Lige så sikkert som “Amen” i kirken

This garden universe vibrates complete
Some may get a sound so sweet
Vibrations reach on up to become light
And then through gamma, out of sight
Between the eyes and ears there lie
The sounds of color and the light of a sigh
And to hear the sun, what a thing to believe
But it’s all around if we could but perceive
To know ultra violet, infra-red and X-rays
Beauty to find in so many ways
Two notes of the chord, that’s our full scope
But to reach the chord is our life’s hope
And to name the chord is important to some
So they give a word and the word is Om
The Word
Moody Blues

Just Another Day

Oh it’s just another day,
It’s just another day on Earth

Oh it’s just another day,
Just another day,
It’s just another day on Earth

Oh it’s just another day on Earth
It’s just another day on Earth

One day, we will put it all behind,
We’ll say, that was just another time,
We’ll say, that was just another day on Earth

We’ll say, that was just another time,
One day, we will put it all behind,
We’ll say, that was just another day on Earth

Just another day,
It’s just another day,
Oh it’s just another day on Earth

It’s just another day on Earth

Brian Eno

(Hør den her)

Echoes

Overhead the albatross hangs motionless upon the air
And deep beneath the rolling waves
In labyrinths of coral caves
The echo of a distant tide
Comes willowing across the sand
And everything is green and submarine

And no-one showed us to the land
And no-one knows the where or whys
But something stirs and something tries
And starts to climb towards the light

Strangers passing in the street
By chance two separate glances meet
And I am you and what I see is me
And do I take you by the hand
And lead you through the land
And help me understand the best I can

And no-one calls us to move on
And no-one forces down our eyes
And no-one speaks and no-one tries
And no-one flies around the sun

Cloudless everyday you fall upon my waking eyes
Inviting and inciting me to rise
And through the window in the wall
Come streaming in on sunlight wings
A million bright ambassadors of morning

And no-one sings me lullabies
And no-one makes me close my eyes
And so I throw the windows wide
And call to you across the sky

Pink Floyd
Meddle

Wikepedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Echoes_(Pink_Floyd_song)

 Youtube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vm0VBWnUhvU&feature=kp

Fearless

You say the hill’s too steep to climb
Climb it.
You say you’d like to see me try
Climbing.

You pick the place and I’ll choose the time
And I’ll climb
That hill in my own way.
Just wait a while for the right day.
And as I rise above the tree lines and the clouds
I look down, hearing the sound of the things you’ve said today.

Fearlessly the idiot faced the crowd
Smiling.
Merciless the magistrate turns ’round
Frowning.

And who’s the fool who wears the crown?
And go down,
in your own way
And every day is the right day
And as you rise above the fear-lines in his brow
You look down, hearing the sound of the faces in the crowd.

Pink Floyd
Meddle

Wikepedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fearless_(Pink_Floyd_song)

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NM1a7vojSCQ

Magdalene

Though I know the night has fallen and the sun’s sailed out to sea
I will wait here for the band to play the trumpet voluntary
And with one foot on the seashore and the other in the sand
I will stand here plaiting daisies whilst you play the piano-grand
Caprice, your bugle blew away the cobwebs from my ears
And for once I stood quite naked. unashamed, I wept the tears
Which I tried to hide inside myself from me, I mean from you
But the shame I found too painful and the pain it only grew

Magdalene, my regal zonophone

Procol Harum
Shine On Brigthly (1968) (- Hør hele pladen!)

Youtube: http://www.lyrics007.com/Procol%20Harum%20Lyrics/Magdalene%20Lyrics.html

As Strong as Samson

Psychiatrists and Lawyers destroying  mankind
Drivin’ ’em crazy…and stealing ’em blind
Bankers and Brokers ruling the world
Storing the silver and hoarding the gold
Ain’t no use in preachers preaching
When they don’t know what they’re teaching
The weakest man be strong as Samson
When you’re being held to ransom
Famine and hardship in true living colour
Constant reminders…the plight of our brother
Daily starvation our diet of news
Fed to the teeth with a barrage of views
Ain’t no use in preachers preaching
When they don’t know what they’re teaching
The weakest man be strong as Samson
When you’re being held to ransom
Black men and white men, and Arabs and Jews
Causing congestion and filling the queues
Fighting for freedom the truth and the word
Fighting the war for the end of the world
Ain’t no use in preachers preaching
When they don’t know what they’re teaching
Weakest man be strong as Samson
When you’re being held to ransom

Procol Harum
Exotic Birds and Fruit (1974)

In Held Twas In I “Glimpses of Nirvana”

In the darkness of the night, only occasionally relieved by glimpses of nirvana as seen through other people’s windows, wallowing in a morass of self-despair made only more painful by the knowledge that all I am is of my own making. When everything around me, even the kitchen ceiling, has collapsed and crumbled without warning. And I am left, standing in the eye of a well looking up and wondering why and wherefore.
At a time like this, which exists maybe only for me, but is nonetheless real, if I could communicate, and in the telling and the bearing of my soul anything is gained, even though the words which I use are pretentious and make you cringe with embarrassment, let me remind you of the pilgrim who asked for an audience with the Dalai Lama.
He was told he must first spend five years (in) contemplation. After the five years, he was ushered into the Dalai Lama’s presence, who said, “Well, my son, what do you wish to know?”
So the pilgrim said, “I wish to know the meaning of life, father.”
And so the Dalai Lama smiled and said, “Well my son, life is like a beanstalk, isn’t it?”

