Joseph Littleshoes wrote:

> ----------------------
> Liber XV sec. VII.
> ----------------------
>
> The Anthem
> --------------
>
> Thou who art I, beyond all I am,
> Who hast no nature, and no name
> Who art, when all but Thou are gone,
> Thou , centre and secret of the Sun,
> Thou, hidden spring of all things known
> And unknown, Thou aloof, alone,
> Thou, the true fire within the reed
> Brooding and breeding, source and seed
> Of life, love liberty and light,
> Thou beyond speech and beyond sight
> Thee I invoke, my faint fresh fire
> Kindling as mine intents aspire.
> Thee I invoke abiding one.
> Thee, centre and secret of the Sun,
> And that most holy mystery
> Of which the vehicle am I!
> Appear, most awful and most mild,
> As it is lawful, in they child!
>
> For the father and the Son
> The Holy Spirit is the norm;
> Male - female, quintessential, one
> Man - being veiled in Woman - form
> Glory and worship in the Highest
> Thou Dove, mankind that deifiest,
> Being the race, most royally run,
> To spring sunshine through winter storm!
> Glory and worship be to Thee
> Sap of the world - ash, wonder - tree!
>
> Glory to Thee from Gilded Tomb!
>
> Glory to Thee from Waiting Womb!
>
> Glory to Thee from earth unploughed!
>
> Glory to Thee from Virgin vowed!
>
> Glory to Thee, true Unity
> Of the Eternal Trinity!
>
> Glory to Thee, thou sire and dam
> And Self of I am that I am!
>
> Glory to thee, beyond all term,
> Thy spring of sperm, thy seed and germ!
>
> Glory to thee, eternal Sun
> Thou One in Three, Thou Three in One!
>
> Glory and worship unto Thee
> Sap of the world - ash, wonder tree!
>
> -------------------------------------------
>
> Aleister Crowley
> Gnostic Mass.
> The Office of the Anthem.
> Liber ABA.

Joseph Littleshoes got drunk and posted:

>> ----------------------
>> Liber XV sec. VII.
>> ----------------------
>>
>> The Anthem
>> --------------
<snip>
>> Aleister Crowley
>> Gnostic Mass.
>> The Office of the Anthem.
>> Liber ABA.

I've always liked this better:

The Hollow Men

I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

II

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death's dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind's singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death's dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer --

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

III

This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man's hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death's other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

IV

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death's twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

V

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o'clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow

Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

---T. S. Eliot (1925)

Bob Terwilliger wrote:

> Joseph Littleshoes got drunk and posted:

One Star In Sight--------------------

Thy feet in mire thy head in murk, oh man how piteous thy plight, the
doubts that daunt the ills that irk, thou hast not wit nor will to
fight.

How hope in heart or worth in work. No Star in sight.

Thy "Gods" prooved puppets of the priests.

"TRUTH" all's relation science sighed! In bondage with thy brother
beast love tortured thee as loves hope died and loves faith rotted, life
no lest dim star descried

Thy cringing carrion cowered and crawled to find a chance cast clod
whose pain was purposeless, appalled it trod its vain agony across the
void sky.

All souls eternally exist. Each individual, ultimate, each makes itself
a mist of mind and flesh to celebrate some tender tryst.

Some drunkards doting on the dream despair that it should die, mistake
themselves for their own shadow scheme, one star can summon them to
wake!

