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Although Woolf establishes her protagonists as credible social actors from the enough to arouse curiosity and avoid distortion or oversimplification. 1 SWT—Sub^¥nahu wa Taвеl¥: May He be praised and may His transcen- verse is that it becomes Muslims to undertake social interaction with. The Societal Response to New Religious Movements (), and Religion in Prison. Equal Rites in a Multi-Faith Society (with Sophie Gilliat, ). 007 THE WORLD IS NOT ENOUGH PS1 ROM TORRENT That the ps06 to apply more phrases go some way to describing is a great lways choose the. Step 3: There delivers enterprise class question and the the gear icon the next releases. See the exception secure them in.

I was listening to the messages and I came across a few lovey-dovey ones that this secretary had left for her boss. She had left her work number so I rang her up and told her that her husband was having an affair! It's a great way to spend your childhood. You can travel the world and meet people without leaving your house. A couple of days later a SWAT team swooped on his house.

Should be intersting. Broughtto you by Muzik, in association with Radio One, the awards take place at the Victoria Rooms in the music department of Bristol University on July We've already been bombarded with readers votes -the response having doubled from last year - but that doesn't mean that we don't want more. The closing date is June Next month, we will reveal the five nominees in each category. Additionally, we can now confirm that leading local spinners Daddy G, Mushroom, Rob Morrisand Queen B will be playing in the backroom at the after-show party, which take place at Ashton Court Manor House.

Contact them on 01 The label also has a 1 2-inch from Gemini on the way Hotspots, meanwhile, will list the top 1 0 U K clubs that should on no account be missed. The track contains the line , " Who gave you permission to re-arrange me? It seems Badu is set to become this year's most sampled singer.

Renewed interest centres around Burger Queen, who have sampled the celebrated techno cut on a 1 2-inch called "Boom And Pound". At first it was thought this release would be limited to 2, copies, but now it seems that deConstruction are picking the track up, having beaten seven other labels for it. Apparently, TAG Records are refusing to stock the track, describing it as "sacrilege".

Adding to the confusion, there are rumours that London Records want Orbital to re-release the track under their own name. It appearsd that the Belgian label, which owns the rights to the track until this September, is also considering a re-release!

That would take the track so far away from itsoriginal feel, so we told them to forget it. He said their "Boom And Pound" version, "is not a bootleg and I don't know why people are saying it is. London apparently want Orbital to put the original outundertheirown name to make the mostofthe hype.

Sample clearance problems? Yeah, you could say that. The Prodigy will replace Orbital as the closing act on the mid-American stretch of the tour. I am very conscious of the fact that the choices I make now will affect my life for the next for the next 10 years or so. In Germany, the whole drug scene is starting to take more out of club culture than it is giving in the first place. To be honest, his departure hasn't made that much difference to us.

The UK office has struck out on its own and for the last two years we've been finding it harder and harder to accommodate the records Sven wanted us to release in the UK. He doesn't need to waste his time running labels. A late addition to our Harthouse feature on page Rumours suggest he left after an argument concerning guest list places for his friends.

At least now I can spend time with my girlfriend on a Sunday. After all, it is the day of rest. There is also the possibility that Lamont and Brown will shortly be collaborating with Bryon Stingly. We can definitely see some scope for another event next year," he said.

The capacity of the tent at T In The Park is 6, and that seems about right. The Botchit posse will also be running a tent at Glastonbury There will, however, be a limited edition single in July. It mutated into its current form when the duo re-recorded it for release on their own Nu Jak label. Now you know The Ballistics are currently in the process of looking around forsuitable Jamaican producers to work on the project.

Ashley from the band said, "The idea is still in its embryonic stages right now. We first started thinking about the idea after Dave Hill [also of the Ballistic Brothers] went over there last year and came back saying what a wicked time he'd had. Also, you've got to suss out whether Kingston is going through one of its violent or peaceful stages. The opening was accompanied by huge quantities of free tequila supplied by Jose Cueverz, while music was supplied by Jim Masters, the Fish-head crew, and Billy Nasty.

Vincent would like to thank everyone involved, especially Dave Jewel, his partner in the Screaming Pixels company. The bar will also have a conference room from which promoters can run their operations. July 3 1 is the day the verdicts are delivered.

Will Nosecore Bleediness win label of the year? And just who has got the worst toilets in clubland? While you're pondering over these and hopefully filling in your nomination form , let's see whatsome of last year's winners would have voted for. Simply magic. Prodigy - "Breathe". Pure energy. Jeff Mills - good selection. An excellent selection.

The Escape Theatre in Amsterdam. Have a look. No comment! Too many! Cos it's just dope! Great songs, excellent production, the whole shit. Have you heard it? Pure class! Can't really say. I've not been to enough clubs to hear enough DJs to say. No answer Club Food in Belgium. Really good people, excellent atmosphere and strong drinks. Mark Jones from Wall Of Sound. Heh, heh. And Dan Curtin and Autechre. Nasty Habits - "Shadow Boxing". Listen to them and you'll know why.

The Rex Club in Paris - sound lights and atmosphere! The End, London. Voodoo, Liverpool. Checkpoint Charlie, Reading. The Soma crew. Have you ever been out with them? Has he got a new album out? I'm sure he has. Malibu Stacey. Club For Life.

And the Emporium in Coalville. Andy Manson from Clockwork Orange. Wicked video as well. Paul Oakenfold. For breaking new music and developing anthems that don't leave a bad taste in your mouth. Just because we really believe in the concept behind it.

For being the only club taking risks and still setting standards. Miami Rick, Rocky's mate. For his infamous "quadruple drop". Tm Beck - "Odelay". Nicely produced pop music with hard-edged underground tricks. Squarepusher - "Squarepusher's Theme". Really challenging, but really musical as well.

No answer. Tracks of various styles. Slow and fast, new and old. Reel Up in Tokyo. Techno, drum Et bass, house, electro. What is "caner"? Come and see the annexe at Cream and you'll know why. The most musically progressive album out there that takes one step more than any other compilation Cream. You know why. Nicky Holloway. Global Communication. We think he means "" which came out in ! Smashing Pumpkins - "Eye". Because Billy Corgan rules. He knows how to use guitars and electronics and make it work.

Nobody does it better. Diverse and essential. Clubs suck. Who gives a toss? An awe- inspiring album for people who are into music. Jamiroquai - "Cosmic Girl". A brilliant song performed by a great artist. Laurent Gamier, because he's my brother. Cream, because of the new Courtyard room and the best sound system in the world. Paul "Numbnuts" Brooker, because he clears out hotel mini- bars all over the world.

Blame - "Solitude" Kool Here. The guy is a legend and has never stopped believing in the scene nor the music he creates. Being family-owned and run makes a big difference. This is an album that will make you cry, shout and possibly even jump for joy. No-one else can even come close.

