I'm a huge poster collector.
quote by Illeana Douglas
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Related quotes
Harpua
Om-pa-pa oom-pa-pa oom-pa-pa oom-pa-paaaaa
Fat sweaty bulldog
Stood in the sun
Stone village swamp man
Slow motion run
Tender poke police walker
Precious birthday fudge
Swamp night bull nail
Walker done done
Hot sweaty bulldog stood in the sunthen -
stone village swamp man (is doing a)
slow motion runhere comes the policeman:
tender poke police walkerwhom the dog and the man see as:
precious birthday fudgethen -
swamp night (the man)
bull nail (the dog - the bulldog's claw)
kill the policeman:
walker done done
Me and Harpua
We couldn't care few-a
It happens all the time
We beat Okimo
(Repeat Chorus)
Hot liquor stone jack
Bitter toothless flesh
Shabby pimple chin-slime
Evil milky rash
Me and Harpua
Spastic dead-eyed hound
Oozing dreadlock skullcap
We're coming to your town
We'll help you party down
(Chorus 2x)
Spoken by Trey [with asides by Fishman]:
Once upon a time Far far away from here
There, in a small town...
a small town...
small town...
small...
And on the outskirts of this town
there lived a mean, nasty, furry, ugly hound named Harpua.
Harpua roamed the outskirts of the town every day and he'd walk around looking for a little action.
So of course this day was no different from any other day and here we start the story and we see Harpua walking around on the outskirts of town near the forest kind of at the edge of the forest and he's walking in toward town...
Harpua walked toward the town...
innocently...
And meanwhile in the town...
in a whole different part of the town
there lived a young boy all alone in a suburban neighborhood
and every day he'd sit in his room
and sit on his little couch [AND SMOKE POT!]...
[...] Read more
song performed by Phish
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Butterfly Collector
Stuck behind,
Only watching,
She moves fleetingly,
I’m only watching.
The glass between us,
Only watching,
The gulf behind us,
I’m only watching.
I don’t want to be
A butterfly collector,
I don’t want to be
Just a butterfly collector.
The class between us,
Only watching,
She moves on the street,
I’m only watching.
I don’t want to be
A butterfly collector,
I don’t want to be
Just a butterfly collector.
I want to be somewhere else,
I want to be far away,
I want to be somebody else,
Because I don’t want to be a butterfly collector.
I don’t want to be
A butterfly collector,
I don’t want to be
Just a butterfly collector.
I don’t want to be,
I don’t want to be,
I don’t want to be,
I don’t want to be a butterfly collector.
©Charlie F. Kane
9/03/07
poem by Charlie F. Kane
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Poster Girl
Yeah yeah yeah
Jodie was a long way from home
She could make alone look pretty
Her attitude made a part of the landscape
Riding her bike through Alphabet City
She likes to party in the backseat
Under the bridge on the Brooklyn side
Smoking cigarettes in the afterglow
Taking bets that the sun won't rise
She said, "what good is tomorrow without a guarantee?"
She can lick her lips and smile
And make you wanna believe
That the consequences of your actions really are just a game
That your life is just a chain reaction taking you day by day
She says nothing's forever in this crazy world
Still I'm falling in love with the right now poster girl
Right now right now
Oooh
Oh ohh
Jodie liked to shoplift in stores
Ride alongside the rich and famous
Get in elevators, press emergency stop
And make love on the floor 'til the camera made us
And no woman in the world ever made me feel like my heart's on fire
Where she'd walk I followed (followed)
When she left I cried
What good is tomorrow without a guarantee?
I was wrapped around her finger
And I began to believe
That the consequences of your actions really are just a game
That your life is just a chain reaction taking you day by day
She says nothing's forever in this crazy world
Still I'm falling in love with the right now poster girl
That the consequences of your actions really are just a game
That your life is just a chain reaction taking you day by day
She says nothing's forever in this crazy world (crazy world)
Still I'm falling in love with the right now poster girl
La la la la
La la la la
La la la la la (la la la la la)
La la la la
La la la la (la la la la)
La la la la la
Oh
Tell me what you want from me
I've got everything you need
It's getting hard for me to breathe
Let me be your guarantee
That the consequences of your actions really are just a game
That your life is just a chain reaction taking you day by day
[...] Read more
song performed by Backstreet Boys
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Wat Tyler - Act I
ACT I.
SCENE, A BLACKSMITH'S-SHOP
Wat Tyler at work within. A May-pole
before the Door.
ALICE, PIERS, &c.
SONG.
