Blog Archive

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

[HD] Live! Neil Diamond & Barbra Streisand - "You Don't Bring Me Flowers...

Dolly Parton - I Will Always Love You (Live)

Linda Ronstadt - "Blue Bayou" (Official Music Video)

Man On Fire Final Scene Complete - I'm Goin' Home, Too, On The Blue Bijou

The Lost Glove Is Happy (A Portuguese to English Translation)

“o facto básico de a “realidade” não ser o tema nem o objecto da verdadeira arte, que cria a sua própria realidade específica sem nada ter a ver com a “realidade” mediana apercebida pelo olhar comum”
― Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire



"The basic fact that" reality "is neither the theme nor the object of true art, which creates its own specific reality, having nothing to do with the" reality "of the medium perceived by the common gaze"
- Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire


The Lost Sock Is Ubiquitous. 

“There is a very loud amusement park right in front of my present lodgings.”  

"Dear Jesus, Do something."

Defense Secretary Jim Mattis: T. R. Fehrenbach’s This Kind of War; "The problem is to understand the battlefield as well as the game of football. The problem is to see not what is desirable, or nice, or politically feasible, but what is necessary." TRF 07/04/1962 San Antonio, TX "...to understand the battlefield as well as the game of football..."

Defense Secretary Jim Mattis, a retired Marine Corps general with a legendary appetite for military history, ticked off a list of book recommendations to a crowd of U.S. Army leaders and supporters—titles that might help them understand command, strategy and the ways war is evolving. But he kept coming back to one book in particular: T. R. Fehrenbach’s This Kind of War, a 54-year-old history of the Korean War that’s much better known in military than civilian quarters.
Fehrenbach, Mattis explained during his address to the Association of the United States Army’s Exposition on Building Readiness, reminds us of two essential truths about war: its “primitive, atavistic, and unrelenting nature” and the “absolutely fundamental” importance of boots on the ground, even in an age of drone attacks and cyberwarfare. “You may fly over a nation forever, you may bomb it, atomize it, pulverize it and wipe it clean of life. But if you desire to defend it, if you desire to protect it, if you desire to keep it for civilization, you must do this on the ground the way the Roman legions did: by putting your young men in the mud,” Mattis said, quoting Fehrenbach. “I would only modify it today by saying, ‘by putting your young men and women in the mud.’”
These citations were preludes to Mattis’s final punch. The last question he took from the audience finally addressed the concern on everyone’s mind: As Trump and Kim Jong Un exchange dire nuclear threats, “what can the U.S. military do to lessen the likelihood of conflict on the Korean Peninsula?”


“There’s a reason I recommended T.R. Fehrenbach’s book,” Mattis replied, “that we all pull it out and read it one more time.”

Monday, October 16, 2017

Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov quoted in Blade Runner 2049

Cells interlinked within cells interlinked
Within one stem. And dreadfully distinct
Against the dark, a tall white fountain played

KRACK Attacks: Bypassing WPA2 against Android and Linux - KRACK is shorthand for key reinstallation attack. When you connect a new device to a Wi-Fi network, and type in the password, a 4-way handshake takes place that ensures the correct password is used. However, by manipulating part of this handshake, an attacker can see and decrypt much of what happens on a Wi-Fi network, even if its owner doesn’t know the password. (If you’re technically- and security-minded, you can read the full paper for more details.)

KRACK is shorthand for key reinstallation attack. When you connect a new device to a Wi-Fi network, and type in the password, a 4-way handshake takes place that ensures the correct password is used. However, by manipulating part of this handshake, an attacker can see and decrypt much of what happens on a Wi-Fi network, even if its owner doesn’t know the password. (If you’re technically- and security-minded, you can read the full paper for more details.)

Friday, October 13, 2017

The Fountain Music Video - Together We Will Live Forever

Sarah McLachlan and Josh Groban - In The Arms Of The Angel

I grieve - Peter Gabriel. Traducida al español

Evanescence - My Immortal

I Grieve- City of Angels by Peter Gabriel - I grieve for you.. You leave me...

I grieve for you.. You leave me...

Behind Blue Eyes - Limp Bizkit (HD) + Subtitles - No one knows what it's like To be the bad man To be the sad man Behind blue eyes And no one knows What it's like to be hated To be fated to telling only lies [Chorus:] But my dreams they aren't as empty As my conscience seems to be I have hours, only lonely My love is vengeance That's never free No one knows what its like To feel these feelings Like i do, and i blame you! No one bites back as hard On their anger None of my pain and woe Can show through [Chorus] Discover l.i.m.p. say it [x4] No one knows what its like To be mistreated, to be defeated Behind blue eyes No one knows how to say That they're sorry and don't worry I'm not telling lies [Chorus] No one knows what its like To be the bad man, to be the sad man Behind blue eyes.

Live - Lightning Crashes

Collective Soul - The World I Know (Video)

Wisconsin in the Movies: Part One

Thursday, October 12, 2017

Denise Levertov "The Presence"

Before I enter the rooms of your solitude
in my living form, trailing my shadow,

I shall have come unseen. Upstairs and down with you
and out across road and rocks to the river
to drink the cold spray. You will believe
a bird flew by the window, a wandering bee
buzzed in the hallway, a wind
rippled the bronze grasses. Or will you
know who it is?

Johnny Cash - Hurt (Official Video) HD

Nine Inch Nails - Hurt (VEVO Presents) - I hurt myself today To see if I still feel I focus on the pain The only thing that's real The needle tears a hole The old familiar sting Try to kill it all away But I remember everything What have I become? My sweetest friend Everyone I know Goes away in the end You could have it all My empire of dirt I will let you down I will make you hurt I wear this crown Upon my liar's chair Full of broken thoughts I cannot repair Beneath the stains of time The feeling disappears You are someone else I am still right here What have I become? My sweetest friend Everyone I know Goes away in the end You could have it all My empire of dirt I will let you down I will make you hurt If I could start again A million miles away I would keep myself I would find a way In the final recording, the line in the second verse is changed to: The feelings disappear

Badfinger - Baby Blue (1972) - Guess I got what I deserved Kept you waiting there too long, my love All that time without a word Didn't know you'd think that I'd forget or I'd regret The special love I had for you, my baby blue All the days became so long Did you really think, I'd do you wrong? Dixie, when I let you go Thought you'd realize that I would know I would show the special love I have for you, my baby blue What can I do, what can I say Except I want you by my side How can I show you, show me the way Don't you know the times I've tried? [guitar solo (Joey Molland)] Guess that's all I have to say Except the feeling just grows stronger every day Just one thing before I go Take good care, baby, let me know, let it grow The special love you have for me, my Dixie, dear.

DelanceyPlace.com - Badfinger "Without You" from Never a Dull Moment: 1971 The Year That Rock Exploded by David Hepworth.

Today's selection -- from Never a Dull Moment by David Hepworth. In 1971, the group Badfinger was being touted as "the next Beatles." The group was invited to perform as part of George Harrison's monumental Concert for Bangladesh, and one of its members had written Harry Nilsson's megahit "Without You":


"The week of the Bangladesh con­cert, Badfinger appeared to have it made, rubbing shoulders with superstars, going to the after party at Ungano's, and getting men­tioned in all the press coverage. The tragic thing was that none of this star power ever actually transformed their fortunes, and the comedown was cruel. Badfinger's first gig following Madison Square Garden was at Huddersfield Polytechnic. Their whole subsequent career was to be dogged by the worst kind of luck.

"They had been the first group signed to the Apple label and were widely regarded as having some of the DNA of the Beatles with two strong songwriters. Paul McCartney had written their first hit, 'Come and Get It,' but they really didn't require star patronage. Then Harrison had taken a particular interest in them. ...


"Badfinger's biggest score of 1971 came in Harry Nilsson's version of [Badfinger member] Pete Ham's 'Without You,' which was number one in the UK at the end of the year. The Concert for Bangladesh made them well known, but they never recovered their momentum, and what money they did make was salted away by their new manager Stan Polley. In 1975 their leading songwriter Pete Ham killed himself, accusing Polley in his suicide note of being a 'soulless bastard.'

"The shadow of 1971 didn't stop there. Eight years after Ham's death, Tom Evans also committed suicide following a bitter argu­ment with the other two members of the group about the money from 'Without You,' [which, in 1994 became] a huge hit all over again in a ver­sion by Mariah Carey. The legacy that was the cause of such pain and destruction continues to mount up remorselessly. 'Baby Blue,' which comes from their 1971 album Straight Up, was the final song on the final episode of the hit TV series Breaking Bad in 2014, and in this form will play forever on the Internet, far too late to benefit any of the people who wrote it."


To subscribe, please click here or text "nonfiction" to 22828.

Publisher: Henry Holt and Co.
Copyright 2016 by David Hepworth
Pages 263-264


If you wish to read further: Buy Now





All DelanceyPlace.com profits are donated to charity and support children's literacy projects

Is Anything Real? - Introduction To Solipsism/ Solipsism Explained

Lance's Dark Mood Party Mix Vol 83 (Trip Hop / Downtempo / Electronica /...

