Give ThemBread & Circuses- Julius Caesar
So I never fell for Vietnam
We got the wall of D.C. to remind us all
That you can’t trust freedom
When it’s not in your hands
When everybody’s fightin’
For their promised land
I don’t need your civil war It feeds the rich while it buries the poor Your power hungry sellin’ soldiers In a human grocery store
My hands are tied
For all I’ve seen has changed my mind
But still the wars go on as the years go by
With no love of God or human rights
‘Cause all these dreams are swept aside
By bloody hands of the hypnotized
Who carry the cross of homicide
And history bears the scars of our civil wars.
We got the wall of D.C. to remind us all
That you can’t trust freedom
When it’s not in your hands
When everybody’s fightin’
For their promised land
I don’t need your civil war It feeds the rich while it buries the poor Your power hungry sellin’ soldiers In a human grocery store
My hands are tied
For all I’ve seen has changed my mind
But still the wars go on as the years go by
With no love of God or human rights
‘Cause all these dreams are swept aside
By bloody hands of the hypnotized
Who carry the cross of homicide
And history bears the scars of our civil wars.
I Feel like my soul has turned into steel
I’ve still got the scars that the sun didn’t heal.
I’ve still got the scars that the sun didn’t heal.
Everyday, you could see the scars
Of hurt from the past
Which got me thinking of
My very own, so called friend.
Of hurt from the past
Which got me thinking of
My very own, so called friend.
The souls in Purgatory that come back to habitations and familiar spots
Re-live
their transgressions
Re-live
their transgressions
The real struggle is not between East and West, or capitalism and communism, but between education and propaganda. This is the eternal origin of art that a human being confronts a form that wants to become a work through him. Not a figment of his soul but something that appears to the soul and demands the soul’s creative power. What is required is a deed that a man does with his whole being.
Tristeza não tem fim
Felicidade sim
Felicidade sim
Listen to your words They’ll tell you what to do Listen over the rhythm that’s confusing you Listen to the reed in the saxophone Listen over the hum of the radio Listen over the sounds of blades in rotation Listen through the traffic and circulation Listen as hope and peace try to rhyme Listen over marching bands playing out their time Wake up Wake up dead man Wake up Wake up dead man Jesus Were you just around the corner? Did you think to try and warn her? Or are you working on something new? If there’s and order In all of this disorder Is it like a tape recorder? Can we rewind it just once more.
Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible to others.
Oh now
I feel the wind blow
Well, you can indicate everything you see
Yes, you can indicate everything you see
Oh now
I load a lorry
Well, you can syndicate any boat you row
Yeah, you can syndicate any boat you row
I told you so
All I want is you
Everything has got to be just like you want it to
Because-
I feel the wind blow
Well, you can indicate everything you see
Yes, you can indicate everything you see
Oh now
I load a lorry
Well, you can syndicate any boat you row
Yeah, you can syndicate any boat you row
I told you so
All I want is you
Everything has got to be just like you want it to
Because-
I heard he was light skinned, stocky with a Haitian accent
Jewelry, fast cars and he’s known for flashing (what’s his name)?
Listen while I take you back and lace this rap
A real live tale, about a snitch named Haitian Jack
Knew he was working for the feds, same crime different trail
Picture what he said, and did I mention?
Promised a payback, Jimmy Henchmen, in due time
I knew you was listening, The World is Mine
Set me up, wet me up, niggas stuck me up
Heard the guns bust, but you tricks never shut me up
Touch one of mine on everything I own on earth
I’ll destroy everything you touch, play the game
Last words to a BN why you lie?
Now you gotta watch your back, watch your front
Here we come gunshots to deck, now you stuck
Fuck the rap game This M.O.B
So believe me, we enemies, I go, against all odds
Jewelry, fast cars and he’s known for flashing (what’s his name)?
Listen while I take you back and lace this rap
A real live tale, about a snitch named Haitian Jack
Knew he was working for the feds, same crime different trail
Picture what he said, and did I mention?
Promised a payback, Jimmy Henchmen, in due time
I knew you was listening, The World is Mine
Set me up, wet me up, niggas stuck me up
Heard the guns bust, but you tricks never shut me up
Touch one of mine on everything I own on earth
I’ll destroy everything you touch, play the game
Last words to a BN why you lie?
Now you gotta watch your back, watch your front
Here we come gunshots to deck, now you stuck
Fuck the rap game This M.O.B
So believe me, we enemies, I go, against all odds
Your name is big brother
You say that you’re watching me on the tele,
Seeing me go nowhere,
Your name is big brother,
You say that you’re tired of me protesting,
Children dying everyday,
My name is nobody
But I can’t wait to see your face inside my door
Your name is big brother
You say that you got me all in your notebook,
Writing it down everyday,
Your name is I’ll see ya,
I’ll change if you vote me in as the pres,
The President of your soul
I live in the ghetto,
You just come to visit me ’round election time.
