lightflash

Flash Light (12'' Version)
Parliament
Flash Light (12'' Version)

SUMMER of FUNK _ Flashlight  ~ Parliament (1977)

Now, I lay me down to sleep
Ooh, I just can’t find a beat
Flash light (ohh, I will never dance!)
Flash light
Flash light
Flash light

Ha da da dee da hada hada da da

Oh, it’s no use!

Flash light
Red light
Neon light
Ooh, stop light

Now I lay me down to sleep
I guess I’ll go count the sheep
Oh, but I will never dance

(Oh, don’t make me do it)
(Dance, sucker! ooh ha ha!)
(Oww! Get him!)

Most of all he needs the funk (shine it)
Help him find the funk (ha, funk it!)
Most of all he needs the funk
Help him find the funk (get him)
Most of all he needs the funk (I know we can get him)
Help him find the funk (ho!)
Most of all he needs the funk (ha, don’t!)
Help him find the funk (I know you will! Dance, sucker!)
Most of all he needs the funk (Shine the spotlight on him!)
Help him find the funk (Oh funk me!)

Ha da da dee da hada hada da da (Dance, Nose! You know you on my funk street???)
Oh, funk me!
Ha da da dee da hada hada da da (get on down, Nose! I like it! Dance, then!)

Flash light
Flash light (oh ho ho!)
Spot light
Neon light (neon light)
Street light (street light)

Oh ho, ha ha!

Everybody’s got a little light under the sun

Shinin’ on the funk
Shinin’ on the funk

Most of all he need the funk
Help him find the funk

Most of all he need the funk (Ha da da dee da hada hada da da)
Help him find the funk
Most of all he need the funk (Ha da da dee da hada hada da da)
Help him find the funk
Most of all he need the funk (Ha da da dee da hada hada da da)
Help him find the funk

Ha da da dee da hada hada da da
Oh
Flash light (flash light, flash light)
Flash light (flash light, flash light)
Flash light (oh, flash light)
Flash light (oh, flash light)
Spot light (spot light)
Neon light (ooooh, neon light)
Flash light (ooh, flash light ho!)
Stop light (stop light)

Now I lay me down to sleep
I guess I’ll go count the sheep
Ha da da dee da hada hada da da (oh)
Shake your funk (Ha da da dee da hada hada da da)
Shake your funk (Ha da da dee da hada hada da da)
Shake your rump (Ha da da dee da hada hada da da) (ho!)
I think I found the funk

Flash light (flash light)
Day light (day light)
Spot light (spot light)
Red light (Ohhh, hooo, red light!)

Everybody’s got a little light under the sun

Ha da da dee da hada hada da da
Ha da da dee da hada hada da da
Ha da da dee da hada hada da da
Ha da da dee da hada hada da da
Ha da da dee da hada hada da da
Ha da da dee da hada hada da da
Ha da da dee da hada hada da da

Everybody’s got a little light under the sun
Under the sun
Under the sun
Under the sun
Under the sun
Under the sun
Under the sun
Under the sun
Under the sun
Under the sun (fades)

Starchild’s nemesis is Sir Nose D’Voidoffunk (“Sir Nose Devoid of Funk” from Funkentelechy Vs. the Placebo Syndrome, 1977). Inspired by the single “The Pinocchio Theory” by Bootsy’s Rubber Band, Sir Nose attempts to end the Funk because he is too cool to dance. He is the master of the Placebo Syndrome, which causes unFunkiness (a combination of stupidity and no dancing). His goal is to place the minds of all humanity into a state called the Zone of Zero Funkativity. Starchild, on the other hand, uses his Bop Gun (“Bop Gun (Endangered Species)”, from Funkentelechy Vs the Placebo Syndrome) to achieve “Funkentelechy” for all humanity. With the Funky powers of the Bop Gun (which are augmented by the Flash Light….Shine the light on them suckas!!!), Starchild causes Sir Nose to reach Funkentelechy, and find his Funky soul. He then dances away the night. -Wikipedia

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September 1, 1939 by W. H. Auden

I sit in one of the dives
On Fifty-second Street
Uncertain and afraid
As the clever hopes expire
Of a low dishonest decade:
Waves of anger and fear
Circulate over the bright
And darkened lands of the earth,
Obsessing our private lives;
The unmentionable odour of death
Offends the September night.

Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
Find what occurred at Linz,
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.

Exiled Thucydides knew
All that a speech can say
About Democracy,
And what dictators do,
The elderly rubbish they talk
To an apathetic grave;
Analysed all in his book,
The enlightenment driven away,
The habit-forming pain,
Mismanagement and grief:
We must suffer them all again.

Into this neutral air
Where blind skyscrapers use
Their full height to proclaim
The strength of Collective Man,
Each language pours its vain
Competitive excuse:
But who can live for long
In an euphoric dream;
Out of the mirror they stare,
Imperialism’s face
And the international wrong.

Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.

The windiest militant trash
Important Persons shout
Is not so crude as our wish:
What mad Nijinsky wrote
About Diaghilev
Is true of the normal heart;
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.

From the conservative dark
Into the ethical life
The dense commuters come,
Repeating their morning vow;
“I will be true to the wife,
I’ll concentrate more on my work,“
And helpless governors wake
To resume their compulsory game:
Who can release them now,
Who can reach the deaf,
Who can speak for the dumb?

All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.

