A Destined Soul
*
Out on the wastes of the "Never Never,"
That's where the dead men lie,
There where the heat-waves dance forever,
That's where the dead men lie;
That's where the Earth's lov'd sons are keeping
endless tryst - not the west wind sweeping
feverish pinions, can wake their sleeping -
Out where the dead men lie!
Where brown Summer and Death have mated,
That's where the dead men lie,
Loving with fiery lust unsated,
That's where the dead men lie;
Out where the grinning skulls bleach whitely,
Under the saltbush sparkling brightly,
Out where the wild dogs chorus nightly,
That's where the dead men lie.
Deep in the yellow, flowing river,
That's where the dead men lie,
Under the banks where the shadows quiver,
That's where the dead men lie;
Where the platypus twists and doubles,
leaving a trail of tiny bubbles;
Rid at last of their earthly troubles,
That's where the dead men lie.
East and backward pale faces turning,
That's how the dead men lie;
Gaunt arms stretched with a voiceless yearning,
That's how the dead men lie;
Oft in the fragrant hush of nooning,
Hearing again their mother's crooning,
Wrapt for aye in a dreadful swooning,
That's how the dead men lie.
Nought but the hand of Night can free them;
That's when the dead men fly;
Only the frightened cattle see them -
See the dead men go by;
Cloven hoofs beating out one measure,
Bidding the stockman know no leisure,
That's when the dead men take their pleasure,
That's when the dead men fly.
Ask, too, the never-sleeping drover,
He sees the dead pass by,
Hearing them call to their friends - the plover,
Hearing the dead men cry.
Seeing their faces stealing, stealing,
Hearing their laughter pealing, pealing,
Watching their grey forms wheeling, wheeling
Round where the cattle lie.
Strangled by thirst and fierce privation -
That's how the dead men die
Out on "Moneygrub's" furthest station,
That's how the dead men die;
Hardfaced greybeards, youngsters callow,
Some mounds cared for, some left fallow,
Some deep down, yet others shallow,
Some having but the sky.
"Moneygrub" as he sips his claret
Looks with complacent eye
Down at his watch-chain, eighteen-carat,
There in his club hard by:
Recks not that every link is stamped with
Names of the men whose limbs are cramped with
Too long lying in grave-mould, camped with
Death where the dead men lie.
Barcroft Henry Boake
Where the Dead Men Lie
In the shadows, or high on the horizon, fighting against stern growth, wanting only security. H didn't want to grow up, or old. He didn't want to embrace the adult form. He deliberately starved himself to distort his growth. Everything was twisted, longing for love. Those were the days that would never be repeated, fledgling yearnings, where everything was wild, where there were grey lights on the horizon, an inexplicable mist. These were the shelters only available in an urban environment, a giant city. These were the courses he could have taken, but didn't. These were the lives of others.
It was going to be remembered. Salvation came in many strange forms. The stench rising. Garbage littered along city streets. Pre dawn light. Summer air. Beaches. Concrete colours. Thousands of half naked people rollicking in the sun. Lives lived, solid, uninspiring. But immune to ridicule. He couldn't face it any more. He wanted to take shelter under the lip of the horizon, there in the grey mist, the screen of apartment blocks, lights hazed. He wanted to drape himself in other people's lives, everybody else's lives. He wanted to savage the dog, make an impact, leave blood on the pavement. He wanted to rise up and conquer. He wanted to embrace this entire place.
That the story was only half written, a life half lived, didn't seem to matter. The indifference of the environment was what got to him. He could disappear and no one would realise he was no longer on the planet, had vanished from the path. Was no longer creeping up here in the early hours, pushing aside the makeshift barrier the caretaker had put in place, winding up through a narrow little twist of steps to that gorgeous roof, this astonishing expanse. He would find the core meaning of it all and write it large across the planet. He would understand the spirits in the fabric of things; and expose them for what they were. He would embrace God and the universe and everything, and trumpet out loud his victory over the substance of things.
And he would find peace, fulfilment, there in that breaking wave of apartment lights, the wave after wave of assembled personnel, the sleeping army of the city's denizens. He could feel them there in their cosy, clammy beds, even as he straightened up his frame and stood tall on the rooftop. Young men stretched their frames, handsome with lust. Old men groaned in the depths of their hangovers. Women curled. And all was lost, lost, he would never be normal again. He could hear their voices and the murmur of dreams; the constant yammer of the sleeping crowds.
And he could see the first shafts of morning light brightening up the dark apartment blocks, the movement of birds, the lights of the early risers coming on. It was cold, he was always cold. There would be no redemption. There would be no comfort for him. There would be no normal home, inside a sane, sensible, ordinary person. There would be no happy ending. Only here, this anguish, even as the sky began to lighten and he could see the waves of apartment blocks breaking over the hill, he could see the television antennas silhouetted against the palest of pinks, he could see the shapes of men standing over sinks, brushing their teeth, splashing water on their faces.
