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Tired is not a word in my vocabulary.

quote by Brittany Murphy
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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His vocabulary

her vocabulary
every word fits into its space
like a classroom

her vocabulary
each word carries its own weight
as it files into my mind

her vocabulary
notes of the morning birds
that strain to sing

her vocabulary
my mind polished
like silver

her vocabulary
the calisthenics of her mind
in my mind

her vocabulary
the precision of her mind
etched onto my heart

her vocabulary
sublime as a glass of
evening whisky

her vocabulary
strikes like
glitters of diamonds

his vocabulary
my brain has no space
to breathe

his vocabulary
every piece of writing
has become a thesis

his vocabulary
he asks to take him
as he is

his vocabulary
she feels he is not true
to his own feelings

his vocabulary
she asks it is weaned from

[...] Read more

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Today... 'The Word

Word of love and the Word made flesh
Word incarnate forever blessed
Word of life and the Word of light
Word of power and Word of might.

Word that was spoken, Word of the Lord
Word of the Law and the Word of God
Word of peace and Word eternal
Word of truth and last Word of all.

Word of wisdom and the Word of healing
Word from heaven, a Word so appealing
Word fulfilling the Word of prophecy
Word of the Spirit and Word of destiny.

Word of exhortation and Word of grace
Word of encouragement and Word of faith
Word of promise and a Word of insight
Word from the beginning and Word of delight.

Word of knowledge and a Word of boldness
Word of peace and the Word of righteousness
Word of the covenant and Word of love
Word of the Father from heaven above.

(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box)

poem by Roy Allen
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I'm Tired Of It All

I am tired of it all
I am tired of today
I am tired of the summer heat-
I am tired of all the years of trying to be something
And still being nothing and no one
I am tired of myself and my ambition
I am tired of reading the great poems of others
I am tired of Poetry
I am tired of being old
I am tired of no longer having the means to help those I care for-
I am tired of having written for so many years
And having so little to show for it-
I am tired of being an old man getting older -
I am tired of being afraid of what is going to happen to me
And those close to me
I am tired of having so many sick friends-
I am tired of having more and more people I have known who are dead
I am tired of a world in which violence and stupidity play such a great part
I am tired of all the problems that should have been solved years ago
And yet persist-
I am tired of cruelty
I am tired of rudeness and petty selfishness
I am tired of seeing the evil get away with it
I am tired truly tired
Tired of being tired also
Tired of myself and my complaints-
And my failure all these years
To make things right-

And yet and yet with all the tiredness
I know there is so much else even in myself-
I still want to live and dream and hope and help those I love
I still want to write still a few lines of poetry
that will be read by others
And help them
Dream to begin again
I still want to give to those I love
The little I still have to give
I still want to live
For life itself is life itself is still good
Despite the tiredness.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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Tired Of Being Blonde

(l. raspberry)
She left the credit cards under her goodbye note
all of these are yours, goodbye? and that was all she wrote
Keys to the porsche she dropped on the floor in the den
Left in the ? 0 dodge that he drove her in
She wasnt angry, she wasnt sad
She was just leaving a life that a lot of women wish they had
Tired of being blonde
Tired of running around with the usual guys and gals
Tired of being blonde
Tired of living up to all he expected
Tired of being blonde
Tired of living a life that had only been planned by one
Tired of being blonde
Tired of letting her dreams go neglected
She used to love to know she rounded out his world
She used to love to be all he ever loved in a girl
He liked to buy her clothes that made her sexy and cute
Guess she decided shed been too long away from her roots
She wasnt crazy, she wasnt mad
She just knew in her heart they had drained her of all that she had
Tired of being blonde
Tired of all the platinum frustration
Tired of being blonde
Tired of looking like a cutie on the cover of a magazine
Tired of being blonde
Tired of chasing all the latest sensations
She wasnt angry, no, no, she wasnt sad
She was just leaving a life that a lot of women wish they had
She was tired of being blonde
Tired of living a life that had only been planned by one
Tired of being blonde
Tired of coping with the desperation
Tired of being blonde
Tired of fighting back the feeling inside that told her to run
Tired of being blonde
Tired of hiding her own inclinations

song performed by Carly Simon
Added by Lucian Velea
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Spies

