{"id":790,"date":"2013-04-19T03:08:36","date_gmt":"2013-04-19T01:08:36","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/?page_id=790"},"modified":"2013-05-03T02:11:16","modified_gmt":"2013-05-03T00:11:16","slug":"8-ph7","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/teksty\/teksty-oryginalne\/teksty-ph-solo\/8-ph7\/","title":{"rendered":"8. pH7"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>
\nMy Favourite<\/strong> \"Przek\u0142ad\"<\/a><\/p>\n

In my time I’ve told a lie or two,
\nI’ve been a deceiver, but believe me
\nwhat I now say is true.
\nThere’s no other way
\nI can express what I’m thinking of:
\nYou’re my favourite, you’re the one that I love.<\/p>\n

It’s a one-horse race,
\nstill I’m ready to place my bet.
\nI’m a pretty slow starter,
\nand I haven’t quite caught up with it yet.
\nIt seems so extraordinary
\nthat you should care for me.
\nYou’re my favourite – how lucky can any man be?<\/p>\n

You’re my favourite –
\nwill you stay the course with me?<\/p>\n

You’re my favourite of all time.
\nYou’re my favourite, can’t you see?
\nYou’re my favourite of all time.
\nSay you’ll stay the course with me.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nCareering <\/strong><\/p>\n

I don’t know, can’t you see
\nI’m just passing through, fast as you –
\ndon’t ask me.<\/p>\n

Careering out of control
\ndisappearing down the black hole,
\ncareering – the white man’s soul
\nstands stark naked in the floodlight glare,
\nstands stark raving on the strap.
\nI’ve had the feeling that I’ve been there
\nbut I can’t quite believe it.<\/p>\n

I don’t know, can’t you see
\nI’m just passing through, fast as you
\nso don’t ask me.<\/p>\n

Careering, simply day to day,
\nengineering everything I say,
\ncareering for the work and the pay.
\nI’m just a passenger passing through,
\nI’m just an average chap.
\nIf I said I hadn’t got a clue
\nthere’d still come the questions.<\/p>\n

I don’t know, can’t you see
\nI’m just another case of wasted space
\nso don’t ask me.<\/p>\n

Careering, my apprenticeship
\nno nearer than my pension slip;
\ncareering down the Cresta Run,
\nI screw it up just like anyone;
\ncareering – pointless anyway
\nto do it just for the work and the pay.<\/p>\n

Look here: I don’t know, can’t you see
\nI’m so near the end, get it straight, friend –
\ndon’t ask me, don’t ask me, don’t ask me.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nPorton Down<\/strong><\/p>\n

Won’t hear a sound at Porton Down,
\nthe clear liquids keep their silence,
\nburied underground at Porton Down
\nthe fast form of the final violence.<\/p>\n

Quite right to be worried about the proliferation
\nof nuclear bombs and power stations,
\nbut there’s a deterrent that’s going to
\nunearth us yet…<\/p>\n

Hurry on round about Porton Down,
\na quick glimpse of the future warfare
\nhidden under ground at Porton Down;
\nfar too frightening to utter what you saw there.<\/p>\n

They got bacteria to drop us where we stand,
\nthey got diseases still unknown to man,
\nthey got the virus and a microgram’s enough
\nto do in a continent.<\/p>\n

The ultimate madness,
\njust one shattered test-tube to wipe out the world.<\/p>\n

It begins with the mustard gas,
\nit proceeds to Hiroshima.
\nThe culture moves on –
\nnow it’s bacterial, truly insane.
\nPorton Down waits to fever the brain.<\/p>\n

Won’t hear a sound at Porton Down,
\nthe clear liquids keep their silence
\nburied underground at Porton Down,
\nthe fast form of the final violence.
\nHurry on round about Porton Down
\na quick glimpse of the future warfare,
\nhidden underground at Porton Down,
\nfar too frightening to say what you saw there.<\/p>\n

No sound at Porton Down,
\nfrom Porton Down,
\nafter Porton Down.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nMirror Images<\/strong><\/p>\n

If I’m the mirror and you’re the image
\nthen what’s the secret between the two,
\nthese „me”s and „you”s, how many can there be?
\nOh, I don’t mind all that around the place,
\nas long as you keep it
\nwell away from me.<\/p>\n

I’ve begun to regret that we ever met
\nbetween the dimensions.
\nIt gets such a strain to pretend that the change
\nis anything but cheap;
\nwith your infant pique and your angst pretensions
\nsometimes you act like such a creep.<\/p>\n

And now I’m standing in the corner,
\nlooking at the room and the furniture
\nin cheap imitation of alienation and grief.
\nAnd now we’re going to the kitchen,
\nfix ourselves a drink and a cigarette,
\ngetting no closer to being the joker or thief.<\/p>\n