You say that you’re watching me on the tele,
Seeing me go nowhere,
Your name is big brother,
You say that you’re tired of me protesting,
Children dying everyday,
My name is nobody
But I can’t wait to see your face inside my door
Your name is big brother
You say that you got me all in your notebook,
Writing it down everyday,
Your name is I’ll see ya,
I’ll change if you vote me in as the pres,
The President of your soul
I live in the ghetto,
You just come to visit me ’round election time.
You could say I lost my faith in the people on TV
You could say I'd lost my belief in our politicians
They all seemed like game show hosts to me
You could say I'd lost my belief in our politicians
They all seemed like game show hosts to me
You never miss the water til the well runs dry.
His own opinion, which he does not air, is that the origin of speech lie in song, and the origins of song in the need to fill out with sound the overlarge and rather empty human soul.
Sleep is no longer a healing bath, a recuperation of vital forces, but an oblivion, a nightly brush with annihilation.
Sleep is no longer a healing bath, a recuperation of vital forces, but an oblivion, a nightly brush with annihilation.
We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand. Find the best in everybody. Just keep waiting no matter how long it takes. No one is all evil. Everybody has a good side, just keep waiting, it will come out.
Well, I dreamed I saw the knights in armor come
Sayin’ somethin’ about me
There were children singin’ and drummers drummin’
The archer split the tree
There was a fanfare blowin’ to the sun
That floated on the breeze
We got mother nature on the run, in the nineteen seventies.
Sayin’ somethin’ about me
There were children singin’ and drummers drummin’
The archer split the tree
There was a fanfare blowin’ to the sun
That floated on the breeze
We got mother nature on the run, in the nineteen seventies.
There is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.
Inaction may be the biggest form of action
It is not the right angle that attracts me, nor the straight line, hard and inflexible, created by man. What attracts me is the free and sensual curve – the curve that I find in the mountains of my country, in the sinuous course of its rivers, in the body of the beloved woman.
Flying o’r the sea,
My guitar and me.
Thirty thousand feet,
What a brilliant feat.
Go west, don’t go east,
A famine or a feast.
We’re treated better there,
A homeless one is rare.
I feel,
The city’s lure.
The apple of my eye,
I cherish her.
Everybody’s here,
From all across the earth,
Tongues and tribes galore,
There isn’t any war.
New York, New York, I’m comin’
New York, New York, I’m comin’
New York, New York, I’m comin’
New York, New York, I’m comin
My guitar and me.
Thirty thousand feet,
What a brilliant feat.
Go west, don’t go east,
A famine or a feast.
We’re treated better there,
A homeless one is rare.
I feel,
The city’s lure.
The apple of my eye,
I cherish her.
Everybody’s here,
From all across the earth,
Tongues and tribes galore,
There isn’t any war.
New York, New York, I’m comin’
New York, New York, I’m comin’
New York, New York, I’m comin’
New York, New York, I’m comin
I got a shiny saw blade
All I need’s a volunteer
I’ll cut you in half
While smilin’ in your ear
And the freedom that you sought
Driftin’ like a ghost amongst the trees
All I need’s a volunteer
I’ll cut you in half
While smilin’ in your ear
And the freedom that you sought
Driftin’ like a ghost amongst the trees
A way a lone a last a loved a long the riverrun, past Eve and Adam’s, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.
The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus.
Peep out my manuscript
Things will remain the same until I change ‘em
I can’t be faded
There’s three types of people in the world:
Those who don’t know what happened
Those who wonder what happened
And people like us, that make things happen.
Things will remain the same until I change ‘em
I can’t be faded
There’s three types of people in the world:
Those who don’t know what happened
Those who wonder what happened
And people like us, that make things happen.
These mist covered mountains
Are a home now for me
But my home is the lowlands
And always will be
Someday you’ll return to
Your valleys and your farms
And you’ll no longer burn to be
Brothers in arms
Are a home now for me
But my home is the lowlands
And always will be
Someday you’ll return to
Your valleys and your farms
And you’ll no longer burn to be
Brothers in arms
No one is useless in this world who lightens the burden of it for anyone else.
Creative activity is a type of learning process where the teacher and pupil are located in the same individual. The fact is: I no longer believe in my own infallibility. That is why I am lost.
I think the biggest innovations of the twenty-first century will be the intersection of biology and technology. A new era is beginning.
Need a shot of salvation, baby, once in a while
Hear the whistle blowing, hear it for a thousand miles.