CHEERFUL on this holiday,
Welcome we the merry May.
On ev'ry sunny hillock spread,
The pale primrose rears her head;
Rich with sweets the western gale
Sweeps along the cowslip'd dale.
Every bank with violets gay,
Smiles to welcome in the May.
The linnet from the budding grove,
Chirps her vernal song of love.
The copse resounds the throstle's notes,
On each wild gale sweet music floats;
And melody from every spray,
Welcomes in the merry May.
Cheerful on this holiday,
Welcome we the merry May.
[Dance.
During the Dance, Tyler lays down his
Hammer, and sits mournfully down before
his Door.
[To him.
HOB CARTER.
Why so sad, neighbour?—do not these gay sports,
This revelry of youth, recall the days
When we too mingled in the revelry;
And lightly tripping in the morris dance
Welcomed the merry month?
TYLER.
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Southey
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Put Them On A Poster To Hoist Up On A Rope
Get up!
Like you've been through it.
Get up!
To yourself prove it.
Get up...
And chase your troubles away.
Get up!
Like you've been through it.
Get up!
To yourself prove it.
Get up...
And chase your troubles away.
Singing sad blues,
Those songs have been sung!
Get up!
Like you've been through it.
Get up!
To yourself prove it.
Get up...
And chase your troubles away.
Singing sad blues,
Those songs have been sung!
With an overkill that's been long overdone.
Seek inside with faith you know that will overcome...
Those woes needing no more makeovers.
Put them on a poster to hoist up on a rope.
And announce to all you know...
You've-let -that go!
And getcha gitcha yo'self up!
Like you've been through it.
Get up!
To yourself prove it.
Get up...
And chase your troubles away.
Git-git-git get yourself up!
Like you've been through it.
Get up!
To yourself prove it.
Get up...
And chase your troubles away.
Singing sad blues,
Those songs have been sung!
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Star Collector
Think Ill let her keep on going
Where ever it is, shes goin, too.
Give her my autograph and tell her
Its been nice knowin you.
Chorus
Shes a star collector (collector of stars)
She only sims to please young celebraties.
Shes a star collector (collector of stars)
How can I love her, when I just dont respect her?
When everthing is goin my way,
She wants to be close at hand.
She moves to some other doorway
When things dont go the way she planned.
Chorus
It wont take much time before I get her off my mind
Chorus (repeat)
song performed by Monkees
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Oh Collector
Oh collector I'm so sorry
You had the notion that I was rolling
In the money no I'm sorry
But I'll pay you
No Worry
Let's Sing Softly
Let's Sing Softly
Oh so softly
Not so heavy
I've been heavy with my fortune
Like a crystal and a hammer
I'm so sorry Oh collector
I'm away now in a hurry
Repeat Chorus
Get up all you fighters
Don't you lie here now
Oh collector you had it coming
It was that funny we were rolling
Oh collector we're so sorry
And we'll pay you
No Worry
Repeat Chorus x3
song performed by Ocean Colour Scene
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I Should Be Allowed To Think
I saw the best minds of my generation
Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim, one occurs to me
If necessary, leave paper stains on the grey utility pole
I saw the worst bands of my generation
Applied by magic marker to dry wall
I should be allowed to shoot my mouth off
I should have a call in show
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim, one occurs to me
If necessary, leave paper stains on the grey utility pole
I am not allowed
To ever come up with a single original thought
I am not allowed
To meet the criminal government agent who oppresses me
I was the worst hope of my generation
Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical
I should be allowed to share my feelings
I should be allowed to feel
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim one occurs to me
But sadly, this can never be
I am not allowed to think
I am not allowed to think
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
song performed by They Might Be Giants
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Ozymandias Ever Rising through the Winds of Time
Ozymandias Ever Rising through the Winds of Time
I met a poet from an online site
who said: 'Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
stand in my mind, yet find description quite
inadequate, half sunk beneath time flown.'
I answered: 'He whose sneer rei[g]ned cold command,
his sculptor too, are both to Lethe blown,
his passions mocked by who'd today demand
a résumé for tourists who bemoan
a lack of facts to show their pseudo friends
to back up their vacation time well spent,
and yet, and yet, so similar their ends
whose works turn sand when's finished sojourn lent.'
He came, he ruled, time fooled and conquered him,
trunk packed away museumwards on whim.
Nosy man dies as day draws down dark night,
knows he has but a finite span to moan
upon this Earth until, denied the right
of an extension to his lifelong loan.