1. HU5TL3R - Solipsism 2. Bird Flies High - I Got You – 3:51 3. Ogi feel the Beat – Mental – 6:23 4. JIM – Bretodeau – 9:22 5. Mr. Moods - Floating On A Cloud – 12:30 6. deeB – Rooftops – 15:58 7. Chiveer – Waiting – 20:03 8. Enter42 – Apathy – 22:47 9. Mononome & Billa Qause – Brass – 28:10 10. G.BONSON - Whats Going On – 31:09 11. Hugo Kant - Secret Society – 34:39 12. Doctor Evazan – MoanFunk – 39:00 13. Seqstyle - Happiness By Giving – 42:53 14. Esbe – Serenade – 47:49 15. Alpha Centori - Elements of The Supreme (Wizardry) – 52:09 16. Mounika. - Marie Laforet I (Tu Fais Semblant) – 55:19 17. Roger Molls - Ghost Town – 58:00 18. Burial - Rival Dealer (Bucky Remix) – 1:01:18 19. Vinkate - Stormy Lady – 1:05:54

Awkward! The idea of "corporate personhood" relies on the same Amendment that gives birthright citizenship - Pando by Mark Ames





By Mark Ames , written on August 31, 2015

From The History Desk
“Neither the history nor the language of the Fourteenth Amendment justifies the belief that corporations are included within its protection.” —Supreme Court Justice Hugo Black
We’ve all heard about Donald Trump’s crazy immigration policy. But what most people don’t realise is that, compared to most other candidates, Trump is late to this “anchor baby”-bashing game. In fact, most of the GOP candidates want to change the 14th Amendment to deny birthright citizenship to children born here to foreign parents.
Rand Paul, Silicon Valley’s favorite boy-disrupter, launched his crusade against birthright citizenship literally his first week in the Senate, and he hasn’t stopped bashing “anchor babies” since, sponsoring bills and Constitutional amendments and yammering away in that squeaky voice of his about anchor babies.
But beyond the twisted racist dementia fueling this, there’s another problem for these GOP candidates: Section One of the 14th Amendment, granting birthright citizenship to anyone born in the US, is also the same section of the same amendment interpreted by our courts to grant corporations “personhood.”
And as we know, every GOP candidate supports corporate personhood. (There’s a question about where Trump stands on corporate personhood because of his public attacks on Citizens United—he criticizes SuperPACs and somewhat criticizes CU, although he’s obviously in favor of CU’s predecessor, Buckley v Valeo, which allows Trump to finance his own run for president.)
So to repeat: GOP candidates from Trump and Bush down the line to Silicon Valley’s boy-disrupter Rand Paul want to revoke citizenship to living humans born in the US to foreign parents; but they support granting citizenship rights and guarantees to artificial persons –corporations – which are really legal fictions granted by the states, allowing a pool of investors legal liability and tax advantages in order to profit more than they otherwise would as mere living humans.
How this country got saddled with this utterly counterintuitive, counter-democratic legal fiction known as corporate personhood—granting corporations rights and protections as US citizens, including First Amendment rights to spend as much money as the corporations want to influence elections and the “religious liberty” to discriminate against gays and lesbians; Fourth Amendment rights to “privacy” from prying government regulators, OSHA inspectors and environmental protection agency “jackboots”; fifth amendment protections from being forced to give self-incriminating testimony; and so on down the absurdum line—is worth a quick retelling, not least because of its connections to Silicon Valley and the founder of Stanford.
Yep, we have a 130-year-old Silicon Valley lawsuit to thank for America’s corporate personhood: Santa Clara County v Southern Pacific, the railroad that made a small-time grocer named Leland Stanford into a filthy rich robber baron, thanks to government handouts, government bribes, and asset stripping on a scale that would’ve made Boris Berezovsky stand up and clap.
Briefly, the massive spending and technological advances during the Civil War created a handful of super-wealthy and ambitious robber barons using corporate charters to amass unparalleled wealth and power. And no corporation was more powerful at this time than the railroads, which, somewhat like Internet commerce, reorganized space and time in a revolutionary way, massively shrinking spaces not just geographically, but shrinking spaces between resources and factories, between cattle ranchers and butchers, and between goods and markets.
The effect (like today) was a massive reorganization of America’s political economy, and powerful centralization under the new corporations and trusts, led first by the railroad companies. Just as the Internet and affiliated technologies were first developed by the government and privatized to individual businessmen, so the railroads were created by the federal government in the form of massive land grants, and government-backed mortgage bonds on the land granted by the government.  
Southern Pacific was the second major railroad line to the California coast that Stanford and his partners like Collis Huntington took control of (the first being the Central Pacific) essentially with zero money down. Leland Stanford was California’s governor and then Senator; it was said of Stanford that,
“[N]o she-lion defending her whelps or a bear her cubs will make a more savage fight than will Mr. Stanford in defense of his material interests.”
While Leland worked his contacts to get land grants, his grocer-partner from Sacramento, Collis Huntington, traveled to Washington DC with suitcases full of cash. From DC, Huntington sent letters to Stanford and his other partners, telling them, “It has cost money to fix things,” and “I believe with $200,000 we can pass our bill [to grant federal land for the Central Pacific Railroad].”
They got the grants; floated the bonds; used the money to start building the railroad lines; and then issued more stock and bonds based on the assets that they were building, all granted to them and backed by the federal government. While watering down the railroads’ stocks and bonds, Stanford, Huntington and partners, known as “The Associates,” set up a separate construction company, “Credit & Finance Corporation” which won all the exclusive contracts to construct the railroads, charging exorbitant prices and thus draining value from the railroad companies, which, when bankrupted, were eventually dumped on the public. As an old book I’ve been reading on the robber barons described the Associates’ business model:
“The Federal government seems . . . to have assumed the major portion of the risk and the Associates seem to have derived the profits.”
Plus ca change...
Through such means, a handful of corporations and figures amassed unparalleled wealth and power, and deployed the corporate structure in new and innovative ways to amass that power and protect their wealth and properties. One of the “problems” that railroads found themselves running into in the 1870s and 1880s was unpredictable taxation, from county to county, locale to locale. Never mind that the railroads, by their sheer power, had already essentially blackmailed and bullied locales during the building of the lines—cities and commercial hubs were literally created, or strangled out of existence, based on whether or not they bent to the railroad companies’ demands for land rights, payoffs, and infrastructure.
According to journalist Matthew Josephson, for example, the Southern Pacific Railroad bosses demanded that Los Angeles County essentially pay the railroad owners five percent of the assessed valuation of all the county land and assets to get the Southern Pacific line to run through that county rather than through somewhere else, thereby strangling LA. The county agreed, paying up the equivalent to $100 (in mid-19th century dollars) from every man, woman, child and Native American in the county, straight into the pockets of the four Associates—Stanford, Huntington, Charles Crocker and Mark Hopkins.
However, when the counties started to assess each their own separate property taxes and toll taxes on the railroads a few years after they were built, the railroad companies cried foul and claimed they were were suffering from discrimination and “unequal protection” before the law.
It was over this—variable taxation rates in different counties—that corporate personhood was originally pressed into being. Not to protect the “free speech rights” of all “persons” and “entities” from an alleged slippery slope towards totalitarianism, as billionaire tycoon Pierre Omidyar’s in-house defender of Citizen United repeatedly argues.
To get a sense of the sudden power of corporations—according to Thom Hartmann’s excellent history “Unequal Protection,” of the 307 Fourteenth Amendment cases brought to the Supreme Court between the mid-1880s and 1910, 288 were suits brought by corporations seeking personhood rights, while only 19 were brought on behalf of African-Americans.
Let’s go back and remind ourselves again why the Fourteenth Amendment was passed in 1868: It was one of three new amendments to the Constitution passed after the deadliest war in US history had just ended, in which hundreds of thousands of Americans (and a president) died to end slavery—the Thirteenth Amendment, outlawing slavery; the Fourteenth Amendment, granting full US citizenship rights to all former slaves; and the Fifteenth Amendment, prohibiting governments from denying the right to vote to citizens based on their race, color, or “previous condition of servitude.”
In the 1882 case San Mateo County v. Southern Pacific, Leland Stanford’s lawyers argued that the Fourteenth Amendment, Section One, was meant to protect all persons, including artificial persons like corporations, and grant these various “persons” artificial or natural “equal protection under the law.” In practice this would mean that San Mateo County would not have the right to assess a different tax on Southern Pacific than other counties. Southern Pacific withheld its tax payment for years while the case worked its way through the courts. The 9th Circuit Court in San Francisco, led by Stephen Field—who also happened to be simultaneously a Supreme Court Judge, and was called one of the most corrupt men in all of California in his time—ruled in favor of the railroads, granting them Fourteenth Amendment personhood.  But when the case went up from the 9th Circuit to the Supreme Court, Field’s ruling was struck down by the full court, and corporate personhood didn’t make it.
In Santa Clara County v Southern Pacific, brought before the Supreme Court in 1885, the railroad company protested against having to pay a tax of about $30,000 on properties with $30 million in mortgages — or something like .001% tax. Way too much for Leland’s pals. Communism! Totalitarianism! (Or in e-commerce-speak, “Why should we pay the same sales tax everyone else pays? Can’t you see you’re stifling innovation!”) Santa Clara County took Southern Pacific to court to get them to pay their taxes, which the railroad refused to do for several years, citing six key defenses, including the argument that the railroad was a person granted rights and protections by the Fourteenth Amendment.
And here’s where it gets weird: Because in the decision Santa Clara County v Southern Pacific, you won’t find an actual ruling by the justices declaring that corporations are people protected by the Fourteenth Amendment. Instead, what you have is a line in the headnote to the ruling—a headnote written by the court reporter, not by the justices themselves, and stuck in there with or without the consent of some of the justices. The court reporter at the time, J. C. Bancroft Davis, was a heavyweight in his own right—both a deputy and interim Secretary of State, as well as a director of a railroad line in the east coast.
Headnotes by court reporters are not law; but the headnote, alleging to quote the Chief Justice stating, “The defendant Corporations are persons within the intent of the clause in section 1 of the Fourteenth Amendment to the Constitution of the United States, which forbids a State to deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.”
That’s from Davis’ court reporter headnote to the decision—but the decision itself explicitly avoids ruling on the case on any but technical grounds, that Santa Clara County assessed the railroads fences as property to be taxed, which the court ruled was not fair. The actual SCOTUS decision rests solely on that point, and makes zero mention of corporate personhood or the Fourteenth Amendment.
But American law, like British law, follows common law precedent, and once it became possible for other courts to cite the court reporter’s headnote to the Santa Clara County decision, corporations attained personhood by precedence, rather than by ruling.
And here we are today—where we have an Amendment meant to protect vulnerable and abused minorities now under attack from Lincoln’s party, who at the same time want to use the same section in the same amendment to protect fictitious artificial persons and allow them greater rights and powers than even those of us born here to American parents.
[Note: Read Thom Hartmann’s excellent history on corporate personhood, “Unequal Protection” to get a better sense of how crazy this is.]