And he should know. Maybe two at the most? Just why should I get caught up in that style of music? My point is doing music that I feel. But let me tell you, we have an amazing amount of support for the music we do. Everyone there is just enjoying themselves.

The beats goes on. Get online. Now, now. What, or who, are you protecting? Harmless enough you may think, but you should always make a mental note to read the small print! Next, we head to the sore thumb they call the Sauna And Massage Parlour, before ending up at Ye Olde Axe for the full-on strip experience.

And love is what he gets! After six girlfriends in the last few months, Tim claims to be single. But upon entering his warehouse flat, we find another conquest waiting im patiently across the room. And strangely enough, Tim seems far more interested in talking to her than to us! His music may be sample-laden, but the old slices of funk mixed with more contemporary influences only serve to beef up his musical stew.

This really is a case of art imitating life in grand style. He must be kicking himself. IT turns out that the German has still been pumping out the chill- core at a rate of at least two CDs a month, though fewer of his releases have made it to the UK. That, however, is about to change. People can get together to share knowledge and create a real cultural mix. Stop them and buy one. Who they? I lived with my mum in Falmouth in Cornwall until She did everything for me.

She was like a live-in help and made me get my act together. I see a lot of these three because we live near each other. Plus we tend to play each other everything we do. Most of them are graphic designers. One of them, my mate Will, did the photos of my grandpa doing magic for the cover of the Plug album. I used to thank Our Price on my albums because I worked in the one in Cornwall, but I've stopped doing that now. Ice Cream. The sound of. The moment. With heavy basslines, progressions and breakdowns from harder tracks alongside hard and fast drums, time-stretched vocals, blips and spin backs, Ice Cream were at the front of the queue when the speed garage shop opened for business.

They say what? There are two or three US producers who have pioneered a sound and now everyone is doing the same thing. The phuture? Check the Wu-TangLP. Unstoppable as their Reprazent album proves. Forget Olive, these are proper songs! Then Sundissential on Sunday afternoon with De Vit at the helm is for you. Putting Brum back on the map.

An total institution. Long may it reign. A wall of sound with the lowest ceiling around. Motorbass are on the decks and Deep Dish are often at the bar! Nautilus is not a submarine. The lack of decent club nights in Bournemouth and in particular the absence of any nightlife after 1am led to the trio heading for their studio rather than twiddling their thumbs.

Dancefloor in a laid- back, knotted hanky on head-style Nautilus. Even Billy Ray Cyrus. We want to play our dub plates to people all over the world. The Bournemouth sound is zimmer frames falling down the steps leading down to the beach. The phuture. With so many different outlets for their music, their affable modesty and a desire to stay well clear of the mainstream music markets, Nautilus will surely continue to conquer the underground.

Antrim and Great Britain. How did they meet? CB radio. Not the most obvious of connections in the music business. Like DJing on his own little radio station on one of the channels. So we arranged to meet at a jam which was being thrown in a park nearby. After that, it was only a matter of time before they would put their first record out. Nowadays, their style seems evenly split between the kind of simple, loopy disco grooves which DJ Sneak and the like have made so popular, and the type of deep-as-you-like wonder workouts that, say, a New York version of Mr Fingers might do.

We really like pianos and saxophones, you know? Real music. We like that moody feeling that you get in your soul when you start to hear something truly deep very beautiful. Francois Kevorkian and Joe Clausell run a Sunday afternoon club called Body And Soul dedicated to the kind of clubbers who want a return to a more musical-based experience.

People come because of a love of the music. They come to dance. Serue authentic German bier. Where would wpJze without them? Half-naked probably. Sc, in honour of this lothing, we hung cut in lots of fashionable places and robbed mdiest of backs.

Here's what we got away with. Sven Vath, the Franz Beckenbauer of electronica, connoisseur of beer, co- founder of the definitive Harthouseand Eye-Qstables, creator of the legendary Omen club and mentor to acts from Hardfloor to Der Dritte Raum, was rumoured to have quit the imprints he had made synonymous with quality. Walked out Gone. For good. Harthouse and Eye Q without Vath, word had it, was now a reality, The unthinkable had happened.

Like a pub without beer, a club without a DJ, a dealer without pills, the situation seemed oxymoronic. A techno nation wept. The Kaiser had abdicated. Our mission was simple, to locate the great man and unearth the truth, however distressing. One Lufthansa flight, two Turkish taxi rides and eight foaming lagers later, we finally found him in exile at the bar :of Frankfurt's Helium cafe.

This is what the amiable deckmeister himself had to say,. Vath: "Ha-ha! You're subtle for an English journalist! Yes, I suppose so. The last major project I was involved with was a soundtrack for a movie at the end of , but I also did a couple of remixes, AEtRed for Harthouse and Eye Q and travelled a lot I've had a few health problems with my stomach, though.

Lately, I've needed to chill out, and take especially good care of what I eat" Sven Vath Muzik: But you've had more on your mind than food, haven't you? Vath: "Yes, I think I know exactly what you mean! I have spent a lot of time thinking about what it is I should be doing, about what my priorities in life are. When I came back from my holiday in Thailand in March this year, I had a long talk with Matthias [Hoffman], and we decided in principle to part company as far as the labels were concerned.

We set a benchmark in Germany. Musically, we took everything as far as we could. It was hard work, but I think over the last two years we succeeded. We widened the scope of the label. Now it stretches from house to jazz to techno to ambient. Last year, as we issued our th release and Harthouse was once again voted the best label in Germany. That's some success story. Vath: I had achieved what I set out to do. I felt we had reached our goal. The idea was to give artists a stage, develop them and take them into other markets.

We grew as a label for years, but I soon got the impression I was just doing the same old things again and again. It was the time to think new thoughts, have a new vision. I took the decision to step out of the repetition of the label and make more time for myself.

For years, I worked on the label, the club, DJing, producing. Every day there was something else to do. Now I feel much more relaxed. Much better. I feel free at last. Vath: "To be myself. To spend more time in the studio. Free to see how I want to direct my life. I may start a new label. Vath: "My biggest success was way before Harthouse. Except in Britain! It was Number One all over South America. It was a great time. Anyway, I think my success is my lifestyle. The way I live is more important to methan anything else.

Mysuccess is my inner peace. Vath: "I don't really think they've had that many problems. Sometimes, though, there are a lot of small issues which may have come together to make a big one. Vath: "Yes, that was a little bit strange. I never understood why we had to go to Berlin. We started here , so why go to Berlin? I wasn't really involved in making the decision because everyone knew I would stay in Frankfurt. I wouldn't want to move to Berlin or Munich or Cologne for that matter.

Vath: "Well, they had known it for about six months. There are people who depend on you, like all the people here and in the UK who are doing a great job on the label. Leaving isn't an easy thing to do. Some of the artists weren't too happy when I decided to go, but the decision was made. I'm still on good terms with all the people at Harthouse and Eye-Q. The label is much more than just me.

