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Because of what I did when I was 10 years old, I'm not living from paycheck to paycheck, and I can do things because I want to do them.

quote by Macaulay Culkin
Added by Lucian Velea
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Bad Dream

Im living in a bad dream.
Theyre supposed to be here by now.
What the hell is taking them so long?
I parked the car just like they said.
Now, Im sitting, waiting for a bullet in my head.
Im living in a bad dream.
Im living in a bad dream.
Im living in a bad dream gone bad.
Im living in a bad dream.
Im living in a bad dream
Im living in a bad dream thats sad.
Im supposed to be feeling better by now.
What the hell is taking me so long?
I hit the hay just like they said.
Now, Im sitting, waiting for a bell in my head.
Im living in a bad dream.
Im living in a bad dream.
Im living in a bad dream gone bad.
Im living in a bad dream.
Im living in a bad dream
Im living in a bad dream thats sad.
On a curve, lost control.
On a cliff, lost control.
This is not happening to me.
I say so.
Im supposed to be a better person by now.
What the hell is taking me so long?
Dying saviors off sum cross.
Now, Im hoping and Im praying that theyll nullify my losses.
Im living in a bad dream.
Im living in a bad dream.
Im living in a bad dream gone bad.
Im living in a bad dream.
Im living in a bad dream
Im living in a bad dream thats sad.
Im living in a bad dream.
Im living in a bad dream.
Im living in a bad dream gone bad.
Im living in a bad dream.
Im living in a bad dream
Im living in a bad dream thats sad.
Im living in a bad dream.
Gordon gano: vocals, guitar
Brian ritchie: acoustic bass guitar, vocals, autoharp
Guy hoffman: drums, vocals
David vartanian: electric piano
Produced by brian ritchie and gordon gano
Recorded and mixed by david vartanian at dvs perversion room, milwaukee, wi
gorno music reprinted with permission

song performed by Violent Femmes
Added by Lucian Velea
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My Needs Not Met

I'm manifesting something brittle.
Something needing special company.
I fiddle-faddled in the middle.
And weakened both batteries.

I'm manifesting something brittle.
And I'm seeking from you empathy...
Cause my baby has had it with me.
And now I find myself...
Walking up and down the streets.

I'm manifesting something brittle.
Something needing special company.
I fiddle-faddled in the middle.
And weakened both batteries.

I'm manifesting something brittle.
And I'm seeking from you empathy...
Cause my baby has had it with me.
And now I find myself...
Walking up and down the streets.

Never thought I'd be the one.
Living on the streets.
Disbelieving...
And living on the streets.
And seeing...
Living on the streets,
My needs not met!
Living on the streets.
And regretting.
Living on the streets.

Never thought I'd be the one.
Living on the streets.
Disbelieving...
And living on the streets.
And seeing...
Living on the streets,
My needs not met!
Living on the streets.
And regretting.
Living on the streets.

Never thought I'd be the one.
Living on the streets.
And seeing...
Living on the streets,
My needs...
Living on the streets,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What Are We Really Living For?

What are we really living for?
If we don't seek love.
What are we living for?
If inside we can't be happy.

We're living for,
The pursuit of it...
And some people think,
It is a ship coming in.
And all they have to do is sit and giggle and grin.

What are we really living for?
Does it get to show.
What are we really living for?
Who on Earth knows.
What are we really living for?
Is it for upheavel.
What are we really living for?
Or a treated evil.
What are we really living for?
Deceit and disbelief.
What are we really living for?
Or for other people.
What are we really living for?
To meet and greet.

What are we really living for?
Does it get to show.
What are we really living for?
Who on Earth knows.
What are we really living for?
Is it for upheavel.
What are we really living for?
Or a treated evil.
What are we really living for?
Or, are we too blind...
What are we really living for?

To see we're here...
And are together on the right scene.
We just don't want to know what it means...
To Let go, Let God, and let happiness,
Be released!