Star soles serene that gleam on life's calm lake



---
JL


>
>
> >> ----------------------
> >> Liber XV sec. VII.
> >> ----------------------
> >>
> >> The Anthem
> >> --------------
> <snip>
> >> Aleister Crowley
> >> Gnostic Mass.
> >> The Office of the Anthem.
> >> Liber ABA.
>
> I've always liked this better:
>
> The Hollow Men
>
> I
>
> We are the hollow men
> We are the stuffed men
> Leaning together
> Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
> Our dried voices, when
> We whisper together
> Are quiet and meaningless
> As wind in dry grass
> Or rats' feet over broken glass
> In our dry cellar
>
> Shape without form, shade without colour,
> Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
>
> Those who have crossed
> With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
> Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
> Violent souls, but only
> As the hollow men
> The stuffed men.
>
> II
>
> Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
> In death's dream kingdom
> These do not appear:
> There, the eyes are
> Sunlight on a broken column
> There, is a tree swinging
> And voices are
> In the wind's singing
> More distant and more solemn
> Than a fading star.
>
> Let me be no nearer
> In death's dream kingdom
> Let me also wear
> Such deliberate disguises
> Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
> In a field
> Behaving as the wind behaves
> No nearer --
>
> Not that final meeting
> In the twilight kingdom
>
> III
>
> This is the dead land
> This is cactus land
> Here the stone images
> Are raised, here they receive
> The supplication of a dead man's hand
> Under the twinkle of a fading star.
>
> Is it like this
> In death's other kingdom
> Waking alone
> At the hour when we are
> Trembling with tenderness
> Lips that would kiss
> Form prayers to broken stone.
>
> IV
>
> The eyes are not here
> There are no eyes here
> In this valley of dying stars
> In this hollow valley
> This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
>
> In this last of meeting places
> We grope together
> And avoid speech
> Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
>
> Sightless, unless
> The eyes reappear
> As the perpetual star
> Multifoliate rose
> Of death's twilight kingdom
> The hope only
> Of empty men.
>
> V
>
> Here we go round the prickly pear
> Prickly pear prickly pear
> Here we go round the prickly pear
> At five o'clock in the morning.
>
> Between the idea
> And the reality
> Between the motion
> And the act
> Falls the Shadow
>
> For Thine is the Kingdom
>
> Between the conception
> And the creation
> Between the emotion
> And the response
> Falls the Shadow
>
> Life is very long
>
> Between the desire
> And the spasm
> Between the potency
> And the existence
> Between the essence
> And the descent
> Falls the Shadow
> For Thine is the Kingdom
>
> For Thine is
> Life is
> For Thine is the
>
> This is the way the world ends
> This is the way the world ends
> This is the way the world ends
> Not with a bang but a whimper.
>
> ---T. S. Eliot (1925)

Joseph waxed evermo

> One Star In Sight--------------------
>
> Thy feet in mire thy head in murk, oh man how piteous thy plight, the
> doubts that daunt the ills that irk, thou hast not wit nor will to
> fight.
>
> How hope in heart or worth in work. No Star in sight.
>
> Thy "Gods" prooved puppets of the priests.
>
> "TRUTH" all's relation science sighed! In bondage with thy brother
> beast love tortured thee as loves hope died and loves faith rotted, life
> no lest dim star descried
>
> Thy cringing carrion cowered and crawled to find a chance cast clod
> whose pain was purposeless, appalled it trod its vain agony across the
> void sky.
>
> All souls eternally exist. Each individual, ultimate, each makes itself
> a mist of mind and flesh to celebrate some tender tryst.
>
> Some drunkards doting on the dream despair that it should die, mistake
> themselves for their own shadow scheme, one star can summon them to
> wake!
>
> Star soles serene that gleam on life's calm lake
>
>


ObFood: What sauce best accompanies crab-dill ravioli? Beurre blanc? Velouté
sauce? Marguery sauce?


I

Our eunuch dreams, all seedless in the light,
Of light and love the tempers of the heart,
Whack their boys' limbs,
And, winding-footed in their shawl and sheet,
Groom the dark brides, the widows of the night
Fold in their arms.

The shades of girls, all flavoured from their shrouds,
When sunlight goes are sundered from the worm,
The bones of men, the broken in their beds,
By midnight pulleys that unhouse the tomb.

II

In this our age the gunman and his moll
Two one-dimensional ghosts, love on a reel,
Strange to our solid eye,
And speak their midnight nothings as they swell;
When cameras shut they hurry to their hole
down in the yard of day.