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

The Fray - How to Save a Life- Step one you say we need to talk He walks you say sit down it's just a talk He smiles politely back at you You stare politely right on through Some sort of window to your right As he goes left and you stay right Between the lines of fear and blame You begin to wonder why you came CHORUS: Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend Somewhere along in the bitterness And I would have stayed up with you all night Had I known how to save a life Let him know that you know best Cause after all you do know best Try to slip past his defense Without granting innocence Lay down a list of what is wrong The things you've told him all along And pray to God he hears you And pray to God he hears you CHORUS: Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend Somewhere along in the bitterness And I would have stayed up with you all night Had I known how to save a life As he begins to raise his voice You lower yours and grant him one last choice Drive until you lose the road Or break with the ones you've followed He will do one of two things He will admit to everything Or he'll say he's just not the same And you'll begin to wonder why you came CHORUS: Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend Somewhere along in the bitterness And I would have stayed up with you all night Had I known how to save a life CHORUS: Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend Somewhere along in the bitterness And I would have stayed up with you all night Had I known how to save a life How to save a life How to save a life CHORUS: Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend Somewhere along in the bitterness And I would have stayed up with you all night Had I known how to save a life CHORUS: Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend Somewhere along in the bitterness And I would have stayed up with you all night Had I known how to save a life How to save a life How to save a life

Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Roger Waters - In the Flesh? (Live) [From Roger Waters The Wall]

Pink Floyd - The Great Gig in the Sky (live)

Leave but don't leave me

Pink Floyd - " Us and Them " - Us and Them And after all we're only ordinary men Me, and you God only knows it's not what we would choose to do Forward he cried from the rear and the front rank died And the General sat, as the lines on the map moved from side to side Black and Blue And who knows which is which and who is who Up and Down And in the end it's only round and round and round Haven't you heard it's a battle of words the poster bearer cried Listen son, said the man with the gun There's room for you inside "Well I mean, they're gonna kill ya, so like, if you give 'em a quick sh...short, sharp shock, they don't do it again. Dig it? I mean he got off light, 'cause I coulda given 'I'm a thrashin' but I only hit him once. It's only the difference between right and wrong innit? I mean good manners don't cost nothing do they, eh?" Down and Out It can't be helped but there's a lot of it about With, without And who'll deny that's what the fightings all about Get out of the way, it's a busy day And I've got things on my mind For want of the price of tea and a slice The old man died

Monday, October 9, 2017

Blade Runner 2049 IMAX and Pingala's cryptic formula misrau cha ("the two are mixed")

Misrau Cha is connected to the progression of Sanskrit Prosody, Lucas Numbers, the Fibonacci Sequence and the Golden Ratio through History using math to explain complex natural patterns. Since the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, the only way to present the Arc to avoid the infinite Fractal, or series of straight lines end to end to represent a circle, is the Golden Ratio which itself is merely the joining of opposite corners of a mathematical series of squares and rectangles into an infinite spiral or arc. Fibonacci progression is 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21 and so on.

Can misrau cha, "the two are mixed," predict the trajectory of a marriage relationship where two infinite variables ideally "become one flesh?" The "seven year itch" and 50 years together as the Golden Anniversary only vaguely fit into a mathematical pattern where 7 x 7 = 49 where 50 is a "Jubilee Year" when all things return to their original owners. Seven is NOT a Fibonacci Number. They say 'half of all marriages end in divorce' is not strictly true because the marriages of 1990 may end within months, years or decades in the future or never at all. Interestingly, when No Fault Divorce was implemented in California it was predicted men would abandon women and children in droves when the facts show that since 1980 80% of Divorces were, and are, initiated by women.

Avoiding a rant and rave coming on I change the subject to Reviewing the opening of the recent "Blade Runner 2049" IMAX movie on Friday, October 06 2017. The premise of the Blade Runner universe are the existence of Replicants, apparently singular minded genetically engineered humans kept and used as slaves, and the Blade Runner Paramilitary Police Units specifically assigned to "retire" them by blowing them away with blasters loaded with special incendiary explosive ammo. The Premise is that "a Wall" of separation must be maintained between Humans and Replicants to avoid "the War." Largely an ideological wall like Apartheid where minor differences are conflated as major Class or Genetic Distinctions proving Replicants are inferior. Management includes shortened lifespans and the presumed hybrid characteristic of being infertile; completely incapable of sexual reproduction. Yet, the deal breaker is a suspected natural gestation of children by at least one, if not two, rogue Replicants Rachael and Rick Deckard. The Premise of the film is "the two are mixed." Like Miscegenation, there are players visciously opposed to crossing the Wall of separation and mix.

Cinematography was astounding and the use of real Sets more than Computer Graphics contributed to the original "Blade Runner" feel from 35 years prior in 1982. Set 30 years after the November 2019 timeline after The Blackout, a massive Electro-Magnetic Pulse event that erases electronic records in the 2020's, when Climate Change has caused widespread changes making Off World Colonies built and serviced by Replicant slaves an attractive option if one is genetically sound. If not, too bad. The ultra rich live exclusively above the 80th floor and the common street people below with a thin blue line of elite Blade Runner Units in between. Beyond the Trailers it's a Spoiler Alert to continue on.

It ALL comes back to Misrau Cha, "the two are mixed," or "the two become one flesh." Political Ideology, Class, Race, Ethnicity, Immigration Status, Nationality, Religion, Sexual Orientation, Gender...YOU decide how the gerrymandering of walls of separation should be built, maintained. 

Saturday, October 7, 2017

Funny Animals screaming and making funny noises ✔


I wasn't aware frogs sounded like a mix between the spawn of Satan and a deflating balloon...

Thursday, October 5, 2017

ChasBeats- Life In 8mm...

Lance's Dark Mood Party Mix Vol 82 (Trip Hop / Downtempo / Electronica /...

1. Sickmind193 - Blood On The Lips 2. Chiveer – Wave – 3:36 3. ChasBeats - Το Ρέκβιεμ Του Αυγούστου(An August Requiem) – 6:24 4. Ben Stazic - Terre Brulée – 8:34 5. Ogi feel the Beat - Sky Arcade – 13:08 6. Maverick - The Interference(ft. Bin Idris) – 16:14 7. L’Orange & Jeremiah Jae - Taken By The Night – 20:30 8. Biwo - Statement From Street – 23:36 9. Auditive Escape – Glider – 27:32 10. Boora - From The Depths Of Time – 31:42 11. Morti Viventear - Sunken Drunken – 34:28 12. Widowmaker – Numbers – 38:39 13. The Cancel - Rush(ft. Moth Equals) – 40:54 14. DJ Vitamin D - Theme From 1971 – 44:42 15. EclipticSelftet – Librarian – 54:30 16. Esbe – Otousan – 58:22 17. Fat Kneel - Rite Brovaz – 1:01:44 18. Mr.Looper - Mood Swings – 1:04:26 19. Dextah - Quite A Revelation – 1:08:13

Tuesday, October 3, 2017

Nirvana's Kurt Cobain Did Not Have To Die in April 1994

A friend of mine was taking a popular sleep aid and as a result did some bizarre things under the influence. One night he drove his truck to the grocery store, bought a Birthday Cake and consumed it at home. Some time later he wandered into his father's garage and found a loaded shotgun, pointed it to his head and pulled the trigger. Fortunately, he survived losing an eye and had superficial scarring. 

Kurt Cobain was under the influence of three times the lethal dose of black tar heroin injected into his veins. He would have been dead or completely comatose. He would NOT have been motivated or even able to shoot himself with a shotgun nor would he have replaced the syringe and things into the box. It was clearly a STAGED "suicide" which was really a murder. Alan Wrench had something to do with it and certainly Courtney Love was willing to pay for the job and set up the evidence and media for it to appear to be a suicide? Courtney was being Divorced AND written out of Cobain's Will, depriving her of the potentially billion dollar industry of Nirvana's music. Was it a motive? With Kurt dead and by Marriage of a couple years she inherited it ALL. A conspiracy to commit murder? Charlie Manson was never caught actually killing anyone personally either.

Brother of Stephen Paddock, Las Vegas shooter gives interview

Alan Walker - Alone

Sunday, October 1, 2017

Driving Scenic I-80 from Cheyenne to Laramie Wyoming - Whole family almost perished right here NOV 23 1993 Westbound at night on I 80 in below zero blizzard.

Road Tour driving scenic Interstate 80 from Cheyenne to Laramie WY. This is a very pleasant and peaceful route. Laramie was named for Jacques LaRamie, a French or French-Canadian trapper who disappeared in the Laramie Mountains in the late 1810s and was never heard from again. He was one of the first Europeans to visit the area. European-American settlers named a river, mountain range, peak, US Army fort, county, and city for him.

Cheyenne - Sherman Pass at Laramie, Wyoming - Driving down out of the Sherman mountain pass into Laramie, Wyoming on I-80 West bound while listening to a little CB chatter from the "chattering class"

Cheyenne - Sherman Pass at Laramie, Wyoming where we almost perished NOV 23 1993 in cold.

Saturday, September 30, 2017

Forbes - Thunderstrike 2: Remote Attacks Can Now Install Super Stealth 'Firmworm' Backdoors On Apple Macs












Thomas Fox-Brewster , Forbes Staff

I cover crime, privacy and security in digital and physical forms.


Trammell Hudson, an employee of high-tech hedge fund Two Sigma Investments, created something of a storm late last year with his Thunderstrike exploit on Apple Macs. It was the first time anyone had demonstrated a Mac bootkit - malware that launches ahead of the operating system, from the moment the PC starts, and is hidden from security tools, most of which don’t delve so deep inside Macs' innards. It’s probably the most surreptitious, devilish kind of malware one can get onto a PC, effectively granting an attacker total control over the computer.

There was one major barrier to exploitation outside of labs, however: it required physical access to the target PC. But now Hudson has collaborated with self-proclaimed “voodoo” researchers Xeno Kovah and Corey Kallenberg, Mac bootkits can now be delivered from anywhere on the planet. They could also jump between machines over infected Thunderbolt devices, creating a “firmworm” (which sounds like some ribald innuendo and is just about as awful to contemplate). And Apple AAPL +0.49%, due to its own policy decisions, is partly to blame.





A new Macbook Pro is seen on display at an Apple media event in San Francisco, California on March 9, 2015. AFP PHOTO / JOSH EDELSON (Photo credit should read Josh Edelson/AFP/Getty Images)

To get that bootkit up and running, there are numerous paths a malicious hacker could take. The one the trio will show off at the Black Hat security conference in Las Vegas this week will assume the attacker already has root control over the machine. Getting to that point is not the simplest of tasks on Apple Macs, but an Oracle ORCL +0.56% Java or Adobe Flash exploit would do the trick.




From there, a vulnerability named Darth Venamis, named after a Sith lord from the Star Wars saga, can be used to unlock the BIOS. That’s the part of the firmware that runs just after the PC is turned on, checking hardware and launching the load process for the operating system.

