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If I had only known, I would have been a locksmith.

quote by Albert Einstein
Added by Lucian Velea
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Locksmith At Heavens Gate

a man died in a car crash, and climbed
the stairs to heaven, and found he could'nt get in.
he said: i am a locksmith, and i could
make keys to all locks.

saint peter answered: yes, but here you have but just to knock.

in life you was a locksmith and forged many a key
but all the lives you hurt is something you did not see.
you took pride and boasted, that there
was not a door you could not open.

but here in heaven all your boasts go unheard
for in the LORD, you have not practiced his word.

you opened the hearts and souls of many a life
not caring if you hurt them, and the pain
they would go through.

when all you had to do was, was forge
the keys to the words of the LORD
and to practice what he preached.
but! you chose instead to be a common leach.

to cling on to man, and suck the blood
from their souls, then to laugh
as they went out of control.

you controlled their lives, for you said you had the keys
when you knew in your mind, with the LORD
it could never be.

you bragged that you had the keys
to all the locks around,
but! here in heaven, there's not one to be found.
so now i think it's time you turn yourself around.

descend these steps that you thought that
you could climb.
for you are condemned until the end of time.

for you are the devil in sheeps clothing
and thought that GOD would not see
the lives you destroyed
when you could have been set free.

poem by Louis Rams
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I Only Dance With You

Ohh, ohh
Ohhh
Girl, I remember how it all began
You introduced her as your friend
But I knew I was in trouble when
I saw her smile at me
And then she asked me for a dance
But never offered you a glance
Well let me tell you girl with friends like that
Who needs enemies
[chorus:]
Shouldve known better than to trust a friend
Whos jealous of the way we livin
I dont think you know whats happening
Your girl is shading you
Shouldve known better than to trust a friend
Behind your back she gives me rhythm
But Im bout to make her understand
I only dance with you
Girl, you say your friend is just flirting by
Its getting so ridiculous
That shes thinking she can mess with us
But I dont play around
Even when shes saying that youre unaware
And its cool with you to share
No I still ait gonna dance with her
Im telling you right now
[chorus:]
Shouldve known better than to trust a friend
Whos jealous of the way we livin
I dont think you know whats happening
Your girl is shading you
Shouldve known better than to trust a friend
Behind your back she gives me rhythm
But Im bout to make her understand
I only dance with you
Dont try to say I lost the mind
I know your girl has crossed the line (cause I really know that)
She got issues, she trying to diss you
The minute that you turn around
She pulled a switch boo
Cause shes wishing whats yours was hers
So now leave the girl, that aint never gonna work
[chorus:]
Shouldve known better than to trust a friend
Whos jealous of the way we livin
I dont think you know whats happening
Your girl is shading you
Shouldve known better than to trust a friend
Behind your back she gives me rhythm

[...] Read more

song performed by O-town
Added by Lucian Velea
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Popular Thug

You know what I am
You know what I do well at least I thought you knew
They call me Pusha
Damn
I take you like a slap in the face
Everytime the bass is mentioned like I had bad intentions
Listen, I thought love was given
So for you I did those things you were missing
Never have to say
Please gimme borrow
As long as I got yay
And two semi autos
And connects in the jets
Like wetback Carlos
I ain't askin' you to follow
Just think about tomorrow
Please
I should have known by the way that you stared
Eyeing Passes by like you're rich but life ain't fair
But you make my record skip
Make my record skip
Make my record skip
Make my record skip
I would have never talked to you if I had known you was a popular thug
Hey, popular thug (you're damn right)
I would have never talked to you if I had known you was a popular thug
Hey, popular thug (you're damn right)
I can't help if I'm a thug and I'm popular
I think that come along with driving a shocking car
Watch the coke light up they life
The rocks with stars
Had fiends talking crippled
Cuz they locked they jaw
Aw Pusha T you think it's cool that you deal
Bout as cool as that breeze on the beach in Brazil
As long as fiends want pain
Then I'm gon' slang
When my financial change
Then I'm gon' change
I should have seen in the way you touched my hand
Shuffling your car keys
But sounded like a gentleman
But ya make my record skip
Make my record skip
Make my record skip
Make my record skip
I would have never talked to you if I had known you was a popular thug
Hey, popular thug (you're damn right)
I would have never talked to you if I had known you was a popular thug
Hey, popular thug (you're damn right)

[...] Read more

song performed by Kelis
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I'm A Believer (With This Known)

Take your evil self away...
To lie and hide liar.
Liar.
I am not inspired,
By your lies.