And he could see as if in a supernatural way the iron frames of the building, room against room, body against body, he could see the empty corridors and the lift shafts, the fire escapes and the tunnels of wiring. Once he thought one of the denizens could see him, stretched tall on top of the roof, and he ducked under the edge of the ledge, breathing heavily. He did not want to be discovered, or reported. He did not want his powerful secrets exposed; that he could hear them all, see them all, that his brain was capable of embracing them all. He should have been born in a village; then he could understand them all and there would be no overload. But here there were a thousand mumbling voices; and he floated through them all, mundane, affectionate, half-awake. And he heard the siren call: you must record it all. That is your function. That is your role. That is what you were placed on this planet to do, nothing else. Not for you the normal comforts of a destined soul.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://ap.google.com/article/ALeqM5iN4yWkf8BO9cLrid_KjAQrFVTQrgD94AAEP85
Obama: Getting a dog isn't easy
By NEDRA PICKLER – 1 hour ago
CHICAGO (AP) — President-elect Obama says getting a dog for his two daughters when the family moves into the White House in January is "a major issue."
Obama told reporters Friday that his mention on election night of getting a puppy for Sasha and Malia had "generated more interest" on his Web site than any other topic.
He said, "We have two criteria that have to be reconciled. One is that Malia is allergic so it has to be hypoallergenic."
Obama also said there were a number of breeds that were hypoallergenic, but that the family's preference is to adopt a dog from a shelter.
Obama added: "But obviously, a lot of shelter dogs are mutts like me. So whether we're going to be able to balance those two things, I think, is a pressing issue on the Obama household."
http://www.smh.com.au/news/world/ban-on-gay-marriage-reinstated-after-poll/2008/11/06/1225561044576.html
SAN FRANCISCO: After losing at the polls, gay rights supporters filed three lawsuits to overturn proposition 8, which supporters of the measure called an attempt to subvert the will of voters.
Gay weddings were stopped across California soon after it was confirmed that 52.5 per cent of voters supported the gay marriage ban amendment that had run on the ballot alongside voting in the presidential election. This was compared with 47.5 per cent who wanted the laws to remain.
"This city is no longer marrying people of the same sex," the Mayor of San Francisco, Gavin Newsom, said.
Lawyers for same-sex couples argued that the anti-gay-marriage measure was an illegal constitutional revision - not a more limited amendment, as backers maintained - because it fundamentally altered the guarantee of equal protection. A constitutional revision, unlike an amendment, must be approved by the legislature before going to voters.
"If they want to legalise gay marriage, what they should do is bring an initiative themselves and ask the people to approve it," said Frank Schubert, the co-chairman of the proposition 8 campaign. "But they don't. They go behind the people's back to the courts and try and force an agenda on the rest of society."
The California Supreme Court has twice before struck down ballot measures as illegal constitutional revisions, but those involved "a broader scope of changes," said a former judge of that court, Joseph Grodin, who publicly opposed proposition 8 and was part of an earlier legal challenge to it. The court had suggested that a revision may be distinguished from an amendment by the breadth and the nature of the change, he said.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/06/us/politics/08transition.html?em
CHICAGO — President-elect Barack Obama called on Friday for the Bush administration and Congress to enact an economic-stimulus package, and he pledged to confront the country’s economic crisis “head on” the moment he is sworn in on Jan. 20.
Representative Rahm Emanuel of Illinois, shown with Barack Obama during the campaign, has accepted an offer to become White House chief of staff.
“I do not underestimate the enormity of the task that lies ahead,” Mr. Obama said at his first news conference since his victory over Senator John McCain on Tuesday. He said he was certain that “some difficult choices” will have to be made.
“It’s not going to be quick, and it’s not going to be easy to dig ourselves out of the hole that we’re in,” Mr. Obama said, declaring that he wants to see “a rescue plan for the middle class” and a further extension of unemployment-insurance benefits.
The news conference here here came immedately after Mr. Obama, Vice President-elect Joseph R. Biden Jr. and his newly named chief of staff, Representative Rahm Emanuel, met with the transition’s economic advisory board — and as a fresh wave of news from Wall Street and Washington deepened the gloom hanging over the country’s financial situation.
The government reported that the American economy lost another 240,000 jobs in October as consumers and businesses pulled back sharply, sending the unemployment rate to 6.5 percent from 6.1 percent, the highest level since 1994. And General Motors reported a larger-than-expected loss of $4.2 billion in the third quarter, a decline of 13 percent from the same period last year. The results came on the heels of similar dismal quarterly earnings from the Ford Motor Company.