Sick and tired, the way they walk
Sick and tired, the way they talk
Sick and tired, the things they say
Sick and tired, wheres my j?
Sick and tired, same old song
Sick and tired, wheres my bong?
Sick and tired, anarchy!
Spies are all around me, spies in every county
Spies, my heads are bounty
Snipers in the air
The neighborhood watch is after us.
The neighborhood watch dont like richters bus
The neighborhood watch is what they say,
But when I see them walkin towards me, I light another...
Generation x is the title they use
When I skate down mackenzie avenue.
Everybody that I see is lookin at me like a vandal
Maybe cause Im (wheelin? ) in some dickies and some sandals
Man, I know what you mean when you talk about the neighborhood
The old folks always sayin that we aint no good
Talkin to my pops about my music
Sayin we should keep it down and not abuse it
Man, I dont sweat those old ass bastards.
I just sit on the curb and with my herb and get plastered
They work all day long, they seem so bored
I think their ass should reside in the county morgue
Theyre postin up signs, man I think they should chill
Talkin if I dont call the cops then my neighbor will
Cause from city to city its all the same.
The neighborhood watch is a big ass gang
Sick and tired the way they walk,
Sick and tired the way they talk
Sick and tired the things they say, sick and tired. wheres my j?
Sick and tired, same old song, sick and tired wheres my bong?
Sick and tired, anarchy!
Spies are all around me, spies in every county
Spies, my heads are bounty
Snipers in the air
The neighborhood watch is after us.
The neighborhood watch dont like richters bus
The neighborhood watch is what they say,
But when I think theyre walkin towards me, I light another...
Every night when the street lights came on
We used to gather round, take rips from that bong.
Cause john wayne country, republican block
A bunch of overweight housewives that wanna be cops.
Cook and clean, the life of slave
Take kottonmouths advice and call jenny craig
Its not in my control, when we were in school
Wanna see us livin life like the golden rule

[...] Read more

song performed by Kottonmouth Kings
Added by Lucian Velea
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I'm Tired Of Giving It

I'm tired of giving it.
My patience and with love.
I'm tired of giving it,
Everything I need.
And no one gives to me.

I'm tired of giving it.
My patience and with love.
I'm tired of giving it,
Everything I need.
And no one gives to me.
It seems.

Time and understanding,
With an empathy that feeds...
I'm tired of giving it,
Everything I need.

A listening ear,
To comprehend my feelings.
Maybe I shouldn't even be near...
To have a dumping of a pity appear.

I'm tired of giving it,
My time.
I'm tired of giving it,
My patience.
Tired of giving it,
Empathy...
No one gives to me.

I'm tired of giving it,
My time.
I'm tired of giving it,
My patience.
I'm tired of losing my mind,
With a showing of impatience.

Tired of giving up,
Time.
Tired of giving up,
Patience.
I'm tired of hoping to find...
Some peace-of-mind.

I'm tired of giving it,
My time.
I'm tired of giving it,
My patience.
I'm tired of losing my mind,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tired

I can be your liar
I can be your bearer of bad news
Sick and uninspired by the diamonds in your fire
Burning like a flame inside of you
Is this just desire or the truth

So shame on me for the ruse
Shame on me for the blues
Another one returned that I'll never use

I won't go getting tired of you
I won't go getting tired of you
I'm not getting tired
I won't go getting tired of you
I won't go getting tired of you
I'm not getting tired

Hanging on this wire
Waiting for the day where I'll have to choose
Cursed by love so dire
One more boy for hire
One more boy to lend a hand to you
Is this just desire or the truth

So shame on me for the ruse
Shame on me for the blues
Another one returned that I'll never use

I won't go getting tired of you
I won't go getting tired of you
I'm not getting tired
I won't go getting tired of you
I won't go getting tired of you
I'm not getting tired of you

I can be your liar
I can be your bearer of bad news
Sick and uninspired by the diamonds in your fire
Burning like a flame inside of you
Is this just desire or the truth

So shame on me for the ruse
Shame on me for the blues
Another one returned that I'll never use

I won't go getting tired of you
I won't go getting tired of you
I'm not getting tired
I won't go getting tired of you
I won't go getting tired of you

[...] Read more

song performed by Foo Fighters from One By One
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tired Of Waiting For You

Im so tired
Tired of waiting
Tired of waiting for you
Im so tired
Tired of waiting
Tired of waiting for you
I was a lonely soul
I had nobody till I met you
But you keep-a me waiting
All of the time
What can I do?
Its your life
And you can do what you want
Do what you like
But please dont keep-a me waiting
Please dont keep-a me waiting
cause Im so tired
Tired of waiting
Tired of waiting for you
So tired
Tired of waiting
Tired of waiting for you
I was a lonely soul
I had nobody till I met you
But you keep-a me waiting
All of the time
What can I do?
Its your life
And you can do what you want
Do what you like
But please dont keep-a me waiting
Please dont keep-a me waiting
cause Im so tired
Tired of waiting
Tired of waiting for you
So tired
Tired of waiting
Tired of waiting for you
For you
For you

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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V. Count Guido Franceschini

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Whipped

Is there anything that can help me let go
I’m tired of crying down this road
I’m young should I feel this old
I’m tired of being split
I’m tired of feeling whipped
I’m tired of not knowing what’s right
I’m tired of looking for this light
I’m tired of living wrong
I’m tired of crying to this repeating sad song
I’m tired of wrong feeling so right
I’m tired of fighting with all my might
I’m tired of hoping friends will be by my side
I’m tired of my feelings I hide
I’m tired of no one picking up the phone
I’m tired of being home
I’m tired of the sun
I’m tired of the moon
I’m tired of thinking what to do
I’m tired of you

All I ever think of is hope
And all I ever heard is have faith
I feel fragile like an old piece of rope
And know I did nothing but disgrace
I hoped to be a good man
I hoped to have a plan
I hoped to be the one
I hoped to have some fun
I hoped life was easer than they say
I hoped home was where I lay
I hoped I always knew right
I hoped I would always fight
I hoped me was the one you see
I hoped true love would always be
I hoped I didn’t need to rest
I hoped life meant happiness