What are we really living for?
If we don't seek love.
What are we really living for?
If inside,
We can't-be-happy.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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What Part Of Life Are You Living

What part of life are you living.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you giving to live.
What part of life are you giving.
What part of life are you living.

And what part of life are you living.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you giving to live.
What part of life are you giving.
What part of life are you living.

What part of life is a drive by.
What part of life is a downslide.
What part of life are you living.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life is a drive by.
What part of life is a downslide.

And what part of life are you living.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you giving to live.
What part of life are you giving.
What part of life are you living.

What part of life is a drive by.
What part of life is a downslide.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you willing to live.

What part of life is a drive by.
What part of life is a downslide.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you willing to live.

What part of life are you living.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you giving to live.
What part of life are you giving.
What part of life are you living.

What part of life is a drive by.
What part of life is a downslide.
What part of life are you living to give?
What part of life are you willing to live.
What part of life is a downslide.
What part of life is a drive by.
And...
What part of life are you living.
What part of life are you living to give?

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dead beyond description

Dead beyond description are those living eyes; which
tirelessly harbor the swords of indiscriminately
terrorizing hatred and satanic prejudice,

Dead beyond description are those living ears; which
rapaciously yearn to hear the brutally asphyxiated
cries of the pricelessly innocent; every unfurling
minute of the day as well as in the ingredients of
blackened night,

Dead beyond description are those living lips; which
remain as frozen as heartlessly white ice; even as
enchantingly golden rays of the blazing Sun;
compassionately embraced every organism on earth;
handsomely alike,

Dead beyond description are those living feet; which
ludicrously rot in the corpses of cowardice; even as
the earth on which they tread was being unsparingly
molested by hedonistically torturous traitors of
mankind,

Dead beyond description are those living fingers;
which mercilessly strangulate the divinely silhouette
of newborn life; in order to reign spuriously supreme
for an infinite more non-existent lifetimes,

Dead beyond description are those living teeth; which
barbarously pulverize wonderfully evolving life of the
womb; on the sadistic pretext of it not belonging to
their vindictively castigating religion,

Dead beyond description are those living veins; which
salaciously betray even the most perpetually bonding
of relationships; for just an infinitesimally tawdry
bundle of feckless currency notes,

Dead beyond description are those living shoulders;
which listlessly while away every blessed moment of
their existence; carrying the coffins of unsurpassably
massacring lies,

Dead beyond description are those living eyelids;
which bat down in due obeisance to the world of
anarchically decrepit corruption and the mortuary of
wickedly wastrel politics,

Dead beyond description are those living shadows;
which devilishly pretend as parasitically delinquent
ghosts; scurrilously scaring holistically breathing

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Push Me

Album: No Excuses
Ever since the world's been turning
It turned away from me
I've been pushed across the planet
To find my destiny
I've been running away from something
Thats deep inside myself
I've been running till that someday
When I reached the border's edge
Refrain:
Push me I'm living on the edge
Push me I'm sick of living like that
Push me living on the edge
The weak play the strong out of fear of what's wrong yeah
Push me I'm living on the edge
Push me I'm sick of living like that
Push me living on the edge
Im sick to death and learned the lesson
I'm still running yet I don't got
Ground beneath my feet - something is tracking me something is wrecking me
I'm still running and I don't have
Time to fall into deep
Refrain:
Push me I'm living on the edge
Push me I'm sick of living like this
Push me living on the edge
Im sick to death and learned the lesson
Push me I'm living on the edge
Push me I'm sick of living like that
Push me living on the edge
Im sick to death and learned the lesson
Push me I'm living on the edge
Push me I'm sick of living like this
Push me living on the edge
The weak play the strong out of fear of what's wrong yeah
Push me I'm living on the edge
Push me I'm sick of living like that
Push me living on the edge
Im sick to death and learned the lesson

song performed by H-BlockX
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sun Goes Down (Livin' It Up)

