Howdy an 'tenk yu, noh brok noh square.
Jamaican proverbs
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Big Square People
Another square day
And another square week
And another square year
And another square lifetime
If you turn me on like you turn it on
Big square people
If you look at me the way you watch tv
Big square people
Youre digging it round when it should be square
Big square people
When the screen is blank theres no-one there
Big square people
Ive seen you watching it day and night
You dont miss the big game or big fight
All those dimensions all those race (? )
Come in action (? )
The worlds full of greed and envy and lust
If they dont get you the (? ) must
Turn on at daybreak before youre awake
I turn it off now
Big square people
(repeat)
Turn of the brightness, the colour and sound
The big square people in sensorround
Before too long the damage is done
To big square people television is such fun
They come in action from every direction
With every booster and (? )
Theyre sending signals from satellite sky
Soon youre on tv and you dont know why
Hey, come on down, youre looking good
If they said jump I really think that you would
cause tv is God and heavens hollywood
Youre digging it round when it should be square
Big square people
When the screen is blank theres no-one there
Big square people
Get up from the chair you look like a slug (? )
Take the tip from the tv go and find a job
But there are no jobs, there is no pay
but thats not what the people on the tv say
They say to me Ill be what you wanna be,
Lets join the army maybe see the sea
Turn of the brightness, the colour and sound
Turn of the (? ) lets going around
Turn on at daybreak before youre awake
Lets turn it off now before its too late
(turn it off !)
song performed by Heaven 17
Added by Lucian Velea
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Billys 'Square Affair
Long Bill, the captain of the push, was tired of his estate,
And wished to change his life and win the love of something ‘straight’;
’Twas rumour’d that the Gory B.’s had heard Long Bill declare
That he would turn respectable and wed a ‘square affair.’
He craved the kiss of innocence; his spirit longed to rise;
The ‘Crimson Streak,’ his faithful ‘piece,’ grew hateful in his eyes;
(And though, in her entirety, the Crimson Streak ‘was there,’
I grieve to state the Crimson Streak was not a ‘square affair.’)
He wanted clothes, a masher suit, he wanted boots and hat;
His girl had earned a quid or two—he wouldn’t part with that;
And so he went to Brickfield Hill, and from a draper there
He ‘shook’ the proper kind of togs to fetch a ‘square affair.’
Long Bill went to the barber’s shop and had a shave and singe,
And from his narrow forehead combed his darling Mabel fringe;
Long Bill put on a ‘square cut’ and he brushed his boots with care,
And roved about the Gardens till he mashed a ‘square affair.’
She was a tony servant-girl from somewhere on ‘the Shore;’
She dressed in style that suited Bill—he could not wish for more.
While in her guileless presence he had ceased to chew or swear,
He knew the kind of barrack that can fetch a square affair.
To thus desert his donah old was risky and a sin,
And ’twould have served him right if she had caved his garret in.
The Gory Bleeders thought it too, and warned him to take care
In case the Crimson Streak got scent of Billy’s square affair.
He took her to the stalls; ’twas dear, but Billy said ‘Wot odds!’
He couldn’t take his square affair amongst the crimson gods.
They wandered in the park at night, and hugged each other there—
But, ah! the Crimson Streak got wind of Billy’s square affair!
‘The blank and space and stars!’ she yelled; ‘the nameless crimson dash!
‘I’ll smash the blanky crimson and his square affair, I’ll smash’—
In short, she drank and raved and shrieked and tore her crimson hair,
And swore to murder Billy and to pound his square affair.
And so one summer evening, as the day was growing dim,
She watched her bloke go out, and foxed his square affair and him.
That night the park was startled by the shrieks that rent the air—
The ‘Streak’ had gone for Billy and for Billy’s square affair.
The ‘gory’ push had foxed the Streak, they foxed her to the park,
And they, of course; were close at hand to see the bleedin’ lark;
A cop arrived in time to hear a ‘gory B.’ declare
‘Gor blar-me! here’s the Red Streak foul of Billy’s square affair.’
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Lawson
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Noh cup noh brok, noh coffee noh trow weh.
