, he puts a satire on you, it destroys you in the eyes of your community, it shows you up as ridiculous, lame, pathetic, worthless, in the eyes of your community, in the eyes of your family, in the eyes of your children, in the eyes of yourself, and if it's a particularly good bard, and he's written a particularly good satire, then three hundred years after you're dead, people are still gonna be laughing, at what a twat you were."

 

Nerina Pallot – Butterfly (Live at the Tabernacle)

Ξ June 25th, 2011 | → 0 Comments | ∇ Music |


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Emmy the Great – A Woman, A Woman, A Century of Sleep

Ξ June 24th, 2011 | → 0 Comments | ∇ Music |


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Emmy the Great – Trellick Tower – Live Saint Pancras Old…

Ξ June 23rd, 2011 | → 0 Comments | ∇ Uncategorized |


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Autumn Evening

Ξ June 22nd, 2011 | → 0 Comments | ∇ Uncategorized |

Stumbleupon Review of :

A brown village. Often a dark shape appears
To prowl the walls plunged into autumn,
Figures: A man and his wife, both dead, walk
In cool rooms to prepare their bed.

Boys play here. Ponderous shadows widen
Over a brown cesspool. Girls move
Through a moist blueness and, at times
Look out through eyes filled with sheer night.

For whoever is lonely there is a tavern
And patient lingering under dark archways
Covered by golden tobacco clouds.

Yet always, there is the self, black and near.
In the shadows of old archways
Drunks think of wild birds, now gone.

-- Gerog Trakl

 

Variations on a Theme by Joyce

Ξ June 22nd, 2011 | → 0 Comments | ∇ Uncategorized |

Stumbleupon Review of :

The war is in words and the wood is the world
That turns beneath our rootless feet;
the vines that reach, alive and snarled,
Across the path where the sand is swirled,
Twist in the night. The light lies flat.
The war is in words and the wood is the world.

The rain is ruin and our ruin rides
The swiftest winds; the wood is whorled
And turned and smoothed by the turning tides.
--There is rain in the woods, slow rain that breeds
The war in the words. The wood is the world.
This rain is ruin and our ruin rides.

The war is in words and the wood is the world,
Sourceless and seized and forever filled
With green vine twisting on wood more gnarled
Than dead men's hands. The vines are curled
Around these branches, crushed and killed.
The war is in words and the wood is the world.

-- Weldon kees.


 

CHAMPETA -COLOMBIAFRICA ORCHESTRA LIVE !!!!

Ξ June 21st, 2011 | → 0 Comments | ∇ Music |


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Anima Sound System – Alice In Gipsyland

Ξ June 19th, 2011 | → 0 Comments | ∇ Uncategorized |


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Kylie Auldist – No Use

Ξ June 18th, 2011 | → 0 Comments | ∇ Uncategorized |


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