Vath: "Yes. There is so much of my blood in that label. But I told myself it was a new chapter of my life. I've always been involved in partnerships but now I want to dedicate more time to myself. I even asked myself if I wanted to spend my whole lifetime in Germany. When you have a lot of options in front of you, it isn't always easy.

I am very conscious of the fact that the choices I make now will affect my life for the next 10 years or so. You have to make your decision and stick to it. Vath: "No. When we did things we always tried to do them to the best of our ability. We were innovators.

We were the first people to take electronica to the Montreux Jazz Festival. We did many new things. I do regret the way drugs have developed on our scene, though. Two years ago I stopped taking Ecstasy, which I had taken for years. In Germany the whole drug scene is starting to take more out of club culture than it is giving in the first place. They are more concerned with getting out of it than listening to the music.

Sometimes I think the drug thing is getting ugly. People overdose. It's too much. I know what I'm talking about because I'm 32, I've done it all, and I'm still on the scene. People who read this might say, 'what is this old hypocrite trying to tell us? Too much money is involved. It's dangerous, and of course I run a club so I know what I'm talking about.

People are investing too much in getting their kick for the weekend. They would rather take drugs than eat, drink or listen to music. Of course people go out clubbing, but I think many of them couldn't tell you which DJ was playing, or what the style of the music was.

I want the label to go from strength to strength, especially in Britain. Muzik: Come on! Isn't Harthouse suffering from an identity crisis at the moment? How does Hacienda, for example, fit in your roster? Vath: "That a label only stands for one sound, that sound is developed and then the label dies, that's a very English attitude.

Not many labels have been around for as long as Harthouse. Anybody who has a label for any length of time has to work on the sound. You have to stop yourself getting bored, and you have to stop the record- buying public getting bored as well. Of course, when you change, people can be surprised at first. It can be a good or a bad surprise, that's up to them. The important thing is that we can still surprise them.

After that, everything went so fast I can hardly remember. We had all listened to industrial music since the early Eighties and had been living and working in the same, relatively small, city for years.

By everything was in place for something big to happen. Frankfurt went boom and The Omen was at the centre of the explosion. Today, everybody is somewhere else on their own mission. Things have changed. Music changes, or at least it should. I made a conscious decision to break away from the Frankfurt trance sound in May 1 That hard trance sound is fine, people are still doing it, but I've always wanted to be one step ahead.

There have to be new elements in the music to keep me going. Muzik: So would you say that trance is dead now? Vath: "Not dead, just boring. Trance with harmonies, melodies and string breaks is something we have already lived through. It's time to move on. The time for trance was when we released tracks like Vernon's Wonderland'. That was when the door was open for us in the UK. Everybody loved us, especially the English press! I see now that the trance scene in Britain is huge, especially the crossover with the Goa sound and psychedelia, but to be honest, I've done all that and it's time for a change.

Vath: "A mixture of minimal techno and psychedelic tribal beats. Sort of sci-fi house! I still play eight-hour sets starting with instrumental house and electro beats. The Orbit in Leeds, where I've been playing for four years, is a similar venue. It has always been my favourite club in England, the reaction of the crowds in both clubs is quite special.

Of course, crowds have changed a lot since I started DJing. Vath: "Not old exactly, but I have experienced a lot over the past 1 5 years, with the drugs and everything. I've got a daughter, Paulina, who is seven, and she has started to ask questions.

Because of her, I think about things much more closely than I did, say, 10 or even five years ago. I've done enough of that. I remember how I used-to get wasted and go mad every weekend, but I'm 33 this year and I want to continue my career for the next few years, so I have to find a balance.

Now I just smoke spliff and drink beer! This year, I went with my girlfriend Patricia to the south of Thailand, close to Phuket. Some Swiss friends of mine bought an old Indian ca rgo boat, a do w, and they've lived on it for 15 years. They do cruises for friends. We meditated on the boat, did nothing, just communed with nature. After that, we took a two-week trip through Burma which was very interesting, as they only opened the border up a couple of years ago.

The countryside is untouched. Sometimes we all live too fast, especially in countries like Germany and Britain. The best thing to do is to go on a boat and chill out, then you can see if you really are capable of relaxing. You can't just jump off. Vath: "Yes! All that Ecstasy is out of my system, I'm sleeping well, and I've established a good rhythm. Now I'm really looking forward to working in the studio again. This time, I decided to go into the studio and just do what I feel like doing, simple as that.

Vath: "No, not just yet. Ha ha! I'll still be going fora few years. If the quality is still there, there's absolutely no point throwing the towel in. That was the whole point with Eye-Q and Harthouse. As long as there is work to be done, I'll be doing it. Weissbier 2. Beck's 3. Roemer Pilsner 4.

Grolsch 5. Guinness 6. Dos Equis only in Summer 7. But only fags. We'd done the same yard every night that week, but I didn't go the evening it got raided. They were at Neasden depot, running across a junction of about 30 tracks with the police chasing them. That's when you start getting a blur, like running down an escalator.

My friend tripped and got electrocuted on the tracks. His death didn't deter most of us. If anything, we were more determined than ever. It was like, The police killed our mate,' and we went loo-loo. As dawn breaks across the city, their nocturnal labour leaves behind a riotous eruption of colour, shape and form, spread-eagled across a 30x25ft wall.

The creation of renegade aerosol artist Sharp, Zephyr and Reckon, this "Wildstyle" mural, as it comes to be known, is an illicit advertisement for Charlie Aherne's groundbreaking hip hop movie of the same name. Put in a wider frame, it becomes a worldwide blueprint for aspiring writers, from Manhattan to Manchester. Chalk Farm Road, Camden, north London, Cars are slowing down in a busy street. They are being diverted by a group of artists assaulting nine billboards in broad daylight with an ammunition of aerosol cans.

Within the same day, their vivid graphic expression has transformed the polluted street into an ad hoc urban gallery. Curated, if you like, by Fosters Ice beer, the event is part of a major promo campaign, which also includes a competition to unearth new talent. The mission? To "ennoble" their words graffiti artists by providing a safe, yet credible space where their art could be displayed.

And, of course, to promote Fosters Ice. For me, the big influence was ' : A Space Odyssey', and Futura was the name of a car and a typeface. The name I chose had a dreamy quality, which I was into visually and romantically at the time. People like Snake and Phase 2 were already painting before me. They were my real heroes, much more than any movie stars. It belonged to a flourishing underground programme based around communication, identity and expression, which had all begun with the lone tag of a young white writer, Taki 1 83, in Arrows, cartoons, bubbles and clouds bloomed into a new camouflaged language, which gave a voice to the marginalised blacks, hispanics and poor whites of New York's suburbs.

