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Hatred is toxic waste in the river of life.

quote by Micron
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Hatred (A Duet)

You keep on accusing me
Of making your life misery
But if thats not abusing me, what isnt
You wanna be my friend, well its too late
My love for you has turned to hate
And I think that its a permanent condition
You say you wanna make the peace
Smile and turn the other cheek
I cant put myself in such a weak position
Now Im willing to accept this fate
You and me just cant cohabitate
We agree to hate and thats our fast decision
Hatred, hatred
Is the only thing that keeps us together
Hatred, hatred
Is the only thing that lasts forever
Driven by hate, driven by hate
Driven by hate, driven by hate
On the surface Im a mild-mannered person
Thats until you scratch the animal inside
Then you bring out all my animal aggression
I gotta hatred for you that is never gonna die
Driven to hate, driven to hate
Driven to hate, driven to hate
Chorus:
Hatred, hatred
Is the only thing that lasts forever
Hatred, hatred
Is the only thing that keeps us together
While races try to integrate
Nations try to gravitate
Towards equal rights, regardless of religion
Politicians might decree
For the sake of humanity
Love and peace instead of a collision
You and me accept reality
Theres no way that we can agree
The world cant make us alter this position
At least you and I know where we stand
We cant be friends, walk hand in hand
My hostility for you defies description
Hatred, hatred
Is the only thing that keeps us together
Hatred, hatred
Is the only thing that lasts forever
Driven by hate, driven by hate
Driven by hate, driven by hate
Hates the only thing we have in common
Theres no escape, well always be this way
So we might as well just learn to live together

[...] Read more

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hatred

You keep on accusing me
Of making your life misery
But if that's not abusing me, what isn't
You wanna be my friend, well it's too late
My love for you has turned to hate
And i think that it's a permanent condition
You say you wanna make the peace
Smile and turn the other cheek
I can't put myself in such a weak position
Now i'm willing to accept this fate
You and me just can't cohabitate
We agree to hate and that's our fast decision
Hatred, hatred
Is the only thing that keeps us together
Hatred, hatred
Is the only thing that lasts forever
Driven by hate, driven by hate
Driven by hate, driven by hate
On the surface i'm a mild-mannered person
That's until you scratch the animal inside
Then you bring out all my animal aggression
I gotta hatred for you that is never gonna die
Driven to hate, driven to hate
Driven to hate, driven to hate
Chorus:
Hatred, hatred
Is the only thing that lasts forever
Hatred, hatred
Is the only thing that keeps us together
While races try to integrate
Nations try to gravitate
Towards equal rights, regardless of religion
Politicians might decree
For the sake of humanity
Love and peace instead of a collision
You and me accept reality
There's no way that we can agree
The world can't make us alter this position
At least you and i know where we stand
We can't be friends, walk hand in hand
My hostility for you defies description
Hatred, hatred
Is the only thing that keeps us together
Hatred, hatred
Is the only thing that lasts forever
Driven by hate, driven by hate
Driven by hate, driven by hate
Hate's the only thing we have in common
There's no escape, we'll always be this way
So we might as well just learn to live together

[...] Read more

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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Toxic

Baby, can't you see
I'm calling
A guy like you
Should wear a warning
It's dangerous
I'm falling
There's no escape
I can't wait
I need a hit
Baby, give me it
You're dangerous
I'm loving it
Too high
Can't come down
Losing my head
Spinning round and round
do you feel me now?
with a taste of your lips
I'm on a ride
You're toxic
I'm slipping under..
With a taste of a poison paradise
I'm addicted to you
Don't you know that you're toxic?
And I love what you do
Don't you know that you're toxic?
It's getting late
To give you up
I took a sip
From a devil's cup
Slowly
It's taking over me
Too high
Can't come down
It's in the air
And it's all around
Can you feel me now?
With a taste of your lips
I'm on a ride
You're toxic
I'm slipping under..
With a taste of a poison paradise
I'm addicted to you
Don't you know that you're toxic?
And I love what you do
Don't you know that you're toxic?
Don't you know that you're toxic?
Taste of your lips, I'm on a ride
You're Toxic
I'm slipping under

[...] Read more

song performed by Britney Spears
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The Iliad: Book 21

