Someone tell the moron that you don't "unleash" gates. You open gates and unleash what is inside. We live under "idio-ziocracy," or rule by zionist morons.
يعبر الشاعر ابن سكرة عن مشكلته في رغبته بغلامٍ حسن الشمائل وممتلئ الكفل (المؤخرة)، حيث أن هذا الغلام يطلب الدراهم، لكن ابن سكرة غير متصل الحبل (أي أنه كذلك مهوز وفقير ومفلس)، كذلك أن هذا الغلام لا ينطق العربية بل هو فارسي ويصعب التواصل معه، ويبدو أنه يطلب من أحد الوسطاء مساعدته لأن الجود سجيّة لهذا الوسيط، وابن سكرة عنده المديح والتقريض (الثناء) فقط، يقول:
إني بليت بشادنٍ غنجٍ
حَسَنُ الشمائل وافرَ الكفلِ
يبغى الدراهم وهي معوزةٌ
عندي فحبلي غير متصل
مستعجم الألفاظ أجهل ما
يبدي ويجهل فهمه غزلي
وإذا مدحت فليس يفهمه
والفارسية ليس من عملي
فبحق ما بيني وبينك من
ودٍ بلا زيغ ولا ميل
امنن علي بقربه فعسى
أحيا بزورته ويسمح لي
الجود منك سجيةٌ أبداً
والمدح والتقريظ من قبلي
===
يتيمة الدهر، ديوانه
HALDEMAN: There’s a genre of film they make. They’re called “edits.” Footage of you - the Checkers speech, the ‘62 concession, the helicopter, set to a kind of, uh, trancelike electronic music. The comments say things like “literally me” and “he just like me fr.”
NIXON: What’s “fr”?
HALDEMAN: “For real,” sir.
NIXON: And the…sweating? In the, the debate? They’ve seen the sweating?
HALDEMAN: They love the sweating. They consider it relatable. The consensus is that the sweating gives you “aura.”
NIXON: Aura, huh.
[EIGHT SECONDS OF SILENCE]
NIXON: Bob, I want to be very clear about something. In 1960 that sweating cost me the presidency of the United States, and now it’s giving me…what, aura? Where the [EXPLETIVE] was the aura in Cook County?
KISSINGER: History has a way of vindicating-
PRESIDENT: Henry, do you have edits?
[TWELVE SECONDS OF SILENCE]
KISSINGER: There are some.
@raptor4916@BovrilG It's daunting at first getting used to the narrator's English as spoken centuries into the future, but once you get past that it's extraordinary, beautiful and sad.
The concluding line of his poem "Hymn to Lucifer"
Ware, nor of good nor ill, what aim hath act?
Without its climax, death, what savour hath
Life? an impeccable machine, exact
He paces an inane and pointless path
To glut brute appetites, his sole content
How tedious were he fit to comprehend
Himself! More, this our noble element
Of fire in nature, love in spirit, unkenned
Life hath no spring, no axle, and no end.
His body a bloody-ruby radiant
With noble passion, sun-souled Lucifer
Swept through the dawn colossal, swift aslant
On Eden's imbecile perimeter.
He blessed nonentity with every curse
And spiced with sorrow the dull soul of sense,
Breathed life into the sterile universe,
With Love and Knowledge drove out innocence
The Key of Joy is disobedience.
The concluding line of his poem "Hymn to Lucifer"
Ware, nor of good nor ill, what aim hath act?
Without its climax, death, what savour hath
Life? an impeccable machine, exact
He paces an inane and pointless path
To glut brute appetites, his sole content
How tedious were he fit to comprehend
Himself! More, this our noble element
Of fire in nature, love in spirit, unkenned
Life hath no spring, no axle, and no end.
His body a bloody-ruby radiant
With noble passion, sun-souled Lucifer
Swept through the dawn colossal, swift aslant
On Eden's imbecile perimeter.
He blessed nonentity with every curse
And spiced with sorrow the dull soul of sense,
Breathed life into the sterile universe,
With Love and Knowledge drove out innocence
The Key of Joy is disobedience.