Jamaican proverbs
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Milky White Way
(arranged and adapted by elvis presley)
Yes Im gonna walk on the milky white way
Oh lord some of these days
Im gonna walk that milky white way
Some of these days well well well well
Im gonna walk up and take my stand
Gonna join that christian band
Im gonna walk on that milky white way
Oh lord, some of these days
Im gonna tell my mother howdy, howdy,
Howdy when I get home
Yes, Im gonna tell my mother howdy,
When I get home well well well well
Im gonna shake my mothers hand
I will shake her hands that day
Thats when we walk on the milky white way
On some of these days
Im gonna meet God the father and God the son
Yes, Im gonna meet God the father and God the son
Well well well well
Im gonna sit down and tell him my troubles
About the world that I just came from
Thats when we walk on the milky white way
Oh lord, on some of these days
song performed by Elvis Presley
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Market Square Heroes
(derek dick, mark kelly, steve rothery, peter trewavas, michael pointer, brian jellyman, diz minnett)
I found smog at the end of my rainbow
I found my thoughts shift slowly into phase
Declared the constitution of the walkway
I realise its time to plan the day, the day
Im a market square hero gathering the storms to troop
Cause Im a market square hero speeding the beat of the streetpulse
Are you following me, are you following me?
Well suffer my pretty warriors and follow me
I got a golden handshake that nearly broke my arm
I left the ranks of shuffling graveyard people
I got rust upon my hands from the padlocked factory gates
Silent chimneys provide the silent steeples
Cause Im a market square hero gathering the storms to troop
Cause Im a market square hero speeding the beat of the streetpulse, the streetpulse
Are you following me? are you following me?
Well suffer my pretty children and follow me, follow me
Change, change, change!
Change, change, change!
I am your antichrist show me allegiance
Are you following me
I am your antichrist pledge to me defiance
Are you following me
Suffer my pretty warriors
Suffer my fallen child
Are you following me
The time has come to conquer and Ill provide your end
Suffer!
We march!
I give peace signs when I wage war in the disco
Im the warrior in the ultra violet haze
Armed with antisocial insecurity
I plan the path of destiny from this maze
Cause Im a market square hero gathering the storms to troop
Cause Im a market square hero speeding the beat of the streetpulse, the streetpulse
Are you following me? are you following me?
Well suffer my fallen angels and follow me
Im the market square hero
Im the market square hero
Were market square heroes
Were the market square heroes
Are you following me?
Im the market square hero!
song performed by Marillion
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Square Peg, Round Hole
He's a square peg in a round hole
Misfit in a slick world
Don't play the game
Don't do what he's told
He's a square peg in a round hole
Square peg don't care
The bright lights he's not there
Catch the shadows see him slip away
Square peg that's what they say
Square peg, Suare peg
Square peg, you have got to be strong
Square peg, he's got his own song
Square peg, I'll see you around
Square peg, face down
Square peg, round hole
song performed by Chris Rea
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I. The Ring and the Book
Do you see this Ring?
'T is Rome-work, made to match
(By Castellani's imitative craft)
Etrurian circlets found, some happy morn,
After a dropping April; found alive
Spark-like 'mid unearthed slope-side figtree-roots
That roof old tombs at Chiusi: soft, you see,
Yet crisp as jewel-cutting. There's one trick,
(Craftsmen instruct me) one approved device
And but one, fits such slivers of pure gold
As this was,—such mere oozings from the mine,
Virgin as oval tawny pendent tear
At beehive-edge when ripened combs o'erflow,—
To bear the file's tooth and the hammer's tap:
Since hammer needs must widen out the round,
And file emboss it fine with lily-flowers,
Ere the stuff grow a ring-thing right to wear.
That trick is, the artificer melts up wax
With honey, so to speak; he mingles gold
With gold's alloy, and, duly tempering both,
Effects a manageable mass, then works:
But his work ended, once the thing a ring,
Oh, there's repristination! Just a spirt
O' the proper fiery acid o'er its face,
And forth the alloy unfastened flies in fume;
While, self-sufficient now, the shape remains,
The rondure brave, the lilied loveliness,
Gold as it was, is, shall be evermore:
Prime nature with an added artistry—
No carat lost, and you have gained a ring.
What of it? 'T is a figure, a symbol, say;
A thing's sign: now for the thing signified.
Do you see this square old yellow Book, I toss
I' the air, and catch again, and twirl about
By the crumpled vellum covers,—pure crude fact
Secreted from man's life when hearts beat hard,
And brains, high-blooded, ticked two centuries since?
Examine it yourselves! I found this book,
Gave a lira for it, eightpence English just,
(Mark the predestination!) when a Hand,
Always above my shoulder, pushed me once,
One day still fierce 'mid many a day struck calm,
Across a Square in Florence, crammed with booths,
Buzzing and blaze, noontide and market-time,
Toward Baccio's marble,—ay, the basement-ledge
O' the pedestal where sits and menaces
John of the Black Bands with the upright spear,
'Twixt palace and church,—Riccardi where they lived,
His race, and San Lorenzo where they lie.