Now when they came to the ford of the full-flowing river Xanthus,
begotten of immortal Jove, Achilles cut their forces in two: one
half he chased over the plain towards the city by the same way that
the Achaeans had taken when flying panic-stricken on the preceding day
with Hector in full triumph; this way did they fly pell-mell, and Juno
sent down a thick mist in front of them to stay them. The other half
were hemmed in by the deep silver-eddying stream, and fell into it
with a great uproar. The waters resounded, and the banks rang again,
as they swam hither and thither with loud cries amid the whirling
eddies. As locusts flying to a river before the blast of a grass fire-
the flame comes on and on till at last it overtakes them and they
huddle into the water- even so was the eddying stream of Xanthus
filled with the uproar of men and horses, all struggling in
confusion before Achilles.
Forthwith the hero left his spear upon the bank, leaning it
against a tamarisk bush, and plunged into the river like a god,
armed with his sword only. Fell was his purpose as he hewed the
Trojans down on every side. Their dying groans rose hideous as the
sword smote them, and the river ran red with blood. As when fish fly
scared before a huge dolphin, and fill every nook and corner of some
fair haven- for he is sure to eat all he can catch- even so did the
Trojans cower under the banks of the mighty river, and when
Achilles' arms grew weary with killing them, he drew twelve youths
alive out of the water, to sacrifice in revenge for Patroclus son of
Menoetius. He drew them out like dazed fawns, bound their hands behind
them with the girdles of their own shirts, and gave them over to his
men to take back to the ships. Then he sprang into the river,
thirsting for still further blood.
There he found Lycaon, son of Priam seed of Dardanus, as he was
escaping out of the water; he it was whom he had once taken prisoner
when he was in his father's vineyard, having set upon him by night, as
he was cutting young shoots from a wild fig-tree to make the wicker
sides of a chariot. Achilles then caught him to his sorrow unawares,
and sent him by sea to Lemnos, where the son of Jason bought him.
But a guest-friend, Eetion of Imbros, freed him with a great sum,
and sent him to Arisbe, whence he had escaped and returned to his
father's house. He had spent eleven days happily with his friends
after he had come from Lemnos, but on the twelfth heaven again
delivered him into the hands of Achilles, who was to send him to the
house of Hades sorely against his will. He was unarmed when Achilles
caught sight of him, and had neither helmet nor shield; nor yet had he
any spear, for he had thrown all his armour from him on to the bank,
and was sweating with his struggles to get out of the river, so that
his strength was now failing him.
Then Achilles said to himself in his surprise, "What marvel do I see
here? If this man can come back alive after having been sold over into
Lemnos, I shall have the Trojans also whom I have slain rising from
the world below. Could not even the waters of the grey sea imprison
him, as they do many another whether he will or no? This time let
him taste my spear, that I may know for certain whether mother earth

[...] Read more

poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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Monitored or Not It Just Becomes Hypnotic

People think that happiness will come and just sit.
Just sit!
Just sit!
People think that happiness will come and just sit.
Just sit!
Just sit!
Like the hands of a clock that tocks with a tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
And the running and humming becomes toxic.
Toxic.
Toxic.
And nothing exotic will make this erotic.
Monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
And people who want what they want wont stop!
Like the hands of a clock that ticks with a tock!
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Or the chopping heard of meat on a butcher's block!
Sssshop chop.
Sssshop chop.
Sssshop chop.
Sssshop chop!
People like their beef stewed nice and hot!

And nothing exotic will make this erotic.
Monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
And people who want what they want wont stop!
Like the hands of a clock that ticks with a tock!
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.

People think that happiness will come and just sit.
Just sit!
Just sit!
People think that happiness will come and just sit.
Just sit!
Just sit!
Like the hands of a clock that tocks with a tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
And the running and humming becomes toxic.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Four Seasons : Winter