They dance between their arclamps and our skull,
Impose their shots, showing the nights away;
We watch the show of shadows kiss or kill
Flavoured of celluloid give love the lie.

III

Which is the world? Of our two sleepings, which
Shall fall awake when cures and their itch
Raise up this red-eyed earth?
Pack off the shapes of daylight and their starch,
The sunny gentlemen, the Welshing rich,
Or drive the night-geared forth.

The photograph is married to the eye,
Grafts on its bride one-sided skins of truth;
The dream has sucked the sleeper of his faith
That shrouded men might marrow as they fly.

IV

This is the world; the lying likeness of
Our strips of stuff that tatter as we move
Loving and being loth;
The dream that kicks the buried from their sack
And lets their trash be honoured as the quick.
This is the world. Have faith.

For we shall be a shouter like the cock,
Blowing the old dead back; our shots shall smack
The image from the plates;
And we shall be fit fellows for a life,
And who remains shall flower as they love,
Praise to our faring hearts.

---Dylan Thomas - Our Eunuch Dreams

Bob Terwilliger wrote:

> >
> > Star soles serene that gleam on life's calm lake
> >
> >
>
> ObFood: What sauce best accompanies crab-dill ravioli? Beurre blanc?
> Velouté
> sauce? Marguery sauce?

I often make a stuffed pasta with a ground seafood filling. Most often i
will do stuffed shells rather than go to the trouble of making &
assembling my own ravioli but i like a thin subtle sauce with them
rather than a thick highly flavoured sauce.

Browned butter with a bit of garlic and herbs, a white wine, butter and
garlic reduction sauce, a "Gloucester" sauce is just a bit of mayonnaise
thinned with sour cream and lemon and a touch of fennel, a nice herbal
vinaigrette, if using fresh crab the shells and any discard as well as
any juices one can make a basic crab stock and use it with some milk or
cream to make a simple white sauce with, adding mushrooms, shallots,
garlic etc. as desired.

Something i have not yet tried is a sauce vert or green sauce made by
taking various green leafy herbs and vegetables and blanching, and
squeezing in cheese cloth, very firmly till one obtains about 1/2 cup of
thick herb juice of spinach leaves, watercress, parsley, tarragon,
chervil etc., then add this juice to a very thick mayonnaise.

But with a dill crab pasta i think garlic butter & lemon juice would be
perfect. Even a beurre de moutarde or a mushroom sauce might be nice.

If one really wanted a tomato sauce to serve with the crab pasta one
might consider any of the white wine tomatoe sauces such as sauce
bretonne or chasseur.
---
JL

>
>
> I
>
> Our eunuch dreams, all seedless in the light,
> Of light and love the tempers of the heart,
> Whack their boys' limbs,
> And, winding-footed in their shawl and sheet,
> Groom the dark brides, the widows of the night
> Fold in their arms.
>
> The shades of girls, all flavoured from their shrouds,
> When sunlight goes are sundered from the worm,
> The bones of men, the broken in their beds,
> By midnight pulleys that unhouse the tomb.
>
> II
>
> In this our age the gunman and his moll
> Two one-dimensional ghosts, love on a reel,
> Strange to our solid eye,
> And speak their midnight nothings as they swell;
> When cameras shut they hurry to their hole
> down in the yard of day.
>
> They dance between their arclamps and our skull,
> Impose their shots, showing the nights away;
> We watch the show of shadows kiss or kill
> Flavoured of celluloid give love the lie.
>
> III
>
> Which is the world? Of our two sleepings, which
> Shall fall awake when cures and their itch
> Raise up this red-eyed earth?
> Pack off the shapes of daylight and their starch,
> The sunny gentlemen, the Welshing rich,
> Or drive the night-geared forth.
>
> The photograph is married to the eye,
> Grafts on its bride one-sided skins of truth;
> The dream has sucked the sleeper of his faith
> That shrouded men might marrow as they fly.
>
> IV
>
> This is the world; the lying likeness of
> Our strips of stuff that tatter as we move
> Loving and being loth;
> The dream that kicks the buried from their sack
> And lets their trash be honoured as the quick.
> This is the world. Have faith.
>
> For we shall be a shouter like the cock,
> Blowing the old dead back; our shots shall smack
> The image from the plates;
> And we shall be fit fellows for a life,
> And who remains shall flower as they love,
> Praise to our faring hearts.
>
> ---Dylan Thomas - Our Eunuch Dreams