Defenceless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.

nerdqueenenterprise  asked:

how about 17 (with snow outside) for the triumvirate? :p i'm still working on your spirk one btw, currently putting spock through hell ;)

I’m so looking forward to it, you have no idea :)
But here I go with your triumvirate. Hope you’ll like it :)


“Enterprise? Damn it!” While Leonard swore and kicked the hull of the shuttle, Jim rolled with his eyes. Focusing again on the two wires, Spock lit with a lightflash. Jim linked them only to get an slighty electric shock. Startled by it he swore and banged in the same second his head on the metal hovering above him.

Slowly he pulled out underneath the console, holding his forehead as - at least - the board computer made a soft sound and lit the shuttle inside in a soft blue light. “At least we’re not dying in the darkness.” Bones was pissed and Jim watched him, as his friend took his hand to make sure he didn’t got it burned. Then he tipped Jims head up and looked him in the eyes. Bones may be pissed, but at least he was gently.

“Jim just activated the shuttles tracking device.“ Jim smiled a little bit, while Bones just rolled with his eyes. Then he pulled back from Jim, folding his arms before his chest. “You and Jim, you’ve both something for tracking devices.”

“He’ll never forget this one, or?” Spock looged at him and Jim smiled at his first officer. “What do you think?” With this he pulled his legs closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Now the chances weren’t that bad that the Enterprise would find and collect them. At least he hoped so.


Fuck it was so damn cold. “Y-you know J-Jim when y-you t-told me it w-would be a norm-al mission … I-I hadn’t thought t-to freeze t-to death.” Jim looked up to the board computer. Then to Spock, who seemed in a deep meditation. And yet … “Spock … how long … until they should find us?” He really tried to keep the cold out of his words.

“1.49 hours. Statistical spoken.” He swored inside. Then he looked to Bones, who walked from side to side of the shuttle. “Sta-t-ti-st-t-ti- Oh g-godd-amn.” Jim wanted to say something to lighten the mood, as he sneezed and sniffed. Instantly Spock looked up to him, just as Bones stopped and walked up to him. “You shouldn’t already be affected by the cold.” Spock also came to his side, and as Jim wanted to say it may be just some dust - what damn dust? - Bones shoved his hand over Jims forehead and made an angry sound in the back of his thoat. “D-damn it, Jim! How the f-fucking long are y-you already ill?”

Jim felt his cheeks getting hot, but not with fever. “I don’t want to answer this question.” Bones swore again, while Spock watched him very close. Then the Vulcan came closer, until he could feel the warmth of his body. “What … are doing?”

He sniffed again, but suddenly Bones took the blankets he and Spock had taken for them, before he rearanged them underneath the board computer. “We s-should share b-body-heat, Jim. Come on.” Before he could say something against it, Spock pulled him up by his hands, and for a moment Jim wanted to pull them back, not just because he knew what this was to a Vulcan, but they felt so hot against his ice hands. Then Spock turned him around, as Bones pulled him down and Jim sneezed again. He really wanted to argument against them, but as Bones pulled him down on the blankets and Spock followed him close, he let them do.

Bones pulled the second blanket over them, just like Spock draped the over blanket from the other side over their bodys. For a second Jim wasn’t sure if the heat he could feel on his face was because of the fact that he laid between his best friends. Also one best friend he has once kissed - years ago. And the other best friend he sometimes longed to kiss …

“J-jim, you need t-to relax.” With this Bones hands began to rub over his back, while he could feel the breath of his friend hot against his neck. “Leonard is right, Jim.” Isn’t as easy as told, Jim thought and bit the inside of his lip, as he felt Spocks hands on his side. One stroking his arm, as the other slipped underneath his shirt.

For a moment Jim freezed. But then he began to relax and laid one hand on Spocks side, as his other came in contact with Bones’. Let their fingers interlock. “Thank you.” He said so quiet, that maybe just Spock could hear him. But as he felt Bones face on his neck, just like a small smile of the lips against his cold skin, he knew his friend has heard him as well.


As Jim came awake, he felt a little bit feverish. He should feel sick and cranky. And yet, to lay between Spock and Bones, both so close, keeping him warm and safe … he fell asleep with a smile. And if someone found them like this, no one ever said a word about it. But the picture of them together, cuddling and sleeping in a pile of blankets underneath a small board computer, spreaded like a wirefire.


Fin


I hope you’ll like it :) grammatical errors are free ;)

Alfred Eisenstaedt     Port W.H. Auden     1956


I sit in one of the dives
On Fifty-second Street
Uncertain and afraid
As the clever hopes expire
Of a low dishonest decade:
Waves of anger and fear
Circulate over the bright
And darkened lands of the earth,
Obsessing our private lives;
The unmentionable odour of death
Offends the September night.
Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
Find what occurred at Linz,
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.
Exiled Thucydides knew
All that a speech can say
About Democracy,
And what dictators do,
The elderly rubbish they talk
To an apathetic grave;
Analysed all in his book,
The enlightenment driven away,
The habit-forming pain,
Mismanagement and grief:
We must suffer them all again.
Into this neutral air
Where blind skyscrapers use
Their full height to proclaim
The strength of Collective Man,
Each language pours its vain
Competitive excuse:
But who can live for long
In an euphoric dream;
Out of the mirror they stare,
Imperialism’s face
And the international wrong.
Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.
The windiest militant trash
Important Persons shout
Is not so crude as our wish:
What mad Nijinsky wrote
About Diaghilev
Is true of the normal heart;
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.
From the conservative dark
Into the ethical life
The dense commuters come,
Repeating their morning vow;
“I will be true to the wife,
I’ll concentrate more on my work,”
And helpless governors wake
To resume their compulsory game:
Who can release them now,
Who can reach the deaf,
Who can speak for the dumb?
All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.
Defenceless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.

–Wystan Hugh Auden, “September 1, 1939″ 1939