The Venamis flaw, only partly patched on Apple Macs despite being known since September 2014, gives attackers a hook inside the firmware. The exploit, first shown off by Kallenberg and researcher Rafal Wojtczuk in December, allows an attacker to put the Mac to sleep, wake it up, and if the attacker understands how the system wakes, they can target the “resume script”. These scripts reconfigure pieces of the hardware that may have changed when put into a low-power state. By modifying the scripts, it’s possible to ensure the BIOS is left unlocked when the computer restarts.

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Enter Thunderstrike

By adding the Thunderstrike attack developed by Hudson, a "firmworm" can be spawned. Any infected machine can transfer the exploits to a Thunderbolt device, which, when plugged into another Apple PC, will run the malicious code. This will help attackers jump over hurdles like air gaps, where target machines aren’t connected over any network.

Thunderstrike targets the Boot flash firmware, the first process to run when the computer is switched on. Everything that launches after the Boot flash is dependent on its security. It’s the deepest layer anyone can reach, making it the best place to hide whilst taking control of someone else’s Mac.

To get infection at that level, Hudson used what are known as Option ROMs (OROMs), similar to Boot flash but for connected devices, such as those inserted into Thunderbolt ports. OROMs can modify the contents of a firmware update on Apple Macs, though they don’t have enough capacity to store and replace PC firmware. But Hudson found he could abuse that power to switch out the public key Apple used to validate updates. That meant an attacker could install their own key in the firmware and ensure only updates signed by them, not Apple, would run.

In the video below, Hudson shows how an attack can jump from OROMs, to the BIOS, and back to the OROMs, primed to infect another Mac.




“The attacker can just infect the flash chip to start with. The machine will then infect any Thunderbolt OROMs that it comes in contact with for the rest of its life,” Kovah said.

Apple produced a patch for the Darth Venamis vulnerability in June, but according to Kovah, it isn’t fully effective. He said the fix won't stop attackers breaking into System Management Mode (SMM), a portion of a system used by the firmware that can read everything going through memory.

Apple had not responded to a request for comment at the time of publication.

Apple and Microsoft MSFT +0.79% share at least one thing: vulnerabilities

As they expand their start-up LegbaCore, Kovah and Kallenberg have uncovered a number of firmware-level vulnerabilities in recent months, ones that affect not just Macs, but various computers using the Unified Extensible Firmware Interface (UEFI) framework, or its predecessor the Extensible Firmware Interface (EFI). EFI and UEFI firmware are often derived from same reference implementation and share the same vulnerabilities, Kovah noted. Indeed, all of the components that make up Thunderstrike 2 are built on previously-disclosed vulnerabilities.

Intel INTC +0.63% encourages partners to employ its own mitigating technologies, such as cryptographic signatures on the OROMs, so that no arbitrary code can be executed from that ROM unless it has a valid signature. There’s also SMM lock box, which locks the most critical resume scripts away from the firmware. Both would have helped prevent Thunderstrike 2 attacks. Microsoft Windows PC manufacturers, like Dell and HP, have enabled them. But Apple, for unknown reasons, has decided to ignore best practice from Intel.

But even if Apple had implemented all those controls, Kovah claimed it would still be possible, using another unpatched bug called SpeedRacer, to either bypass protections or just brick the Mac by corrupting data.

No detection

For now, the only way for users to detect Thunderstrike 2 attacks, or equivalents, is to do firmware forensics, a service that isn’t on offer to the average user. The researchers have made some OROM checkers available for free, but users will have to learn the basics of chip-level security to secure themselvse.

The ultimate message here? Kovah sums it up, saying: “Apple isn’t using some protections they really should be.”

Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?

An artist’s re-record of her hit song and a celebration of twenty years of her multi-platinum album “This Fire”, Melora Hardin directs this charming love story (2017). http://paulacole.com/video

Thursday, September 28, 2017

Pink Floyd - Comfortably Numb [Extended Studio Version]

0:00 The Doctor - Band Demo Version 1 (Sung by Roger Waters) 3:11 The Doctor - Band Demo Version 2 (Sung by David Gilmour) 6:14 Comfortably Numb (David Gilmour Original Demo) 9:23 Original Song (from ''The Wall'', 1979)

Lance's Dark Mood Party Mix Vol 81 (Trip Hop / Downtempo / Electronica /...

1. Dr. Quandary - Pioneers 2. Mounika. - Smoking Dreams – 3:18 3. SHED – Dreamer – 5:29 4. Run The Jewels - Thursday in the Danger Room(instrumental version) – 10:05 5. Mobster – Earthbreaker – 14:22 6. Ogi Feel The Beat - Sings And Wonders – 17:41 7. Mononome - Glad To See You – 20:34 8. C Milli - The Good Die Young – 23:43 9. Acclimated Assassin - Knock Knock – 26:12 10. Sixfingerz - Fata Morgana – 29:35 11. Fort Knox Five - Kool It Man – 33:16 12. Morti Viventear - Great Old Ones – 37:13 13. Guts - You're Living Like Pigs(Molecule remix) – 40:48 14. Nickodemus(ft. Carol C) - Cleopatra In New York(Zim Zam Mix) – 45:31 15. Miss Kittin - Silver Lake – 50:02 16. Mathbonus – Wasteland – 55:21 17. Jeepz – Fade – 1:00:33 18. Manu Shrine – Faith – 1:03:06 19. Francky Machines – ShkDrm – 1:06:28

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

Abusive Relationships: All in all you're just another brick in the wall. All in all you're just another brick in the wall...

  1. Humiliating or embarrassing you.
  2. Constant put-downs.
  3. Hypercriticism.
  4. Refusing to communicate.
  5. Ignoring or excluding you.
  6. Extramarital affairs.
  7. Provocative behavior with opposite sex.
  8. Use of sarcasm and unpleasant tone of voice.
  9. Unreasonable jealousy.
  10. Extreme moodiness.
  11. Mean jokes or constantly making fun of you.
  12. Saying “I love you but…”
  13. Saying things like “If you don’t _____, I will_____.”
  14. Domination and control.
  15. Withdrawal of affection.
  16. Guilt trips.
  17. Making everything your fault.
  18. Isolating you from friends and family.
  19. Using money to control.
  20. Constant calling or texting when you are not with him/her.
  21. Threatening to commit suicide if you leave.
  22.  And so on...

The Straight Story - Foreign Language (I Think It's Polish) Version HD

The Straight Story Movie - Macular Degeneration/Cataract/Glaucoma Version

Honey Bee Reproduction Mid Flight


Friday, September 22, 2017

The Day I Met Elvis

Old family home movies - visitors and fun at the McMillan house on Westm...

Old family home movies - Harmses in central Nebraska

8mm film footage of Badlands of South Dakota

Vimeo - Leaving the Solar System at the Speed of Light in Real Time

Bonnie Raitt - I Can't Make You Love Me

The idea for the song came to Mike Reid while reading an article about a man arrested for getting drunk and shooting at his girlfriend's car. The judge asked him if he had learned anything, to which he replied, "I learned, Your Honor, that you can't make a woman love you if she don't."[7]

Prince cant make you love me - Turn down the lights; Turn down the bed. Turn down these voices Inside my head. Lay down with me; Tell me no lies. Just hold me close; Don't patronize. Don't patronize me. [Chorus:] 'Cuz I can't make you love me If you don't. You can't make your heart feel Something it won't. Here in the dark In these final hours, I will lay down my heart And I'll feel the power; But you won't. No, you won't. 'Cuz I can't make you love me If you don't. I'll close my eyes, Then I won't see The love you don't feel When you're holding me. Morning will come, And I'll do what's right; Just give me till then To give up this fight. And I will give up this fight. [Chorus]

Thursday, September 21, 2017

Lance's Dark Mood Party Mix Vol 80 (Trip Hop / Downtempo / Electronica /...

1. JIM - Music Ride The Time 2. Innereyefull - Free Ya Mind – 2:51 3. Miss Kittin - Dub About Me – 7:46 4. Terranova – Never – 14:39 5. Printempo - 40000 Words – 18:56 6. Mr. Moods – Stark – 22:34 7. Sick Rat - Antico(Mr. Moods Antique Remix) – 26:58 8. Morti Viventear – Gelatinous – 31:28 9. Ogi feel the Beat - Chillhop Clocks – 34:32 10. Brock Berrigan - Rainbow Road – 38:56 11. L'Orange - The Epilogue – 41:20 12. SomehowArt – Drifterman – 44:48 13. Q Funktion - One Day – 47:39 14. Goomar - What Love Is – 51:04 15. Auditive Escape - En Marchant – 53:14 16. Mr Echo & Mononome - Nothing Gonna Change – 57:23 17. Shanghai - Looking For Love(Lulu Rouge Remix) – 1:01:04 18. Goloka – Afterglow – 1:06:04

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Pink Floyd Live The Reunion Full Concert (Enhanced Video)

PBS - "Knocking" Documentary

Order DVD at http://www.knocking.org PBS documentary KNOCKING on Jehovah's Witnesses. Jehovah's Witnesses go knocking where there are no doors. "Street witnessing" in New York City. One of many DVD extras from PBS documentary KNOCKING. DVD contains 4 hours of video material and 48-page study/discussion guide. By Joel P. Engardio and Tom Shepard.

Leonard COHEN - Tower of Song (with lyrics)

Well my friends are gone and my hair is grey I ache in the places where I used to play And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on I'm just paying my rent every day Oh in the Tower of Song I said to Hank Williams: how lonely does it get? Hank Williams hasn't answered yet But I hear him coughing all night long A hundred floors above me In the Tower of Song I was born like this, I had no choice I was born with the gift of a golden voice And twenty-seven angels from the Great Beyond They tied me to this table right here In the Tower of Song So you can stick your little pins in that voodoo doll I'm very sorry, baby, doesn't look like me at all I'm standing by the window where the light is strong Ah they don't let a woman kill you Not in the Tower of Song Now you can say that I've grown bitter but of this you may be sure The rich have got their channels in the bedrooms of the poor And there's a mighty judgement coming, but I may be wrong You see, you hear these funny voices In the Tower of Song I see you standing on the other side I don't know how the river got so wide I loved you baby, way back when And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed But I feel so close to everything that we lost We'll never have to lose it again Now I bid you farewell, I don't know when I'll be back They're moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track But you'll be hearing from me baby, long after I'm gone I'll be speaking to you sweetly From a window in the Tower of Song Yeah my friends are gone and my hair is grey I ache in the places where I used to play And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on I'm just paying my rent every day Oh in the Tower of Song I loved you baby, way back when And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed But I feel so close to everything that we lost We'll never have to lose it again Now I bid you farewell, I don't know when I'll be back They're moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track But you'll be hearing from me baby, long after I'm gone I'll be speaking to you sweetly From a window in the Tower of Song Yeah my friends are gone and my hair is grey I ache in the places where I used to play And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on I'm just paying my rent every day Oh in the Tower of Song

Leonard Cohen - Leaving the Table

Monday, September 18, 2017

Lance's Dark Mood Party Mix Vol 79 (Trip Hop / Downtempo / Electronica /...