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society
Epigraph
Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.
I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.
You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning (1871)
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Orlando Furioso Canto 17
ARGUMENT
Charles goes, with his, against King Rodomont.
Gryphon in Norandino's tournament
Does mighty deeds; Martano turns his front,
Showing how recreant is his natural bent;
And next, on Gryphon to bring down affront,
Stole from the knight the arms in which he went;
Hence by the kindly monarch much esteemed,
And Gryphon scorned, whom he Martano deemed.
I
God, outraged by our rank iniquity,
Whenever crimes have past remission's bound,
That mercy may with justice mingled be,
Has monstrous and destructive tyrants crowned;
And gifted them with force and subtlety,
A sinful world to punish and confound.
Marius and Sylla to this end were nursed,
Rome with two Neros and a Caius cursed;
II
Domitian and the latter Antonine;
And, lifted from the lowest rabble's lees,
To imperial place and puissance, Maximine:
Hence Thebes to cruel Creon bent her knees,
Mezentius ruled the subject Agiline,
Fattening his fields with blood. To pests like these
Our Italy was given in later day,
To Lombard, Goth, and Hun a bleeding prey.
III
What shall I of fierce Attila, what say
Of wicked Ezzeline, and hundreds more?
Whom, because men still trod the crooked way,
God sent them for their pain and torment sore.
Of this ourselves have made a clear assay,
As well as those who lived in days of yore;
Consigned to ravening wolves, ordained to keep
Us, his ill-nurturing and unuseful sheep;
IV
Who, as if having more than served to fill
Their hungry maw, invite from foreign wood
Beyond the mountain, wolves of greedier will,
With them to be partakers of their food.
The bones which Thrasymene and Trebbia fill,
And Cannae, seem but few to what are strewed
On fattened field and bank, where on their way
Adda and Mella, Ronco and Tarro stray.
[...] Read more
poem by Ludovico Ariosto
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Surreal Ballard Of Tahrir Square
script implausible was so bad surreal
a badly written distorted dream scene
by hack writer with his train off de track
a director still coupled to an antique
loose caboose directing a crummy
crew straight out of sad clown wagon
hear bark a doghouse glory wagon
nationalist saviour script monkey
wagon attack techniques yes these
lapdogs trained as running dogs were
about to be let loose from monkey
wagon many bused in especially for
lackey protest busting feature occasion
moral railroaded false charge imagery
“don’t fall asleep on trains coz trains run
over sleepers” view protesters in lime
light were about to be overwhelmed
ruthlessly crushed steamrolled to pave
one way for Mubarak to oh so smoothly
retain President power so run mad house
script bizarre surging footage shot real?
roll cameras action paid men came with
baseball bats pieces of broken window
frames machetes one homemade spear?
form a line a small group plainclothes
policemen block one broad boulevard
leading into Tahrir Square now symbolic
epicentre
of peaceful Egyptian
revolution
poor police publicly shamed had been
driven from streets so used to controlling
last Friday now had come to hero reclaim
what? A ruthless reputation, proud ego,
status regarded as rightfully lawfully
theirs? Police gathered on Qasr el-Aini
prepared themselves for confrontation
with brave protesters who had humiliated
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Orlando Furioso Canto 18
ARGUMENT
Gryphon is venged. Sir Mandricardo goes
In search of Argier's king. Charles wins the fight.
Marphisa Norandino's men o'erthrows.
Due pains Martano's cowardice requite.
A favouring wind Marphisa's gallery blows,
For France with Gryphon bound and many a knight.
The field Medoro and Cloridano tread,
And find their monarch Dardinello dead.
I
High minded lord! your actions evermore
I have with reason lauded, and still laud;
Though I with style inapt, and rustic lore,
You of large portion of your praise defraud:
But, of your many virtues, one before
All others I with heart and tongue applaud,
- That, if each man a gracious audience finds,
No easy faith your equal judgment blinds.
II
Often, to shield the absent one from blame,
I hear you this, or other, thing adduce;
Or him you let, at least, an audience claim,
Where still one ear is open to excuse:
And before dooming men to scaith and shame,
To see and hear them ever is your use;
And ere you judge another, many a day,
And month, and year, your sentence to delay.
III
Had Norandine been with your care endued,
What he by Gryphon did, he had not done.