On Mon, 17 Oct 2005 09:33:59 GMT, Joseph Littleshoes
> connected the dots and wrote:

~Bob Terwilliger wrote:
~
~> Joseph Littleshoes got drunk and posted:
~
~One Star In Sight--------------------
~
~Thy feet in mire thy head in murk, oh man how piteous thy plight, the
~doubts that daunt the ills that irk, thou hast not wit nor will to
~fight.
~
~How hope in heart or worth in work. No Star in sight.
~
~Thy "Gods" prooved puppets of the priests.
~
~"TRUTH" all's relation science sighed! In bondage with thy brother
~beast love tortured thee as loves hope died and loves faith rotted,
life
~no lest dim star descried
~
~Thy cringing carrion cowered and crawled to find a chance cast clod
~whose pain was purposeless, appalled it trod its vain agony across
the
~void sky.
~
~All souls eternally exist. Each individual, ultimate, each makes
itself
~a mist of mind and flesh to celebrate some tender tryst.
~
~Some drunkards doting on the dream despair that it should die,
mistake
~themselves for their own shadow scheme, one star can summon them to
~wake!
~
~Star soles serene that gleam on life's calm lake
~
~
~
~---
~JL
~
~
~>
~>
~> >> ----------------------
~> >> Liber XV sec. VII.
~> >> ----------------------
~> >>
~> >> The Anthem
~> >> --------------
~> <snip>
~> >> Aleister Crowley
~> >> Gnostic Mass.
~> >> The Office of the Anthem.
~> >> Liber ABA.
~>
~> I've always liked this better:
~>
~> The Hollow Men
~>
~> I
~>
~> We are the hollow men
~> We are the stuffed men
~> Leaning together
~> Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
~> Our dried voices, when
~> We whisper together
~> Are quiet and meaningless
~> As wind in dry grass
~> Or rats' feet over broken glass
~> In our dry cellar
~>
~> Shape without form, shade without colour,
~> Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
~>
~> Those who have crossed
~> With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
~> Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
~> Violent souls, but only
~> As the hollow men
~> The stuffed men.
~>
~> II
~>
~> Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
~> In death's dream kingdom
~> These do not appear:
~> There, the eyes are
~> Sunlight on a broken column
~> There, is a tree swinging
~> And voices are
~> In the wind's singing
~> More distant and more solemn
~> Than a fading star.
~>
~> Let me be no nearer
~> In death's dream kingdom
~> Let me also wear
~> Such deliberate disguises
~> Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
~> In a field
~> Behaving as the wind behaves
~> No nearer --
~>
~> Not that final meeting
~> In the twilight kingdom
~>
~> III
~>
~> This is the dead land
~> This is cactus land
~> Here the stone images
~> Are raised, here they receive
~> The supplication of a dead man's hand
~> Under the twinkle of a fading star.
~>
~> Is it like this
~> In death's other kingdom
~> Waking alone
~> At the hour when we are
~> Trembling with tenderness
~> Lips that would kiss
~> Form prayers to broken stone.
~>
~> IV
~>
~> The eyes are not here
~> There are no eyes here
~> In this valley of dying stars
~> In this hollow valley
~> This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
~>
~> In this last of meeting places
~> We grope together
~> And avoid speech
~> Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
~>
~> Sightless, unless
~> The eyes reappear
~> As the perpetual star
~> Multifoliate rose
~> Of death's twilight kingdom
~> The hope only
~> Of empty men.
~>
~> V
~>
~> Here we go round the prickly pear
~> Prickly pear prickly pear
~> Here we go round the prickly pear
~> At five o'clock in the morning.
~>
~> Between the idea
~> And the reality
~> Between the motion
~> And the act
~> Falls the Shadow
~>
~> For Thine is the Kingdom
~>
~> Between the conception
~> And the creation
~> Between the emotion
~> And the response
~> Falls the Shadow
~>
~> Life is very long
~>
~> Between the desire
~> And the spasm
~> Between the potency
~> And the existence
~> Between the essence
~> And the descent
~> Falls the Shadow
~> For Thine is the Kingdom
~>
~> For Thine is
~> Life is
~> For Thine is the
~>
~> This is the way the world ends
~> This is the way the world ends
~> This is the way the world ends
~> Not with a bang but a whimper.
~>
~> ---T. S. Eliot (1925)
~
~
I'm a born-again agnostic
Hallelujah I've seen the light
Well I never thought it could happen to me
'cause I lead such an innocent life
I felt like Archimedes when he jumped out of the bath
Eureka I said while inside my head I was doing some sacred math.

