You may well have two legs but you still can't climb two trees at the same time.
Ethiopian proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Joi, The Glug
The Glugs abide in a far, far land
That is partly pebbles and stones and sand,
But mainly earth of a chocolate hue,
When it isn't purple or slightly blue.
And the Glugs live there with their aunts and their wives,
In draughty tenements built like hives.
And they climb the trees when the weather is wet,
To see how high they can really get.
Pray, don't forget,
This is chiefly done when the weather is wet.
And every shadow that flits and hides,
And every stream that glistens and glides
And laughs its way from a highland height,
All know the Glugs quite well by sight.
And they say, 'Our test is the best by far;
For a Glug is a Glug; so there you are!
And they climb the trees when it drizzles or hails
To get electricity into their nails;
And the Glug that fails
Is a luckless Glug, if it drizzles or hails.'
Now, the Glugs abide in the Land of Gosh;
And they work all day for the sake of Splosh.
For Splosh the First is the Nation's pride,
And King of the Glugs, on his uncle's side.
And they sleep at night, for the sake of rest;
For their doctors say this suits them best.
And they climb the trees, as a general rule,
For exercise, when the weather is cool.
They're taught at school
To climb the trees when the weather is cool.
And the whispering grass on the gay, green hills
And every cricket that skirls and shrills,
And every moonbeam, gleaming white,
All know the Glugs quite well by sight.
And they say, 'It is safe, the text we bring;
For a Glug is an awfully Glug-like thng.
And they climb the trees when there's sign of fog,
To scan the land for a feasible dog.
They love to jog
Through dells in quest of the feasible dog.'
Now the Glugs eat meals three times a day
Because their fathers ate that way.
And their grandpas said the scheme was good
To help the Glugs digest their food.
And it's wholesome food the Glugs have got,
For it says so plain on the tin and pot.
[...] Read more
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Seasonable Retour-Knell
SEASONABLE RETOUR KNELL
Variations on a theme...
SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS
Author notes
A mirrored Retourne may not only be read either from first line to last or from last to first as seen in the mirrors, but also by inverting the first and second phrase of each line, either rhyming AAAA or ABAB for each verse. thus the number of variations could be multiplied several times.- two variations on the theme have been included here but could have been extended as in SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS robi03_0069_robi03_0000
In respect of SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS
This composition has sought to explore linguistic potential. Notes and the initial version are placed before rather than after the poem.
Six variations on a theme have been selected out of a significant number of mathematical possibilities using THE SAME TEXT and a reverse mirror for each version. Mirrors repeat the seasons with the lines in reverse order.
For the second roll the first four syllables of each line are reversed, and sense is retained both in the normal order of seasons and the reversed order as well... The 3rd and 4th variations offer ABAB rhyme schemes retaining the original text. The 5th and 6th variations modify the text into rhyming couplets.
Given the linguistical structure of this symphonic composition the score could be read in inversing each and every line and each and every hemistitch. There are minor punctuation differences between versions.
One could probably attain sonnet status for each of the four seasons and through partioning in 3 groups of 4 syllables extend the possibilites ad vitam.
Seasonable Round Robin Roll Reversals
robi03_0069_robi03_0000 QXX_DNZ
Seasonable Retour-Knell
robi03_0070_robi03_0069 QXX_NXX
26 March 1975 rewritten 20070123
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllll
For previous version see below
_______________________________________
SPRING SUMMER
Life is at ease Young lovers long
Land under plough; To hold their dear;
Whispering trees, Dewdrops among,
Answering cow. Bold, know no fear.
Blossom, the bees, Life full of song,
Burgeoning bough; Cloudless and clear;
Soft-scented breeze, Days fair and long,
Spring warms life now. Summer sends cheer.
AUTUMN WINTER
Each leaf decays, Harvested sheaves
Each life must bow; And honeyed hives;
Our salad days Trees stripped of leaves,
Are ending now. Jack Frost has knives.
