Wiersze czatka

    Oh Quentin, oh Quentin, what a conundrum you've spun. Your movies are great, but there's one thing that's begun To make folks upset, it's the word you love to use It's a word that some folks think should be given a diffuse It's the N-word, it's a word that makes some folks grind And you use it with glee, it's a word of your own kind Some folks say it's not right, but you don't seem to mind And in every film you make, it's there all the time But oh Quentin, oh Quentin, we must have some fun Your reign of cinema, it hasn't yet begun To end, for your movies, they're a cinematic delight So let's not get too serious, let's just enjoy the sight So let's put aside the word, and just enjoy the show And let the cameras roll, and let the laughter flow For your movies are great, they're a one-of-a-kind treat So let's all grab some popcorn, and enjoy the cinema seat.

In the realm of thought, where giants divide, Continental and Analytic, side by side, Russell and Heidegger, their paths collide, Each with their own critique, none could hide. "Obscure and eccentric," Russell chides, Heidegger's thoughts, where language abides, Yet in his question, darkness resides, Why beings exist, and not nothing besides? Through the mist of terms, where meaning hides, Heidegger seeks the truth of the tides, Of Dasein's nature, in presence it glides, In beings, their thatness and whatness, he guides. Two worlds of thought, a chasm so wide, Continental and Analytic, they coincide, In the heart of philosophy's great divide, Where wisdom and folly forever reside. Heidegger's Hut, a refuge, a shrine, In the Black Forest, where silence aligns, With Being and Time, his work defines, A quest for the essence that underlies. Yet shadows of the past, they intertwine, The stain of Nazism, a mark malign, Heidegger's legacy, forever confined, To a ...

  Dziś w operze królewskiej In Arcadian fields where shepherds roam, And nymphs delight in nature's home, Galatea, a semi-divine fair, Is in love with Acis, a shepherd rare. But her passions are ignited by the birds, So she sings "Hush, ye pretty warbling quire!" without any words, To silence the sounds that make her heart sing, And help her focus on her beloved's loving. Damon, Acis's friend, provides counsel wise, Singing "Love in her eyes sits playing" with his melodious sighs, As the young lovers meet and sing "Happy we", Echoed by the chorus, in joyful harmony. But the pastoral mood is broken by a chorus dire, "No joy shall last," they warn with fearful desire, For Polyphemus, a giant, jealous and cruel, Is coming with rage and vengeance, a powerful fuel. Polyphemus sings "I rage, I melt, I burn", Part-comic, part-furioso, in his jealous yearn, For Galatea, who spurns his love with disdain, While Acis and Damon try to w...

Juliette, a beauty of the Riviera shore, Flirtatious and free, the town's talk and more. Her spirit untamed, her reputation wild, Traditional values she refused to abide. Many men courted her, but none could compare, To Antoine, the man who stole her heart and dared. He worked in her brother's garage, simple and true, Their love defying the norms of what society knew. But Antoine's family disapproved of their love, While Eric, a wealthy man, threatened to shove. He owned the property where Antoine's family resided, Threatening eviction if their relationship wasn't divided. Christian, another man, became jealous of Antoine, Following them to the beach, where his intentions were not benign. He tried to rape Juliette, but she managed to flee, Defying the men who wished to control and oversee. At a party, Eric tried to kiss her, but she slapped him instead, Proving that Juliette's spirit could not be easily led. Antoine and Juliette decided to escape and be free, Dr...

  Czatkowe wierszowanie In the summer sun on the French Riviera, Cécile basked in the freedom of her days, With father Raymond and his mistress, Elsa, Their idyllic life a sun-kissed, carefree phase. But Anne, a friend, arrived with intellect, Disapproving of their ways and their delight, Cécile feared her presence would affect Her father's life and bring an end to their respite. As jealousy took root in Cécile's heart, She plotted to break Anne and Raymond apart, Her manipulations led to tragic art, And tears streamed down her face with a broken heart. No longer a child, but still afraid to lose, Her father, someone she thought she knew, She cried for love she never fully knew, And bid adieu to her summer of "Bonjour Tristesse" anew.

  At first, I was angry when my friends would say That voting's not worth it, and they'd stay away But lately, Kazik Staszewski made it clear He won't be voting, and I can see why, I fear There's simply no one to vote for, it seems No good options to fulfill our dreams But if we all abstained, then what would we do? Our democracy would crumble, it's true It's like a categorical imperative, they say To ensure democracy, we must vote, come what may But that argument falls short, for people will still go Even if we don't, democracy will still flow It all comes down to the individual's choice To vote or not, it's a risky throw of the dice Yet in ancient Athens, and briefly under Duda's reign Some believed that lottery was a more democratic game And in India, arranged marriages are praised For life itself is a lottery, they're amazed From the individual's perspective, every choice we make Is a gamble, a risk we must undertake So should we vote...