Gonna start my own religion, get my very own tv show
One that's on every Sunday morning when people are feeling low

--Robby O'Connor
maxine in ri

Bob Terwilliger wrote:

> Bob Terwilliger was obviously drunk when he posted:
>
> >> ----------------------
> >> Liber XV sec. VII.
> >> ----------------------
> >>
> >> The Anthem
> >> --------------
> <snip>
> >> Aleister Crowley
> >> Gnostic Mass.
> >> The Office of the Anthem.
> >> Liber ABA.
>
> I've always liked this better:

Would you care to compare and discuss it? Stanza for stanza?

You have made an obvious statement i have just not made up my mind yet
precisely what it is.

As an invitation to discuss the relative merits of the poetry quoted i
could get a bit enthusiastic about but other wise, no. I mangled the
"One Star In Sight" sadly i could not find my text.

And i have not yet even posted the Hymn to Pan
---
J (IO PAN IO PAN) L

> The Hollow Men
>
> I
>
> We are the hollow men
> We are the stuffed men
> Leaning together
> Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
> Our dried voices, when
> We whisper together
> Are quiet and meaningless
> As wind in dry grass
> Or rats' feet over broken glass
> In our dry cellar
>
> Shape without form, shade without colour,
> Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
>
> Those who have crossed
> With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
> Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
> Violent souls, but only
> As the hollow men
> The stuffed men.
>
> II
>
> Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
> In death's dream kingdom
> These do not appear:
> There, the eyes are
> Sunlight on a broken column
> There, is a tree swinging
> And voices are
> In the wind's singing
> More distant and more solemn
> Than a fading star.
>
> Let me be no nearer
> In death's dream kingdom
> Let me also wear
> Such deliberate disguises
> Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
> In a field
> Behaving as the wind behaves
> No nearer --
>
> Not that final meeting
> In the twilight kingdom
>
> III
>
> This is the dead land
> This is cactus land
> Here the stone images
> Are raised, here they receive
> The supplication of a dead man's hand
> Under the twinkle of a fading star.
>
> Is it like this
> In death's other kingdom
> Waking alone
> At the hour when we are
> Trembling with tenderness
> Lips that would kiss
> Form prayers to broken stone.
>
> IV
>
> The eyes are not here
> There are no eyes here
> In this valley of dying stars
> In this hollow valley
> This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
>
> In this last of meeting places
> We grope together
> And avoid speech
> Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
>
> Sightless, unless
> The eyes reappear
> As the perpetual star
> Multifoliate rose
> Of death's twilight kingdom
> The hope only
> Of empty men.
>
> V
>
> Here we go round the prickly pear
> Prickly pear prickly pear
> Here we go round the prickly pear
> At five o'clock in the morning.
>
> Between the idea
> And the reality
> Between the motion
> And the act
> Falls the Shadow
>
> For Thine is the Kingdom
>
> Between the conception
> And the creation
> Between the emotion
> And the response
> Falls the Shadow
>
> Life is very long
>
> Between the desire
> And the spasm
> Between the potency
> And the existence
> Between the essence
> And the descent
> Falls the Shadow
> For Thine is the Kingdom
>
> For Thine is
> Life is
> For Thine is the
>
> This is the way the world ends
> This is the way the world ends
> This is the way the world ends
> Not with a bang but a whimper.
>
> ---T. S. Eliot (1925)