1. Kazukii - Lost In Time(ft. Dianna) 2. Pool Cosby - Thrive(Koa Remix) – 3:23 3. Nyctophiliac – Eclipse – 9:46 4. Quantic – Meaning – 12:41 5. Fr.om – Conversely – 15:25 6. Lulu Rouge - End Of The Century(ft. Mc Jabber) – 19:10 7. Quabb - Summertime(with Brassy.) – 22:43 8. Mr. Moods – Ultraviolence – 26:03 9. Dubsalon – Binaural – 31:00 10. Eddie - 10pm – 35:30 11. Ogi feel the Beat - Old School Circle 18 – 38:37 12. Chinsaku – Ronin – 42:36 13. Groove Cereal & Esbe - Space In Stereo – 44:27 14. AyyJay - Killing Your ills – 47:59 15. Laura Brehm - Awake & Dreaming(Elliot Berger Remix) – 51:51 16. MEDL4 - Run Forest(ft. Rose Eide) – 55:38 17. Mononome - All For Nothing – 58:40 18. Goloka - Floating(In Your Mind) – 1:02:45 19. Nero – Satisfy – 1:06:56

Sunday, September 17, 2017

NIN - Hurt

    I hurt myself today
    To see if I still feel
    I focus on the pain
    The only thing that's real
    The needle tears a hole
    The old familiar sting
    Try to kill it all away
    But I remember everything
    
    What have I become?
    My sweetest friend
    Everyone I know
    Goes away in the end
    You could have it all
    My empire of dirt
    I will let you down
    I will make you hurt
    
    I wear this crown
    Upon my liar's chair
    Full of broken thoughts
    I cannot repair
    Beneath the stains of time
    The feeling disappears
    You are someone else
    I am still right here
    
    What have I become?
    My sweetest friend
    Everyone I know
    Goes away in the end
    You could have it all
    My empire of dirt
    I will let you down
    I will make you hurt
    If I could start again
    A million miles away
    I would keep myself
    I would find a way
In the final recording, the line in the second verse is changed to:

    The feelings disappear




Saturday, September 16, 2017

Southern Cross (Crosby Stills Nash and Young) Lyric Chord Guitar Lesson ...

The Eagles - Already Gone - Well, I heard some people talkin' just the other day And they said you were gonna put me on a shelf But let me tell you I got some news for you And you'll soon find out it's true And then you'll have to eat your lunch all by yourself 'Cause I'm already gone And I'm feelin' strong I will sing this vict'ry song, woo, hoo,hoo,woo,hoo,hoo The letter that you wrote me made me stop and wonder why But I guess you felt like you had to set things right Just remember this, my girl, when you look up in the sky You can see the stars and still not see the light (that's right) And I'm already gone And I'm feelin' strong I will sing this vict'ry song, woo, hoo,hoo,woo, hoo,hoo Well I know it wasn't you who held me down Heaven knows it wasn't you who set me free So often times it happens that we live our lives in chains And we never even know we have the key But me, I'm already gone And I'm feelin' strong I will sing this vict'ry song 'Cause I'm already gone Yes, I'm already gone And I'm feelin' strong I will sing this vict'ry song 'Cause I'm already gone Yes, I'm already gone Already gone All right, nighty-night live NY 1994 - HQ full export

The Eagles - Already Gone - live NY 1994 - HQ full export

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

The Ballad of Reading Gaol by Oscar Wilde




I.