Though I live on the edge time is on my side
all the doors to my life are open wide
just as long as the wheels keep on turning 'round
I will live for the groove 'til the sun goes down
living it up, living it up
I can feel it
living it up
is it a crazy notion?
living it up, living it up
I can feel it
living it up
I got forward motion
I don't wanna go to war, I don't wanna go to war
I said I know what I want and I don't wanna go war - do you follow me?
I saw a soldier standing in a bar
looked so tired he'd come so far
he said "I need to love someone, before they drop the atom bomb"
there's a girl at the back making eyes at me
and her hair long and black is a sight to see
but I get kind of scared when love's around
I just live for the groove 'til the sun goes down
living it up, living it up
I can feel it
living it up
is it a false emotion?
living it up, living it up
I can feel it
living it up
I got forward motion
so I'm a-taking you out but I'm a-faking
I'm married to the beat
but to the music I gave the heart I could have given you
still there's something 'bout the way that you move
and the way that people stare it's the shock of the new
I want my friends to see me standing next to you
the sun goes down . . .
time is on my side
I don't care what they say I'll enjoy the ride
but I get kind of scared when I turn around
so I'll stay with the groove 'til the sun goes down
living it up
living it up
I can feel it
living it up
I got forward motion
ooh - watch her dance
there must be one like her in every club in every town
but I don't mind if that the way she wants to be
there's something 'bout her that reminds me of me
she's my soulmate - we'll be together 'til the sun goes down

[...] Read more

song performed by Level 42
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Sun Goes Down

Though I live on the edge time is on my side
All the doors to my life are open wide
Just as long as the wheels keep on turning round
I will live for the groove til the sun goes down
Living it up, living it up
I can feel it
Living it up
Is it a crazy notion?
Living it up, living it up
I can feel it
Living it up
I got forward motion
I dont wanna go to war, I dont wanna go to war
I said I know what I want and I dont wanna go war - do you follow me?
I saw a soldier standing in a bar
Looked so tired hed come so far
He said I need to love someone, before they drop the atom bomb
Theres a girl at the back making eyes at me
And her hair long and black is a sight to see
But I get kind of scared when loves around
I just live for the groove til the sun goes down
Living it up, living it up
I can feel it
Living it up
Is it a false emotion?
Living it up, living it up
I can feel it
Living it up
I got forward motion
So Im a-taking you out but Im a-faking
Im married to the beat
But to the music I gave the heart I could have given you
Still theres something bout the way that you move
And the way that people stare its the shock of the new
I want my friends to see me standing next to you
The sun goes down . . .
Time is on my side
I dont care what they say Ill enjoy the ride
But I get kind of scared when I turn around
So Ill stay with the groove til the sun goes down
Living it up
Living it up
I can feel it
Living it up
I got forward motion
Ooh - watch her dance
There must be one like her in every club in every town
But I dont mind if that the way she wants to be
Theres something bout her that reminds me of me
Shes my soulmate - well be together til the sun goes down

[...] Read more

song performed by Level 42
Added by Lucian Velea
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Few Have Tears On Hold

Who's not living getting minimal aid?
Everybody's living with a whoop pooped
Everybody's living with a whoop drooped.

Going where their woes flow.
Few have tears on hold.
Today everyone's affected.
And emotional.

Everybody's living with a whoop pooped.
Everybody's living with a whoop drooped.

Who's not living getting minimal aid?
Everybody's living with a whoop pooped
And who's not feeling some pain today?
Everybody's living with a whoop pooped
Everybody's living with a whoop drooped.

Going where their woes flow.
Few have tears on hold.
Today everyone's affected.
And emotional.
Everybody.
Everybody's living with a whoop pooped.
Everybody.
Everybody's living with a whoop drooped.
Everybody.
Everybody's living with pain.
Everybody.
Everybody living is drained.
And...
Everybody's living with a whoop pooped.
Everybody.
Everybody's living with a whoop drooped.
Everybody.
Everybody's living with pain.
Everybody.
Everybody living is drained.
Everybody.
Everybody living is strained.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Canto the Third

I.