See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year,
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train;
Vapours, and clouds, and storms. Be these my theme,
These! that exalt the soul to solemn thought,
And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred glooms,
Congenial horrors, hail! with frequent foot,
Pleased have I, in my cheerful morn of life,
When nursed by careless Solitude I lived,
And sung of Nature with unceasing joy,
Pleased have I wander'd through your rough domain;
Trod the pure virgin-snows, myself as pure;
Heard the winds roar, and the big torrent burst;
Or seen the deep-fermenting tempest brew'd,
In the grim evening sky. Thus pass'd the time,
Till through the lucid chambers of the south
Look'd out the joyous Spring, look'd out, and smiled.
To thee, the patron of her first essay,
The Muse, O Wilmington! renews her song.
Since has she rounded the revolving year:
Skimm'd the gay Spring; on eagle-pinions borne,
Attempted through the Summer-blaze to rise;
Then swept o'er Autumn with the shadowy gale;
And now among the wintry clouds again,
Roll'd in the doubling storm, she tries to soar;
To swell her note with all the rushing winds;
To suit her sounding cadence to the floods;
As is her theme, her numbers wildly great:
Thrice happy could she fill thy judging ear
With bold description, and with manly thought.
Nor art thou skill'd in awful schemes alone,
And how to make a mighty people thrive;
But equal goodness, sound integrity,
A firm, unshaken, uncorrupted soul,
Amid a sliding age, and burning strong,
Not vainly blazing for thy country's weal,
A steady spirit regularly free;
These, each exalting each, the statesman light
Into the patriot; these, the public hope
And eye to thee converting, bid the Muse
Record what envy dares not flattery call.
Now when the cheerless empire of the sky
To Capricorn the Centaur Archer yields,
And fierce Aquarius stains the inverted year;
Hung o'er the farthest verge of Heaven, the sun
Scarce spreads through ether the dejected day.
Faint are his gleams, and ineffectual shoot
His struggling rays, in horizontal lines,
Through the thick air; as clothed in cloudy storm,
Weak, wan, and broad, he skirts the southern sky;
And, soon-descending, to the long dark night,

[...] Read more

poem by James Thomson
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Beautiful River

And he showed me a pure River of Water of Life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the Throne of God and of the Lamb." -- Rev. xxii. 1

Shall we gather at the river
Where bright angel feet have trod;
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?

CHORUS.

Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.

On the margin of the river,
Washing up its silver spray,
We will walk and worship ever,
All the happy, golden day.

Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.

On the bosom of the river,
Where the Saviour-king we own,
We shall meet, and sorrow never
'Neath the glory of the throne. Cho.

Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.

Ere we reach the shining river,
Lay we every burden down;
Grace our spirits will deliver,
And provide a robe and crown. Cho.

Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.

At the smiling of the river,
Rippling with the Saviour's face,
Saints, whom death will never sever,
Lift their songs of saving grace. Cho.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
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Oxymoron

Oxymoron:
fresh fish

*********

JBO:

'The beach at Sanibel... an Arlington Cemetery of shells.'
*
Every suffocated or strangled fish is first given
waterboarding sensations.
*
Fishes more frequently than
mammals or birds are cut open
alive, while their eyes watch
the knifing of others and their
gills struggle for absent air.

Fish cannot scream.
Greed for suffocated fish flesh causes seals to be clubbed in Canada, Norway, S Africa etc., dolphins to be knifed in Japan, whales to be murdered by
Norwegian Japanese Icelandic and American Inuit fishermen, bears
to be murdered in Alaska, untold thousands of fishermen to
be lost in tsunamis,700 Bangladesh fishermen lost in just 1 storm, Thai fishermen working for slave wages, tens of millions around
the world to die of stomach cancer, food poisoning etc.**

What's in fish? unreported Mad Fish
Disease, nuclear toxins a million
times more concentrated than in
sea water, AIDS from unprocessed
human waste dumped into
the oceans, hepatitis, anaphylactic shock, ecoli,
and other food poisoning,
throat, stomach and other cancers,
mercury, lead, cadmium, arsenic, pbb's, pcb's, thousands
of carcinogenic industrial waste products, and heavy metal sired
brain damage, pfiesteria (red tide) which poisons the fishes

FISH CAN'T SCREAM, FISH TOXINS, FISH STORIES

Are all anglers stranglers?

Dick Gregory: Eating fish liver oil is like eating the filter out of a car.

[...] Read more

poem by O. Anna Niemus
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)

Introduction

In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.

Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.