Hear the whistle blowing, hear it for a thousand miles.
Every artist is a cannibal
every poet is a thief
all kill for inspiration
and then sing about the grief.
every poet is a thief
all kill for inspiration
and then sing about the grief.
You have touched my soul. Souls that have touched can no longer be single souls.
Poor naked wretches, whereso’er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these? Oh, I have ta’en
Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp.
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them
And show the heavens more just-
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these? Oh, I have ta’en
Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp.
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them
And show the heavens more just-
When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.
Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference.
Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark, in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish, in lonely frustration for the life you deserved, but have never been able to reach. Check your road and the nature of your battle. The world you desired can be won, it exists, it is real, it is possible, it’s yours.
The scientist is not a person who gives the right answers, he’s one who asks the right questions.
When I find out all the reasons
Maybe I’ll find another way
Find another day
With all the changing seasons of my life
Maybe I’ll get it right next time
An now that you’ve been broken down
Got your head out of the clouds
You’re back down on the ground
And you don’t talk so loud
An you don’t walk so proud
Any more, and what for
Well I jumped into the river
Too many times to make it home
I’m out here on my own, an drifting all alone
If it doesn’t show give it time
To read between the lines.- Guns N' Roses, Estranged, Use Your Illusion II, 1991
Maybe I’ll find another way
Find another day
With all the changing seasons of my life
Maybe I’ll get it right next time
An now that you’ve been broken down
Got your head out of the clouds
You’re back down on the ground
And you don’t talk so loud
An you don’t walk so proud
Any more, and what for
Well I jumped into the river
Too many times to make it home
I’m out here on my own, an drifting all alone
If it doesn’t show give it time
To read between the lines.- Guns N' Roses, Estranged, Use Your Illusion II, 1991
The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages.
If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as a Michaelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, ‘Here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.
[…] Technology has tended to devaluate the traditional vision-inducing materials. The illumination of a city, for example, was once a rare event, reserved for victories and national holidays, for the canonization of saints and the crowning of kings. Now it occurs nightly and celebrates the virtues of gin, cigarettes and toothpaste.
Power is tolerable only on condition that it mask a substantial part of itself. Its success is proportional to its ability to hide its own mechanisms.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
She said “Time is irrelevant, it’s not linear”
Then she put her tongue in my ear
Every night I have the same dream
I’m hatching some plot, scheming some scheme
Oh yeah
I’m a traffic cop, rue du Marais
The sirens are wailing but it’s me that wants to get away
No line on the horizon
No, no line
Then she put her tongue in my ear
Every night I have the same dream
I’m hatching some plot, scheming some scheme
Oh yeah
I’m a traffic cop, rue du Marais
The sirens are wailing but it’s me that wants to get away
No line on the horizon
No, no line
The cold passion for truth hunts in no pack.
My heartbeat’s rhythm is a lonesome sound
Just like the rubber turning on the ground
Always lost and nowhere bound
Just like the rubber turning on the ground
Always lost and nowhere bound
I tied myself with wire
To let the horses run free
Playing with the fire
Until the fire played with me
My body’s now a begging bowl
That’s begging to get back, begging to get back
To my heart
To the rhythm of my soul
To the rhythm of my unconsciousness
To the rhythm that yearns
To be released from control.
To let the horses run free
Playing with the fire
Until the fire played with me
My body’s now a begging bowl
That’s begging to get back, begging to get back
To my heart
To the rhythm of my soul
To the rhythm of my unconsciousness
To the rhythm that yearns
To be released from control.
But I remember us riding in my brother’s car
Her body tan and wet down at the reservoir
At night on them banks I’d lie awake
And pull her close just to feel each breath she’d take
Now those memories come back to haunt me
They haunt me like a curse
Is a dream a lie if it don’t come true
Or is it something worse?
Her body tan and wet down at the reservoir
At night on them banks I’d lie awake
And pull her close just to feel each breath she’d take
Now those memories come back to haunt me
They haunt me like a curse
Is a dream a lie if it don’t come true
Or is it something worse?
While riding on a train goin’ west
I fell asleep for to take my rest
I dreamed a dream that made me sad
Concerning myself and the first few friends I had
With half-damp eyes I stared to the room
Where my friends and I’d spent many an afternoon
Where we together weathered many a storm
Laughin’ and singin’ till the early hours of the morn
By the old wooden stove where our hats was hung
Our words were told, our songs were sung
Where we longed for nothin’ and were satisfied
Jokin’ and talkin’ about the world outside
With hungry hearts through the heat and cold
We never much thought we could get very old
We thought we could sit forever in fun
But our chances really was a million to one
As easy it was to tell black from white
It was all that easy to tell wrong from right
And our choices they was few so the thought never hit
That the one road we traveled would ever shatter and split
How many a year has passed and gone?