Is thy face like thy mother’s, my fair child!
Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart?
When last I saw thy young blue eyes, they smiled,
And then we parted, - not as now we part,
But with a hope. -
Awaking with a start,
The waters heave around me; and on high
The winds lift up their voices: I depart,
Whither I know not; but the hour’s gone by,
When Albion’s lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.

II.

Once more upon the waters! yet once more!
And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
That knows his rider. Welcome to their roar!
Swift be their guidance, wheresoe’er it lead!
Though the strained mast should quiver as a reed,
And the rent canvas fluttering strew the gale,
Still must I on; for I am as a weed,
Flung from the rock, on Ocean’s foam, to sail
Where’er the surge may sweep, the tempest’s breath prevail.

III.

In my youth’s summer I did sing of One,
The wandering outlaw of his own dark mind;
Again I seize the theme, then but begun,
And bear it with me, as the rushing wind
Bears the cloud onwards: in that tale I find
The furrows of long thought, and dried-up tears,
Which, ebbing, leave a sterile track behind,
O’er which all heavily the journeying years
Plod the last sands of life - where not a flower appears.

IV.

Since my young days of passion - joy, or pain,
Perchance my heart and harp have lost a string,
And both may jar: it may be, that in vain
I would essay as I have sung to sing.
Yet, though a dreary strain, to this I cling,
So that it wean me from the weary dream
Of selfish grief or gladness - so it fling
Forgetfulness around me - it shall seem
To me, though to none else, a not ungrateful theme.

V.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1818)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto III.

I.
Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child!
Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart?
When last I saw thy young blue eyes they smiled,
And then we parted,--not as now we part,
But with a hope.--
Awaking with a start,
The waters heave around me; and on high
The winds lift up their voices: I depart,
Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by,
When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.

II.
Once more upon the waters! yet once more!
And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
That knows his rider. Welcome, to their roar!
Swift be their guidance, wheresoe'er it lead!
Though the strain'd mast should quiver as a reed,
And the rent canvas fluttering strew the gale,
Still must I on; for I am as a weed,
Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail
Where'er the surge may sweep, or tempest's breath prevail.

III.
In my youth's summer I did sing of One,
The wandering outlaw of his own dark mind;
Again I seize the theme then but begun,
And bear it with me, as the rushing wind
Bears the cloud onwards: in that Tale I find
The furrows of long thought, and dried-up tears,
Which, ebbing, leave a sterile track behind,
O'er which all heavily the journeying years
Plod the last sands of life,--where not a flower appears.

IV.
Since my young days of passion--joy, or pain,
Perchance my heart and harp have lost a string,
And both may jar: it may be, that in vain
I would essay as I have sung to sing.
Yet, though a dreary strain, to this I cling;
So that it wean me from the weary dream
Of selfish grief or gladness--so it fling
Forgetfulness around me--it shall seem
To me, though to none else, a not ungrateful theme.

V.
He, who grown aged in this world of woe,
In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life,
So that no wonder waits him; nor below
Can love, or sorrow, fame, ambition, strife,

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Who's Living With That Mission?

Who here,
Lives to dance and sing?
Who here,
Lives to hear the birds singing?
And who here,
Lives their life just to give?
Who's living with that mission?

Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?

Who here,
Wakes up to give a damn?
Who here,
Demands to give a helping hand?
And who here,
Knows that peace has a chance?
Who's living with that mission?

Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?

Who here,
Thinks about their fellowman?
Who here,
Gives their neighbor understanding?
And who here,
Wants the bleeding done by man...
To end and please them?

Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?

Who here,
Thinks about what is right?
Who here,
Wants to do that day and night?
And who here,
Prays conflicts and fights
Would end!

Who's living with that mission?
Who's living with that mission?