Profit and fame have from your rule accrued:
A stain more black than pitch he cast upon
His name: through him, his people were pursued
And put to death by Olivero's son;
Who at ten cuts or thrusts, in fury made,
Some thirty dead about the waggon laid.
IV
Whither fear drives, in rout, the others all,
Some scattered here, some there, on every side,
Fill road and field; to gain the city-wall
Some strive, and smothered in the mighty tide,
One on another, in the gateway fall.
Gryphon, all thought of pity laid aside,
Threats not nor speaks, but whirls his sword about,
Well venging on the crowd their every flout.
[...] Read more
poem by Ludovico Ariosto
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The Paper Windmill
The little boy pressed his face against the window-pane and looked out
at the bright sunshiny morning. The cobble-stones of the square
glistened like mica. In the trees, a breeze danced and pranced,
and shook drops of sunlight like falling golden coins into the brown water
of the canal. Down stream slowly drifted a long string of galliots
piled with crimson cheeses. The little boy thought they looked as if
they were roc's eggs, blocks of big ruby eggs. He said, 'Oh!' with delight,
and pressed against the window with all his might.
The golden cock on the top of the `Stadhuis' gleamed. His beak was open
like a pair of scissors and a narrow piece of blue sky was wedged in it.
'Cock-a-doodle-do,' cried the little boy. 'Can't you hear me
through the window, Gold Cocky? Cock-a-doodle-do! You should crow
when you see the eggs of your cousin, the great roc.' But the golden cock
stood stock still, with his fine tail blowing in the wind.
He could not understand the little boy, for he said 'Cocorico'
when he said anything. But he was hung in the air to swing, not to sing.
His eyes glittered to the bright West wind, and the crimson cheeses
drifted away down the canal.
It was very dull there in the big room. Outside in the square, the wind
was playing tag with some fallen leaves. A man passed, with a dogcart
beside him full of smart, new milkcans. They rattled out a gay tune:
'Tiddity-tum-ti-ti. Have some milk for your tea. Cream for your coffee
to drink to-night, thick, and smooth, and sweet, and white,'
and the man's sabots beat an accompaniment: 'Plop! trop! milk for your tea.
Plop! trop! drink it to-night.' It was very pleasant out there,
but it was lonely here in the big room. The little boy gulped at a tear.
It was queer how dull all his toys were. They were so still.
Nothing was still in the square. If he took his eyes away a moment
it had changed. The milkman had disappeared round the corner,
there was only an old woman with a basket of green stuff on her head,
picking her way over the shiny stones. But the wind pulled the leaves
in the basket this way and that, and displayed them to beautiful advantage.
The sun patted them condescendingly on their flat surfaces, and they seemed
sprinkled with silver. The little boy sighed as he looked at his disordered
toys on the floor. They were motionless, and their colours were dull.
The dark wainscoting absorbed the sun. There was none left for toys.
The square was quite empty now. Only the wind ran round and round it,
spinning. Away over in the corner where a street opened into the square,
the wind had stopped. Stopped running, that is, for it never
stopped spinning. It whirred, and whirled, and gyrated, and turned.
It burned like a great coloured sun. It hummed, and buzzed, and sparked,
and darted. There were flashes of blue, and long smearing lines of saffron,
[...] Read more
poem by Amy Lowell
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The Dwarves
Loke sat and thought, till his dark eyes gleam
With joy at the deed he'd done;
When Sif looked into the crystal stream,
Her courage was wellnigh gone.
For never again her soft amber hair
Shall she braid with her hands of snow;
From the hateful image she turned in despair,
And hot tears began to flow.
In a cavern's mouth, like a crafty fox,
Loke sat 'neath the tall pine's shade,
When sudden a thundering was heard in the rocks,
And fearfully trembled the glade.
Then he knew that the noise good boded him naught,
He knew that 't was Thor who was coming;
He changed himself straight to a salmon trout,
And leaped in a fright in the Glommen.
But Thor changed too, to a huge seagull,
And the salmon trout seized in his beak;
He cried: Thou, traitor, I know thee well,
And dear shalt thou pay thy freak!
Thy caitiff's bones to a meal I'll pound,
As a millstone crusheth the grain.
When Loke that naught booted his magic found,
He took straight his own form again.
And what if thou scatter'st my limbs in air?
He spake, will it mend thy case?
Will it gain back for Sif a single hair?
Thou 'lt still a bald spouse embrace.