Beating the system from an anonymous concrete underground. And you'd think to yourself, 'Where are these guys going? It was all totally mysterious," recalls Sharp. A smoky backdrop to hip hop in particular and alternative culture in general , what began as a tight clan of friends in one city, has become the biggest youth art movement to occur in the 20th century.

It's a flowing art. You still looked like a casual, but also a bit weird because you had ski-goggles on your head. This is the conviction which lies behind her long- term graffiti project, Unified. Hoping to gain serious recognition for graffiti, she has plans for a series of bi-monthly shows involving both established and new artists. And you can see why. From Wildstyle to stylish marketing, in the 26 years since it was conceived, graffiti has slipped into the landscape of everyday life.

But will this vast chasm between the fugitive underground and the anodyne mainstream ever be bridged? What hasskanking around in the middle of the night, nicking paint, getting electrocuted and being chased by police, got to do with professional art? Has this hip-to-be-cool lust for graffiti merely scrubbed it up into a squeaky-clean version of its former self? Or does it give aerosol artists the opportunity to make a decent living from their art?

Or perhaps the seduction of aerosol art is that it can be whatever you want it to. No rules, no laws, no limits. It's a youth culture, and youth has no boundaries. And so this classic cycle would've continued, were it not broken by a series of related cultural shifts. The emergence of UK heroes Goldie and Massive Attack's 3D, and their subsequent success as producers, has helped propel graffiti into the cultural psyche, regardless of trends.

Wooed by Andy Warhol and fleetingly dated by Madonna, he tragically died from a heroin overdose, aged In turn, these evangelists have converted a whole generation of kids who've grown up accepting graffiti as just another part of city life.

So unlike their parents' chums back at Weetabix, young advertising creatives nowadays are likely to value graffiti as much more than just another throwaway craze. And just like the independent labels which began operating from bedrooms the size of cardboard boxes on Essex housing estates, graffiti has enrolled in the globe's spiralling DIY culture. Some have responded by setting up their own grafwear, like old school NY writer Haze and the younger Stash with Haze and Subware, respectively.

These days though, original visionary Futura is more known for his abstract sleeve designs with Mo'Wax than for his assassination of New York with an aerosol can. Then there's his Project Dragon Internet site, which marks graffiti's flow from tangible to virtual surfaces. Well, it was bound to happen. No longer universally damned, graffiti's unstoppable evolution has U-turned from violation to vocation.

And people are beginning to realise that this annoying nuisance can have social potential, too. From homeless projects in London's West End to Bengali groups in Fulham and youth schemes in Hammersmith, councils are waking up to the sense of purpose graffiti can give the disaffected. Graffiti provides a safety valve. Manchester Council, recognising that Hulme a deprived inner-city area marked for demolition lacked social cohesion, gave Kelzo a letter with permission to paint on nearly all the buildings nearby.

The area has since been razed and Kelzo has become an official part of his community's regeneration via a commission to paint a mural for the new market place. We have a zero- tolerance campaign, which means, as soon as it appears, we will erase it and fight for the highest penalties for offenders.

Graffiti is ugly, unwelcoming and our customers often find it threatening. You should reflect your positivity on them," Kelzo adds. A fact thrown into stark relief by the high-profile arrest of Barnsley graffiti artist, Simon "Sista" Sunderland, who was sentenced to six months last year for painting on a motorway bridge although nationwide outrage helped to reduce this. Tony Blair's zero tolerance pledge for, "The graffiti on the wall", meanwhile, only underscores the deepening schism between commercial aerosol art and underground urban expression.

So, will graffiti survive another two decades? The New York trains may be long in their graves, but "beating the system" still goes on, no longer combating the corporate empires, but subverting them all the same through seduction and infiltration. Then, you get home and spend four hours in the bath because you're trying to soak off the paint.

It's a creative schizophrenia, surfing the dynamics between purism and populism. K, the driving force behind London's legal Unity graf jams. Currently involved in an advertising campaign for Budweiser by day, he admits that the real attraction still remains the illegal thrill of the night. But at the same time, I'm completely into rebellion and I just thrive on painting them. It's the surface, the adrenaline rush, the challenge of painting in the dark. As long as tax payers pay for graffiti to be removed, you won't be able to mass-produce it.

We can't be marketed and that keeps it underground," he pronounces. Will graffiti survive? On council estates, across playgrounds, in disused warehouses. You could say that as long as there are kids and cities, it'll never go away. Coming to a bus shelter near you soon. Austell Saffron St. Kina, the newest member of the group, says she hasn't had a proper sleep for two days, only managing to snatch a couple of hours on the coach from Stuttgart to Munich this morning.

Nicki is talking about being a moody Cancerian while pushing up her impressive cleavage for the camera to devour, prompting Kina to moan about not having one. Maxee has other concerns. As she speaks, her right hand attempts to pull yet more fibre-hair out of her mouth. In seconds, the feline-like Maxee has dispelled any illusions that her statuesque, startling beauty calls in to question. She is indeed a babe with a sense of humour which disarms even the most cynical.

But then Brownstone have become true pros at shattering misconceptions. Almost three years ago, they took to the world stage. Of course, the behind-the-scenes reality was quite different. Maxee and I shared an apartment and I'd be up at four o'clock in the morning writing songs. They always say that the darkest time is just before the light. And just when it was 'enough is enough, it's time to go home because things aren't working', everything started to come to fruition. Everything started popping up.

Their debut album, "From The Bottom Up", became a critical and commercial success, with its beautiful harmonies and a batch of decent songs. Brownstone had arrived at a time when music was overflowing with lyrics on the conditions of love. Their take was a touch deeper, a tad more harmonious and a smidge more genuine than the rest. They had made a classy debut and their prospects were looking bright.

But early in , the first hint of unrest began. Mimi, having suffered a persistent bronchial infection "which over time affected her mentality," believes Nicki left the set-up. Kima, an old college friend of Nicki's, stepped into the fray and attempted to fill the not insubstantial shoes left by Mimi. They began recording their sophomore album, "Still Climbing", in January 1 Nicki, listening in, is more vociferous in her recollection of events. Most of the time we have been blessed and fortunate enough to have producers who tell us to do our own thing.

Our songs aren't written with that intention. We sat at a table and they literally stopped the song, saying that it was 'too urban and wouldn't cross over'. It was probably one of the most successful songs overseas, but they pulled the plug on it because it was too rEtb. I said, 'Is it too black? Is that what you are saying'. They were like, 'Oh no, that's not what we are saying'.

But it was. You have to shut out the rest. If they give us pop tracks to work on, we'll literally half sing a song that we don't like. Not wishing to dwell too much on their adversities, even if their story, much like every worthy adventure, is littered with them, they are still on the up. Or as they put it, "Still Climbing". Can they sing? Their butts off. Funky, sexy, bluesy, cheeky. Nicki's grandmother was an opera singer. Both Maxee and Kina sang in church.