Take your evil self away...
To lie and hide liar.
Liar.
I am not inspired,
By your lies.

'Cause...
I'm a believer,
With this known...
I'm here to grow,
With this known...
And I'm not gonna stop,
With this known...
To woe,
With this known.
And I am here to overcome,
Obstacles.
With this known.
With this known.

And with this known...
People will lip,
With this known...
To deceive.
And unknown is their evil.
But...
I'm not one to give up,
Because I'm a believer.
And with this known.

Take your evil self away...
To lie and hide liar.
Liar.
I am not inspired,
By your lies.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Welcome To The Cordillera

WELCOME TO THE CORDILLERA
mELVIN d.bANGGOLLAY

Welcome to the great Cordillera's beauty
And behold its mystic land and history
Of people in a land known as the stairway
To heaven with its ranges of nature tapestry.

Welcome to Kalinga, verdant land known to many
As the land of the brave hunters our history,
The land known as the peacock of the country
With their colorful custom amidst modernity.

Here you can fine Cordillera's rice granary
With the best aroma of coffee in the country
Perfectly brewed by hands of genuine beauty
Of charming ladies dancing with gong's intimacy.

If you traverse the highways of Cagayan Valley
You will be charmed by Apayao's serene beauty
Where you can now fine banana based industry
With their growing cassava production in ARC.

You can fine here the cleanest river in our country
From its unexploited forest away from modernity
Where you can enjoy wildlife living in intimacy
As you can see domesticated dear in every family.

Benguet is another source of the land' beauty
Where the famous mines of gold and silver stay
Popularly known as the region's vegetable granary
With its temperate cold climate you can feel everyday.

On this land you can also fine the famous Baguio City
Known as the cleanest and greenest city in history
Known as the city of pines in the entire country
and as the summer capital of our archipelago today.

If you go down and pass along the whirling highway
You can reach the province of Abra known to many
As the bamboo capital of the entire region' today
With their famous bamboo based craft and industry.

Although the land is know for its political history
With famous politicians names making their own story
It is peopled by those who love to have peace everyday
Making the land of love flowing with stream of honey.

When you go west passing the known Halsima Highway

[...] Read more

poem by Melvin Banggollay
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Few Two Liners

I’ve known reception
I’ve seen rejection

I’ve known how life gets reduced to a memory
I’ve seen how memory fades

I’ve seen how life takes off
I’ve known how life slumps

I’ve seen how one clings to life
I’ve known how life passes

I’ve known how knotty time is
I’ve seen comfort time brings

I've seen how life flows
I've known how it floods

I've seen clear light
I've known hazy veils in the way

I’ve seen the first cry
I’ve known the last breath

05 Apr 2011
07.20hrs

poem by Indira Babbellapati
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The Last Time

Like an old abandoned ferriswheel
Time for me is standin' still
And it's you and me in mid July
Underneath the midway lights
And all our friends are standing there
So I was actin' like I didn't care
When you put your arms around my neck
And I barely even kissed you back
But if I'da have known it was the last time
I'da held on a little longer
And let that moment linger
And never let your fingers slip away from mine
If I'da known there'd never be another day
I'da watched you as you walked away
And kept you in my eyes till you were out of sight
If I, If I'da known it was the last time
Now the midway lights have all shut down
And grass has grown up all around
It's an empty field across the track
But I can't keep from coming back
It was another summer night
Carousel and rollercoaster ride
And that silly fight that we got in
Didn't seem so important then
But if I'da known it was the last time
I'da held on a little longer
And let that moment linger
And never let your fingers slip away from mine
If I'da known there'd never be another day
I'da watched you as you walked away
And kept you in my eyes till you were out of sight
If I, If I'da known it was the last time
And if I'da known then, what I know now
I'd never let you disappear into the crowd
Or turn away the way I did
With so much left unsaid
If I, If I'da known it was the last time

song performed by Lee Ann Womack
Added by Lucian Velea
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If I Had Only Known