But if now thou 'lt pardon my heedless joke,--
For malice sure meant I none,--
I swear to thee here, by root, billow and rock,
By the moss on the Beata-stone,
By Mimer's well, and by Odin's eye,
And by Mjolmer, greatest of all,
That straight to the secret caves I'll hie,
To the dwarfs, my kinsmen small;
And thence for Sif new tresses I'll bring
Of gold ere the daylight's gone,
So that she will liken a field in spring,
With its yellow-flowered garment on.
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Square Wave In Unison
Made a noise invented a sound
When brian wilson used it a hit was found
If only I could have imagined
The square waves running through his head
Square wave - people couldnt believe it
Square wave - all the way to carnegie hall
Square wave
One rod for pitch
Electro magnetic fields
Wired up sing sing
Hung out with einstein
For all all of his brilliant innovation
Sent off to a siberian reservation
Square wave - people couldnt believe it
Square wave - all the way to carnegie hall
Square wave
song performed by Beastie Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Prisoner Of Love
Dont look back
Whatever it takes to save your life
Ive believed I belonged to you for a long time
And my heart says no, no one but you
Like a rescue on a darkened street
Love walked into town
I was a victim of my own self-persecution
Im a prisoner of love-but Im coming up for air
Now dont be fooled by fools who promise you
The world and all that glitters more fool you
Im such a hungry man that I beg you over and over and over and over
And I might take any highway to be there with you
Even the best men shiver in their beds
Im loving you above everything I have
Im a prisoner of love-just stay square
Like a sermon on a blues guitar
Love walked into town
I was drowning so slowly
One step in front of your shadow
Im a prisoner of love but Im coming up for air
Now dont be fooled by fools who promise you
The world and all that glitters more fool you
I smell the sickness sown in this city
It drives me to hide you, yeah, even deceive you
Im so afraid for you that
Ill break any thug that maps out your passage to ruin
Even the best men shiver in their beds
Im loving you above everything I have
Im a prisoner of love
Im a prisoner of love-just stay square
Take care take care
Im a prisoner of love
Just stay square
Just stay square
Stay out the shooting gallery
Just stay square
I seen the best mans of my generation lay down in cemetary of clematry
Just take care
Just stay square
Just stay square
Dont look back
Beautiful soul
Dont look back
Beautiful soul
song performed by David Bowie
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Baby I Don't Care
You're so square--baby
You're so square . . .
Oh, you don't like greasy diners
You don't like sleazy bands
You just want to go
To a movie show
And sit there holding hands
You're so square
Baby i don't care
You don't like going to parties
To toot and talk all night long
You just want to park
Where it's nice and dark
And kiss me, sweet and strong
You're so square
Baby i don't care
You don't know any dance steps
That are new
But nobody else can love me
Like you do
I don't know why my heart flips
I only know it does
I wonder why
I love you baby
I guess it's just because
You're so square
Darlin' i don't care
Oh, i don't know why my heart flips
I only know it does
I wonder why
I love you baby
I guess it's just because
You're so square
I don't care
You're so square
song performed by Joni Mitchell
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The Holocaust Files & Other Theme Poems
Theme: Love Poems (various forms of love,10 poems only)
*any theme category may be extended upon reader interest and requests
A Family Blessing
Changing Scene
For Our Loved Ones
Look Across Time
Memory Of A Lover
My Love
Single Red Ribbon
Snowpowder
Song Of My Love
True Love
The Holocaust Files: (32 poems) are a work in process and this reference will be removed upon completion. This is a collection of holocaust related poems to give voice to the 12 million killed, tortured and enslaved by the SS during World War II. The Poles, Romani and Slavic victims who are sometimes overlooked in brief reviews or marginalized, will hopefully have a poem as their voice by the completion of this project. The poems will ease into and out of the full extent of this horror, to contrast kaleidoscopic images of the holocaust in tribute to the slaughtered, and may provide a differing overview of Nazi Ideology to address succinct examples of how and why in historical perspective. (Historical optional background notes, have been added below some poems to assist in this purpose.)
The cruelty of topic material in some of the main poems may shock or offend innocent readers. Looking up pictorial images of these events is not advised for children.