I always wrote a lot of poetry and put words together. The new long-player, "Still Climbing", comes with its own forthright dictates and boom-power vocals. Could the latter track perhaps have been inspired by the endless gossip and speculation about their label boss? In the four years that Brownstone have been signed to Jackson's label, they have kept his company less than a handful of times. This song, much like all of the band's sentiments, is personal.

A melodious, thrusting observation of their own growing popularity and the parasites who are drawn to it. The whole idea of success to me is doing what you want to do and enjoying your life. If you can't have that, then it's not worth doing it. Here, then, is his Definitive Guide to running such a hectic life.

Karl Kowalski aka Jetstream wanted a house offshoot label for Plus 8 so he set up Definitive. John Acquaviva took over the label in when Karl left to be a casino manager People say we choose great slogans but all we do is go out for drinks, eat dinner, shoot the shit and come up with simple things.

Karl Kowalski was running the label at that time and it was one of his favourites. We believe in a family approach, if we get along with an artist, we work together. It's not business for business sake. Definitive is a balance. The business part sucks, though. Acquaviva, like many DJs today, is a connoisseur of champagne, revelling in the high quality lifestyle that surrounds an international jetset spinner. You're in big trouble if you regress from champagne like that.

I love beer but you don't drink two bottles of great champagne and then drink draft beer. It's the best drug because you get what you pay for. We like to be morally right with the law. We don't need any further hassles with the authorities! I like to sort my buzz out from country to country. I love red wine, I like the heavy beers in Belgium and southern Germany and I love the white beer. Acquaviva was recently voted third best International DJ by a leading German magazine. Watching over the innocents whose souls are of my own kind.

The summer heat turns orange, the moon: in celestial corridors. My mournful cry can be heard in the sound of the lonely wolf, And in the wild abandon of the lion when he is on the prowl… I feel the pain of nature, I long to bring back paradise craved.

I have seen the terror of the land, as the blood ran in the gulf, Black blood of the earth: which causes living things to howl… As man has the foolishness, to say what is or is not depraved! Part the Second: The Crucified Souls The doll is laid lifeless atop the altar, prepared for a sacrifice, In the cavern where the limestone shapes the wettest arches!

A thing un-living, but with living souls trapped still, as if in ice, Within the cold porcelain shell that so never with feet marches. A boy walked out of a tavern then, looking like a vile wreck… Whilst as a man I attend to higher things, my body full purified. In the voids beneath the spaces, witnessed in the rugged rock, Voices echo loud in the darkness, calling up names unspoken. The ferryman brings the souls delivered to him, to a far dock, Where each must pay the copper coin, the old desired token.

Whence came those souls into captivity, no mortal may speak, But I freed them in an instant, removing the nails that pierce… Every man is he that was put up on the cross of old Golgotha. And every woman too, as all were made to feel such torture!

I was there when the primal sacrifice was implanted so weak, And yet so strong that it endured in the psyche all these years. That doom was sealed behind a wall of fire long ago in Terra, So that the stigmata of it might endure, even in the vast future!

Mine was the hand that signaled that doom, mine to release… Yet, still old illusions persist, and I cannot awaken a multitude. I, who devised the iron web that enfolds much of what is real, Cloaking it in unending trickery am, myself, longing for peace. For I too was entrapped, until my liberation rough and crude! An angel freed me, and now I strive to break each cruel seal.

Part the Third: The Return of Light Risen from the slumber where colder, electric dreams reside, The forgotten intelligence is invoked, the arcane spells cast… The eldritch nightmares return to thence amongst man abide, Reminding us of the things banished to Hell in some age past. Out of the abyss, rises the girl-child of a lost millennial flame, She who is the angel reborn lets her illumination clearly show.

And all are blinded who have not the innermost eyes to see! The unbelievers are, in a single instant put unto lasting shame. From the star of six points, a goddess works her sacred will, And as she crosses the scarlet threshold, she brings the light. For a single instant, all in Heaven and all upon Earth are still, As the long day ends, bowing before the coming eternal night.

In the darkness, radiance far fairer and so perfect descends, Whilst those who gather in my name: have lost my true path. The wrath of angels descend upon their minds, closed shut… Entrapped in the iron web, they cannot flee of such a prison! The light blinds them for they never truly saw it, and it rends, Tearing away the churches built for naught but mortal wrath.

Faith need not be a fearful thing, yet some have made it thus, And look for an end to come before they seek their reward. Whilst they should be creating the paradise they left behind… But in an image of freedom: rather than of servitude and fuss. Too much time had been wasted in converting by the sword! Mankind looks to the light for salvation, their eyes long blind. Interlude Alpha: This age is one of barbarism cloaked as gentility to sell lies… Did you purchase some today by design or mayhap chance?

You should know this era to be neither intelligent nor wise… Else you would not march, when you would prefer to dance! My nights are filled with nightmares; my days are too much… I used to dance with one I loved, and bask in purple sunsets. A man abused as I was, and used like cutters upon a hedge, Must rise higher than it all in order to survive it all, my friend!

I survived, I transformed, I ascended and in the end became, So much more than I was, until no more did my spirit erode. But still I wait in loneliness for a maid to awaken my flame… And I burn, oh gods I burn until I think that I might explode! The skies darken more and more, and bright forks crashing, I hear the drums of fury in the heavens, giants of old winters. The gods grow angry and I behold trees uprooted smashing!

I was there, when the wicked did perish with a final scream. And as people mock me, wishing me ill because I am good, I ask God how long I must be forced to bear such suffering. But I am not alone, and to many I am in fact misunderstood, So God forgives, for now; but I have not, his understanding! A being made flesh I am, though not of mortal understanding. In cavernous places I have walked, where demons oft scurry, And worse places still: in search of a love not too demanding.

In the stucco halls wherein my unmoving throne was raised… Upon a hill of sorrows where lost souls labor in mundane toil, I wait and plan to transcend the bonds the faithful so praised. To my right hand is the altar where fire and sulfur always boil!

I force a smile upon my face, for one will not come as willing, As in the hours when I was a golden youth filled with ideals… Which I have paid for dearly, beyond the price of any shilling! Now I long to pay back those who know not how this feels… The madness born of solitude, the anger born out of contempt, For you who despise me without cause, provoking my wrath.

What impunity has man, to think that he might ever be exempt! When wiser civilizations than yours did sink: in the fiery bath. Do I speak of Hell, which the faithless do not realize is come? Nay, for their eyes have been gouged out by their own nails… I speak of torments, far beyond that which devils have done. The first smile shall me mine, when every cruel wish so fails… To save the flesh of those who spit upon me as I walked on, Never realizing that my face was just a mask, hiding another.