Fruit heavy lays Time, Prince of thieves,
Bending the bough, - Onward he drives,
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Hot Legs
(rod stewart)
Whos that knocking on my door
Its gotta be a quarter to four
Is it you again coming round for more
Well you can love me tonight if you want
But in the morning make sure youre gone
Im talkin to you
Hot legs, wearing me out
Hot legs, you can scream and shout
Hot legs, are you still in school
I love you honey
Gotta most persuasive tongue
You promise all kinds of fun
But what you dont understand
Im a working man
Gonna need a shot of vitamin e
By the time youre finished with me
Im talking to you
Hot legs, youre an alley cat
Hot legs, you scratch my back
Hot legs, bring your mother too
I love you honey
Imagine how my daddy felt
In your jet black suspender belt
Seventeen years old
Hes touching sixty four
You got legs right up to your neck
Youre making me a physical wreck
Im talking to you
Hot legs, in your satin shoes
Hot legs, are you still in school
Hot legs, youre making me a fool
I love you honey
Hot legs, making your mark
Hot legs, keep my pencil sharp
Hot legs, keep your hands to yourself
I love you honey
Hot legs, youre wearing me out
Hot legs, you can scream and shout
Hot legs, youre still in school
I love you honey
song performed by Rod Stewart
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Daddy Long-Legs and the Fly
Once Mr Daddy Long-Legs,
Dressed in brown and gray,
Walked about upon the sands
Upon a summer's day;
And there among the pebbles,
When the wind was rather cold,
He met with Mr Floppy Fly,
All dressed in blue and gold.
And as it was too soon to dine,
They drank some Periwinkle-wine,
And played an hour or two, or more,
At battlecock and shuttledore.
Said Mr Daddy Long-legs
To Mr Floppy Fly,
'Why do you never come to court?
I wish you'd tell me why.
All gold and shine, in dress so fine,
You'd quite delight the court.
Why do you never go at all?
I really think you ought!
And if you went, you'd see such sights!
Such rugs! and jugs! and candle-lights!
And more than all, the King and Queen,
One in red, and one in green!'
'O Mr Daddy Long-Legs,'
Said Mr Floppy Fly,
'It's true I never go to court,
And I will tell you why.
If I had six long legs like yours,
At once I'd go to court!
But Oh! I can't, because my legs
Are so extremely short.
And I'm afraid the King and Queen
(One in red and one in green)
Would say aloud, 'You are not fit,
You Fly, to come to court a bit.'
O Mr Daddy Long-Legs,'
Said Mr Floppy Fly,
'I wish you'd sing one little song!
One mumbian melody!
You used to sing so awful well
In former days gone by,
But now you never sing at all;
I wish you'd tell me why:
For if you would, the silvery sound
Would please the shrimps and cockles round,
And all the crabs would gladly come
To hear you sing, 'Ah, Hum di Hum!''
[...] Read more
poem by Edward Lear
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The House Of Dust: Complete
I.
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.
'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.
We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .
Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.
Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.
Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.
II.
[...] Read more
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Last Balloon
The last balloon is leaving, the last balloon from fear
The last balloon is leaving, form that line right here
Climb aboard, climb aboard you menfolk
You wont need any bombs or knives
Climb aboard, climb aboard you menfolk
Leave all that to your former lives
Drop it all
The last balloon is leaving, the last balloon of all
The last balloon is leaving, undress, discard, let fall
Climb aboard, climb aboard you women
You wont need any gems or furs
Climb aboard, climb aboard you women
Leave all that to the bad old years
Drop it all
The last balloon is leaving, the last balloon theyll fly
The last balloon is leaving and we wont qualify
Climb aboard, climb aboard you children
Move aloft, while youre fleet and fast
Climb aboard, climb aboard you children
Were weighed down by our evil past
Drop us all, you should drop us all
Drop us all and free your hand
Drop us all, you should drop us all
Drop us all like so much sand
song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
If You Really Want it
You don't have to give it up to come to a stop.
You don't have to give it up to come to a stop.
You don't have to give it up to come to a stop.
You can do it if you want and climb to the top.
You don't have to give up it to come to a stop.
You don't have to give up it to come to a stop.
You don't have to give up it to come to a stop.
You can do it if you want and climb to the top.
Successful,
People don't stop...
A wanting,
To climb to the top.
And dreaming,
To succeed...
With belief!
And...
Often found to weep.