Still, I reflect, this nervous wreck
\nwho stands before me can see as well,
\ncan surely tell that he’s not yet free;
\nhe can turn aside, but can no more ignore me
\nthan know which one of us is he,
\nthan tell what we are going to be,
\nthan know which one of us is me.<\/p>\n

And now we’re going to the kitchen,
\nfix ourselves a drink and a cigarette,
\ngetting no closer to being the joker or thief.<\/p>\n

These mirror images,
\nthese mirror images
\nwon’t stay, go away, are no help.<\/p>\n

In these mirror images of myself
\nthere are no secrets.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nHandicap and Equality\u00a0<\/strong> \"Przek\u0142ad\"<\/a><\/p>\n

All men are born equal at the moment they arrive:
\ncheck the limbs and senses we require to survive.
\nBut some come deaf and dumb and blinded,
\nsome have damage to their brains;
\nparents constantly remindedthat they’ll never play
\nthe normal children’s games.
\nThey may not be normal,
\nbut they’re people just the same.<\/p>\n

If Christ had been born defective
\nto fulfil the Father’s plan
\nwould he be as easily accepted
\nas God made man
\nor does the human value alter
\nin the crippled human frame?
\nThough the tongue and fingers falter
\nmust we shut them out and shut them up,
\nand shut the case and whisper „such a shame”.
\nThat’s how we shut them away.<\/p>\n

Most of us are lucky, free from accidents at birth
\nbut their victims share our right
\nto the inheritance of earth.
\nFor all their grunts, their stumps,
\ntheir tumours, their eternal wheelchairs,
\nwe’re the freaks, we’re the inhumans,
\nif we close our eyes and turn aside, pretend
\nthat if we do they’ll not be there….
\nThey’ve got to face it, so we’ve got to face it.
\nStill they’ve got to live with it
\nin a world we supposedly share.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nNot for Keith<\/strong><\/p>\n

In Germany, his days finally caught him;
\nI won’t insult his memory with long-distance grief.
\nTears and wakes weren’t his style:
\nnot him,
\nnot for Keith.<\/p>\n

He’d have laughed in my face
\nif he saw it get mournful,
\nhe’d pull me up short and say „Life carries on”
\nin that gentle way of being cruelly scornful…
\nnow he’s gone.<\/p>\n

„I want to see it all, and eat it”
\nwas as close to ethos as he came;
\nthough he knew he couldn’t beat it,
\nhe never gave of himself anything less than best
\nin the game.
\nOh, one for the game….<\/p>\n

I never did say, I never quite found time –
\nhe taught me a lot, and I carry it still.
\nNever thanked him at all for his friendship
\nand now I never will.<\/p>\n

The diaries we write are those that we crave for,
\nwe never put the P.S. at the foot of the final page.
\nHe deserved more time, but he never was made
\nfor middle age,
\nnot for middle age.
\nNot for Keith.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nThe Old School Tie<\/strong><\/p>\n

Oh the bright young men in their tight-buttoned suits:
\nthe light beams out from capped smiles to the shines
\non their lick-spittle books.
\nOh these sharp young sparks with their fresh rosettes –
\nyeh, the artful way that they promise the earth
\nto all suffragettes.
\nWhat they won’t promise we don’t know yet.
\nThey say they’re build – and shaping society
\nbut we know they’re just saving for their own
\nsafe home in politics.
\nAnything goes: look at them run.<\/p>\n

Come from every side, noses Pinocchio clean;
\nlock in synchromesh, oil the wheels and the gears
\nof the party machine
\nand the final goal is a cabinet seat…
\nin the trappings of power, the presumption to speak
\nfor the man in the street.
\nOnce they move in, they’re in for good;
\nyeh, once they get that bed made
\nit’s a safe home in politics.
\nJobs for the boys: look at them run.<\/p>\n

There’s just one thing none of us should forget:
\na political man is just in it for the power
\nand the smell of sucess.
\nSure, some start out as idealists –
\npretty soon they all cop for ideal careers
\nand a safe home in politics,
\na cushy job in politics;
\nlook at them run.<\/p>\n

The politicians fight it out on the conning tower
\nbut they all agree not to rock the boat..
\nA safe home in politics
\nIt’s built on your vote.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nTime for a Change<\/strong><\/p>\n

Time for a change:
\nI felt bad, things looked strange.
\nHome, home on the range…
\nyes, it’s time for a change.<\/p>\n

„Well, young man, when you grow up
\nwhat do you want to be?”
\n„Please, sir, if that’s alright
\nI’d really rather like to learn how to be me.”<\/p>\n

Switch on the light,
\ngetting late, almost night.
\nA shilling puts you right,
\nyou can switch off the night.<\/p>\n