(jana stanfield, craig morris)
If I had only known
It was the last walk in the rain
Id keep you out for hours in the storm
I would hold your hand
Like a life line to my heart
Underneath the thunder wed be warm
If I had only known
It was our last walk in the rain
If I had only known
Id never hear your voice again
Id memorize each thing you ever said
And on those lonely nights
I could think of them once more
Keep your words alive inside my head
If I had only known
Id never hear your voice again
You were the treasure in my hand
You were the one who always stood beside me
So unaware I foolishly believed
That you would always be there
But then there came a day
And I turned my head and you slipped away
If I had only known
It was my last night by your side
Id pray a miracle would stop the dawn
And when youd smile at me
I would look into your eyes
And make sure you know my love
For you goes on and on
If I had only known
If I had only known
The love I wouldve shown
If I had only known

song performed by Reba Mcentire
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Lamentation

I.
WHO hath known the ways of time
Or trodden behind his feet?
There is no such man among men.
For chance overcomes him, or crime
Changes; for all things sweet
In time wax bitter again.
Who shall give sorrow enough,
Or who the abundance of tears?
Mine eyes are heavy with love
And a sword gone thorough mine ears,
A sound like a sword and fire,
For pity, for great desire;
Who shall ensure me thereof,
Lest I die, being full of my fears?

Who hath known the ways and the wrath,
The sleepless spirit, the root
And blossom of evil will,
The divine device of a god?
Who shall behold it or hath?
The twice-tongued prophets are mute,
The many speakers are still;
No foot has travelled or trod,
No hand has meted, his path.
Man’s fate is a blood-red fruit,
And the mighty gods have their fill
And relax not the rein, or the rod.

Ye were mighty in heart from of old,
Ye slew with the spear, and are slain.
Keen after heat is the cold,
Sore after summer is rain,
And melteth man to the bone.
As water he weareth away,
As a flower, as an hour in a day,
Fallen from laughter to moan.
But my spirit is shaken with fear
Lest an evil thing begin,
New-born, a spear for a spear,
And one for another sin.
Or ever our tears began,
It was known from of old and said;
One law for a living man,
And another law for the dead.
For these are fearful and sad,
Vain, and things without breath;
While he lives let a man be glad,
For none hath joy of his death.

[...] Read more

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Rose Mary

Of her two fights with the Beryl-stone
Lost the first, but the second won.

PART I

“MARY mine that art Mary's Rose
Come in to me from the garden-close.
The sun sinks fast with the rising dew,
And we marked not how the faint moon grew;
But the hidden stars are calling you.
“Tall Rose Mary, come to my side,
And read the stars if you'd be a bride.
In hours whose need was not your own,
While you were a young maid yet ungrown
You've read the stars in the Beryl-stone.
“Daughter, once more I bid you read;
But now let it be for your own need:
Because to-morrow, at break of day,
To Holy Cross he rides on his way,
Your knight Sir James of Heronhaye.
“Ere he wed you, flower of mine,
For a heavy shrift he seeks the shrine.
Now hark to my words and do not fear;
Ill news next I have for your ear;
But be you strong, and our help is here.
“On his road, as the rumour's rife,
An ambush waits to take his life.
He needs will go, and will go alone;
Where the peril lurks may not be known;
But in this glass all things are shown.”
Pale Rose Mary sank to the floor:—
“The night will come if the day is o'er!”
“Nay, heaven takes counsel, star with star,
And help shall reach your heart from afar:
A bride you'll be, as a maid you are.”
The lady unbound her jewelled zone
And drew from her robe the Beryl-stone.
Shaped it was to a shadowy sphere,—
World of our world, the sun's compeer,
That bears and buries the toiling year.
With shuddering light 'twas stirred and strewn
Like the cloud-nest of the wading moon:
Freaked it was as the bubble's ball,
Rainbow-hued through a misty pall
Like the middle light of the waterfall.
Shadows dwelt in its teeming girth
Of the known and unknown things of earth;
The cloud above and the wave around,—
The central fire at the sphere's heart bound,
Like doomsday prisoned underground.