Who here,
Lives to dance and sing?
Who here,
Lives to hear the birds singing?
And who here,
Lives their life just to give?

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The White Cliffs

I
I have loved England, dearly and deeply,
Since that first morning, shining and pure,
The white cliffs of Dover I saw rising steeply
Out of the sea that once made her secure.
I had no thought then of husband or lover,
I was a traveller, the guest of a week;
Yet when they pointed 'the white cliffs of Dover',
Startled I found there were tears on my cheek.
I have loved England, and still as a stranger,
Here is my home and I still am alone.
Now in her hour of trial and danger,
Only the English are really her own.

II
It happened the first evening I was there.
Some one was giving a ball in Belgrave Square.
At Belgrave Square, that most Victorian spot.—
Lives there a novel-reader who has not
At some time wept for those delightful girls,
Daughters of dukes, prime ministers and earls,
In bonnets, berthas, bustles, buttoned basques,
Hiding behind their pure Victorian masks
Hearts just as hot - hotter perhaps than those
Whose owners now abandon hats and hose?
Who has not wept for Lady Joan or Jill
Loving against her noble parent's will
A handsome guardsman, who to her alarm
Feels her hand kissed behind a potted palm
At Lady Ivry's ball the dreadful night
Before his regiment goes off to fight;
And see him the next morning, in the park,
Complete in busbee, marching to embark.
I had read freely, even as a child,
Not only Meredith and Oscar Wilde
But many novels of an earlier day—
Ravenshoe, Can You Forgive Her?, Vivien Grey,
Ouida, The Duchess, Broughton's Red As a Rose,
Guy Livingstone, Whyte-Melville— Heaven knows
What others. Now, I thought, I was to see
Their habitat, though like the Miller of Dee,
I cared for none and no one cared for me.

III
A light blue carpet on the stair
And tall young footmen everywhere,
Tall young men with English faces
Standing rigidly in their places,
Rows and rows of them stiff and staid

[...] Read more

poem by Alice Duer Miller
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Five Years

Pushing thru the market square, so many mothers sighing
News had just come over, we had five years left to cry in
News guy wept and told us, earth was really dying
Cried so much his face was wet, then I knew he was not lying
I heard telephones, opera house, favourite melodies
I saw boys, toys electric irons and t.v.s
My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare
I had to cram so many things to store everything in there
And all the fat-skinny people, and all the tall-short people
And all the nobody people, and all the somebody people
I never thought Id need so many people
A girl my age went off her head, hit some tiny children
If the black hadnt a-pulled her off, I think she would have killed them
A soldier with a broken arm, fixed his stare to the wheels of a cadillac
A cop knelt and kissed the feet of a priest, and a queer threw up at the sight of that
I think I saw you in an ice-cream parlour, drinking milk shakes cold and long
Smiling and waving and looking so fine, dont think
You knew you were in this song
And it was cold and it rained so I felt like an actor
And I thought of ma and I wanted to get back there
Your face, your race, the way that you talk
I kiss you, youre beautiful, I want you to walk
Weve got five years, stuck on my eyes
Five years, what a surprise
Weve got five years, my brain hurts a lot
Five years, thats all weve got
Weve got five years, what a surprise
Five years, stuck on my eyes
Weve got five years, my brain hurts a lot
Five years, thats all weve got
Weve got five years, stuck on my eyes
Five years, what a surprise
Weve got five years, my brain hurts a lot
Five years, thats all weve got
Weve got five years, what a surprise
Weve got five years, stuck on my eyes
Weve got five years, my brain hurts a lot
Five years, thats all weve got
Five years
Five years
Five years
Five years

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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The four Monarchyes, the Assyrian being the first, beginning under Nimrod, 131. Years after the Floo