Foreclosure comes whatever cash on hand
must crash to dust, call harvested; seeds sown
perhaps survive, migrate to other land,
there to engender likeness, throwback clone.
Thus who’d seek Ozymandias’ tale lends
an ear to fable, tables on hints sent
through centuries whose key stones make amends
for missing trunk, lost headstone’s argument.
When dunes into oases are restored,
may reader find true answer mind may hoard.
1 February 2009
Parody Ozymandias - Percy Bysshe SHELLEY 1792_1822 shel1_0001
Ozymandias
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert... Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Jack and Kath (long poem)
Jack Benbow and his younger sister Kath
went for a walk along a winding path.
This led them through some very high trees
past some bluebells and buzzing bee’s.
The birds sang their songs on this sunny day
as the children happily went their way.
Along the path they skipped and walked,
singing and playing as they talked.
They came across a clearing in the wood
where a sign pointed to Notsogood.
“What a funny name for a place, ” said Kath.”
“Yes, ” said Jack, “but it’s time to head back.
We’ll go back the same way as we came
and follow the path back home again.”
But the path led them deeper into the wood
and up to another sign to Notsogood.
“Kath, didn’t we pass that sign earlier today,
surely we must head back the other way? ”
So they turned around and began to walk back.
“Look, ” said Kath, “there’s another sign Jack.
And that’s also pointing to Notsogood,
how do we get out of this silly wood? ”
“Let’s just follow the sign and see where it goes
it’s better than following the end of your nose.”
The winding path went from wide to narrow
as the dark clouds made it harder to follow.
Over a stream and home cooking filled the air,
it led to a shack, with a cat sleeping on a chair.
The rickety fence led them down the overgrown path,
“Let’s knock on the door for directions, ” said Kath.
The door slowly opened with a long drawn out creak,
an old woman in black appeared who began to speak.
“Hello happy children what a nice pleasant surprise, ”
as she looked at them closely with her piercing eyes.
“I was just about to make a lovely pot of herbal of tea,
would you like to join Malapropis and me? ”
“Malapropis, is that really the name of your cat? ”
“Yes it is, and all she ever does is get incredibly fat.”
This old woman’s nails were dirty, long and pointed,
and her nose and chin was bent and disjointed.
[...] Read more
poem by Orlando Belo
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Raptorex Kriegsteini
A dinosaur that’s tiny
when compared to T. Rex has been named
Raptorex Kriegsteini,
by palaeontologists who have acclaimed
the parents of a Holo-
caust survivor who had bought the fossil.
From small beginnings follow
dread consequences that may be colossal.
Inspired by the story of the discovery in Inner Mongolia of a fossil that is thought to have been the ancestor of T. Rex, and has been named Raptorex Kriegsteini, after the man who bought the fossil and donated it to palaeontologists. William Mullen of the Chicago Tribune writes on September 18,2009
As he studied photos of a Chinese fossil sent to him by a private collector, University of Chicago paleontologist Paul Sereno felt his skepticism giving way to excitement at seeing what could be a miniature relative of the most famous of dinosaurs, Tyrannosaurus rex.
The collector wanted Sereno to do the first scientific identification of the fossil, but Sereno balked unless the fossil was donated to science. The collector agreed, but with his own requirement - that it be named after his parents, both Holocaust survivors. That agreement three years ago ultimately opened the door to the discovery of Raptorex kriegsteini, a 'punk-size' precursor to T. rex introduced Thursday by Sereno and five colleagues in an article in the online edition of the research journal Science.
Raptorex was a big surprise to scientists. The 125 million-year-old dinosaur was a 9-foot-long,150-pound look-alike of its great indirect descendant, which was 43 feet long, weighed 13,000 pounds and roamed the Earth 60 million years later. Sereno calls Raptorex a 'blueprint for a predator, ' sporting a huge head, powerful jaws, outsize olfactory organs for acute sense of smell, tiny forelimbs and horselike rear legs to swiftly run down prey.'We have now leapfrogged in our understanding of how Tyrannosaurus rex and its tyrannosaurid relatives came to be on the strength of one specimen that was almost lost to science, ' he said. The specimen was illegally dug out of a fossil field in northeast China in the last decade and sold into an illegal international black market for fossils, Sereno said.