[...] Read more

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Avon's Harvest

Fear, like a living fire that only death
Might one day cool, had now in Avon’s eyes
Been witness for so long of an invasion
That made of a gay friend whom we had known
Almost a memory, wore no other name
As yet for us than fear. Another man
Than Avon might have given to us at least
A futile opportunity for words
We might regret. But Avon, since it happened,
Fed with his unrevealing reticence
The fire of death we saw that horribly
Consumed him while he crumbled and said nothing.

So many a time had I been on the edge,
And off again, of a foremeasured fall
Into the darkness and discomfiture
Of his oblique rebuff, that finally
My silence honored his, holding itself
Away from a gratuitous intrusion
That likely would have widened a new distance
Already wide enough, if not so new.
But there are seeming parallels in space
That may converge in time; and so it was
I walked with Avon, fought and pondered with him,
While he made out a case for So-and-so,
Or slaughtered What’s-his-name in his old way,
With a new difference. Nothing in Avon lately
Was, or was ever again to be for us,
Like him that we remembered; and all the while
We saw that fire at work within his eyes
And had no glimpse of what was burning there.

So for a year it went; and so it went
For half another year—when, all at once,
At someone’s tinkling afternoon at home
I saw that in the eyes of Avon’s wife
The fire that I had met the day before
In his had found another living fuel.
To look at her and then to think of him,
And thereupon to contemplate the fall
Of a dim curtain over the dark end
Of a dark play, required of me no more
Clairvoyance than a man who cannot swim
Will exercise in seeing that his friend
Off shore will drown except he save himself.
To her I could say nothing, and to him
No more than tallied with a long belief
That I should only have it back again
For my chagrin to ruminate upon,
Ingloriously, for the still time it starved;

[...] Read more

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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The Book of Annandale

I

Partly to think, more to be left alone,
George Annandale said something to his friends—
A word or two, brusque, but yet smoothed enough
To suit their funeral gaze—and went upstairs;
And there, in the one room that he could call
His own, he found a sort of meaningless
Annoyance in the mute familiar things
That filled it; for the grate’s monotonous gleam
Was not the gleam that he had known before,
The books were not the books that used to be,
The place was not the place. There was a lack
Of something; and the certitude of death
Itself, as with a furtive questioning,
Hovered, and he could not yet understand.
He knew that she was gone—there was no need
Of any argued proof to tell him that,
For they had buried her that afternoon,
Under the leaves and snow; and still there was
A doubt, a pitiless doubt, a plunging doubt,
That struck him, and upstartled when it struck,
The vision, the old thought in him. There was
A lack, and one that wrenched him; but it was
Not that—not that. There was a present sense
Of something indeterminably near—
The soul-clutch of a prescient emptiness
That would not be foreboding. And if not,
What then?—or was it anything at all?
Yes, it was something—it was everything—
But what was everything? or anything?
Tired of time, bewildered, he sat down;
But in his chair he kept on wondering
That he should feel so desolately strange
And yet—for all he knew that he had lost
More of the world than most men ever win—
So curiously calm. And he was left
Unanswered and unsatisfied: there came
No clearer meaning to him than had come
Before; the old abstraction was the best
That he could find, the farthest he could go;
To that was no beginning and no end—
No end that he could reach. So he must learn
To live the surest and the largest life
Attainable in him, would he divine
The meaning of the dream and of the words
That he had written, without knowing why,
On sheets that he had bound up like a book
And covered with red leather. There it was—
There in his desk, the record he had made,

[...] Read more

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Religio Laici

(OR A LAYMAN'S FAITH)