Out on the wastes of the "Never Never,"
That's where the dead men lie,
There where the heat-waves dance forever,
That's where the dead men lie;
That's where the Earth's lov'd sons are keeping
endless tryst - not the west wind sweeping
feverish pinions, can wake their sleeping -
Out where the dead men lie!
Where brown Summer and Death have mated,
That's where the dead men lie,
Loving with fiery lust unsated,
That's where the dead men lie;
Out where the grinning skulls bleach whitely,
Under the saltbush sparkling brightly,
Out where the wild dogs chorus nightly,
That's where the dead men lie.
Deep in the yellow, flowing river,
That's where the dead men lie,
Under the banks where the shadows quiver,
That's where the dead men lie;
Where the platypus twists and doubles,
leaving a trail of tiny bubbles;
Rid at last of their earthly troubles,
That's where the dead men lie.
East and backward pale faces turning,
That's how the dead men lie;
Gaunt arms stretched with a voiceless yearning,
That's how the dead men lie;
Oft in the fragrant hush of nooning,
Hearing again their mother's crooning,
Wrapt for aye in a dreadful swooning,
That's how the dead men lie.
Nought but the hand of Night can free them;
That's when the dead men fly;
Only the frightened cattle see them -
See the dead men go by;
Cloven hoofs beating out one measure,
Bidding the stockman know no leisure,
That's when the dead men take their pleasure,
That's when the dead men fly.
Ask, too, the never-sleeping drover,
He sees the dead pass by,
Hearing them call to their friends - the plover,
Hearing the dead men cry.
Seeing their faces stealing, stealing,
Hearing their laughter pealing, pealing,
Watching their grey forms wheeling, wheeling
Round where the cattle lie.
Strangled by thirst and fierce privation -
That's how the dead men die
Out on "Moneygrub's" furthest station,
That's how the dead men die;
Hardfaced greybeards, youngsters callow,
Some mounds cared for, some left fallow,
Some deep down, yet others shallow,
Some having but the sky.
"Moneygrub" as he sips his claret
Looks with complacent eye
Down at his watch-chain, eighteen-carat,
There in his club hard by:
Recks not that every link is stamped with
Names of the men whose limbs are cramped with
Too long lying in grave-mould, camped with
Death where the dead men lie.
Barcroft Henry Boake
Where the Dead Men Lie
In the shadows, or high on the horizon, fighting against stern growth, wanting only security. H didn't want to grow up, or old. He didn't want to embrace the adult form. He deliberately starved himself to distort his growth. Everything was twisted, longing for love. Those were the days that would never be repeated, fledgling yearnings, where everything was wild, where there were grey lights on the horizon, an inexplicable mist. These were the shelters only available in an urban environment, a giant city. These were the courses he could have taken, but didn't. These were the lives of others.
It was going to be remembered. Salvation came in many strange forms. The stench rising. Garbage littered along city streets. Pre dawn light. Summer air. Beaches. Concrete colours. Thousands of half naked people rollicking in the sun. Lives lived, solid, uninspiring. But immune to ridicule. He couldn't face it any more. He wanted to take shelter under the lip of the horizon, there in the grey mist, the screen of apartment blocks, lights hazed. He wanted to drape himself in other people's lives, everybody else's lives. He wanted to savage the dog, make an impact, leave blood on the pavement. He wanted to rise up and conquer. He wanted to embrace this entire place.
That the story was only half written, a life half lived, didn't seem to matter. The indifference of the environment was what got to him. He could disappear and no one would realise he was no longer on the planet, had vanished from the path. Was no longer creeping up here in the early hours, pushing aside the makeshift barrier the caretaker had put in place, winding up through a narrow little twist of steps to that gorgeous roof, this astonishing expanse. He would find the core meaning of it all and write it large across the planet. He would understand the spirits in the fabric of things; and expose them for what they were. He would embrace God and the universe and everything, and trumpet out loud his victory over the substance of things.
And he would find peace, fulfilment, there in that breaking wave of apartment lights, the wave after wave of assembled personnel, the sleeping army of the city's denizens. He could feel them there in their cosy, clammy beds, even as he straightened up his frame and stood tall on the rooftop. Young men stretched their frames, handsome with lust. Old men groaned in the depths of their hangovers. Women curled. And all was lost, lost, he would never be normal again. He could hear their voices and the murmur of dreams; the constant yammer of the sleeping crowds.
And he could see the first shafts of morning light brightening up the dark apartment blocks, the movement of birds, the lights of the early risers coming on. It was cold, he was always cold. There would be no redemption. There would be no comfort for him. There would be no normal home, inside a sane, sensible, ordinary person. There would be no happy ending. Only here, this anguish, even as the sky began to lighten and he could see the waves of apartment blocks breaking over the hill, he could see the television antennas silhouetted against the palest of pinks, he could see the shapes of men standing over sinks, brushing their teeth, splashing water on their faces.