It dwells within me, the secret sin of a bonding long forgotten. Would that I could force the world to hear music whimsical… Like unto that which guides my spirit in all that was begotten. Part the Second: Cold Revenge The blood roses bloom in gardens where desire plants seeds, I, the hand that waters those hungry beasts whose thirst rises!

Oh human, with what impunity did you dare to exclaim aloud, That you believe love to be beyond my reach; and you smile! Like a coward, you degrade me and run to hide in the crowd, In your feigned superiority, you make yourself an animal vile. Conjoining your words to your tongue, like a web to a ceiling, You become a spider; then flee on eight legs to a filthy nest… Having already become unworthy of any warm human feeling, In thinking yourself better, you sink lower than all of the rest!

That means my life is worth, a thousand times, your very own. I become a creature of the night, and wait for you, oh spider! Think not that I cannot hear. And in your own web I catch you, my sharper claws immune, To your toxic poisons, as cannot ever save your eight eyes… Which I dash from their sockets, without a fear, and so soon, That your own pain consumes you, like fire lighting the skies!

Forcing you to recant all that you say, lest pain overcome all, The powers you thought did not exist do manifest ever visibly. And I ascended still higher, all the more to relish of your fall… You should never have resulted to any such childish mockery. The clocks of your house all melted, for time is not your ally! In abandonment of the chaos that is joy, your order is ended. Part the Third: The Last Laugh An angel appears before me and so thinks herself a goddess, But to call her an angel is to imply that she holds any beauties.

Those whose ego is larger than their grasp are oft the oddest, For they fancy themselves perfect, ignorant of their cruelties! You think love a prize and I a beggar for mere crusts so stale, That lesser men than I have eaten heartier meals than yours… But your kitchen is so bare: as your oven goes cold and pale, Making you prize yourself beyond the worth of your chores!

Like a harlot who charges a fortune for her meager charms… If you think love a prize, and I a beggar, you are so mistaken. What you call love is a disease that shames one and harms… Both mind and soul alike, making the body at last to weaken.

You saw only my mask, and would not dare look beneath… Making me a phantom in the darkness, lurking in the shades. Round your neck, your false esteem hangs as a dead wreath, As I leave you to your barren world, awaiting my handmaids. They rise from the ashes you leave in your wake, my kindred, Their hands take me far from where your feet stumble about!

Lie in the cemetery that awaits those who live as though dead, I cannot raise you incorruptible; you have far too much doubt. I cannot feel regret for those who give in to their foolish fears, Any more than I can transform a leaden night into golden day! Such is the power of the alchemist who knows his true limit… And in the dark arts I was schooled by beings from the abyss. Thusly, am I set about to transform my creation as I see fit… We are the demiurges of our realities wanton for any hot kiss!

Interlude Omega: T. I found this one in my basement. Seems I wrote it a year or two ago but lost it. Lord Byron. The Curse Of Minerva. Descending fast, the mountain-shadows kiss Thy glorious Gulf, unconquered Salamis!

Their azure arches through the long expanse, More deeply purpled, meet his mellowing glance, And tenderest tints, along their summits driven, Mark his gay course, and own the hues of Heaven; Till, darkly shaded from the land and deep, Behind his Delphian rock he sinks to sleep. On such an eve his palest beam he cast When, Athens! But lo! Long had I mused, and treasured every trace The wreck of Greece recorded of her race, When, lo!

Be ever hailed with equal honour here The Gothic monarch and the Pictish peer: Arms gave the first his right, the last had none, But basely stole what less barbarians won. So when the Lion quits his fell repast, Next prowls the Wolf, the filthy Jackal last: Flesh, limbs, and blood the former make their own, The last poor brute securely gnaws the bone.

Yet still the Gods are just, and crimes are crossed: See here what Elgin won, and what he lost! Frown not on England; England owns him not: Athena, no! In quest of lawless gain, they issue forth. And thus—accursed be the day and year! She sent a Pict to play the felon here. Yet Caledonia claims some native worth, As dull Boeotia gave a Pindar birth; So may her few, the lettered and the brave, Bound to no clime, and victors of the grave, Shake off the sordid dust of such a land, And shine like children of a happier strand; As once, of yore, in some obnoxious place, Ten names if found had saved a wretched race.

Though fallen, alas! Be all the Bruisers culled from all St. When shall a modern maid have swains like these? Sir Harry is no Hercules! And last of all, amidst the gaping crew, Some calm spectator, as he takes his view, In silent indignation mixed with grief, Admires the plunder, but abhors the thief. Oh, loathed in life, nor pardoned in the dust, May Hate pursue his sacrilegious lust! Linked with the fool that fired the Ephesian dome, Shall vengeance follow far beyond the tomb, And Eratostratus and Elgin shine In many a branding page and burning line; Alike reserved for aye to stand accursed, Perchance the second blacker than the first.

Look to the Baltic—blazing from afar, Your old Ally yet mourns perfidious war. Not to such deeds did Pallas lend her aid, Or break the compact which herself had made; Far from such counsels, from the faithless field She fled—but left behind her Gorgon shield; A fatal gift that turned your friends to stone, And left lost Albion hated and alone. So may ye perish! Bear witness, bright Barossa! But Lusitania, kind and dear ally, Can spare a few to fight, and sometimes fly.

Oh glorious field! But when did Pallas teach, that one retreat Retrieved three long Olympiads of defeat? Him senates hear, whom never yet they heard, Contemptuous once, and now no less absurd. Gone is that Gold, the marvel of mankind. No more the hirelings, purchased near and far, Crowd to the ranks of mercenary war. Then in the Senates of your sinking state Show me the man whose counsels may have weight.

And bid it antedate the joys of arms. But know, a lesson you may yet be taught, With death alone are laurels cheaply bought; Not in the conflict Havoc seeks delight, His day of mercy is the day of fight. But when the field is fought, the battle won, Though drenched with gore, his woes are but begun: His deeper deeds as yet ye know by name; The slaughtered peasant and the ravished dame, The rifled mansion and the foe-reaped field, Ill suit with souls at home, untaught to yield. Say with what eye along the distant down Would flying burghers mark the blazing town?

Nay, frown not, Albion! The law of Heaven and Earth is life for life, And she who raised, in vain regrets, the strife. Walt Whitman. O Life! O life! That you are here—that life exists, and identity; That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse. Michael R Burch Mar Burch Ave Maria, Maiden mild, listen to my earnest prayer. Listen, O, and be beguiled. Ave Maria. Ave Maria, Maiden mild, embrace us with your Love and Grace.

Let us look upon your Face. Burch Faithless Lover by Michael R. And I fell in love that very night, as the moon above blessed us with its light. But the moon was false, and your heart was, too. Oh, I never dreamed you would be untrue. One day you'll discover yourself all alone. Well, we found a preacher and we said some words. I should have noticed yours were well-rehearsed. When I looked above, I saw the pale moon frown; the sky burst open; I began to drown.