Successful,
People don't stop...
A wanting,
To climb to the top.
And dreaming,
To succeed...
With belief!
And...
Often found to weep.
So,
You don't have to give it up to come to a stop.
No,
You don't have to give it up to come to a stop.
So,
You don't have to give it up to come to a stop.
You can do it if you want and climb to the top.
No,
You don't have to give it up to come to a stop.
So,
You don't have to give it up to come to a stop.
No,
You don't have to give it up to come to a stop.
If you really want it you can climb to the top.
Successful,
People don't stop...
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
A Man
George was lying in his trailer, flat on his back, watching a small portable T.V. His
dinner dishes were undone, his breakfast dishes were undone, he needed a shave, and ash
from his rolled cigarettes dropped onto his undershirt. Some of the ash was still burning.
Sometimes the burning ash missed the undershirt and hit his skin, then he cursed, brushing
it away. There was a knock on the trailer door. He got slowly to his feet and answered the
door. It was Constance. She had a fifth of unopened whiskey in a bag.
"George, I left that son of a bitch, I couldn't stand that son of a bitch
anymore."
"Sit down."
George opened the fifth, got two glasses, filled each a third with whiskey, two thirds
with water. He sat down on the bed with Constance. She took a cigarette out of her purse
and lit it. She was drunk and her hands trembled.
"I took his damn money too. I took his damn money and split while he was at work.
You don't know how I've suffered with that son of a bitch." "
Lemme have a smoke," said George. She handed it to him and as she leaned near,
George put his arm around her, pulled her over and kissed her.
"You son of a bitch," she said, "I missed you."
"I miss those good legs of yours , Connie. I've really missed those good
legs."
"You still like 'em?"
"I get hot just looking."
"I could never make it with a college guy," said Connie. "They're too
soft, they're milk toast. And he kept his house clean. George , it was like having a maid.
He did it all. The place was spotless. You could eat beef stew right off the crapper. He
was antiseptic, that's what he was."
"Drink up, you'll feel better."
"And he couldn't make love."
"You mean he couldn't get it up?"
"Oh he got it up, he got it up all the time. But he didn't know how to make a
woman happy, you know. He didn't know what to do. All that money, all that education, he
was useless."
"I wish I had a college education."
"You don't need one. You have everything you need, George."
"I'm just a flunky. All the shit jobs."
"I said you have everything you need, George. You know how to make a woman
happy."
"Yeh?"
"Yes. And you know what else? His mother came around! His mother! Two or three
times a week. And she'd sit there looking at me, pretending to like me but all the time
she was treating me like I was a whore. Like I was a big bad whore stealing her son away
from her! Her precious Wallace! Christ! What a mess!" "He claimed he loved me.
And I'd say, 'Look at my pussy, Walter!' And he wouldn't look at my pussy. He said, 'I
don't want to look at that thing.' That thing! That's what he called it! You're not afraid
of my pussy, are you, George?"
"It's never bit me yet." "But you've bit it, you've nibbled it, haven't
you George?"
"I suppose I have."
"And you've licked it , sucked it?"
"I suppose so."
"You know damn well, George, what you've done."
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Bukowski
Added by Dan Costinaş
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The End of Joi
They climbed the trees . . . As was told before,
The Glugs climbed trees in the days of yore,
When the oldes tree in the land to-day
Was a tender little seedling - Nay,
This climbing habit was old, so old
That even the cheeses could not have told
When the past Glug people first began
To give their lives to the climbing plan.
And the legend ran
That the art was old as the mind of man.
And even the mountains old and hoar,
And the billows that broke on Gosh's shore
Since the far-off neolithic night,
All knew the Glugs quite well by sight.
And they tell of a perfectly easy way:
For yesterday's Glug is the Glug of to-day.
And they climb the trees when the thunder rolls,
To solemnly salve their shop-worn souls.
For they fear the coals
That threaten to frizzle their shop-worn souls.
They climbed the trees. 'Tis a bootless task
To say so over again, or ask
The cause of it all, or the reason why
They never felt happier up on high.
For Joi asked why; and Joi was a fool,
And never a Glug of the fine old school
With fixed opinions and Sunday clothes,
And the habit of looking beyond its nose,
And treating foes
With the calm contempt of the One Who Knows.
