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Come All Ye Faithful
![]() Aesop Rock is the best rapper of all time, ever. EVER!! Excerpt from "The Tugboat Complex" (Track somethingorother on A Fool Blown Compilation) Oh my God |
Name: Aesop Rock Medium: Rap Works: Music For Earthworms (1998) Appleseed (1999) Float (2000) Labor Days (2001) Daylight (2002).
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Prodigy is, at its essence, adaptability and persistent, positive obsession. Without persistence, what remains is an enthusiasm of the moment. Without adaptability, what remains may be channeled into destructive fanaticism. Without positive obsession, there is nothing at all. All that you touch You Change. All that you Change Changes you. The only lasting truth Is Change. God Is Change. Create no images of God. Accept the images that God has provided. They are everywhere, in everything. God is Change- Seed to tree, tree to forest; Rain to river, river to sea; Grubs to bees, bees to swarm. From one, many; from many, one; Forever uniting, growing, dissolving- forever changing. The universe is God's self-portriat. EARTHSEED: THE BOOKS OF THE LIVING by Lauren Oya Olamina |
Name: Octavia Butler Medium: Novels Works: Patternmaster (1976) Mind of My Mind (1977) Wild Seed (1980) Clay's Ark (1984) Parable of the Sower (1993) Parable of the Talents (1998) |
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And so the man in black began to speak. The universe (he said) offers a paradox too great for the finite mind to grasp. As the living brain cannot conceive of a nonliving brain- although it may think it can- the finite mind cannot grasp the infinite. The prosaic fact of the universe's existence single-handedly defeats the pragmatist and the cynic. There was a time, yet a hundred generations before the world moved on, when mankind had achieved enough technical and scientific prowess to chip a few splinters from the great stone pillar of reality. Even then, the false light of science (knowledge, if you like) shone in only a few developed countries. Yet, despite a tremendous increase in available facts, there were remarkably few insights. Gunslinger, our fathers conquered the-disease-which-rots, which we call cancer, almost conquered aging, went to the moon- ("I don't believe that," the gunslinger said flatly, to which the man in black merely smiled and answered, "You needn't.") -and made or discovered a hundred other marvelous baubles. But this wealth of information produced little or no insight. There were no great odes written to the wonders of artificial insemination- ("What?" "Having babies from frozen mansperm." "Bullsh*t." "As you wish... although not even the ancients could produce children from that material.") -or to the car-which-moves. Few if any seemed to have grasped the Principle of Reality; new knowledge leads to yet more awesome mysteries. Greater physiological knowledge of the brain makes the existence of the soul less possible yet more probable by the nature of the search. Do you see? Of course you don't. You are surrounded by your own romantic aura, you lie cheek and jowl daily with the arcane. Yet now you approach the limits- not of belief, but of comprehension. You face reverse entropy of the soul. But to the more prosaic: The greatest mystery the universe offers is not life but Size. Size encompasses life, and the Tower encompasses Size. The child, who is most at home with wonder says: Daddy, what is above the sky? And the father says: The darkness of space. The child: What is beyond space? The father: The galaxy. The child: Beyond the galaxy? The father: Another galaxy. The child: Beyond other galaxies? The father: No one knows. You see? Size defeats us. For the fist, the lake in which he lives is the universe. What does the fish think when he is jerked up by the mouth through the silver limits of existence and into a new universe where the air drowns him and the light is blue madness? Where huge bipeds with no gills stuff it into a suffocating box and cover it with wet weeds to die? |
Name: Stephen King Medium: Novels Works, there are a few: The Dark Tower: The Gunslinger (1982) The Drawing of the Three (1987) The Wastelands (1991) Wizard and Glass (1997) Hearts in Atlantis (1999) |
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Excerpt from "Hyperion Cantos" in Hyperion In the beginning was the Word. Then came the f**king word processor. Then came the death of literature. And so it goes. Francis Bacon once said, "There arises from a bad and unapt formation of words a wonderful obstruction to the mind." We have all contributed our wonderful obstructions to the mind, have we not? I more than most. One of the twentieth century's better, forgotten writers- that is better-comma-forgotten, once bon moted: "I love being a writer. It's the paperwork I can't stand." Get it? Well, amigos and amigette, I love being a poet. It's the goddamned words I can't stand. |
Name: Dan Simmons Medium: Novels Works: Hyperion (1989) The Fall of Hyperion (1990) Endymion (1996) The Rise of Endymion (1997) |
![]() Excerpt from "Tao of Now" (Track 4 on Amethyst Rock Star) Children of the night, only some will star the sky, only believers in death will die, and fathers must feather the wings of women. For the unfeathered masses dangle ridiculous. Carrying cross to phalynx filled tombs. The future sails silence through blood rivered waters that ripple with riddles of cows and spoons and births moons and earths, sun centered at noon. and here I stand, court-jestering infinity. Fetal fisted for revolution but open hands birth humility. Now what is the density of an egoless planet? Must my spine be aligned to sprout wings? I'm slouched into Shang steps and kangoled with gang reps, but my orbit rainbows Saturn's rings. Mystical eliptical presto polaris. Karmic flamed future when Saurn's an Ares. And now I'm a fish called father. With gills type dizzy: blowing liquid lullabies through the spine of time. I'm certain of Saturn's rivers, and all else is fact. So baptise me in the stars and wrap me in nighttime: moon blue. Pupil my sight with orange balls of light. And echo my plight through the corridors of metaphor, what else are we living for if not to create fiction and rhyme? My purpose is to make my soul, rhyme with my mind over matter. Minds create matter. Minds create fiction, as a matter of fact matter is fact. So spirit must be fiction. Science fiction. Art fiction. Meta fiction. |
Name: Saul Williams Medium: Poetry Works: The Seventh Octave (1998), She (1999), Amethyst Rock Star (2001) |
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