Dim, as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars
To lonely, weary, wand'ring travellers,
Is reason to the soul; and as on high,
Those rolling fires discover but the sky
Not light us here; so reason's glimmering ray
Was lent not to assure our doubtful way,
But guide us upward to a better day.
And as those nightly tapers disappear
When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere
So pale grows reason at religion's sight:
So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light.
Some few, whose lamp shone brighter, have been led
From cause to cause, to Nature's secret head;
And found that one first principle must be:
But what, or who, that Universal He;
Whether some soul incompassing this ball
Unmade, unmov'd; yet making, moving all;
Or various atoms' interfering dance
Leapt into form (the noble work of chance
Or this great all was from eternity;
Not even the Stagirite himself could see;
And Epicurus guess'd as well as he:
As blindly grop'd they for a future state;
As rashly judg'd of Providence and Fate:
But least of all could their endeavours find
What most concern'd the good of human kind.
For happiness was never to be found;
But vanish'd from 'em, like enchanted ground.
One thought content the good to be enjoy'd:
This, every little accident destroy'd:
The wiser madmen did for virtue toil:
A thorny, or at best a barren soil:
In pleasure some their glutton souls would steep;
But found their line too short, the well too deep;
And leaky vessels which no bliss could keep.
Thus anxious thoughts in endless circles roll,
Without a centre where to fix the soul:
In this wild maze their vain endeavours end:
How can the less the greater comprehend?
Or finite reason reach infinity?
For what could fathom God were more than He.

The Deist thinks he stands on firmer ground;
Cries [lang g]eur{-e}ka[lang e] the mighty secret's found:
God is that spring of good; supreme, and best;
We, made to serve, and in that service blest;
If so, some rules of worship must be given;
Distributed alike to all by Heaven:

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 12

WHEN Turnus saw the Latins leave the field,
Their armies broken, and their courage quell’d,
Himself become the mark of public spite,
His honor question’d for the promis’d fight;
The more he was with vulgar hate oppress’d, 5
The more his fury boil’d within his breast:
He rous’d his vigor for the last debate,
And rais’d his haughty soul to meet his fate.
As, when the swains the Libyan lion chase,
He makes a sour retreat, nor mends his pace; 10
But, if the pointed jav’lin pierce his side,
The lordly beast returns with double pride:
He wrenches out the steel, he roars for pain;
His sides he lashes, and erects his mane:
So Turnus fares; his eyeballs flash with fire, 15
Thro’ his wide nostrils clouds of smoke expire.
Trembling with rage, around the court he ran,
At length approach’d the king, and thus began:
“No more excuses or delays: I stand
In arms prepar’d to combat, hand to hand, 20
This base deserter of his native land.
The Trojan, by his word, is bound to take
The same conditions which himself did make.
Renew the truce; the solemn rites prepare,
And to my single virtue trust the war. 25
The Latians unconcern’d shall see the fight;
This arm unaided shall assert your right:
Then, if my prostrate body press the plain,
To him the crown and beauteous bride remain.”
To whom the king sedately thus replied: 30
“Brave youth, the more your valor has been tried,
The more becomes it us, with due respect,
To weigh the chance of war, which you neglect.
You want not wealth, or a successive throne,
Or cities which your arms have made your own: 35
My towns and treasures are at your command,
And stor’d with blooming beauties is my land;
Laurentum more than one Lavinia sees,
Unmarried, fair, of noble families.
Now let me speak, and you with patience hear, 40
Things which perhaps may grate a lover’s ear,
But sound advice, proceeding from a heart
Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art.
The gods, by signs, have manifestly shown,
No prince Italian born should heir my throne: 45
Oft have our augurs, in prediction skill’d,
And oft our priests, a foreign son reveal’d.
Yet, won by worth that cannot be withstood,
Brib’d by my kindness to my kindred blood,
Urg’d by my wife, who would not be denied, 50

[...] Read more

poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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The Progress of Taste, or the Fate of Delicacy

Part first.