The poems should be read in the order listed below: -
A Vibrant Life 18.5.2010
Appeasement For Adolf Hitler 15&16.10.2010
Indomitable Will To Survive 12.7.2010
Holocaust Latvia Begins 30.5.2012
Nazi Death Squads Enter Eastern Europe 29.5.2012
SS Single Shot Executioners 28.5.2012
Legal Genocide Committed On Industrial Scale 16.10.2010
Stone Cross Prologue 85 87
Stone Cross 85 87
Hitler's Holocaust Product Of A Demonic Mind 1987
When Satanic Power Ruled A Third Reich 1987
Blind Neo-Nazi Nationalism Hitler's New World Order 1987
How Evil Regenerates Perpetuates 1987
Nazi Evolution Vile Carbon Monoxide Gas To Zyklon-B 1987
Indictment Against Entire Nations 1987
An Image Of The Beast Rules
Fallen Nation Transformation 1987
Cartoon Caricature Of The Master Race 17.5.2010
The SS Who Will You Kill 17.5.2010
Classic Dance Steps 17.2.1989
Peaked Cap; Skull-And-Crossbones Badge 17&18.3.2010
A Moral Civilized World 17.3.2010
The Death Of Adolf Hitler's Personal Physican 17.5.2010
Dagmar Topf A Defence Of Family Ovens 17&18.3.2010
Not To Be Written 7.5.2010
Struck Down With A Thunderbolt 20.4.2010
Love Has Rewards Worth Attaining 19.5.2010
SS Demons 15.12.2010
How Did You Kill Me?
They Did It All Before You 18.5.2010
'Angel Of Death' A Demonic Nazi Doctor 9.3.2011
Proclaiming Retrofit New World Order 9&10.3.2011
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
Added by Poetry Lover
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Calhoun Square
I dont like this much 2 drink
I was there
I know right now its hard 2 think
I dont care
But its time 4 u and me 2 wonder
Why were here
Maybe we should roll 2 the rock and rumble
Calhoun square (lets roll)
Chorus:
Meet me there
If u dare
Calhoun square!
It dont matter clothes ure wearin
Or your hair
If ure freaky, they dont care and
They dont stare (aint nobody lookin at u)
All that matters if ure happy
And if ure there (are u there? )
Dont u wanna roll 2 the rock and rumble
Calhoun square? (dont u wanna? come on now)
Hey!
Chorus
Walk through veils of many colors
If u dare (do u dare? )
Jasmine, peach and love 4 others
In the air (its all in the air)
Dont be shocked 2 see your mother
In the chair (sit down, baby)
Everybody roll 2 the rock and rumble
Calhoun square (oh lord)
Hey, come on!
Oh lord {x2}
Here me now
Calhoun square, calhoun square {x2}
Meet me there
If u dare
Calhoun square!
song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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18 Square Miles
The place is only eighteen square miles.
And is the home of over four thousand gang members.
Some segments of it,
Look as if negligence is tolerated.
And decadence celebrated.
The place is only eighteen square miles.
And sits in a state that use to brag about its affluence.
Clearly with ignorance to salivate.
As disrespect for others is shown...
And lack of discipline and illiteracy,
Considered top rate and obviously condoned.
The place is only eighteen square miles.
With hidden pockets of poverty.
Neighborhoods are divided,
Into sections like an apartheid.
With those who control this...
Absent of vision and intelligence free.
The place is only eighteen square miles.
With racism practiced as a way of life.
And those who inflict their bigotry,
See themselves in a self righteous light.
The place is only eighteen square miles.
And the affects of hunger and homelessness,
Is as protected as the theft that goes on.
The place is only eighteen square miles,
Of illogical standards valued.
Eighteen square miles,
Of blinded physical and mental abuse!
Reflecting a nation,
Unraveling from the inside.
And using those victimized as an excuse.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Square Root Of The Soul/Kvadratni Korjen Duse
The soul’s the square
The square with birds flying down on it
To take away the crumbs of its bread
The square with four corners
Each being turned towards
A stone token in its centre
The square the people keep coming to
To take away the words and their own faces
The square with four corners
Each being turned towards clock beat
In its centre
The square of its own forehead
The mandala of the palm of its hand
With an eye in every single corner
Silently measuring the unknown
The square root of the soul
Inspired by Carl Jung
Kvadratni korjen duše
Duša je kvadrat
Trg na koji slijecu ptice
I odnose mrve njenog hljeba
Kvadrat sa cetiri ugla okrenut
Ka kamen znamenu u njenom središtu
Trg na koji dolaze ljudi
I sa njega odnose rijeci i svoja lica
Sa cetiri ugla okrenut
Ka sat otkucaju njenog središta
Trg sopstvenog cela
Mandala svoga dlana
Sa po jednim okom u svakom uglu
Tiho odmjerava nesaznatljiv
Kvadratni korjen duše
Inspirisano Karlom Jungom
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Added by Poetry Lover
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