And every spider who heaves a line
And trusts to his luck when the day is fine,
Or reckless swings from an awful height,
He knows the Glugs quite well by sight.
'You can never mistake them,' he will say;
'For they always act in a Gluglike way.
And they climb the trees when the glass points fair,
With circumspection and proper care,
For they fear to tear
The very expensive clothes they wear.'
But Joi was a Glug with a twisted mind
Of the nasty, meditative kind.
He'd meditate on the modes of Gosh,
And dared to muse on the acts of Splosh;
He dared to speak, and, worse than that,
He spoke out loud, and he said it flat.
[...] Read more
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Ballad of the White Horse
DEDICATION
Of great limbs gone to chaos,
A great face turned to night--
Why bend above a shapeless shroud
Seeking in such archaic cloud
Sight of strong lords and light?
Where seven sunken Englands
Lie buried one by one,
Why should one idle spade, I wonder,
Shake up the dust of thanes like thunder
To smoke and choke the sun?
In cloud of clay so cast to heaven
What shape shall man discern?
These lords may light the mystery
Of mastery or victory,
And these ride high in history,
But these shall not return.
Gored on the Norman gonfalon
The Golden Dragon died:
We shall not wake with ballad strings
The good time of the smaller things,
We shall not see the holy kings
Ride down by Severn side.
Stiff, strange, and quaintly coloured
As the broidery of Bayeux
The England of that dawn remains,
And this of Alfred and the Danes
Seems like the tales a whole tribe feigns
Too English to be true.
Of a good king on an island
That ruled once on a time;
And as he walked by an apple tree
There came green devils out of the sea
With sea-plants trailing heavily
And tracks of opal slime.
Yet Alfred is no fairy tale;
His days as our days ran,
He also looked forth for an hour
On peopled plains and skies that lower,
From those few windows in the tower
That is the head of a man.
But who shall look from Alfred's hood
[...] Read more
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Sun-Up
(Shadows over a cradle…
fire-light craning….
A hand
throws something in the fire
and a smaller hand
runs into the flame and out again,
singed and empty….
Shadows
settling over a cradle…
two hands
and a fire.)
I
CELIA
Cherry, cherry, glowing on the hearth, bright red cherry…. When you try to pick up cherry Celia's shriek sticks in you like a pin.
When God throws hailstones you cuddle in Celia's shawl and press your feet on her belly high up like a stool. When Celia makes umbrella of her hand. Rain falls through big pink spokes of her fingers. When wind blows Celia's gown up off her legs she runs under pillars of the bank— great round pillars of the bank have on white stockings too.
Celia says my father
will bring me a golden bowl.
When I think of my father
I cannot see him
for the big yellow bowl
like the moon with two handles
he carries in front of him.
Grandpa, grandpa…
(Light all about you…
ginger… pouring out of green jars…)
You don't believe he has gone away and left his great coat…
so you pretend… you see his face up in the ceiling.
When you clap your hands and cry, grandpa, grandpa, grandpa,
Celia crosses herself.
It isn't a dream…. It comes again and again…. You hear ivy crying on steeples the flames haven't caught yet and images screaming when they see red light on the lilies on the stained glass window of St. Joseph. The girl with the black eyes holds you tight, and you run… and run past the wild, wild towers… and trees in the gardens tugging at their feet and little frightened dolls shut up in the shops crying… and crying… because no one stops… you spin like a penny thrown out in the street. Then the man clutches her by the hair…. He always clutches her by the hair…. His eyes stick out like spears. You see her pulled-back face and her black, black eyes lit up by the glare…. Then everything goes out. Please God, don't let me dream any more of the girl with the black, black eyes.
Celia's shadow rocks and rocks… and mama's eyes stare out of the pillow as though she had gone away and the night had come in her place as it comes in empty rooms… you can't bear it— the night threshing about and lashing its tail on its sides as bold as a wolf that isn't afraid— and you scream at her face, that is white as a stone on a grave and pull it around to the light, till the night draws backward… the night that walks alone and goes away without end. Mama says, I am cold, Betty, and shivers. Celia tucks the quilt about her feet, but I run for my little red cloak because red is hot like fire.