The world was looking stretched and tight,
\nit’s an overblown balloon.
\nI’ve got the feeling something big
\nhas got to happen soon.<\/p>\n

Oh, time for a change,
\nout of reach, out of range.
\nGo and tell Doctor Strange
\nthat it’s time for a change.<\/p>\n

(Chris Judge Smith)<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nImperial Walls<\/strong><\/p>\n

Strange to behold
\nis the stone of this wall
\nbroken by fate.<\/p>\n

The strongholds are bursten
\nthe work of giants decaying
\nthe roofs are fallen
\nthe towers are tottering
\nmouldering palaces roofless
\nweather-marked masonry shattering
\nShelters time-scarred
\ntempest – marred
\nundermined of old.<\/p>\n

Earth’s grasp holdeth
\nits mighty builders
\ntumbled, crumbled,
\nin gravel’s harsh grip
\ntill a hundred generations
\nof men pass away.<\/p>\n

(Anonymous 8th century Saxon)<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nMr. X (gets tense)<\/strong><\/p>\n

The current affair gets to be my business,
\nI heard the news on the radio:
\nthe sun on earth… what is this?
\nIs that the way that the crazy goes?<\/p>\n

Attention tuned to the satellites,
\nlooking down for an overview.
\nIn the chapel of space we are acolytes.
\nIn the battle of time we’re all soldiers too
\nand the relative choir push the energy higher
\nUnder fire.<\/p>\n

The sliding show in the macroscopic,
\nfinger on the button pointing to progress.
\nThe apparatus roll, no-one here can stop it,
\ntoo busy learning more – always knowing less.
\nSoon turkey-wrapped in the spaceman blanket
\nwe’ll offer up lame duck apologies
\nand settle down for the final banquet,
\nthe gourmet dish of technology…
\ncryogenic device catches all human life
\nunder ice.<\/p>\n

The current affair gets to be all our businness,
\nit’s filtered in through the T.V. screen.
\nThe norm, the average…what is this,
\nwhen it goes blank what does that all mean?
\nAnd what’s the drive of each individual?
\nAnd what’s the way that the story ends?
\nIs it Mr. X, left as the last residual
\nholder of the flame, conscience of all men?
\nBut he’s so tense to expire
\nhe throws himself on the wire
\nunder fire.<\/p>\n

Is this the way the world ends?
\nUnder ice, under fire?
\nHas there been some mistaken design?
\nUnder ice
\ngot to find the human voice.
\nLord, deliver us from Babel.<\/p>\n

<\/a>
\nFaculty X<\/strong><\/p>\n

Hope by and by, hope by and by –
\nmotes in the eye, portcullis is shut…
\na skull isn’t much
\nof a castle to live in
\nwhen the change is going to come,
\nthe change has got to come.<\/p>\n

Explosions in the brain attest to it.
\nevolution down the drain – let all the rest do it.<\/p>\n

Oh yeah, the only result
\nis cumulative drek.
\nIt won’t be the drug,
\nit won’t be the sex,
\nit’s got to be the Faculty X<\/p>\n

Looking for a method, I play a straight bat,
\nthrow away the chances to slip.
\nYeah, you talk about the average –
\nI don’t care about that
\nand my words are only giving me lip<\/p>\n

When I know that the change has got to come,
\nor what am I living for? Or why am I here?
\nI’m running, I give in more,
\nfar away from the near.<\/p>\n

Go meta-physical world,
\nhe sign that protects
\nIt wasn’t the last,
\nit won’t be the next,
\nit’s Faculty X.<\/p>\n

Reading seers, sages, prophets,
\nobscurantist tracts,
\ndraining the elixir to the dregs;
\nactive yeast in the bottom is on the attack
\nand it leaves me without any legs to stand on.<\/p>\n

Still I hope that the change will come<\/p>\n

Meanwhile I don’t know,
\nI think I’ll have to go,
\ngo for the governing body
\nmy consciousness elects.
\nIt won’t be so clear, it won’t be direct,
\nit’s all that I fear, it’s all I suspect
\nand I’ll disappear in Faculty X<\/p>\n

I pluck all these characters out of thin air,
\nI push them down into the lungs;
\nI infuse them with meaning as much as I dare.<\/p>\n

Stretch out for the shoreline and wait for the wave….<\/p>\n

\"Przewi\u0144<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My Favourite In my time I’ve told a lie or two, I’ve been a deceiver, but believe me what I now say is true. There’s no other way I can express what I’m thinking of: You’re my favourite, you’re the … Czytaj dalej →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":659,"parent":519,"menu_order":8,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"sidebar-page.php","meta":{"_sitemap_exclude":false,"_sitemap_priority":"","_sitemap_frequency":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-790","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/790","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=790"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/790\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":984,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/790\/revisions\/984"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/519"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/659"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=790"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}