Held close by that which some despise
Which some call fate, and others lies
And somewhat small for one so tall
A doubting Thomas? Who would be?
It’s written plain for all to see
For one who I am with no more
It’s hard at times, it’s awful wrong

They say that Jesus healed the sick and helped the poor
And those unsure believed his eyes – a strange disguise
Still write it down, it might be read
Nothing’s better left unsaid
Only sometimes, still no doubt
It’s hard to say, it all works out

“‘Twas Tea-Time at the Circus”

‘Twas tea-time at the circus
King Jimmy, he was there
Through hoops he skipped, highwires he tripped
And all the while the glare
Of the aching, baking spotlight
Beat down upon his cloak
And though the crowd clapped furiously
They could not see the joke

‘Twas tea-time at the circus
Though some might not agree
As jugglers danced and horses pranced
And clowns clowned endlessly
From trunk to tail, the elephants
Quite silent, never spoke
And though the crowd clapped desperately
They could not see the joke

“The Autumn of My Madness”

In the autumn of my madness
When my hair is turning grey
For the milk has finally curdled
And I’ve nothing left to say
When all my thoughts are spoken
(Save my last departing verse)
Bring all my friends unto me
And I’ll strangle them with words

In the autumn of my madness
Which in coming won’t be long
For the nights are now much darker
And the daylight’s not so strong
And the things which I believed in
Are no longer quite enough
For the knowing is much harder
And the going’s getting rough

“Look to Your Soul”

I know if I’d been wiser
This would never have occurred
But I wallowed in my blindness
So it’s plain that I deserve
For the sin of self-indulgence
When the truth was read quite clear
I must spend my life amongst the dead
Who spend their lives in fear
Of a death that they’re not sure of
Of a life they can’t control
It’s all so simple really,
If you just look to your soul

Some say that I’m a wise man
Some think that I’m a fool
It doesn’t matter either way
I’ll be a wise man soon
For the lesson lies in learning
And by teaching, I’ll be taught
For there’s nothing hidden anywhere
It’s all there to be sought
And so if you know anything
Look closely at the time
For others who remain untrue
And won’t commit that crime, yeah…

It’s all so simple, really,
If you’ll just look to your soul

“Grande Finale”

THE END!

Procol Harum
Shine On Brightly, (1968)
In Held Twas In I
“Glimpses of Nirvana”

Annotationer

Hofstadters lov:
“Det tager altid længere end du tror,
også selv om du tager Hofstadters lov i betragtning.”

Lao Tze:
“At elske dybt og inderligt – giver stor styrke
At blive elsket – giver stor magt”

Albert Camus: “Ingen tænker på, at visse mennesker bruger enorm energi, bare på at være normale…..”

Lenin: “Etic is the aestetic of the future”

Lola Baidel: “Jeg KAN godt undvære dig; men jeg vil helst ikke.”

L. A.: “Their relationship were off again – on again always switching.”

L. Anderson: “They say that Heaven is like TV”

Burroughs: “Language is a Virus”

Arthur Rimbaud: “Je est un autre”

Ashleigh Brilliant: “Sålænge jeg har dig, kan jeg klare alle de problemer, som du uvægerligt giver.”

“Jeg er på grund af uforudsete omstændigheder herre over min skæbne.”

Antoine de Saint-Exupery: ” Kun med hjertet kan man se rigtigt; det væsentlige er usynligt for øjet.”

Schnatterly: “Hvis noget ikke kan gå galt, vil det gå galt.”

Woody Allen: “Sand Væren, ræsonnerede Needleman, kunne kun opnås i weekenden, og selv da var det nødvendigt at låne en bil.”

“Gud er tavs – hvis vi nu bare kunne få Mennesket til at holde kæft”

UK: ” En mere vidtrækkende konsekvens af den amputerede kommunikation – (og medieilluderende virkelighed) er, at kontaktetableringen i sig selv bliver manifesteringer af sociale net og at fællesskab og reel kommunikation bliver en illusion.”

Lyotard: ” Man skriver mod sproget, men nødvendigvis også med det.
At sige det, sproget allerede kan sige, er ikke at skrive. Man vil sige det, sproget ikke kan sige. Man voldtager det, man forfører det, man indfører et idiom, som det ikke har kendt. Når selve ønsket om, at sproget skal kunne sige andet end det, som det allerede kan sige, forsvinder, når sproget føles uigennemtrængeligt og dødt, og enhver skrift er forgæves, hedder det Nysprog.”