He did not wear his scarlet coat,
For blood and wine are red,
And blood and wine were on his hands
When they found him with the dead,
The poor dead woman whom he loved,
And murdered in her bed.
He walked amongst the Trial Men
In a suit of shabby grey;
A cricket cap was on his head,
And his step seemed light and gay;
But I never saw a man who looked
So wistfully at the day.
I never saw a man who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
Which prisoners call the sky,
And at every drifting cloud that went
With sails of silver by.
I walked, with other souls in pain,
Within another ring,
And was wondering if the man had done
A great or little thing,
When a voice behind me whispered low,
"That fellows got to swing."
Dear Christ! the very prison walls
Suddenly seemed to reel,
And the sky above my head became
Like a casque of scorching steel;
And, though I was a soul in pain,
My pain I could not feel.
I only knew what hunted thought
Quickened his step, and why
He looked upon the garish day
With such a wistful eye;
The man had killed the thing he loved
And so he had to die.
___
Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.
Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.
___
He does not die a death of shame
On a day of dark disgrace,
Nor have a noose about his neck,
Nor a cloth upon his face,
Nor drop feet foremost through the floor
Into an empty place
He does not sit with silent men
Who watch him night and day;
Who watch him when he tries to weep,
And when he tries to pray;
Who watch him lest himself should rob
The prison of its prey.
He does not wake at dawn to see
Dread figures throng his room,
The shivering Chaplain robed in white,
The Sheriff stern with gloom,
And the Governor all in shiny black,
With the yellow face of Doom.
He does not rise in piteous haste
To put on convict-clothes,
While some coarse-mouthed Doctor gloats, and notes
Each new and nerve-twitched pose,
Fingering a watch whose little ticks
Are like horrible hammer-blows.
He does not know that sickening thirst
That sands one's throat, before
The hangman with his gardener's gloves
Slips through the padded door,
And binds one with three leathern thongs,
That the throat may thirst no more.
He does not bend his head to hear
The Burial Office read,
Nor, while the terror of his soul
Tells him he is not dead,
Cross his own coffin, as he moves
Into the hideous shed.
He does not stare upon the air
Through a little roof of glass;
He does not pray with lips of clay
For his agony to pass;
Nor feel upon his shuddering cheek
The kiss of Caiaphas.
II.
Six weeks our guardsman walked the yard,
In a suit of shabby grey:
His cricket cap was on his head,
And his step seemed light and gay,
But I never saw a man who looked
So wistfully at the day.
I never saw a man who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
Which prisoners call the sky,
And at every wandering cloud that trailed
Its raveled fleeces by.
He did not wring his hands, as do
Those witless men who dare
To try to rear the changeling Hope
In the cave of black Despair:
He only looked upon the sun,
And drank the morning air.
He did not wring his hands nor weep,
Nor did he peek or pine,
But he drank the air as though it held
Some healthful anodyne (painkiller);
With open mouth he drank the sun
As though it had been wine!
And I and all the souls in pain,
Who tramped the other ring,
Forgot if we ourselves had done
A great or little thing,
And watched with gaze of dull amaze
The man who had to swing.
And strange it was to see him pass
With a step so light and gay,
And strange it was to see him look
So wistfully at the day,
And strange it was to think that he
Had such a debt to pay.
___
For oak and elm have pleasant leaves
That in the spring-time shoot:
But grim to see is the gallows-tree,
With its adder-bitten root,
And, green or dry, a man must die
Before it bears its fruit!
The loftiest place is that seat of grace
For which all worldlings try:
But who would stand in hempen band
Upon a scaffold high,
And through a murderer's collar take
His last look at the sky?
It is sweet to dance to violins
When Love and Life are fair:
To dance to flutes, to dance to lutes
Is delicate and rare:
But it is not sweet with nimble feet
To dance upon the air!
So with curious eyes and sick surmise
We watched him day by day,
And wondered if each one of us
Would end the self-same way,
For none can tell to what red Hell
His sightless soul may stray.
At last the dead man walked no more
Amongst the Trial Men,
And I knew that he was standing up
In the black dock's dreadful pen,
And that never would I see his face
In God's sweet world again.
Like two doomed ships that pass in storm
We had crossed each other's way:
But we made no sign, we said no word,
We had no word to say;
For we did not meet in the holy night,
But in the shameful day.
A prison wall was round us both,
Two outcast men were we:
The world had thrust us from its heart,
And God from out His care:
And the iron gin that waits for Sin
Had caught us in its snare.
In Debtors' Yard the stones are hard,
And the dripping wall is high,
So it was there he took the air
Beneath the leaden sky,
And by each side a Warder walked,
For fear the man might die.
Or else he sat with those who watched
His anguish night and day;
Who watched him when he rose to weep,
And when he crouched to pray;
Who watched him lest himself should rob
Their scaffold of its prey.
The Governor was strong upon
The Regulations Act:
The Doctor said that Death was but
A scientific fact:
And twice a day the Chaplain called
And left a little tract.
And twice a day he smoked his pipe,
And drank his quart of beer:
His soul was resolute, and held
No hiding-place for fear;
He often said that he was glad
The hangman's hands were near.
But why he said so strange a thing
No Warder dared to ask:
For he to whom a watcher's doom
Is given as his task,
Must set a lock upon his lips,
And make his face a mask.
Or else he might be moved, and try
To comfort or console:
And what should Human Pity do
Pent up in Murderers' Hole?
What word of grace in such a place
Could help a brother's soul?
With slouch and swing around the ring
We trod the Fool's Parade!
We did not care: we knew we were
The Devil's Own Brigade:
And shaven head and feet of lead
Make a merry masquerade.
We tore the tarry rope to shreds
With blunt and bleeding nails;
We rubbed the doors, and scrubbed the floors,
And cleaned the shining rails:
And, rank by rank, we soaped the plank,
And clattered with the pails.
We sewed the sacks, we broke the stones,
We turned the dusty drill:
We banged the tins, and bawled the hymns,
And sweated on the mill:
But in the heart of every man
Terror was lying still.
So still it lay that every day
Crawled like a weed-clogged wave:
And we forgot the bitter lot
That waits for fool and knave,
Till once, as we tramped in from work,
We passed an open grave.
With yawning mouth the yellow hole
Gaped for a living thing;
The very mud cried out for blood
To the thirsty asphalte ring:
And we knew that ere one dawn grew fair
Some prisoner had to swing.
Right in we went, with soul intent
On Death and Dread and Doom:
The hangman, with his little bag,
Went shuffling through the gloom
And each man trembled as he crept
Into his numbered tomb.
____
That night the empty corridors
Were full of forms of Fear,
And up and down the iron town
Stole feet we could not hear,
And through the bars that hide the stars
White faces seemed to peer.
He lay as one who lies and dreams
In a pleasant meadow-land,
The watcher watched him as he slept,
And could not understand
How one could sleep so sweet a sleep
With a hangman close at hand?
But there is no sleep when men must weep
Who never yet have wept:
So we--the fool, the fraud, the knave--
That endless vigil kept,
And through each brain on hands of pain
Another's terror crept.
___
Alas! it is a fearful thing
To feel another's guilt!
For, right within, the sword of Sin
Pierced to its poisoned hilt,
And as molten lead were the tears we shed
For the blood we had not spilt.
The Warders with their shoes of felt
Crept by each padlocked door,
And peeped and saw, with eyes of awe,
Grey figures on the floor,
And wondered why men knelt to pray
Who never prayed before.
All through the night we knelt and prayed,
Mad mourners of a corpse!
The troubled plumes of midnight were
The plumes upon a hearse:
And bitter wine upon a sponge
Was the savior of Remorse.
___
The cock crew, the red cock crew,
But never came the day:
And crooked shape of Terror crouched,
In the corners where we lay:
And each evil sprite that walks by night
Before us seemed to play.
They glided past, they glided fast,
Like travelers through a mist:
They mocked the moon in a rigadoon (lively dance)
Of delicate turn and twist,
And with formal pace and loathsome grace
The phantoms kept their tryst.
With mop and mow, we saw them go,
Slim shadows hand in hand:
About, about, in ghostly rout
They trod a saraband (court dance):
And the damned grotesques made arabesques,
Like the wind upon the sand!
With the pirouettes of marionettes,
They tripped on pointed tread:
But with flutes of Fear they filled the ear,
As their grisly masque they led,
And loud they sang, and loud they sang,
For they sang to wake the dead.
"Oho!" they cried, "The world is wide,
But fettered limbs go lame!
And once, or twice, to throw the dice
Is a gentlemanly game,
But he does not win who plays with Sin
In the secret House of Shame."
No things of air these antics were
That frolicked with such glee:
To men whose lives were held in gyves,
And whose feet might not go free,
Ah! wounds of Christ! they were living things,
Most terrible to see.
Around, around, they waltzed and wound;
Some wheeled in smirking pairs:
With the mincing step of demirep
Some sidled up the stairs:
And with subtle sneer, and fawning leer,
Each helped us at our prayers.
___
The morning wind began to moan,
But still the night went on:
Through its giant loom the web of gloom
Crept till each thread was spun:
And, as we prayed, we grew afraid
Of the Justice of the Sun.
The moaning wind went wandering round
The weeping prison-wall:
Till like a wheel of turning-steel
We felt the minutes crawl:
O moaning wind! what had we done
To have such a seneschal (noble's steward)?
At last I saw the shadowed bars
Like a lattice wrought in lead,
Move right across the whitewashed wall
That faced my three-plank bed,
And I knew that somewhere in the world
God's dreadful dawn was red.
___
At six o'clock we cleaned our cells,
At seven all was still,
But the sough and swing of a mighty wing
The prison seemed to fill,
For the Lord of Death with icy breath
Had entered in to kill.
He did not pass in purple pomp,
Nor ride a moon-white steed.
Three yards of cord and a sliding board
Are all the gallows' need:
So with rope of shame the Herald came
To do the secret deed.
We were as men who through a fen
Of filthy darkness grope:
We did not dare to breathe a prayer,
Or give our anguish scope:
Something was dead in each of us,
And what was dead was Hope.
For Man's grim Justice goes its way,
And will not swerve aside:
It slays the weak, it slays the strong,
It has a deadly stride:
With iron heel it slays the strong,
The monstrous parricide!
We waited for the stroke of eight:
Each tongue was thick with thirst:
For the stroke of eight is the stroke of Fate
That makes a man accursed,
And Fate will use a running noose
For the best man and the worst.
We had no other thing to do,
Save to wait for the sign to come:
So, like things of stone in a valley lone,
Quiet we sat and dumb:
But each man's heart beat thick and quick
Like a madman on a drum!
With sudden shock the prison-clock
Smote on the shivering air,
And from all the gaol rose up a wail
Of impotent despair,
Like the sound that frightened marshes hear
From a leper in his lair.
And as one sees most fearful things
In the crystal of a dream,
We saw the greasy hempen rope
Hooked to the blackened beam,
And heard the prayer the hangman's snare
Strangled into a scream.
And all the woe that moved him so
That he gave that bitter cry,
And the wild regrets, and the bloody sweats,
None knew so well as I:
For he who live more lives than one
More deaths than one must die.
IV.
There is no chapel on the day
On which they hang a man:
The Chaplain's heart is far too sick,
Or his face is far to wan,
Or there is that written in his eyes
Which none should look upon.
So they kept us close till nigh on noon,
And then they rang the bell,
And the Warders with their jingling keys
Opened each listening cell,
And down the iron stair we tramped,
Each from his separate Hell.
Out into God's sweet air we went,
But not in wonted way,
For this man's face was white with fear,
And that man's face was grey,
And I never saw sad men who looked
So wistfully at the day.
I never saw sad men who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
We prisoners called the sky,
And at every careless cloud that passed
In happy freedom by.
But their were those amongst us all
Who walked with downcast head,
And knew that, had each go his due,
They should have died instead:
He had but killed a thing that lived
Whilst they had killed the dead.
For he who sins a second time
Wakes a dead soul to pain,
And draws it from its spotted shroud,
And makes it bleed again,
And makes it bleed great gouts of blood
And makes it bleed in vain!
Like ape or clown, in monstrous garb
With crooked arrows starred,
Silently we went round and round
The slippery asphalte yard;
Silently we went round and round,
And no man spoke a word.
Silently we went round and round,
And through each hollow mind