Seven years ago, Henry Kriegstein, a Massachusetts eye surgeon with an abiding love of dinosaurs, attended an Arizona fossil show where a dealer showed him photos of the fossil, still in the block of rock as it was when pulled out of the ground. It was for sale - legally, according to U.S. laws - and Kriegstein said he bought it for 'tens of thousands of dollars but well below $100,000.' Three years ago, after he began learning that it was possibly an extraordinarily important fossil, he decided to ask the widely respected Sereno to write the first scientific description of it, introducing it to the scientific record. That's when Sereno asked Kriegstein to 'give it up to science.' 'Henry said yes, but he said he wanted it named after his father and mother, ' Sereno said. 'They were Polish Jews who survived the death camps in Would War II and still live in New York today. He said he wanted to name the dinosaur after them as a way of giving them immortality after their terrible struggle to survive in World War II.' The deal was done, with the agreement that Sereno will return the fossil to China when he is done with it.
9/18/09
poem by Gershon Hepner
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The Butterfly Hunter
O hunter
butterfly collector
let us be
We got a life
we love to fly
and we got family
O don’t catch us
don’t bottle us
don’t gas us
let us be
we love to fly
and we love to bring joy
to poets in gardens;
we love to bring laughter
to children in the fields
O please, Collector
do not bring death to us
O hunter
butterfly collector
let us be
We got a life
we love to fly
and we got family
poem based on painting: Der Schmetterlingsjäger (The butterfly hunter) by Carl Spitzweg (1840) , a depiction from the era of butterfly collection
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Butterfly Poems
1 wing pages of the butterfly
at the nursery
while people
are at purchase
and at transactions
a blue butterfly
comes by
and opens its pages to me
swift and quick
and it says to me:
'Read! Read!
Read my pages! '
'I can’t read, '
I say,
amused
at this brash butterfly
'Read and write!
Read and write
about me,
and all flitting butterflies
Read
and write, you silly! '
it commands
And so I read
and I copy
and these are the words
the words from those
pages
the butterfly
holds up to me
2 song of the butterfly
'butterfly
butterfly
w hy do you fly? '
I’ve got wings
I’ve got aerodynamics
[...] Read more
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Donkey fight
The donkey
Was
Fighted on
The wall poster...
With bite...
To eat...
The poster
Pasted very
Strong...
So...
Fighted donkey
with the wall
And the poster...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Missing Me
When Im standing on the stage I see a girl in front of me
I dont know what she wants but I know she cries for me
Shes too young to start a fire but she cant hide her desire, oh no
So she turns away and cries covering her face with her hands
In her dreams I kiss her eyes and this moment never ends
But she knows that dream s not real and I know what she will feel
Cause shes missing me
Teardrops in the dirt
Oh shes missing me
We all know love can hurt
Cause shes missing me
Well Im a poster on the wall
Yes shes missing me
Buy our records, we love you all
Well a hundred million dollars thats exactly what we want
Little girls are little victims and were always on the hunt
When the horn blows huntings over theres no lonely girl to see, oh no
Im a little bit confused bout the letters that you write
Seems you think Im a hero and everything I do is right
You know Ive tried to explain but it seems that was in vain
Cause shes missing me
Teardrops in the dirt
Oh shes missing me
We all know love can hurt
Cause shes missing me
Well Im a poster on the wall
Yes shes missing me
Buy our records, we love you all
Cause shes missing me
Teardrops in the dirt
Oh shes missing me
We all know love can hurt
Cause shes missing me
Well Im a poster on the wall
Yes shes missing me
Buy our records, we love you all
Cause shes missing me...
song performed by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
Added by Lucian Velea
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Angels From Montgomery
Angel from montgomery
John prine
I am an old woman
Named after my mother,
My old man is another
Child thats grown old
If dreams were lightning
And thunder were desire
This old house would have burnt down
A long time ago
Make me an angel that flies from montgomery,
Make me a poster of an old rodeo
Just give me one thing that I can hold on to,
To believe in this livin is just a hard way to go
When I was a young girl
I had me a cowboy
He werent much to look at,
Just a free ramblin man.
But that was a long time
And no matter how I try,
The years just flow by
Like a broken down dam.
Make me an angel that flies from montgomery,
Make me a poster of an old rodeo
Just give me one thing that I can hold on to,
To believe in this livin is just a hard way to go
Theres flies in the kitchen
I can hear em in there buzzin
And I aint done nothin
Since I woke up today.
How the hell can a person
Go to work in the mornin
Come home in the evenin
And have nothin to say?