And he could see as if in a supernatural way the iron frames of the building, room against room, body against body, he could see the empty corridors and the lift shafts, the fire escapes and the tunnels of wiring. Once he thought one of the denizens could see him, stretched tall on top of the roof, and he ducked under the edge of the ledge, breathing heavily. He did not want to be discovered, or reported. He did not want his powerful secrets exposed; that he could hear them all, see them all, that his brain was capable of embracing them all. He should have been born in a village; then he could understand them all and there would be no overload. But here there were a thousand mumbling voices; and he floated through them all, mundane, affectionate, half-awake. And he heard the siren call: you must record it all. That is your function. That is your role. That is what you were placed on this planet to do, nothing else. Not for you the normal comforts of a destined soul.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://ap.google.com/article/ALeqM5iN4yWkf8BO9cLrid_KjAQrFVTQrgD94AAEP85
Obama: Getting a dog isn't easy
By NEDRA PICKLER – 1 hour ago
CHICAGO (AP) — President-elect Obama says getting a dog for his two daughters when the family moves into the White House in January is "a major issue."
Obama told reporters Friday that his mention on election night of getting a puppy for Sasha and Malia had "generated more interest" on his Web site than any other topic.
He said, "We have two criteria that have to be reconciled. One is that Malia is allergic so it has to be hypoallergenic."
Obama also said there were a number of breeds that were hypoallergenic, but that the family's preference is to adopt a dog from a shelter.
Obama added: "But obviously, a lot of shelter dogs are mutts like me. So whether we're going to be able to balance those two things, I think, is a pressing issue on the Obama household."
http://www.smh.com.au/news/world/ban-on-gay-marriage-reinstated-after-poll/2008/11/06/1225561044576.html
SAN FRANCISCO: After losing at the polls, gay rights supporters filed three lawsuits to overturn proposition 8, which supporters of the measure called an attempt to subvert the will of voters.
Gay weddings were stopped across California soon after it was confirmed that 52.5 per cent of voters supported the gay marriage ban amendment that had run on the ballot alongside voting in the presidential election. This was compared with 47.5 per cent who wanted the laws to remain.
"This city is no longer marrying people of the same sex," the Mayor of San Francisco, Gavin Newsom, said.
Lawyers for same-sex couples argued that the anti-gay-marriage measure was an illegal constitutional revision - not a more limited amendment, as backers maintained - because it fundamentally altered the guarantee of equal protection. A constitutional revision, unlike an amendment, must be approved by the legislature before going to voters.
"If they want to legalise gay marriage, what they should do is bring an initiative themselves and ask the people to approve it," said Frank Schubert, the co-chairman of the proposition 8 campaign. "But they don't. They go behind the people's back to the courts and try and force an agenda on the rest of society."
The California Supreme Court has twice before struck down ballot measures as illegal constitutional revisions, but those involved "a broader scope of changes," said a former judge of that court, Joseph Grodin, who publicly opposed proposition 8 and was part of an earlier legal challenge to it. The court had suggested that a revision may be distinguished from an amendment by the breadth and the nature of the change, he said.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/06/us/politics/08transition.html?em
CHICAGO — President-elect Barack Obama called on Friday for the Bush administration and Congress to enact an economic-stimulus package, and he pledged to confront the country’s economic crisis “head on” the moment he is sworn in on Jan. 20.
Representative Rahm Emanuel of Illinois, shown with Barack Obama during the campaign, has accepted an offer to become White House chief of staff.
“I do not underestimate the enormity of the task that lies ahead,” Mr. Obama said at his first news conference since his victory over Senator John McCain on Tuesday. He said he was certain that “some difficult choices” will have to be made.
“It’s not going to be quick, and it’s not going to be easy to dig ourselves out of the hole that we’re in,” Mr. Obama said, declaring that he wants to see “a rescue plan for the middle class” and a further extension of unemployment-insurance benefits.
The news conference here here came immedately after Mr. Obama, Vice President-elect Joseph R. Biden Jr. and his newly named chief of staff, Representative Rahm Emanuel, met with the transition’s economic advisory board — and as a fresh wave of news from Wall Street and Washington deepened the gloom hanging over the country’s financial situation.
The government reported that the American economy lost another 240,000 jobs in October as consumers and businesses pulled back sharply, sending the unemployment rate to 6.5 percent from 6.1 percent, the highest level since 1994. And General Motors reported a larger-than-expected loss of $4.2 billion in the third quarter, a decline of 13 percent from the same period last year. The results came on the heels of similar dismal quarterly earnings from the Ford Motor Company.
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