Prologue

The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain

mixed with French Huguenots
who left their homes and belongings,
with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
Associate this then with the fact

that these people fought formidable
for seven generations
against every onslaught that they got
from savages en wild animals

becoming marksmen, riding
and taming wild horses
with one bullet per day
to hunt a wild antelope,

who migrated right across the country
over hills in mass protest
and then you have
the most formidable adversary
and then let them fight

in a natural wilderness
where the hunter,
the sniper and horseman excels
and any enemy is at a lost.

Let them then also be patriotic
into their souls,
believe in and read
out of the word of God

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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The City of Dreadful Night

Per me si va nella citta dolente.

--Dante

Poi di tanto adoprar, di tanti moti
D'ogni celeste, ogni terrena cosa,
Girando senza posa,
Per tornar sempre la donde son mosse;
Uso alcuno, alcun frutto
Indovinar non so.

Sola nel mondo eterna, a cui si volve
Ogni creata cosa,
In te, morte, si posa
Nostra ignuda natura;
Lieta no, ma sicura
Dell' antico dolor . . .
Pero ch' esser beato
Nega ai mortali e nega a' morti il fato.

--Leopardi

PROEM

Lo, thus, as prostrate, "In the dust I write
My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears."
Yet why evoke the spectres of black night
To blot the sunshine of exultant years?
Why disinter dead faith from mouldering hidden?
Why break the seals of mute despair unbidden,
And wail life's discords into careless ears?

Because a cold rage seizes one at whiles
To show the bitter old and wrinkled truth
Stripped naked of all vesture that beguiles,
False dreams, false hopes, false masks and modes of youth;
Because it gives some sense of power and passion
In helpless innocence to try to fashion
Our woe in living words howe'er uncouth.

Surely I write not for the hopeful young,
Or those who deem their happiness of worth,
Or such as pasture and grow fat among
The shows of life and feel nor doubt nor dearth,
Or pious spirits with a God above them
To sanctify and glorify and love them,
Or sages who foresee a heaven on earth.

For none of these I write, and none of these
Could read the writing if they deigned to try;

[...] Read more

poem by James Thomson
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Love and Hatred

Love is not so heavy as hatred,
Love is gentle and soothing,
While hatred is rude and disturbing,
Love is an attribute of God,
While hatred is the quality of devil,
Love makes,
Hatred mars,
Love teaches how to live,
Hatred is tired of life,
Love is soft as gentle rain,
Hatred is hard as drought,
Love is deep like an ocean,
Hatred is shallow without commotion,
Love makes sacrifice,
Hatred escapes sacrifice,
Love is everlasting,
Hatred is transcient,
Love releases fragrance,
While hatred stinks,
Love relies on heart,
Hatred relies on mind,
Love loses,
Hatred gains,
In a nutshell,
Love is life,
Hatred is death,
So let's spread love.

poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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Tamar

I
A night the half-moon was like a dancing-girl,
No, like a drunkard's last half-dollar
Shoved on the polished bar of the eastern hill-range,
Young Cauldwell rode his pony along the sea-cliff;
When she stopped, spurred; when she trembled, drove
The teeth of the little jagged wheels so deep
They tasted blood; the mare with four slim hooves
On a foot of ground pivoted like a top,
Jumped from the crumble of sod, went down, caught, slipped;
Then, the quick frenzy finished, stiffening herself
Slid with her drunken rider down the ledges,
Shot from sheer rock and broke
Her life out on the rounded tidal boulders.

The night you know accepted with no show of emotion the little
accident; grave Orion
Moved northwest from the naked shore, the moon moved to
meridian, the slow pulse of the ocean
Beat, the slow tide came in across the slippery stones; it drowned
the dead mare's muzzle and sluggishly
Felt for the rider; Cauldwell’s sleepy soul came back from the
blind course curious to know
What sea-cold fingers tapped the walls of its deserted ruin.
Pain, pain and faintness, crushing
Weights, and a vain desire to vomit, and soon again
die icy fingers, they had crept over the loose hand and lay in the
hair now. He rolled sidewise
Against mountains of weight and for another half-hour lay still.
With a gush of liquid noises
The wave covered him head and all, his body
Crawled without consciousness and like a creature with no bones,
a seaworm, lifted its face
Above the sea-wrack of a stone; then a white twilight grew about
the moon, and above
The ancient water, the everlasting repetition of the dawn. You
shipwrecked horseman
So many and still so many and now for you the last. But when it
grew daylight
He grew quite conscious; broken ends of bone ground on each
other among the working fibers
While by half-inches he was drawing himself out of the seawrack
up to sandy granite,
Out of the tide's path. Where the thin ledge tailed into flat cliff
he fell asleep. . . .
Far seaward
The daylight moon hung like a slip of cloud against the horizon.
The tide was ebbing
From the dead horse and the black belt of sea-growth. Cauldwell
seemed to have felt her crying beside him,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Wasting My Hate