The memory of dreadful things
Rushed like a dreadful wind,
An Horror stalked before each man,
And terror crept behind.
___
The Warders strutted up and down,
And kept their herd of brutes,
Their uniforms were spick and span,
And they wore their Sunday suits,
But we knew the work they had been at
By the quicklime on their boots.
For where a grave had opened wide,
There was no grave at all:
Only a stretch of mud and sand
By the hideous prison-wall,
And a little heap of burning lime,
That the man should have his pall.
For he has a pall, this wretched man,
Such as few men can claim:
Deep down below a prison-yard,
Naked for greater shame,
He lies, with fetters on each foot,
Wrapt in a sheet of flame!
And all the while the burning lime
Eats flesh and bone away,
It eats the brittle bone by night,
And the soft flesh by the day,
It eats the flesh and bones by turns,
But it eats the heart alway.
___
For three long years they will not sow
Or root or seedling there:
For three long years the unblessed spot
Will sterile be and bare,
And look upon the wondering sky
With unreproachful stare.
They think a murderer's heart would taint
Each simple seed they sow.
It is not true! God's kindly earth
Is kindlier than men know,
And the red rose would but blow more red,
The white rose whiter blow.
Out of his mouth a red, red rose!
Out of his heart a white!
For who can say by what strange way,
Christ brings his will to light,
Since the barren staff the pilgrim bore
Bloomed in the great Pope's sight?
But neither milk-white rose nor red
May bloom in prison air;
The shard, the pebble, and the flint,
Are what they give us there:
For flowers have been known to heal
A common man's despair.
So never will wine-red rose or white,
Petal by petal, fall
On that stretch of mud and sand that lies
By the hideous prison-wall,
To tell the men who tramp the yard
That God's Son died for all.
Yet though the hideous prison-wall
Still hems him round and round,
And a spirit man not walk by night
That is with fetters bound,
And a spirit may not weep that lies
In such unholy ground,
He is at peace--this wretched man--
At peace, or will be soon:
There is no thing to make him mad,
Nor does Terror walk at noon,
For the lampless Earth in which he lies
Has neither Sun nor Moon.
___
They hanged him as a beast is hanged:
They did not even toll
A reguiem that might have brought
Rest to his startled soul,
But hurriedly they took him out,
And hid him in a hole.
They stripped him of his canvas clothes,
And gave him to the flies;
They mocked the swollen purple throat
And the stark and staring eyes:
And with laughter loud they heaped the shroud
In which their convict lies.
The Chaplain would not kneel to pray
By his dishonored grave:
Nor mark it with that blessed Cross
That Christ for sinners gave,
Because the man was one of those
Whom Christ came down to save.
Yet all is well; he has but passed
To Life's appointed bourne:
And alien tears will fill for him
Pity's long-broken urn,
For his mourner will be outcast men,
And outcasts always mourn.
V.
I know not whether Laws be right,
Or whether Laws be wrong;
All that we know who lie in gaol
Is that the wall is strong;
And that each day is like a year,
A year whose days are long.
But this I know, that every Law
That men have made for Man,
Since first Man took his brother's life,
And the sad world began,
But straws the wheat and saves the chaff
With a most evil fan.
This too I know--and wise it were
If each could know the same--
That every prison that men build
Is built with bricks of shame,
And bound with bars lest Christ should see
How men their brothers maim.
With bars they blur the gracious moon,
And blind the goodly sun:
And they do well to hide their Hell,
For in it things are done
That Son of God nor son of Man
Ever should look upon!
___
The vilest deeds like poison weeds
Bloom well in prison-air:
It is only what is good in Man
That wastes and withers there:
Pale Anguish keeps the heavy gate,
And the Warder is Despair
For they starve the little frightened child
Till it weeps both night and day:
And they scourge the weak, and flog the fool,
And gibe the old and grey,
And some grow mad, and all grow bad,
And none a word may say.
Each narrow cell in which we dwell
Is foul and dark latrine,
And the fetid breath of living Death
Chokes up each grated screen,
And all, but Lust, is turned to dust
In Humanity's machine.
The brackish water that we drink
Creeps with a loathsome slime,
And the bitter bread they weigh in scales
Is full of chalk and lime,
And Sleep will not lie down, but walks
Wild-eyed and cries to Time.
___
But though lean Hunger and green Thirst
Like asp with adder fight,
We have little care of prison fare,
For what chills and kills outright
Is that every stone one lifts by day
Becomes one's heart by night.
With midnight always in one's heart,
And twilight in one's cell,
We turn the crank, or tear the rope,
Each in his separate Hell,
And the silence is more awful far
Than the sound of a brazen bell.
And never a human voice comes near
To speak a gentle word:
And the eye that watches through the door
Is pitiless and hard:
And by all forgot, we rot and rot,
With soul and body marred.
And thus we rust Life's iron chain
Degraded and alone:
And some men curse, and some men weep,
And some men make no moan:
But God's eternal Laws are kind
And break the heart of stone.
___
And every human heart that breaks,
In prison-cell or yard,
Is as that broken box that gave
Its treasure to the Lord,
And filled the unclean leper's house
With the scent of costliest nard.
Ah! happy day they whose hearts can break
And peace of pardon win!
How else may man make straight his plan
And cleanse his soul from Sin?
How else but through a broken heart
May Lord Christ enter in?
___
And he of the swollen purple throat.
And the stark and staring eyes,
Waits for the holy hands that took
The Thief to Paradise;
And a broken and a contrite heart
The Lord will not despise.
The man in red who reads the Law
Gave him three weeks of life,
Three little weeks in which to heal
His soul of his soul's strife,
And cleanse from every blot of blood
The hand that held the knife.
And with tears of blood he cleansed the hand,
The hand that held the steel:
For only blood can wipe out blood,
And only tears can heal:
And the crimson stain that was of Cain
Became Christ's snow-white seal.
VI.
In Reading gaol by Reading town
There is a pit of shame,
And in it lies a wretched man
Eaten by teeth of flame,
In burning winding-sheet he lies,
And his grave has got no name.
And there, till Christ call forth the dead,
In silence let him lie:
No need to waste the foolish tear,
Or heave the windy sigh:
The man had killed the thing he loved,
And so he had to die.
And all men kill the thing they love,
By all let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
The End
***
Second Version
I
He did not wear his scarlet coat,
For blood and wine are red,
And blood and wine were on his hands
When they found him with the dead,
The poor dead woman whom he loved,
And murdered in her bed.
He walked amongst the Trial Men
In a suit of shabby gray;
A cricket cap was on his head,
And his step seemed light and gay;
But I never saw a man who looked
So wistfully at the day.
I never saw a man who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
Which prisoners call the sky,
And at every drifting cloud that went
With sails of silver by.
I walked, with other souls in pain,
Within another ring,
And was wondering if the man had done
A great or little thing,
When a voice behind me whispered low,
"That fellow's got to swing."
Dear Christ! the very prison walls
Suddenly seemed to reel,
And the sky above my head became
Like a casque of scorching steel;
And, though I was a soul in pain,
My pain I could not feel.
I only knew what haunted thought
Quickened his step, and why
He looked upon the garish day
With such a wistful eye;
The man had killed the thing he loved,
And so he had to die.
Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.
Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.
He does not die a death of shame
On a day of dark disgrace,
Nor have a noose about his neck,
Nor a cloth upon his face,
Nor drop feet foremost through the floor
Into an empty space.
He does not sit with silent men
Who watch him night and day;
Who watch him when he tries to weep,
And when he tries to pray;
Who watch him lest himself should rob
The prison of its prey.
He does not wake at dawn to see
Dread figures throng his room,
The shivering Chaplain robed in white,
The Sheriff stern with gloom,
And the Governor all in shiny black,
With the yellow face of Doom.
He does not rise in piteous haste
To put on convict-clothes,
While some coarse-mouthed Doctor gloats, and notes
Each new and nerve-twitched pose,
Fingering a watch whose little ticks
Are like horrible hammer-blows.
He does not feel that sickening thirst
That sands one's throat, before
The hangman with his gardener's gloves
Comes through the padded door,
And binds one with three leathern thongs,
That the throat may thirst no more.
He does not bend his head to hear
The Burial Office read,
Nor, while the anguish of his soul
Tells him he is not dead,
Cross his own coffin, as he moves
Into the hideous shed.
He does not stare upon the air
Through a little roof of glass:
He does not pray with lips of clay
For his agony to pass;
Nor feel upon his shuddering cheek
The kiss of Caiaphas.
II
Six weeks the guardsman walked the yard,
In the suit of shabby gray:
His cricket cap was on his head,
And his step was light and gay,
But I never saw a man who looked
So wistfully at the day.
I never saw a man who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
Which prisoners call the sky,
And at every wandering cloud that trailed
Its ravelled fleeces by.
He did not wring his hands, as do
Those witless men who dare
To try to rear the changeling Hope
In the cave of black Despair:
He only looked upon the sun,
And drank the morning air.
He did not wring his hands nor weep,
Nor did he peek or pine,
But he drank the air as though it held
Some healthful anodyne;
With open mouth he drank the sun
As though it had been wine!
And I and all the souls in pain,
Who tramped the other ring,
Forgot if we ourselves had done
A great or little thing,
And watched with gaze of dull amaze
The man who had to swing.
For strange it was to see him pass
With a step so light and gay,
And strange it was to see him look
So wistfully at the day,
And strange it was to think that he
Had such a debt to pay.
The oak and elm have pleasant leaves
That in the spring-time shoot:
But grim to see is the gallows-tree,
With its alder-bitten root,
And, green or dry, a man must die
Before it bears its fruit!
The loftiest place is the seat of grace
For which all worldlings try:
But who would stand in hempen band
Upon a scaffold high,
And through a murderer's collar take
His last look at the sky?
It is sweet to dance to violins
When Love and Life are fair:
To dance to flutes, to dance to lutes
Is delicate and rare:
But it is not sweet with nimble feet
To dance upon the air!
So with curious eyes and sick surmise
We watched him day by day,
And wondered if each one of us
Would end the self-same way,
For none can tell to what red Hell
His sightless soul may stray.
At last the dead man walked no more
Amongst the Trial Men,
And I knew that he was standing up
In the black dock's dreadful pen,
And that never would I see his face
For weal or woe again.
Like two doomed ships that pass in storm
We had crossed each other's way:
But we made no sign, we said no word,
We had no word to say;
For we did not meet in the holy night,
But in the shameful day.
A prison wall was round us both,
Two outcast men we were:
The world had thrust us from its heart,
And God from out His care:
And the iron gin that waits for Sin
Had caught us in its snare.
III
In Debtors' Yard the stones are hard,
And the dripping wall is high,
So it was there he took the air
Beneath the leaden sky,
And by each side a warder walked,
For fear the man might die.
Or else he sat with those who watched
His anguish night and day;
Who watched him when he rose to weep,
And when he crouched to pray;
Who watched him lest himself should rob
Their scaffold of its prey.
The Governor was strong upon
The Regulations Act:
The Doctor said that Death was but
A scientific fact:
And twice a day the Chaplain called,
And left a little tract.
And twice a day he smoked his pipe,
And drank his quart of beer:
His soul was resolute, and held
No hiding-place for fear;
He often said that he was glad
The hangman's day was near.
But why he said so strange a thing
No warder dared to ask:
For he to whom a watcher's doom
Is given as his task,
Must set a lock upon his lips,
And make his face a mask.
Or else he might be moved, and try
To comfort or console:
And what should Human Pity do
Pent up in Murderers' Hole?
What word of grace in such a place
Could help a brother's soul?
With slouch and swing around the ring
We trod the Fools' Parade!
We did not care: we knew we were
The Devils' Own Brigade:
And shaven head and feet of lead
Make a merry masquerade.
We tore the tarry rope to shreds
With blunt and bleeding nails;
We rubbed the doors, and scrubbed the floors,
And cleaned the shining rails:
And, rank by rank, we soaped the plank,
And clattered with the pails.
We sewed the sacks, we broke the stones,
We turned the dusty drill:
We banged the tins, and bawled the hymns,
And sweated on the mill:
But in the heart of every man
Terror was lying still.
So still it lay that every day
Crawled like a weed-clogged wave:
And we forgot the bitter lot
That waits for fool and knave,
Till once, as we tramped in from work,
We passed an open grave.
With yawning mouth the horrid hole
Gaped for a living thing;
The very mud cried out for blood
To the thirsty asphalte ring:
And we knew that ere one dawn grew fair
The fellow had to swing.
Right in we went, with soul intent
On Death and Dread and Doom:
The hangman, with his little bag,
Went shuffling through the gloom:
And I trembled as I groped my way
Into my numbered tomb.
That night the empty corridors
Were full of forms of Fear,
And up and down the iron town
Stole feet we could not hear,
And through the bars that hide the stars
White faces seemed to peer.
He lay as one who lies and dreams
In a pleasant meadow-land,
The watchers watched him as he slept,
And could not understand
How one could sleep so sweet a sleep
With a hangman close at hand.
But there is no sleep when men must weep
Who never yet have wept:
So we- the fool, the fraud, the knave-
That endless vigil kept,
And through each brain on hands of pain
Another's terror crept.
Alas! it is a fearful thing
To feel another's guilt!
For, right within, the sword of Sin
Pierced to its poisoned hilt,
And as molten lead were the tears we shed
For the blood we had not spilt.
The warders with their shoes of felt
Crept by each padlocked door,
And peeped and saw, with eyes of awe,
Gray figures on the floor,
And wondered why men knelt to pray
Who never prayed before.
All through the night we knelt and prayed,
Mad mourners of a corse!
The troubled plumes of midnight shook
Like the plumes upon a hearse:
And as bitter wine upon a sponge
Was the savour of Remorse.
The gray cock crew, the red cock crew,
But never came the day:
And crooked shapes of Terror crouched,
In the corners where we lay:
And each evil sprite that walks by night
Before us seemed to play.
They glided past, the glided fast,
Like travellers through a mist:
They mocked the moon in a rigadoon
Of delicate turn and twist,
And with formal pace and loathsome grace
The phantoms kept their tryst.
With mop and mow, we saw them go,
Slim shadows hand in hand:
About, about, in ghostly rout
They trod a saraband:
And the damned grotesques made arabesques,
Like the wind upon the sand!
With the pirouettes of marionettes,
They tripped on pointed tread:
But with flutes of Fear they filled the ear,
As their grisly masque they led,
And loud they sang, and long they sang,
For they sang to wake the dead.
"Oho!" they cried, "the world is wide,
But fettered limbs go lame!
And once, or twice, to throw the dice
Is a gentlemanly game,
But he does not win who plays with Sin
In the secret House of Shame."
No things of air these antics were,
That frolicked with such glee:
To men whose lives were held in gyves,
And whose feet might not go free,
Ah! wounds of Christ! they were living things,
Most terrible to see.
Around, around, they waltzed and wound;
Some wheeled in smirking pairs;
With the mincing step of a demirep
Some sidled up the stairs:
And with subtle sneer, and fawning leer,
Each helped us at our prayers.
The morning wind began to moan,
But still the night went on:
Through its giant loom the web of gloom
Crept till each thread was spun:
And, as we prayed, we grew afraid
Of the Justice of the Sun.
The moaning wind went wandering round
The weeping prison wall:
Till like a wheel of turning steel
We felt the minutes crawl:
O moaning wind! what had we done
To have such a seneschal?
At last I saw the shadowed bars,
Like a lattice wrought in lead,
Move right across the whitewashed wall
That faced my three-plank bed,
And I knew that somewhere in the world
God's dreadful dawn was red.
At six o'clock we cleaned our cells,
At seven all was still,
But the sough and swing of a mighty wing
The prison seemed to fill,
For the Lord of Death with icy breath
Had entered in to kill.
He did not pass in purple pomp,
Nor ride a moon-white steed.
Three yards of cord and a sliding board
Are all the gallows' need:
So with rope of shame the Herald came
To do the secret deed.
We were as men who through a fen
Of filthy darkness grope:
We did not dare to breathe a prayer,
Or to give our anguish scope:
Something was dead in each of us,
And what was dead was Hope.
For Man's grim Justice goes its way
And will not swerve aside:
It slays the weak, it slays the strong,
It has a deadly stride:
With iron heel it slays the strong
The monstrous parricide!
We waited for the stroke of eight:
Each tongue was thick with thirst:
For the stroke of eight is the stroke of Fate
That makes a man accursed,
And Fate will use a running noose
For the best man and the worst.
We had no other thing to do,
Save to wait for the sign to come:
So, like things of stone in a valley lone,
Quiet we sat and dumb:
But each man's heart beat thick and quick,
Like a madman on a drum!
With sudden shock the prison-clock
Smote on the shivering air,
And from all the gaol rose up a wail
Of impotent despair,
Like the sound the frightened marshes hear
From some leper in his lair.
And as one sees most fearful things
In the crystal of a dream,
We saw the greasy hempen rope
Hooked to the blackened beam,
And heard the prayer the hangman's snare
Strangled into a scream.
And all the woe that moved him so
That he gave that bitter cry,
And the wild regrets, and the bloody sweats,
None knew so well as I:
For he who lives more lives than one
More deaths that one must die.
IV
There is no chapel on the day
On which they hang a man:
The Chaplain's heart is far too sick,
Or his face is far too wan,
Or there is that written in his eyes
Which none should look upon.
So they kept us close till nigh on noon,
And then they rang the bell,
And the warders with their jingling keys
Opened each listening cell,
And down the iron stair we tramped,
Each from his separate Hell.
Out into God's sweet air we went,
But not in wonted way,
For this man's face was white with fear,
And that man's face was gray,
And I never saw sad men who looked
So wistfully at the day.
I never saw sad men who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
We prisoners called the sky,
And at every happy cloud that passed
In such strange freedom by.
But there were those amongst us all
Who walked with downcast head,
And knew that, had each got his due,
They should have died instead:
He had but killed a thing that lived,
Whilst they had killed the dead.
For he who sins a second time
Wakes a dead soul to pain,
And draws it from its spotted shroud
And makes it bleed again,
And makes it bleed great gouts of blood,
And makes it bleed in vain!
Like ape or clown, in monstrous garb
With crooked arrows starred,
Silently we went round and round
The slippery asphalte yard;
Silently we went round and round,
And no man spoke a word.
Silently we went round and round,
And through each hollow mind
The Memory of dreadful things
Rushed like a dreadful wind,
And Horror stalked before each man,
And Terror crept behind.
The warders strutted up and down,
And watched their herd of brutes,
Their uniforms were spick and span,
And they wore their Sunday suits,
But we knew the work they had been at,
By the quicklime on their boots.
For where a grave had opened wide,
There was no grave at all:
Only a stretch of mud and sand
By the hideous prison-wall,
And a little heap of burning lime,
That the man should have his pall.
For he has a pall, this wretched man,
Such as few men can claim:
Deep down below a prison-yard,
Naked, for greater shame,
He lies, with fetters on each foot,
Wrapt in a sheet of flame!
And all the while the burning lime
Eats flesh and bone away,
It eats the brittle bones by night,
And the soft flesh by day,
It eats the flesh and bone by turns,
But it eats the heart alway.
For three long years they will not sow
Or root or seedling there:
For three long years the unblessed spot
Will sterile be and bare,
And look upon the wondering sky
With unreproachful stare.
They think a murderer's heart would taint
Each simple seed they sow.
It is not true! God's kindly earth
Is kindlier than men know,
And the red rose would but glow more red,
The white rose whiter blow.
Out of his mouth a red, red rose!
Out of his heart a white!
For who can say by what strange way,
Christ brings His will to light,
Since the barren staff the pilgrim bore
Bloomed in the great Pope's sight?
But neither milk-white rose nor red
May bloom in prison air;
The shard, the pebble, and the flint,
Are what they give us there:
For flowers have been known to heal
A common man's despair.
So never will wine-red rose or white,
Petal by petal, fall
On that stretch of mud and sand that lies
By the hideous prison-wall,
To tell the men who tramp the yard
That God's Son died for all.
Yet though the hideous prison-wall
Still hems him round and round,
And a spirit may not walk by night
That is with fetters bound,
And a spirit may but weep that lies
In such unholy ground,
He is at peace- this wretched man-
At peace, or will be soon:
There is no thing to make him mad,
Nor does Terror walk at noon,
For the lampless Earth in which he lies
Has neither Sun nor Moon.
They hanged him as a beast is hanged:
They did not even toll
A requiem that might have brought
Rest to his startled soul,
But hurriedly they took him out,
And hid him in a hole.
The warders stripped him of his clothes,
And gave him to the flies:
They mocked the swollen purple throat,
And the stark and staring eyes:
And with laughter loud they heaped the shroud
In which the convict lies.
The Chaplain would not kneel to pray
By his dishonoured grave:
Nor mark it with that blessed Cross
That Christ for sinners gave,
Because the man was one of those
Whom Christ came down to save.
Yet all is well; he has but passed
To Life's appointed bourne:
And alien tears will fill for him
Pity's long-broken urn,
For his mourners be outcast men,
And outcasts always mourn.
V
I know not whether Laws be right,
Or whether Laws be wrong;
All that we know who lie in gaol
Is that the wall is strong;
And that each day is like a year,
A year whose days are long.
But this I know, that every Law
That men have made for Man,
Since first Man took His brother's life,
And the sad world began,
But straws the wheat and saves the chaff
With a most evil fan.
This too I know- and wise it were
If each could know the same-
That every prison that men build
Is built with bricks of shame,
And bound with bars lest Christ should see
How men their brothers maim.
With bars they blur the gracious moon,
And blind the goodly sun:
And the do well to hide their Hell,
For in it things are done
That Son of things nor son of Man
Ever should look upon!
The vilest deeds like poison weeds
Bloom well in prison-air:
It is only what is good in Man
That wastes and withers there:
Pale Anguish keeps the heavy gate,
And the warder is Despair.
For they starve the little frightened child
Till it weeps both night and day:
And they scourge the weak, and flog the fool,
And gibe the old and gray,
And some grow mad, and all grow bad,
And none a word may say.
Each narrow cell in which we dwell
Is a foul and dark latrine,
And the fetid breath of living Death
Chokes up each grated screen,
And all, but Lust, is turned to dust
In Humanity's machine.
The brackish water that we drink
Creeps with a loathsome slime,
And the bitter bread they weigh in scales
Is full of chalk and lime,
And Sleep will not lie down, but walks
Wild-eyed, and cries to Time.
But though lean Hunger and green Thirst
Like asp with adder fight,
We have little care of prison fare,
For what chills and kills outright
Is that every stone one lifts by day
Becomes one's heart by night.
With midnight always in one's heart,
And twilight in one's cell,
We turn the crank, or tear the rope,
Each in his separate Hell,
And the silence is more awful far
Than the sound of a brazen bell.
And never a human voice comes near
To speak a gentle word:
And the eye that watches through the door
Is pitiless and hard:
And by all forgot, we rot and rot,
With soul and body marred.
And thus we rust Life's iron chain
Degraded and alone:
And some men curse, and some men weep,
And some men make no moan:
But God's eternal Laws are kind
And break the heart of stone.
And every human heart that breaks,
In prison-cell or yard,
Is as that broken box that gave
Its treasure to the Lord,
And filled the unclean leper's house
With the scent of costliest nard.
Ah! happy they whose hearts can break
And peace of pardon win!
How else may man make straight his plan
And cleanse his soul from Sin?
How else but through a broken heart
May Lord Christ enter in?
And he of the swollen purple throat,
And the stark and staring eyes,
Waits for the holy hands that took
The Thief to Paradise;
And a broken and a contrite heart
The Lord will not despise.
The man in red who reads the Law
Gave him three weeks of life,
Three little weeks in which to heal
His soul of his soul's strife,
And cleanse from every blot of blood
The hand that held the knife.
And with tears of blood he cleansed the hand,
The hand that held the steel:
For only blood can wipe out blood,
And only tears can heal:
And the crimson stain that was of Cain
Became Christ's snow-white seal.
VI
In Reading gaol by Reading town
There is a pit of shame,
And in it lies a wretched man
Eaten by teeth of flame,
In a burning winding-sheet he lies,
And his grave has got no name.
And there, till Christ call forth the dead,
In silence let him lie:
No need to waste the foolish tear,
Or heave the windy sigh:
The man had killed the thing he loved,
And so he had to die.
And all men kill the thing they love,
By all let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!
C. 3. 3.
THE END