Make me an angel that flies from montgomery,
Make me a poster of an old rodeo
Just give me one thing that I can hold on to,
To believe in this livin is just a hard way to go
(repeat chorus)
song performed by John Denver
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cursed (story)
I am Bill.I live with my brother, my dad, mom and my lil sis.There's always this thing that bothers my mind..it's because i believe that my mom and sis already died.It was almost a yearago yet not that old to be forgotten.our house was burnt for unknown reason.They we're found dead on the room i was staying.Burned, yet there's still mystery upon their death.
I can barely remember that i see mere smoke and huge fire.i was just 7 yet my mind works as if i was not.After the tragic happenings the ocean made noise and i saw a huge wave comming towards our direction.Crowds of neigbors, the police, the rescuers and even i, my lil bro and dad run away.
our house was swallowed by that huge wave.After that i don't know what else happened.I hear my dad yell and my lil bro crying.I see blurry lights and hear the sirens.I was asleep! am i? i see the lights striking in my eyelids yet i can not see any image.i hear the sound of waves smashing unto rocks then i'm
shocked to reality i'm just sitting on the deck before the emergency room in the city hospital.I was wonderin' what i'm doin' there but 'twas just a couple'o seconds when i saw my lil bro and dad walked out the emergency room, smiling and waved on me.My dad shouted com'mon bill let's go home.okey, well my dad's calling me.Gotta go!
i really don't know what happened but as we go back to where our house was build it was still there standing steady and strong.I looked around i saw our neighbor's house burnt.and i said' oh, bla bla i really don't know what's happening! ' and asked dad 'dad i thought it was our house burned? '
and as i always hear from him dad answered in a huge voice 'what? are you out of your mind? '
then i heared a soft voice saying 'John, let him rest.Maybe he's hallucinating.he's from kelly's house beside the shore.we all knew it's almost impossible for him to survive that huge fire.'
my pores closed, my spines shivered..and my heart pumped fast...
i shouted' who's that'? ... MOM?
and the voice answered 'yes dear.'
my dad then said' LEt's took him to the doctor, maybe the accident affected his mind too.'
'but DAD! ! , Mom and tricia died already! '
he answered: 'That's not funny bill! if yu're thinking this is the right time to crack pranks.well ITS NOT! ! ..Go to your room! ! '
'but DAD? '!
'NO buts, go to your room.NOW! '
okey, it seems like i really am hallucinating..maybe i came over kelly's house and caused fire and cause of the pressure and i was so scared that i would be charged for the accident i run out of my consciousness..yeah..maybe that's what happened..
[...] Read more
poem by Ellirie Aviles
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The Odyssey: Book 9
And Ulysses answered, "King Alcinous, it is a good thing to hear a
bard with such a divine voice as this man has. There is nothing better
or more delightful than when a whole people make merry together,
with the guests sitting orderly to listen, while the table is loaded
with bread and meats, and the cup-bearer draws wine and fills his
cup for every man. This is indeed as fair a sight as a man can see.
Now, however, since you are inclined to ask the story of my sorrows,
and rekindle my own sad memories in respect of them, I do not know how
to begin, nor yet how to continue and conclude my tale, for the hand
of heaven has been laid heavily upon me.
"Firstly, then, I will tell you my name that you too may know it,
and one day, if I outlive this time of sorrow, may become my there
guests though I live so far away from all of you. I am Ulysses son
of Laertes, reknowned among mankind for all manner of subtlety, so
that my fame ascends to heaven. I live in Ithaca, where there is a
high mountain called Neritum, covered with forests; and not far from
it there is a group of islands very near to one another- Dulichium,
Same, and the wooded island of Zacynthus. It lies squat on the
horizon, all highest up in the sea towards the sunset, while the
others lie away from it towards dawn. It is a rugged island, but it
breeds brave men, and my eyes know none that they better love to
look upon. The goddess Calypso kept me with her in her cave, and
wanted me to marry her, as did also the cunning Aeaean goddess
Circe; but they could neither of them persuade me, for there is
nothing dearer to a man than his own country and his parents, and
however splendid a home he may have in a foreign country, if it be far
from father or mother, he does not care about it. Now, however, I will
tell you of the many hazardous adventures which by Jove's will I met
with on my return from Troy.