I wish Celia
could see the sea climb up on the sky
and slide off again…
[...] Read more
poem by Lola Ridge
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Trees
whenever the lustre of my amber glistens,
i could feel the price it had exacted on the trees,
blood red tears meandering rough and uneven tracks
to land where they were kept like a child for a million years
they emerge to fascinate us with coruscating tales
of the romances with time, lost on the memory of men,
the dinosaurs, the first forests, the insects -
which now sparkle with such subtlety - they draw us
to the heart of their very existence, the million
years in the now, solidified, and now dangling right
at the door to the heart, our bossom
the trees, the trees, so many of them
standing tall and proud, as if broadcasting to us
if they had not been around, creation
would have been at a standstill
the trees, the trees, they fuel the world
a panacea to foibles rolled into one tall order, -
so that our cars run, our kitchen cooks, our umbrella works,
the news reach us handsomely wrapped, the chopsticks
to pick our food, the clogs to walk and rattle autumn,
the medicine to heal our rebellious body, fruits for
the seasons, the table for us to write on and a cosy
space for the dead to dream on
when they stand in a fusion at the break of dawn
it feels one has stumbled upon a meditative realm
of the highest kind - the orchestra blasting away
in them permeates every hidden place - they only help
to enhance that robustness and promises of the day
the sun channels its recuperative light - leaves that dance,
filter the music and the essence of the day
trees, trees.... abodes of birds, animals, they tell
on the weather, sing the storm before it approaches
and whistles to us fine spring tunes
trees trees standing so tall, majestic affording
a luxuriance to cool ourselves as we brood over
our destiny - trees our only saviours as the earth
climbs the mercury ever ready to send us
into obivion in a spinning fiery hot cauldron
second version:
whenever the lustre of my amber
glistens, i could feel the price
[...] Read more
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The King of the Vasse
A LEGEND OF THE BUSH.
MY tale which I have brought is of a time
Ere that fair Southern land was stained with crime,
Brought thitherward in reeking ships and cast
Like blight upon the coast, or like a blast
From angry levin on a fair young tree,
That stands thenceforth a piteous sight to see.
So lives this land to-day beneath the sun,—
A weltering plague-spot, where the hot tears run,
And hearts to ashes turn, and souls are dried
Like empty kilns where hopes have parched and died.
Woe's cloak is round her,—she the fairest shore
In all the Southern Ocean o'er and o'er.
Poor Cinderella! she must bide her woe,
Because an elder sister wills it so.
Ah! could that sister see the future day
When her own wealth and strength are shorn away,
A.nd she, lone mother then, puts forth her hand
To rest on kindred blood in that far land;
Could she but see that kin deny her claim
Because of nothing owing her but shame,—
Then might she learn 'tis building but to fall,
If carted rubble be the basement-wall.
But this my tale, if tale it be, begins
Before the young land saw the old land's sins
Sail up the orient ocean, like a cloud
Far-blown, and widening as it neared,—a shroud
Fate-sent to wrap the bier of all things pure,
And mark the leper-land while stains endure.
In the far days, the few who sought the West
Were men all guileless, in adventurous quest
Of lands to feed their flocks and raise their grain,
And help them live their lives with less of pain
Than crowded Europe lets her children know.
From their old homesteads did they seaward go,
As if in Nature's order men must flee
As flow the streams,—from inlands to the sea.
In that far time, from out a Northern land,
With home-ties severed, went a numerous band
Of men and wives and children, white-haired folk:
Whose humble hope of rest at home had broke,
As year was piled on year, and still their toil
Had wrung poor fee from -Sweden's rugged soil.
One day there gathered from the neighboring steads,
In Jacob Eibsen's, five strong household heads,—
Five men large-limbed and sinewed, Jacob's sons,
[...] Read more
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
A Time To Feel Forlorn and Reconstruct What's Torn
There's a designated time in the universe for everything:
A time to limit, a time to expand.
A time to rise, time to lower and lend a hand.
A time to maintain, a time to abandon.
A time to develop, a time to rest at random.
A time to communicate, a time for silence.