When time was young, & World in Infancy,
Man did not proudly strive for Soveraignty:
But each one thought his petty Rule was high,
If of his house he held the Monarchy.
This was the golden Age, but after came
The boisterous son of Chus, Grand-Child to Ham,
That mighty Hunter, who in his strong toyles
Both Beasts and Men subjected to his spoyles:
The strong foundation of proud Babel laid,
Erech, Accad, and Culneh also made.
These were his first, all stood in Shinar land,
From thence he went Assyria to command,
And mighty Niniveh, he there begun,
Not finished till he his race had run.
Resen, Caleh, and Rehoboth likewise
By him to Cities eminent did rise.
Of Saturn, he was the Original,
Whom the succeeding times a God did call,
When thus with rule, he had been dignifi'd,
One hundred fourteen years he after dy'd.
Belus.
Great Nimrod dead, Belus the next his Son
Confirms the rule, his Father had begun;
Whose acts and power is not for certainty
Left to the world, by any History.
But yet this blot for ever on him lies,
He taught the people first to Idolize:
Titles Divine he to himself did take,
Alive and dead, a God they did him make.
This is that Bel the Chaldees worshiped,
Whose Priests in Stories oft are mentioned;
This is that Baal to whom the Israelites
So oft profanely offered sacred Rites:
This is Beelzebub God of Ekronites,
Likewise Baalpeor of the Mohabites,
His reign was short, for as I calculate,
At twenty five ended his Regal date.
Ninus.
His Father dead, Ninus begins his reign,
Transfers his seat to the Assyrian plain;
And mighty Nineveh more mighty made,
Whose Foundation was by his Grand-sire laid:
Four hundred forty Furlongs wall'd about,
On which stood fifteen hundred Towers stout.
The walls one hundred sixty foot upright,
So broad three Chariots run abrest there might.
Upon the pleasant banks of Tygris floud
This stately Seat of warlike Ninus stood:
This Ninus for a God his Father canonized,
To whom the sottish people sacrificed.

[...] Read more

poem by Anne Bradstreet
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Living In China

They got the red book, they got the new look
All the little people that are living in china
They got the answers to all the questions
All the little people that are living in china
The solution is revolution
For all of the little people that are living in china
They got ping pong egg foo yung
For all the little people that are living in china
What would chairman mao say, if he knew what theyre doing to his wife today
What did china do? she ordered out for submarines instead of chinese food
China fields of rice, modern man no longer evil hes a paradise
What did the chairman want?
A great big wall they could all watch orientals on
They got the red book, they got the new look
The little people that are living in china
They got the answers to all the questions
The little people that are living in china
The solution is revolution
For all the little people that are living in china
They got ping pong egg foo yung
All the little people that are living in china
What would chairman mao say
If he knew what his people think of him today
Revolution is out of hand
The gang of four, trying to make it as a western band
China, what do you need
Youve got everything from your scruffy head to dirty feet
China you want to dance
Youre wearing makeup and listening to adam and the ants
They got the new look, they got the red book,
All the little people that are living in china
They got the answers to all the questions
All the little people that are living in china
The solution is revolution
For all the little people that are living in china
They got ping pong egg foo yung
The little people that are living in china
The solution is revolution
They got the answers to all the questions
All the little people that are living in china
China, living in china
China, living in china
China, living in china

song performed by Men Without Hats
Added by Lucian Velea
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Living In Oz

Ever since I was a kid
I remember having dreams of grandeur
I was gonna be someone, I know what I want
Everybody played second best
And I held you back just like all the rest
I think I got what I want
Everybodys got to fight their demons
And you know I had to fight mine, too
It took a lot out of me, it took a lot out of you
To be living in oz, living in oz
Sometimes the dream can wake you
Living in oz, living in oz
Sometimes the dream can shock you, too
All the money that I spend on you
Doesnt mean a thing if the loves not true
Baby please, Ill get what you want
Cant you tell me you and me aint lost
I know what I did, I know what it cost
Now Im yours and Ive got what you want
All the fightin will have been for nothin
If at the end I cant have you
Ill throw it all away if thats what you want me to do
Living in oz, living in oz
Sometimes the dream can wake you
Living in oz, living in oz
Sometimes the dream can shake you, too
Funny how desire can burn you up inside
And make you commit emotional suicide
Everybodys got the desire to leave their mark
Some just do it over a trail of broken hearts
And all the people that protect and serve
Would disappear if the well dried up
Im thirsty for affection
Let me drink from your loving cup
Living in oz, living in oz
Sometimes the dream can shock you
Living in oz, living in oz
Sometimes the dream can rock you
Living in oz, living in oz
Sometimes the dream can shake you
Living in oz, living in oz
Sometimes the dream can wake you, too