Joseph wrote:

> Would you care to compare and discuss it? Stanza for stanza?

Not in this NG, thanks.


> And i have not yet even posted the Hymn to Pan
> ---
> J (IO PAN IO PAN) L


Heh...reminds me of "Iä! Iä! Yog-Sothoth!" (though "Hymn to Pan" is one of
my favorite songs by Rhea's Obsession.)


ObFood: Pan Bagnat

Make a vinaigrette: Combine red wine vinegar, tarragon, basil, and oregano
in a jar. Add olive oil, close jar, and shake well.

Cut a good-quality loaf of artisanal bread in half horizontally. Scoop out
the insides. Into the hollow thus created, drizzle some of the vinaigrette.
Slice some tomatoes and put them into the hollow. Sprinkle with salt and
pepper. Add some sliced marinated artichoke hearts and sliced mozzarella
cheese. Drizzle with more vinaigrette. Add some good-quality pitted olives
and chopped scallions. (You can add roasted peppers too.) Top with lettuce.
Drizzle the underside of the top of the loaf with the vinaigrette and then
put the top back onto the loaf. Press the loaf for at least half an hour
for the flavors to mingle. Slice and serve.

(Some people like to add anchovies or tuna, but I like the fish-free version
better.)

Bob

In article >,
"Bob Terwilliger" > wrote:
(snip)
>
> ObFood: Pan Bagnat
(snip)
> Bob

First time (and only, I think) I had pan bagnat in Phoenix about 25
years ago, I loved it. Never made it.

Indian Summer

In youth it was the way I had
To do my best to please
To change with every passing lad
To suit his theories

But now I know the things I do
And do the things I do
And if you do not like me so
To hell, my love, with you.

-Dorothy Parker
--
http://www.jamlady.eboard.com

Barb wrote:

> First time (and only, I think) I had pan bagnat in Phoenix about 25
> years ago, I loved it. Never made it.

It's my idea of perfect picnic food; it actually gets BETTER when it sits
for a while.


> Indian Summer
>
> In youth it was the way I had
> To do my best to please
> To change with every passing lad
> To suit his theories
>
> But now I know the things I do
> And do the things I do
> And if you do not like me so
> To hell, my love, with you.
>
> -Dorothy Parker


I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
---e. e. cummings

Bob

Barb contributed this gem to the current poetry thread:

> Indian Summer
>
> In youth it was the way I had
> To do my best to please
> To change with every passing lad
> To suit his theories
>
> But now I know the things I do
> And do the things I do
> And if you do not like me so
> To hell, my love, with you.
>
> -Dorothy Parker

Barb wins!

Felice

Melba's Jammin' wrote:

> In article >,
> "Bob Terwilliger" > wrote:
> (snip)
> >
> > ObFood: Pan Bagnat
> (snip)
> > Bob
> To hell, my love, with you.
>
> -Dorothy Parker
> --

Tsk..that ol' Algonquin (algorithm?) round table is a thing i routinely
forget, along with 'further father' or 'father further'?
---
Littleshoes

Pardon me boys, is this the lair of Great Cthulu?