Many a gamble has been lost and won
And many a road taken by many a first friend
And each one I’ve never seen again
I wish, I wish, I wish in vain
That we could sit simply in that room again
Ten thousand dollars at the drop of a hat
I’d give it all gladly if our lives could be like that.
I fell asleep for to take my rest
I dreamed a dream that made me sad
Concerning myself and the first few friends I had
With half-damp eyes I stared to the room
Where my friends and I’d spent many an afternoon
Where we together weathered many a storm
Laughin’ and singin’ till the early hours of the morn
By the old wooden stove where our hats was hung
Our words were told, our songs were sung
Where we longed for nothin’ and were satisfied
Jokin’ and talkin’ about the world outside
With hungry hearts through the heat and cold
We never much thought we could get very old
We thought we could sit forever in fun
But our chances really was a million to one
As easy it was to tell black from white
It was all that easy to tell wrong from right
And our choices they was few so the thought never hit
That the one road we traveled would ever shatter and split
How many a year has passed and gone?
Many a gamble has been lost and won
And many a road taken by many a first friend
And each one I’ve never seen again
I wish, I wish, I wish in vain
That we could sit simply in that room again
Ten thousand dollars at the drop of a hat
I’d give it all gladly if our lives could be like that.
A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a
base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited,
hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a
lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson,
glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue;
one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a
bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but
the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar,
and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I
will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest
the least syllable of thy addition.
Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our teeples, drowned the cocks!
You sulphurour and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o’ the world!
Crack nature’s molds, all germens spill at once
That make ingrateful man!
base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited,
hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a
lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson,
glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue;
one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a
bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but
the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar,
and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I
will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest
the least syllable of thy addition.
Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our teeples, drowned the cocks!
You sulphurour and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o’ the world!
Crack nature’s molds, all germens spill at once
That make ingrateful man!
Every act of perception,” Edelman writes, “is to some degree an act of creation, and every act of memory is to some degree an act of imagination. We see with the eyes, but we see with the brain as well. And seeing with the brain is often called imagination. And we are familiar with the landscapes of our own imagination, our inscapes. We’ve lived with them all our lives. But there are also hallucinations as well, and hallucinations are completely different. They don’t seem to be of our creation. They don’t seem to be under our control. They seem to come from the outside, and to mimic perception.
Public Policy –
Degrees of Freedom
Juvenal, the Roman poet active in the late first and early second century AD, once stated: … Already long ago, from when we sold our vote to no man, the People have abdicated our duties; for the People who once upon a time handed out military command, high civil office, legions — everything, now restrains itself and anxiously hopes for just two things: bread and circuses. We are in that widening gyre of costly circus games and other forms of entertainment as a means of gaining electoral political power. In the play on panopticism, power is now communicated outwardly through social media, sometimes overtly, sometime subtly, but always increasingly through digitalized worlds of information. Is digitization causing this vacuum in democracy, and in its stead, are we a displaced, distracted electorate, or can the public turn the panopticon on the circus at the helm, and in turn, improve democratic civic engagement?
Music –
The Bridge
In music, especially western popular music, a bridge is a contrasting section that prepares for the return of the original material section. A bridge, then, is simply a transition from the second chorus to the last chorus. Music is a bridge – a bridge across race, culture, and even a bridge to memory. I became fascinated by the affects of music on the brain when I moderated an evening symposium in 2017 with The Johns Hopkins University, artist Michael Franti, and Professor of Otolaryngology, Dr. Charles Limb, in an effort to unite musicians & physicians under one roof. Recently, research indicates a relationship between music and cognitive functions including heightened creative impulses, memory, executive function, and linguistics, among others. I have a deep desire to contribute to this research, particularly in music and improving neurodegenerative conditions. More importantly, I want to understand the depths of lyric, of chorus, verse, and rhythm, as it takes us to a discursive ocean of sound, beauty, and tranquility, away from the confines of logic, and into the space where, according to Aldous Huxley, after silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.
Medicine and Biotechnology –
Proof of Concept
Here I seek to understand new trends in medicine to treat new expansive therapeutic areas, such as clinical trials using CAR-T in oncology, autoimmune disorders, viral diseases, and even in dermatology. This section also seeks to understand new trends in biotechnology, such as new regulatory requirements in tech transfer, new manufacturing commercial trends, the emergence of synthetic biology, improving real-world data for clinical trials as it relates to market access/pricing, and the rise of venture capital in emerging markets. Finally, I seek to understand not just the business in medicine, but also the medicine in business. How does public health, or population health for that matter, play an integral role in the pharma and biotech industry?