song performed by Rick Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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Avon's Harvest

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

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

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

[...] Read more

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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King Solomon And The Queen Of Sheba

(A Poem Game.)

“And when the Queen of Sheba heard of the fame of Solomon, . . .
she came to prove him with hard questions.”

[The men’s leader rises as he sees the Queen unveiling
and approaching a position that gives her half of the stage.]

Men’s Leader: The Queen of Sheba came to see King Solomon.
[He bows three times.]
I was King Solomon,
I was King Solomon,
I was King Solomon.

[She bows three times.]
Women’s Leader: I was the Queen,
I was the Queen,
I was the Queen.

Both Leaders: We will be king and queen,
[They stand together stretching their hands over the land.]
Reigning on mountains green,
Happy and free
For ten thousand years.

[They stagger forward as though carrying a yoke together.]
Both Leaders: King Solomon he had four hundred oxen.

Congregation: We were the oxen.

[Here King and Queen pause at the footlights.]
Both Leaders: You shall feel goads no more.
[They walk backward, throwing off the yoke and rejoicing.]
Walk dreadful roads no more,
Free from your loads
For ten thousand years.

[The men’s leader goes forward, the women’s leader dances round him.]
Both Leaders: King Solomon he had four hundred sweethearts.

[Here he pauses at the footlights.]
Congregation: We were the sweethearts.

[He walks backward. Both clap their hands to the measure.]
Both Leaders: You shall dance round again,
You shall dance round again,
Cymbals shall sound again,
Cymbals shall sound again,
[The Queen appears to gather wildflowers.]

[...] Read more

poem by Vachel Lindsay
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The Booker Washington Trilogy

I. A NEGRO SERMON:—SIMON LEGREE

(To be read in your own variety of negro dialect.)

Legree's big house was white and green.
His cotton-fields were the best to be seen.
He had strong horses and opulent cattle,
And bloodhounds bold, with chains that would rattle.
His garret was full of curious things:
Books of magic, bags of gold,
And rabbits' feet on long twine strings.
But he went down to the Devil.

Legree he sported a brass-buttoned coat,
A snake-skin necktie, a blood-red shirt.
Legree he had a beard like a goat,
And a thick hairy neck, and eyes like dirt.
His puffed-out cheeks were fish-belly white,
He had great long teeth, and an appetite.
He ate raw meat, 'most every meal,
And rolled his eyes till the cat would squeal.

His fist was an enormous size
To mash poor niggers that told him lies:
He was surely a witch-man in disguise.
But he went down to the Devil.

He wore hip-boots, and would wade all day
To capture his slaves that had fled away.
But he went down to the Devil.

He beat poor Uncle Tom to death
Who prayed for Legree with his last breath.
Then Uncle Tom to Eva flew,
To the high sanctoriums bright and new;
And Simon Legree stared up beneath,
And cracked his heels, and ground his teeth:
And went down to the Devil.

He crossed the yard in the storm and gloom;
He went into his grand front room.
He said, "I killed him, and I don't care."
He kicked a hound, he gave a swear;
He tightened his belt, he took a lamp,
Went down cellar to the webs and damp.
There in the middle of the mouldy floor
He heaved up a slab, he found a door —
And went down to the Devil.

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poem by Vachel Lindsay
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