Ain't gonna waste my hate
Ain't gonna waste my hate on you
I think I'll keep it for myself
Ain't gonna kill no more
Ain't got the time to help you score
I think it's time you pleased yourself
Yourself
Good day how 'ya doing
And I send a smile to you
Don't waste
Waste your breath
Now I will waste my hate on you
Waste my hate on you
You think your worthy now
You think enough to even raise the brow
And to life that tip that you belong
When I see my hate I see my feet
I feel that blood that pumps in me
Where the hell's my mind
Don't know
Don't know now
Good day how 'ya doing
And I send a smile to you
Don't waste
Waste your breath
Now I will waste my hate on you
Waste my hate on you
Then I'll keep it for myself
Hey
Ain't gonna waste my hate
But I don't clean it when they say
Better to give then to recieve
Ain't gonna waste my hate
Ain't got time to waste my hate on you
I think I'll keep it all for myself
For myself
Good day how 'ya doing
And I send a smile to you
Don't waste
Waste your breath
Now I will waste my hate on you
Waste my hate on you
Think I'll keep it for myself
Yeah
Hate

song performed by Metallica from Load
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ford O' Kabul River

Kabul town's by Kabul river --
Blow the bugle, draw the sword --
There I lef' my mate for ever,
Wet an' drippin' by the ford.
Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,
Ford o' Kabul river in the dark!
There's the river up and brimmin', an' there's 'arf a squadron swimmin'
'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark.

Kabul town's a blasted place --
Blow the bugle, draw the sword --
'Strewth I sha'n't forget 'is face
Wet an' drippin' by the ford!
Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,
Ford o' Kabul river in the dark!
Keep the crossing-stakes beside you, an' they will surely guide you
'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark.

Kabul town is sun and dust --
Blow the bugle, draw the sword --
I'd ha' sooner drownded fust
'Stead of 'im beside the ford.
Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,
Ford o' Kabul river in the dark!
You can 'ear the 'orses threshin', you can 'ear the men a-splashin',
'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark.

Kabul town was ours to take --
Blow the bugle, draw the sword --
I'd ha' left it for 'is sake --
'Im that left me by the ford.
Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,
Ford o' Kabul river in the dark!
It's none so bloomin' dry there; ain't you never comin' nigh there,
'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark?

Kabul town'll go to hell --
Blow the bugle, draw the sword --
'Fore I see him 'live an' well --
'Im the best beside the ford.
Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,
Ford o' Kabul river in the dark!
Gawd 'elp 'em if they blunder, for their boots'll pull 'em under,
By the ford o' Kabul river in the dark.

Turn your 'orse from Kabul town --
Blow the bugle, draw the sword --
'Im an' 'arf my troop is down,
Down an' drownded by the ford.
Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river,

[...] Read more

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Electric Eel Song

Ay! me one child Ay-eeee!
Ay! me one daughter
Take out you’ foot
From the black river water
Haul out you’ hand
Out the slow river water
Stay ‘pon the bank
Of the cold river water
Ay! me one daughter
Ay! me one child! Ay-eeee!

Electric eel
Is the eel in the river
Shadow ‘pon the bottom
Is the eel in the river
Something like you’ hand
Is the eel in the river
Swimming like you’ foot
Is the eel in the river

Ay! me one child Ay-eeee!
Ay! me one daughter
Foot after foot
Though the black river water
She can’t touch the bottom
Out the slow river water
Shirt like umbrella
In the cold river water
Ay! me one daughter
Ay! me one child! Ay-eeee!