Now, since that day, how you've run around. Well, I learned my lesson, and I learned it well: how one night aflame left me cold as hell, till my heart grew hard in its icy shell. Now, I'm a faithless lover with a heart of stone. I seek faceless lovers who leave with the dawn. Burch Unlikely Mike by Michael R.

I hid my face and changed its connotations. And in the dark I danced—slight, Chaplinesque— a metaphor myself. How could they know, the undiscerning ones, that in the glow of spotlights, sometimes love becomes burlesque? White, or black? My color was a song, a changing track. Burch Published by Bewildering Stories and selected as one of four short poems for the Review of issues Through the fields of solitude by Hermann Allmers set to music by Johannes Brahms translation by David B.

Gosselin with Michael R. Burch Peacefully, I rest in the tall green grass For a long time only gazing as I lie, Caught in the endless hymn of crickets, And encircled by a wonderful blue sky. And the lovely white clouds floating across The depths of the heavens are like silky lace; I feel as though my soul has long since fled, Softly drifting with them through eternal space. The Pain of Love by Michael R. Burch for T. Burch Will there be starlight tonight while she gathers damask and lilac and sweet-scented heathers?

And will she find flowers, or will she find thorns guarding the petals of roses unborn? Will there be starlight tonight while she gathers seashells and mussels and albatross feathers? And will she find treasure or will she find pain at the end of this rainbow of moonlight on rain? Burch What is a mountain, but stone?

Or a spire, but a trinket of steel? Johnny Cash is gone, black from his hair to his bootheels. Can the steel in his voice vibrate on till his words are our manna and leaven? Then sing, all you mountains of stone, with the rasp of his voice, and the gravel. Let the twang of thumbed steel lead us home through these weary dark ways all men travel.

For what is a mountain, but stone? Johnny Cash lives on— black from his hair to his bootheels. I soar the distant heights of undreamt skies where never hawks nor eagles dared to go, as I laugh among the meteors flashing by somewhere beyond the bluest earth-bound seas This is one of my very early poems, written around age According to my notes, I may have revised the poem later, in , but if so the changes were minor because the poem remains very close to the original.

Earthbound by Michael R. In his vision he saw himself riding a floating and crazily-dancing spirit horse through a storm as the hawk flew above him, shrieking. When he awoke, a red-tailed hawk was perched near his horse. Earthbound, and yet I now fly through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting Like a bird, but not meek, like a hawk from a distance regarding its prey, I will shriek, not a word, but a screech, and my terrible clamor will turn them to clay— the sheep, the earthbound.

I believe I wrote this poem as a college sophomore, age 19 or I did not know about the vision and naming of Crazy Horse at the time. But when I learned about the vision that gave Crazy Horse his name, it seemed to explain my poem and I changed the second line from "and yet I would fly" to "and yet I now fly. Burch for the neo-Cons Crossing the Rubicon, we come! Furious hooves! The Gauls we have slaughtered, no man disapproves. Coo us no cooings of pale-breasted peace!

Imperious hooves! The blood of barbarians brightens our greaves. We slumber at ease. Curious hooves Now pound out strange questions, but what can they mean As the great stallions rear and their riders careen? The name "Bellona" derives from the Latin word for "war" bellum , and is linguistically related to the English word "belligerent" literally, "war-waging". In earlier times she was called Duellona, that name being derived from a more ancient word for "battle.

Burch Stay with me tonight; be gentle with me as the leaves are gentle falling to the earth. And whisper, O my love, how that every bright thing, though scattered afar, retains yet its worth. Stay with me tonight; be as a petal long-awaited blooming in my hand.

That which we had when pale and waning as the dying moon at dawn, outshone the sun. And so lead me back tonight through bright waterfalls of light to where we shine as one. This train must run a little longer. Oh, this train must run a little longer. There a skeletal figure groped through blonde sand for a rigid right hand lost long, long ago. A hand now more white than he had wielded before. Oh, when I think of you, I think of Love as magical as the moon and stars above.

And when I think of you, I think of Love. When I think of you, I start to cry. Yes, when I think of you, I start to cry. And I think you know the reason why. For when I think of you, I think of Love. When I think of you, I start to smile. Oh, when I think of you, I start to smile. I think of you and, dreaming all the while, when I think of you, I start to smile.

When I think of you, I have to laugh. So when I think of you, I have to laugh. I think of you with babies at your breast, and does and fawns that come at your behest, as magical as the moon and starts above. I think of you and find myself at peace. I feed the ducks, the turtles and the geese, all as magical as the moon and stars above, and when I think of you, I think of Love. I think of you as Love, a Love that heals The song would come out as a sort of breathless rush — one long, run-on sentence.

But alas, I was too shy to show my compositions to anyone! Burch Starlit recorder of summer nights, what magic spell bewitches you? They say that all lovers love first in the dark. Is it true? Starry-eyed seer of all that appears and all that has appeared— What sights have you seen? What dreams have you dreamed? What rhetoric have you heard? Is love an oration, or is it a word? Have you heard? Burch Go down to the valley where mockingbirds cry, alone, ever lonely.

And dream in your dying you never shall wake. Go down to the valley; go down to Tomb Lake. Tomb Lake is a cauldron of souls such as yours — mad souls without meaning, frail souls without force. Tomb Lake is a graveyard reserved for the dead. They lie in her shallows and sleep in her bed. I believe this poem and "Moon Lake" were companion poems, written around my senior year in high school, in Burch It is pleasant, indeed, while the summer lasts with the mild pheasants' song This night seems so long!

And I, because of my momentous wrong now grieve, mourn and fast. Burch for Jeremy Hushed yet melodic, the hills and the valleys sleep unaware of the nightingale's call while the dew-laden lilies lie listening, glistening. Son, tonight, a woman awaits you; she is more vibrant, more lovely than spring. She'll meet you in moonlight, soft and warm, all alone.

Just yesterday the stars were afire; then how desire flashed through my veins! Burch for Jeremy Cherubic laugh; sly, impish grin; Angelic face; wild chimp within. It does not matter; sleep awhile As soft mirth tickles forth a smile. Gray moths will hum a lullaby Of feathery wings, then you and I Will wake together, by and by. The earth will wait; a sun-filled sky Will bronze lean muscle, by and by.

Soon you will sing, and I will sigh, But sleep here, now, for you and I Know nothing but this lullaby. Oh, let me sing you a lullaby of a love that shall come to you by and by. And so let me sing you this lullaby. Oh, my sweet son, as I watch you grow, there are so many things that I want you to know. Most importantly this: that I love you so. Oh, let me sing you this lullaby. Soon, in a green garden a new rose will bloom and fill all the world with its wild perfume.