"When I had set sail thence the wind took me first to Ismarus, which
is the city of the Cicons. There I sacked the town and put the
people to the sword. We took their wives and also much booty, which we
divided equitably amongst us, so that none might have reason to
complain. I then said that we had better make off at once, but my
men very foolishly would not obey me, so they stayed there drinking
much wine and killing great numbers of sheep and oxen on the sea
shore. Meanwhile the Cicons cried out for help to other Cicons who
lived inland. These were more in number, and stronger, and they were
more skilled in the art of war, for they could fight, either from
chariots or on foot as the occasion served; in the morning, therefore,
they came as thick as leaves and bloom in summer, and the hand of
heaven was against us, so that we were hard pressed. They set the
battle in array near the ships, and the hosts aimed their
bronze-shod spears at one another. So long as the day waxed and it was
still morning, we held our own against them, though they were more
in number than we; but as the sun went down, towards the time when men
loose their oxen, the Cicons got the better of us, and we lost half
a dozen men from every ship we had; so we got away with those that
were left.
"Thence we sailed onward with sorrow in our hearts, but glad to have
[...] Read more
poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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The Sale of Saint Thomas
A quay with vessels moored
Thomas
To India! Yea, here I may take ship;
From here the courses go over the seas,
Along which the intent prows wonderfully
Nose like lean hounds, and tack their journeys out,
Making for harbours as some sleuth was laid
For them to follow on their shifting road.
Again I front my appointed ministry. --
But why the Indian lot to me? Why mine
Such fearful gospelling? For the Lord knew
What a frail soul He gave me, and a heart
Lame and unlikely for the large events. --
And this is worse than Baghdad! though that was
A fearful brink of travel. But if the lots,
That gave to me the Indian duty, were
Shuffled by the unseen skill of Heaven, surely
That fear of mine in Baghdad was the same
Marvellous Hand working again, to guard
The landward gate of India from me. There
I stood, waiting in the weak early dawn
To start my journey; the great caravan's
Strange cattle with their snoring breaths made steam
Upon the air, and (as I thought) sadly
The beasts at market-booths and awnings gay
Of shops, the city's comfortable trade,
Lookt, and then into months of plodding lookt.
And swiftly on my brain there came a wind
Of vision; and I saw the road mapt out
Along the desert with a chalk of bones;
I saw a famine and the Afghan greed
Waiting for us, spears at our throats, all we
Made women by our hunger; and I saw
Gigantic thirst grieving our mouths with dust,
Scattering up against our breathing salt
Of blown dried dung, till the taste eat like fires
Of a wild vinegar into our sheathèd marrows;
And a sudden decay thicken'd all our bloods
As rotten leaves in fall will baulk a stream;
Then my kill'd life the muncht food of jackals. --
The wind of vision died in my brain; and lo,
The jangling of the caravan's long gait
Was small as the luting of a breeze in grass
Upon my ears. Into the waiting thirst
Camels and merchants all were gone, while I
Had been in my amazement. Was this not
A sign? God with a vision tript me, lest
Those tall fiends that ken for my approach
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poem by Lascelles Abercrombie
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Charmides
HE was a Grecian lad, who coming home
With pulpy figs and wine from Sicily
Stood at his galley's prow, and let the foam
Blow through his crisp brown curls unconsciously,
And holding wave and wind in boy's despite
Peered from his dripping seat across the wet and stormy night
Till with the dawn he saw a burnished spear
Like a thin thread of gold against the sky,
And hoisted sail, and strained the creaking gear,
And bade the pilot head her lustily
Against the nor'west gale, and all day long
Held on his way, and marked the rowers' time with measured song,
And when the faint Corinthian hills were red
Dropped anchor in a little sandy bay,
And with fresh boughs of olive crowned his head,
And brushed from cheek and throat the hoary spray,
And washed his limbs with oil, and from the hold
Brought out his linen tunic and his sandals brazen-soled,
And a rich robe stained with the fishes' juice
Which of some swarthy trader he had bought
Upon the sunny quay at Syracuse,
And was with Tyrian broideries inwrought,
And by the questioning merchants made his way
Up through the soft and silver woods, and when the labouring day
Had spun its tangled web of crimson cloud,
Clomb the high hill, and with swift silent feet
Crept to the fane unnoticed by the crowd
Of busy priests, and from some dark retreat
Watched the young swains his frolic playmates bring
The firstling of their little flock, and the shy shepherd fling
The crackling salt upon the flame, or hang
His studded crook against the temple wall
To Her who keeps away the ravenous fang
Of the base wolf from homestead and from stall;
And then the clear-voiced maidens 'gan to sing,
And to the altar each man brought some goodly offering,
A beechen cup brimming with milky foam,
A fair cloth wrought with cunning imagery
Of hounds in chase, a waxen honey-comb
Dripping with oozy gold which scarce the bee
Had ceased from building, a black skin of oil
Meet for the wrestlers, a great boar the fierce and white-tusked
spoil
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poem by Oscar Wilde
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