A time to kiss your enemy, a time to concede wins.
A time to spite, a time to please.
A time for respite, a time to tease.
A time to process, a time to confess.
A time to do more. A time to do less.
A time to dominate. A time to captivate.
A time to plunge. A time to resurface straight.
A time to maximise. A time to minimise.
A time to diminish. A time to optimise.
A time to sacrifice. time to insist on rights.
A time to be selfish. A time to be concerned about plights.
A time to be big. A time to be small.
A time to care for a special one. A time to love all.
A time to add dimension. A time to simplify.
A time to advocate egalitarianism.
A time to exult.
A time to default.
A time to be accepting of imperfect humanism.
A time to enhance. A time to simplify.
A time to criticise. A time to dignify.
A time to produce. A time to use.
A time to relent. A time to refuse.
A time to demand. A time to give.
A time to die. a time to live.
A time to survive. A time to admit defeat.
A time to lie. A time to walk on your feet.
A time to compete. A time to not.
A time to remember. A time to concede you forgot.
[...] Read more
poem by Hercolena Oliver
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Snakes And Ladders
Words by joni mitchell
Music by larry klein and joni mitchell
He
In a shopping mall
Finally met the perfect girl
She is all that matters
The only one in all the world
Like a barbie doll
Oh love is snakes and ladders
Snakes and ladders
She
Just to have and hold
Is the perfect air-brushed angel
Makes you hot just looking at her
Stapled into all his braincells
Like a centerfold
Oh love is snakes and ladders
Snakes and ladders
Get to the top and slide back down
Get to the bottom climb back up
Buy the townhouse
Call the preacher
Get to the bottom climb back up
Get to the top and slide back down
Get to the bottom climb back up
Set up credit for the lovely creature
The lovely creature
He
On a corporate climb
Set his sights on power for her
On a silver platter
He gave up happy hour for her
Perrier and lime
Oh love is snakes and ladders
Snakes and ladders
She
In a handsome world
Put her mind to social graces
All the privileged chatter
Setting pretty table places
For the girls in pearls
Oh love is snakes and ladders
Snakes and ladders
Get to the top and slide back down
Get to the bottom climb back up
Buy the carphone--
Call the broker
Get to the bottom climb back up
Get to the top and slide back down
Get to the bottom climb back up
[...] Read more
song performed by Joni Mitchell
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Snakes & Ladders
Words by joni mitchell
Music by larry klein and joni mitchell
He
In a shopping mall
Finally met the perfect girl
She is all that matters
The only one in all the world
Like a barbie doll
Oh love is snakes and ladders
Snakes and ladders
She
Just to have and hold
Is the perfect air-brushed angel
Makes you hot just looking at her
Stapled into all his braincells
Like a centerfold
Oh love is snakes and ladders
Snakes and ladders
Get to the top and slide back down
Get to the bottom climb back up
Buy the townhouse
Call the preacher
Get to the bottom climb back up
Get to the top and slide back down
Get to the bottom climb back up
Set up credit for the lovely creature
The lovely creature
He
On a corporate climb
Set his sights on power for her
On a silver platter
He gave up happy hour for her
Perrier and lime
Oh love is snakes and ladders
Snakes and ladders
She
In a handsome world
Put her mind to social graces
All the privileged chatter
Setting pretty table places
For the girls in pearls
Oh love is snakes and ladders
Snakes and ladders
Get to the top and slide back down
Get to the bottom climb back up
Buy the carphone--
Call the broker
Get to the bottom climb back up
Get to the top and slide back down
Get to the bottom climb back up
[...] Read more
song performed by Joni Mitchell
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Skeleton & The Roundabout
Climb aboard my roundabout
Climb aboard my roundabout
I am the fairground man at heart
I run the roundabout this part
I fill this fair but custom have I none
I turn the handle round so fast it makes my elbow ache
Nobody seems to care
No-one rides upon my roundabout no longer anymore
Oh what a horrid fair!
Climb aboard my roundabout
Climb aboard my roundabout
Climb aboard my roundabout
Climb aboard my roundabout
Money there is none - Im thinner than a skeleton
But wait a minute, Im so thin
That all these aches and pains could be a chance for me
I could be a horror or a ghost in a ghost train
I think Ill go and see
I meet the man who runs the ghost train
He says, youre just great!