On Mon, 17 Oct 2005 09:57:12 GMT, Joseph Littleshoes
> connected the dots and wrote:

~Bob Terwilliger wrote:
~
~> Bob Terwilliger was obviously drunk when he posted:
~>
~> >> ----------------------
~> >> Liber XV sec. VII.
~> >> ----------------------
~> >>
~> >> The Anthem
~> >> --------------
~> <snip>
~> >> Aleister Crowley
~> >> Gnostic Mass.
~> >> The Office of the Anthem.
~> >> Liber ABA.
~>
~> I've always liked this better:
~
~Would you care to compare and discuss it? Stanza for stanza?
~
~You have made an obvious statement i have just not made up my mind
yet
~precisely what it is.
~
~As an invitation to discuss the relative merits of the poetry quoted
i
~could get a bit enthusiastic about but other wise, no. I mangled
the
~"One Star In Sight" sadly i could not find my text.
~
~And i have not yet even posted the Hymn to Pan
~---
~J (IO PAN IO PAN) L
~
~> The Hollow Men
~>
~> I
~>
~> We are the hollow men
~> We are the stuffed men
~> Leaning together
~> Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
~> Our dried voices, when
~> We whisper together
~> Are quiet and meaningless
~> As wind in dry grass
~> Or rats' feet over broken glass
~> In our dry cellar
~>
~> Shape without form, shade without colour,
~> Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
~>
~> Those who have crossed
~> With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
~> Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
~> Violent souls, but only
~> As the hollow men
~> The stuffed men.
~>
~> II
~>
~> Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
~> In death's dream kingdom
~> These do not appear:
~> There, the eyes are
~> Sunlight on a broken column
~> There, is a tree swinging
~> And voices are
~> In the wind's singing
~> More distant and more solemn
~> Than a fading star.
~>
~> Let me be no nearer
~> In death's dream kingdom
~> Let me also wear
~> Such deliberate disguises
~> Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
~> In a field
~> Behaving as the wind behaves
~> No nearer --
~>
~> Not that final meeting
~> In the twilight kingdom
~>
~> III
~>
~> This is the dead land
~> This is cactus land
~> Here the stone images
~> Are raised, here they receive
~> The supplication of a dead man's hand
~> Under the twinkle of a fading star.
~>
~> Is it like this
~> In death's other kingdom
~> Waking alone
~> At the hour when we are
~> Trembling with tenderness
~> Lips that would kiss
~> Form prayers to broken stone.
~>
~> IV
~>
~> The eyes are not here
~> There are no eyes here
~> In this valley of dying stars
~> In this hollow valley
~> This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
~>
~> In this last of meeting places
~> We grope together
~> And avoid speech
~> Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
~>
~> Sightless, unless
~> The eyes reappear
~> As the perpetual star
~> Multifoliate rose
~> Of death's twilight kingdom
~> The hope only
~> Of empty men.
~>
~> V
~>
~> Here we go round the prickly pear
~> Prickly pear prickly pear
~> Here we go round the prickly pear
~> At five o'clock in the morning.
~>
~> Between the idea
~> And the reality
~> Between the motion
~> And the act
~> Falls the Shadow
~>
~> For Thine is the Kingdom
~>
~> Between the conception
~> And the creation
~> Between the emotion
~> And the response
~> Falls the Shadow
~>
~> Life is very long
~>
~> Between the desire
~> And the spasm
~> Between the potency
~> And the existence
~> Between the essence
~> And the descent
~> Falls the Shadow
~> For Thine is the Kingdom
~>
~> For Thine is
~> Life is
~> For Thine is the
~>
~> This is the way the world ends
~> This is the way the world ends
~> This is the way the world ends
~> Not with a bang but a whimper.
~>
~> ---T. S. Eliot (1925)
~
~

Maxine wrote:

> Pardon me boys, is this the lair of Great Cthulu?

I think you meant to quote a different message, where I wrote:

| Heh...reminds me of "Iä! Iä! Yog-Sothoth!"


Bob