Electric eel
Is the eel in the river
Cutlass shape
Is the eel in the river
Black blade or brown
Is the eel in the river
Dozing so quiet
Is the eel in the river

Ay! me one child Ay-eeee!
Ay! me one daughter
Slap of a tail
Through the black river water
Shiver like ague
Out the slow river water
As if she take cramp
Of the cold river water
Ay! me one daughter
Ay! me one child! Ay-eeee!

[...] Read more

poem by Slade Hopkinson
Added by Poetry Lover
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[9] O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!

O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
[LOVE POEMS]

POET: MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR

POEMS

1 Passion And Compassion / 1
2 Affection
3 Willing To Live
4 Passion And Compassion / 2
5 Boon
6 Remembrance
7 Pretext
8 To A Distant Person
9 Perception
10 Conclusion
10 You (1)
11 Symbol
12 You (2)
13 In Vain
14 One Night
15 Suddenly
16 Meeting
17 Touch
18 Face To Face
19 Co-Traveller
20 Once And Once only
21 Touchstone
22 In Chorus
23 Good Omens
24 Even Then
25 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (1)
26 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (2)
27 Life Aspirant
28 To The Condemned Woman
29 A Submission
30 At Midday
31 I Accept
32 Who Are You?
33 Solicitation
34 Accept Me
35 Again After Ages …
36 Day-Dreaming
37 Who Are You?
38 You Embellished In Song

[...] Read more

poem by Mahendra Bhatnagar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Hatred Baited

Your hatred...
Baited!
Has from you to fade away.

Your hatred...
Kept baited!
Has from you to fade away.

You can't keep bigotry,
Feeding as a need.
No.
No it's got to go.

You can't keep bigotry,
Feeding as a need.
No.
No.

Your hatred...
Baited!
Has from you to fade away.

Your hatred...
Kept baited!
Has from you to fade away.

You've got to give your heart,
A reason to harvest...
More,
Of the love!

You've got to give your heart,
A reason to harvest...
More and more of the love!

You've got to take notice hatred baited has to go!

Your hatred...
Baited!
Has from you to fade away.

Your hatred...
Kept baited!
Has from you to fade away.

You've got to take notice hatred baited has to go!
Your hatred...
Kept baited!

You've got to take notice hatred baited has to go!

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Peter Bell, A Tale

PROLOGUE

There's something in a flying horse,
There's something in a huge balloon;
But through the clouds I'll never float
Until I have a little Boat,
Shaped like the crescent-moon.

And now I 'have' a little Boat,
In shape a very crescent-moon
Fast through the clouds my boat can sail;
But if perchance your faith should fail,
Look up--and you shall see me soon!

The woods, my Friends, are round you roaring,
Rocking and roaring like a sea;
The noise of danger's in your ears,
And ye have all a thousand fears
Both for my little Boat and me!

Meanwhile untroubled I admire
The pointed horns of my canoe;
And, did not pity touch my breast,
To see how ye are all distrest,
Till my ribs ached, I'd laugh at you!

Away we go, my Boat and I--
Frail man ne'er sate in such another;
Whether among the winds we strive,
Or deep into the clouds we dive,
Each is contented with the other.

Away we go--and what care we
For treasons, tumults, and for wars?
We are as calm in our delight
As is the crescent-moon so bright
Among the scattered stars.

Up goes my Boat among the stars
Through many a breathless field of light,
Through many a long blue field of ether,
Leaving ten thousand stars beneath her:
Up goes my little Boat so bright!

The Crab, the Scorpion, and the Bull--
We pry among them all; have shot
High o'er the red-haired race of Mars,
Covered from top to toe with scars;
Such company I like it not!

[...] Read more

poem by William Wordsworth
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Toxic

I'm boiling water for the tea
I run around and climb the trees
I sometimes draw comic caracters
I'm wearing purple rubber boots
I'm drinking lots of apple juice
I do it all because I want to
Sometimes I get bored of doing those things I do
Sometimes I feel there's a need for something...
Toxic
I'm in the mood for
Toxic
I'm in the mood for
Toxic
I'm in the mood for
Something more than ordinary
Toxic
I'm in the mood for
Toxic
I'm in the mood for
Toxic
I'm in the mood for
Something more than ordinary

song performed by Vanilla Ninja
Added by Lucian Velea
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