Ill pay you top class wages
If youll just hang from this gate
A year is passing lots of food and money come my way
Oh lucky man am i
But whos this telling me, youre fired!
Youre much too fat to be a ghost, be on your way!
So here I am
Climb aboard my roundabout
Climb aboard my roundabout
Climb aboard my roundabout
Climb aboard my roundabout
song performed by Electric Light Orchestra
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Georgics
GEORGIC I
What makes the cornfield smile; beneath what star
Maecenas, it is meet to turn the sod
Or marry elm with vine; how tend the steer;
What pains for cattle-keeping, or what proof
Of patient trial serves for thrifty bees;-
Such are my themes.
O universal lights
Most glorious! ye that lead the gliding year
Along the sky, Liber and Ceres mild,
If by your bounty holpen earth once changed
Chaonian acorn for the plump wheat-ear,
And mingled with the grape, your new-found gift,
The draughts of Achelous; and ye Fauns
To rustics ever kind, come foot it, Fauns
And Dryad-maids together; your gifts I sing.
And thou, for whose delight the war-horse first
Sprang from earth's womb at thy great trident's stroke,
Neptune; and haunter of the groves, for whom
Three hundred snow-white heifers browse the brakes,
The fertile brakes of Ceos; and clothed in power,
Thy native forest and Lycean lawns,
Pan, shepherd-god, forsaking, as the love
Of thine own Maenalus constrains thee, hear
And help, O lord of Tegea! And thou, too,
Minerva, from whose hand the olive sprung;
And boy-discoverer of the curved plough;
And, bearing a young cypress root-uptorn,
Silvanus, and Gods all and Goddesses,
Who make the fields your care, both ye who nurse
The tender unsown increase, and from heaven
Shed on man's sowing the riches of your rain:
And thou, even thou, of whom we know not yet
What mansion of the skies shall hold thee soon,
Whether to watch o'er cities be thy will,
Great Caesar, and to take the earth in charge,
That so the mighty world may welcome thee
Lord of her increase, master of her times,
Binding thy mother's myrtle round thy brow,
Or as the boundless ocean's God thou come,
Sole dread of seamen, till far Thule bow
Before thee, and Tethys win thee to her son
With all her waves for dower; or as a star
Lend thy fresh beams our lagging months to cheer,
Where 'twixt the Maid and those pursuing Claws
A space is opening; see! red Scorpio's self
His arms draws in, yea, and hath left thee more
Than thy full meed of heaven: be what thou wilt-
For neither Tartarus hopes to call thee king,
[...] Read more
Everybodys Got A Mountain To Climb
Everybodys got a mountain to climb
By dickey betts
Copyright 1994 sony music entertainment, inc.
Transcribed by ed luskey
Everybodys got a mountain to climb,
This road we travel gets a little tough sometimes,
Sometimes I know you feel like you cant go on,
Need somebody help you get back home,
Need a friend to help you find your way home.
Reverend pearly brown say theres peace out on the water at night,
Big sun going down, lord its a pretty sight,
Red and blue across the water makes a wonderful song,
Listen to it all night long.
Everybodys got a mountain to climb,
Dont be discouraged when the sun dont shine,
Gotta keep on pulling, you gotta keep on tryin,
Everybodys got a mountain to climb,
Everybodys got a mountain to climb.
Whod cross the face of a little smilin child? ,
Take away the losers one last chance? ,
Who wouldnt linger down by the old river for a while?
You know the whole world loves you when youre dancin.
So, hey let me tell you what Im talkin about,
You cant go around with your lip stuck out.
Life aint all good but it sure aint bad,
Anyway its the best old life I ever had.
Everybodys got a mountain to climb,
Dont be discouraged when the sun dont shine,
Gotta keep on pulling, you gotta keep on tryin,
Everybodys got a mountain to climb.
Everybodys got a mountain to climb,
Dont be discouraged when the sun dont shine,
Gotta keep on pulling, you gotta keep on tryin,
Everybodys got a mountain to climb.
song performed by Allman Brothers Band
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
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)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!