Perhaps some cloud eclipsed the day,
When thus I tuned my pensive lay:
The ship is launch'd-we catch the gale-
On life's extended ocean sail:
For happiness our course we bend,
Our ardent cry, our general end!
Yet, ah! the scenes which tempt our care
Are, like the forms dispersed in air,
Still dancing near disorder'd eyes,
And weakest his who best descries!'
Yet let me not my birthright barter,
(For wishing is the poet's charter;
All bards have leave to wish what's wanted,
Though few e'er found their wishes granted;
Extensive field! where poets pride them
In singing all that is denied them).
For humble ease, ye Powers! I pray;
That plain warm suit for every day,
And pleasure and brocade, bestow,
To flaunt it-once a month, or so.
The first for constant wear we want;
The first, ye Powers! for ever grant;
But constant wear the last bespatters,
And turns the tissue into tatters.
Where'er my vagrant course I bend,
Let me secure one faithful friend.
Let me, in public scenes, request
A friend of wit and taste, well drest;
And, if I must not hope such favour,
A friend of wit and taste, however.
Alas! that Wisdom ever shuns
To congregate her scatter'd Sons,
Whose nervous forces, well combined,
Would win the field, and sway mankind.
The fool will squeeze, from morn to night,
To fix his follies full in sight;
The note he strikes, the plume he shows,
Attract whole flights of fops and beaus,
And kindred fools, who ne'er had known him,
Flock at the sight, caress and own him;
But ill-starr'd Sense, not gay nor loud,
Steals soft on tiptoe through the crowd;
Conveys his meagre form between,
And slides, like pervious air, unseen;
Contracts his known tenuity,
As though 'twere even a crime to be;
Nor even permits his eyes to stray,
And win acquaintance in their way.

[...] Read more

poem by William Shenstone
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The locksmith is the guilty one, but the blacksmith hangs.

Polish proverbs
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In the last 17 years of his working life, my father was finally rewarded with having landed a great job as first, a maintenance engineer, and then a senior locksmith with the Federal Reserve Bank of New York.

quote by Tony Visconti
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Jailbird

I stole a bunch of keys from a locksmith's store
And I want to free my comrade from his life imprisonment.
I tried several times; but failed to open the padlock.
Then I realized this lock cannot be opened from outside.
He himself has to open it from inside.
At last I threw the keys into the Jail.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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August Blue Moon Spontaneity

Walkin home after group therapy session
passing graveyard intersection
still high off meditation
essence of poetry flowing through
Berkley Michigan
enlightened path begins where it ends
not something achieved or attained but
a radiant realization felt from within
lovely roots beginning to show through
cracking concrete rustle of leaves twigs
acorns snapping beneath falling feet
August blue moon warm breeze delivering
visions of eternal June tendril ivy clusters
mirroring those visions of eternal earth Eden
mothering essence of the father flowing through creation

Police cruiser idol at the corner
vigilant eyed officer radioing back dispatch
fallen berries squash paint splatters atop cement sidewalk
a little offer to the old broken comb
passing tow trucks and suburban homes
nothing but peace and calm thoughts waiting
for traffic to clear at redbrick crosswalk
Aware any moment time could suddenly stop
yet another silver-dove-gray squad car
police performing routine traffic stop
mother in minivan pulled over in vacant
apartment parking lot
Hip brother walks turned on smile cane and
little Caesars pizza box
Sun radiant as ever 4: 00 late August afternoon delight
80 degree weather everything shining bright within my sight
Right mow this moment this life all is all right
Universe in alignment souls Earth souls preparing
to take heavenly flight

Evident signs of poetry everywhere
June Moon Kristea's
Butterfly bakery and Al Meena's
windows dressed sweet
wedding cake and visions
Jets Carenet Cleaner's of Camelot
Shanti Yoga Acupuncture alliance
across the corner Tootsie and Talulah's gift shop
the jeweler's bright brimstone Diamond display
simply beautiful reads salon sign
yes I do agree -

ah the joy of simple small town poetry

[...] Read more

poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Locksmith

When I was younger
I took women for granted
With my mother not being around
And my fathers words being the only sound
I decided at a young age
I could never trust a girl
Then came love
Or at least that's what they call it
The most devastating thing
I could imagine
I remember the late nights turning
Into early mornings
With nothing but stress on my mind
Followed by a shallow depression
And deep aggression
The disturbing progression
And as I grew older
And more girls
I did meet
My trust stayed the same
Locked away
The only key to be found
Was in her hand
The one girl I did trust
The one girl I couldn't get over
The one girl that left me
The one girl I don't talk to anymore
She has the key
And I didn't get a chance to make a spare
My only hope is a locksmith.

poem by Jeremy Rascon
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