Hope and faith are strong words
They fly away easy like birds
Does one ever know where they stand?
Its harder than I thought to be a man
I remember being young and free
I remember trying to be me
I remember when I first fell in love
I remember hearing the sound of a dove
I remember being young wishing I was old
I remember trying to live out side the mold
I remember when I would dream

[...] Read more

poem by Lesten WhitePigeon
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I'm Tired

I'm tired of people messing with me
I'm tired of people treating me wrong
I'm tired of people saying I stank
I'm tired of people remembering the past
I'm tired of black people
I'm tired of stupid people
I'm tired of selfish people
I'm tired of being the target all the time
I'm tired of feeling sad
I'm tired of people thinking there better than everybody else
I'm tired of people not appreciating me
I'm tired of being tired
I'm tired of being tired
I'm just tired

poem by Shawanda Polk
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The Word

Find the word, understand the word,
Depend on the word;
The word is heaven and space, the word the earth,
The word the universe.
The word is in our ears, the word is on our tongues,
The word the idol.
The word is the holy book, the word is harmony,
The word is music.
The word is magic, the word the Guru.
The word is the body, the word is the spirit, the word is being,
The word Not-being.
The word is man, the word is woman,
The Worshipped Great.
The word is the seen and unseen, the word is the existent
And the non-existent.
Know the word, says Kabir,
The word is All-powerful.

poem by Kabir
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The f word and me

The other day we discussed reasons
why people use
the magical f word.

a Young woman is of the opinion
that it’s because of a lack of imperfect language,
where a person’s vocabulary
lacks other words to use.

I think that there are many more other reasons
to slip in everywhere
and that vocabulary
has very little
or nothing to do with it.

One thing that can incite it
is exposure,
where people hear it
hundreds of times
every day
like in an army.

Subsequently without intention
it becomes part of your conversation
and your own vocabulary,
without drawing any attention
with yourself.

The word f is a power word
that give colour intensity
to the meanings of other words
and it can underline, emphasize
or lift some out.

You can also use it as a word
that has many meanings
and use it like a good shifting spanner
that shift for meaning values.

This word can also
be almost any word type
that gives bigger power
to other words used with it.

The thing that really matters
what others read
in the meaning of my words
and if I loose integrity by using it.

There are times

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Sick And Tired

Got no time to be on the run,
Got no holes in my shoes,
You're the reasong all my friends have gone,
But I won't run from you.
So many promises, and you broke them all,
Oh I'll forgive, but I can't forget,
You know you're a fake, but I just can't take no more,
Cause I'm tired of it.
I'm so tired, so tired,
Sick and tired of it all,
I'm so tired, sick and tired,
I'm so tired, sick and tired of it all, yeah.
You turn the truth, then you turn your back,
You're a victim of yourself,
The hate remains, the hurting still exists.
I'm so tired of it all.
I'm so tired, sick and tired,
So damn tired, sick and tired of it all, oh yeah,
I'm so tired, I'M sick and tired of it all

song performed by Black Sabbath
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sick & Tired

Got no time to be on the run,
Got no holes in my shoes,
Youre the reasong all my friends have gone,
But I wont run from you.
So many promises, and you broke them all,
Oh Ill forgive, but I cant forget,
You know youre a fake, but I just cant take no more,
Cause Im tired of it.
Im so tired, so tired,
Sick and tired of it all,
Im so tired, sick and tired,
Im so tired, sick and tired of it all, yeah.
You turn the truth, then you turn your back,
Youre a victim of yourself,
The hate remains, the hurting still exists.
Im so tired of it all.
Im so tired, sick and tired,
So damn tired, sick and tired of it all, oh yeah,
Im so tired, Im sick and tired of it all.

song performed by Black Sabbath
Added by Lucian Velea
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Working In The Building

Im working on the building
It's a true foundation
I'm holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
I'm going up to heaven to get my reward
Im working on the building
It's a true foundation
I'm holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
I'm going up to heaven oh yeah, to get my reward
Im working on the building
It's a true foundation
I'm holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
I'm going up to heaven oh yeah, to get my reward
Im working on the building
It's a true foundation
I'm holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
I'm going up to heaven oh yeah, to get my reward
Im working on the building
It's a true foundation
I'm holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
I'm going up to heaven oh yeah, to get my reward

song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Working On The Building

(words & music by hoyle - boulas)
Im working on the building
Its a true foundation
Im holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
Im going up to heaven to get my reward
Im working on the building
Its a true foundation
Im holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
Im going up to heaven oh yeah, to get my reward
Im working on the building
Its a true foundation
Im holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
Im going up to heaven oh yeah, to get my reward
Im working on the building
Its a true foundation
Im holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
Im going up to heaven oh yeah, to get my reward
Im working on the building
Its a true foundation
Im holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
Im going up to heaven oh yeah, to get my reward

song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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