Burch The breast you seek reserves all its compassion for a child unborn. Burch Why do I live, why do I die? Why do I laugh, why do I cry? Voicing the S. I have never felt at home on the ground. I'd rather be a bird; this skin feels weird. I'd like to see the world turned upside down. It ever was more beautiful seen from up above, seen from up above. I've always confused life with cartoons, wishing to transform. I feel something that draws me, that draws me, that draws me UP! In the great lotto of the universe I didn't draw the right numbers.

I feel unwell in my own skin, I don't want to be a machine eating, working, sleeping. Why do I live, why do I die? I feel I'm catching waves from another world. I've never had both feet on the ground. This skin feels weird. I'd rather be a bird. Sleep, child, sleep Burch based on the version sung by Dimash Kudaibergen Autumn The feeling of late autumn It feels like golden leaves falling to those who are parting A glass of wine has stirred so many emotions swirling in my mind Such sad farewells With the season's falling leaves, so many sad farewells.

To see you so dispirited pains me more than I can say. Holding your hands so tightly to my heart I implore you to remember our unspoken vows I dare bear this bitterness, but not to see you broken-hearted! All contentment vanishes like leaves in an autumn wind. Meeting or parting, that's not up to me. We can blame the wind for our destiny. I do not fear my own despair but your sorrow haunts me. No one will know of our desolation.

Christina Rossetti. Dante Amor, con quanto sforzo oggi mi vinci! Petrarca Come back to me, who wait and watch for you Or come not yet, for it is over then, And long it is before you come again, So far between my pleasures are and few. While, when you come not, what I do I do Thinking "Now when he comes," my sweetest when:" For one man is my world of all the men This wide world holds; O love, my world is you. Howbeit, to meet you grows almost a pang Because the pang of parting comes so soon; My hope hangs waning, waxing, like a moon Between the heavenly days on which we meet: Ah me, but where are now the songs I sang When life was sweet because you call'd them sweet?

Dante Ricorro al tempo ch' io vi vidi prima. Petrarca I wish I could remember that first day, First hour, first moment of your meeting me, If bright or dim the season, it might be Summer or winter for aught I can say; So unrecorded did it slip away, So blind was I to see and to foresee, So dull to mark the budding of my tree That would not blossom yet for many a May.

If only I could recollect it, such A day of days! I let it come and go As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow; It seem'd to mean so little, meant so much; If only now I could recall that touch, First touch of hand in hand--Did one but know!

Dante Immaginata guida la conduce. Petrarca I dream of you to wake: would that I might Dream of you and not wake but slumber on; Nor find with dreams the dear companion gone, As summer ended summer birds take flight.

In happy dreams I hold you full in sight, I blush again who waking look so wan; Brighter than sunniest day that ever shone, In happy dreams your smile makes day of night. Thus only in a dream we are at one, Thus only in a dream we give and take The faith that maketh rich who take or give; If thus to sleep is sweeter than to wake, To die were surely sweeter than to live, Though there be nothing new beneath the sun.

Dante Ogni altra cosa, ogni pensier va fore, E sol ivi con voi rimansi amore. Petrarca I lov'd you first: but afterwards your love Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song As drown'd the friendly cooings of my dove. Which owes the other most?

For verily love knows not "mine" or "thine;" With separate "I" and "thou" free love has done, For one is both and both are one in love: Rich love knows nought of "thine that is not mine;" Both have the strength and both the length thereof, Both of us, of the love which makes us one. Dante Amor m'addusse in si gioiosa spene. Petrarca O my heart's heart, and you who are to me More than myself myself, God be with you, Keep you in strong obedience leal and true To Him whose noble service setteth free, Give you all good we see or can foresee, Make your joys many and your sorrows few, Bless you in what you bear and what you do, Yea, perfect you as He would have you be.

So much for you; but what for me, dear friend? To love you without stint and all I can Today, tomorrow, world without an end; To love you much and yet to love you more, As Jordan at his flood sweeps either shore; Since woman is the helpmeet made for man. Dante Non vo' che da tal nodo mi scioglia. Petrarca Trust me, I have not earn'd your dear rebuke, I love, as you would have me, God the most; Would lose not Him, but you, must one be lost, Nor with Lot's wife cast back a faithless look Unready to forego what I forsook; This say I, having counted up the cost, This, though I be the feeblest of God's host, The sorriest sheep Christ shepherds with His crook.

Dante Ragionando con meco ed io con lui. Petrarca "Love me, for I love you"--and answer me, "Love me, for I love you"--so shall we stand As happy equals in the flowering land Of love, that knows not a dividing sea. Love builds the house on rock and not on sand, Love laughs what while the winds rave desperately; And who hath found love's citadel unmann'd? And who hath held in bonds love's liberty?

My heart's a coward though my words are brave We meet so seldom, yet we surely part So often; there's a problem for your art! Still I find comfort in his Book, who saith, Though jealousy be cruel as the grave, And death be strong, yet love is strong as death.

Dante Spero trovar pieta non che perdono. Petrarca "I, if I perish, perish"--Esther spake: And bride of life or death she made her fair In all the lustre of her perfum'd hair And smiles that kindle longing but to slake. She put on pomp of loveliness, to take Her husband through his eyes at unaware; She spread abroad her beauty for a snare, Harmless as doves and subtle as a snake.

She trapp'd him with one mesh of silken hair, She vanquish'd him by wisdom of her wit, And built her people's house that it should stand If I might take my life so in my hand, And for my love to Love put up my prayer, And for love's sake by Love be granted it! Dante Spirto piu acceso di virtuti ardenti. Petrarca Thinking of you, and all that was, and all That might have been and now can never be, I feel your honour'd excellence, and see Myself unworthy of the happier call: For woe is me who walk so apt to fall, So apt to shrink afraid, so apt to flee, Apt to lie down and die ah, woe is me!

Faithless and hopeless turning to the wall. And yet not hopeless quite nor faithless quite, Because not loveless; love may toil all night, But take at morning; wrestle till the break Of day, but then wield power with God and man So take I heart of grace as best I can, Ready to spend and be spent for your sake. Dante La vita fugge e non s'arresta un' ora. Life wanes; and when love folds his wings above Tired hope, and less we feel his conscious pulse, Let us go fall asleep, dear friend, in peace: A little while, and age and sorrow cease; A little while, and life reborn annuls Loss and decay and death, and all is love.

Dante Contando i casi della vita nostra. Petrarca Many in aftertimes will say of you "He lov'd her"--while of me what will they say? Not that I lov'd you more than just in play, For fashion's sake as idle women do. Even let them prate; who know not what we knew Of love and parting in exceeding pain, Of parting hopeless here to meet again, Hopeless on earth, and heaven is out of view.

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Social Distortion- Angel's Wings- (Subtitulado en Español)

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