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Vincente Minnelli

It's the story that counts.

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How To Tell The Story Of The Cloud

you know how is it with the clouds
the more with air
and mists

they always change and they do it
as quickly as a wink

you know what clouds do
the form upon you some stories
the rainy ones sometimes and you shed tears
in the same manner with the air and mists

the air passes and sometimes you do not even feel it
and so you miss the story that it is bringing
the story of a journey
into somewhere

and the mists bring you some notes about what to do
in the darkness of the night
yet you tarry on the grass and on the side of the hill

you miss the essence of our beings
we are ghosts and we do not know where we are hidden.

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This Is The Story (Takes 1,2)

I play the song, it was our own
Your photograph's by my side
I know I can't forget you
So I don't even try
The note you left is in my hand
I read again what you say
You're sorry but you love him
And you've both gone away
This is the story of a man
Whose world has fallen apart
And it's the story
That is breaking my heart
An open fire, our favorite chair
I get a book from the shelf
But the words I am reading
Could apply to myself
This is the story of a man
Whose world has fallen apart
And it's the story
That is breaking my heart
Yes, it's the story that is breaking my heart
Yes, it's the story that is breaking my heart
Yes, it's the story that is breaking my heart

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This Is The Story

(words & music by arnold - morrow - martin)
I play the song, it was our own
Your photographs by my side
I know I cant forget you
So I dont even try
The note you left is in my hand
I read again what you say
Youre sorry but you love him
And youve both gone away
This is the story of a man
Whose world has fallen apart
And its the story
That is breaking my heart
An open fire, our favorite chair
I get a book from the shelf
But the words I am reading
Could apply to myself
This is the story of a man
Whose world has fallen apart
And its the story
That is breaking my heart
Yes, its the story that is breaking my heart
Yes, its the story that is breaking my heart
Yes, its the story that is breaking my heart

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The Story Of Modern Verses

The story that had started in wonder
The story that had started in pain
The story that always remained untold
The story that could never unfold
The reality of complex human natures
The story that could only capture
The superficial aspects of humanity
That is the story of modern verses
That is the only story of our modern age.

There comes the hatred full of love
And love full of hatred
There stands the familiarity at a distance
And a distant association and nearness
More glorified than any day to day familiarity.

The story of modern verses always reminds us
About the shallowness of modernity
About the obscurity of the material world.

This story once told shall touch the base
And would make everybody else to lose the race
Because winning is no more the destiny,
The destiny is only love, faith and submission
The destiny is only achieved by losing
At all phases of life - as the winning game
Is full of distortions and unhappiness.

The story of modern verses clicks in the mind of society
To push it through the hollow modern age
And make it reach the destiny of truth and harmony.

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That's How The Story Told, Goes

Why can't we continue to pretend,
None of us have been troubled...
By the existing of the current events?
We had no problem with the knowing,
There were debts to pay.
It seemed yesterday to have been okay!

And ignoring those homeless and hungry,
Being left alone pushing their belongings...
In shopping carts obvious to all on city streets.
Didn't they choose for themselves...
To trade in their dignities,
With a choice to live like they do...
With little to nothing to eat.
That's how the story told, goes.

Why is it 'today'...
Those same delusions we then embraced,
Are from us being chased away?
Is there another chapter in this story,
Unknown yet to be told to unfold?

Something in the midst,
Is not being fair or realistic about this.
Why can't we continue to pretend?
And why is it from those dead,
We seem to learn our lessons?
After the passing of chapters,
Have to us been read?

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The Cat That Could Not Find A Rat

and yes that is the story
about a cat which could
not find a single rat inside
a house filled with hay during
the harshest part of drought

he keeps on telling her that
always, always, w/o regret.

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Please Dont Tell Me How The Story Ends

This could be our last good night together
We may never pass this way again.
Just let me enjoy it til its over, or forever
Please dont tell me how the story ends.
See the way our shadows come together
Softer than your fingers on my skin
Someday these may be all we remember of each other
Please dont tell me how the story ends.
Nevers just the echo of forever
Lonesome as a love that might have been.
Let me go on lovin and believin til its over
Please dont tell me how the story ends.

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The Story Of A Rock & Roll Band

The story they were six fine english boys who knew each other in birmingham they bought a drum and guitar started a rock-roll band and johnny played little violin and bobby joe played the big vi
The one that stands on the floor they were all in the rock-roll band their first song sounded like this please get me a witness please get me a witness right off, they needed a name someone said
Ot;how bout the renegades ? johnny said, well I dont know. I prefer e.l.o. I love their mr. blue skies almost my favorite is turn to stone and how bo
Uot;telephone line? I love that e.l.o.

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The Story of the Ashes and the Flame

No matter why, nor whence, nor when she came,
There was her place. No matter what men said,
No matter what she was; living or dead,
Faithful or not, he loved her all the same.
The story was as old as human shame,
But ever since that lonely night she fled,
With books to blind him, he had only read
The story of the ashes and the flame.

There she was always coming pretty soon
To fool him back, with penitent scared eyes
That had in them the laughter of the moon
For baffled lovers, and to make him think --
Before she gave him time enough to wink --
Sin's kisses were the keys to Paradise.

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What Poem Will There Be/ When The Story Ends

WHAT POEM WILL THERE BE/ WHEN THE STORY ENDS

What poem will there be
When the story ends
And I say no more?
What poem will there be
When I am not?

All that has been written
Will not save me
And every remembrance of me
Will not mean I will not be forgotten-

In the long run
Where it all ends
Only G-d can know-

And what will be with us
With our singing and our poems and our love and our fear and our desire to go on forever being as we are now?
And what will be with us with our poems and our love and our happiness
And our crying out to God to save us lest we be silence and nothing forever?

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The Story Of My Life

I was only joking
When i said i didn't love you
Of course i still love you
I always have! !

In fact it kills me to think
You might've ever thought that
I wasn't telling the truth....
It's never been that bad

Please don't ever believe
That i couldn't love you
I couldn't ever not love you
Even if i tried

It was a cruel jibe
I did'nt think you'd care
I didn't think that you'd react like you did
I already explained i need you more then air? ?

I don't regret meeting you
It was the best day of my life
I tell all my friends about it
Day after day

I'm sure they get sick of it
But i could not give a shit
It's the story of my life
The story of my life

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Escape Into The Story Unfolding

A canopy sea of aquamarine smothers the treasures of the deep
It is said that ancient citadels exist there, the dead forever unsleeping
The dead forever keeping watchful eyes upon there city beneath the blue.

Escape into the story unfolding
Escape from growing old in reliving adventures that never were ours
Fighting alien abominations within video game realities
Loosing ourselves in Middle Earth
How far have we come from the fire side escapism of our ancestors?

Western World, O great monster incarnate
Demon roaring, bellowing flames
Smoking the sky a ghastly yellow
What stewards are we?

Would they not cry?
The prophets of the past?
Will they not sigh?

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I Am.... (The Story Of God)

i am the barn set ablaze,
the garden covered in dust.
i am the coal mine,
and the miners lost...
the spider's web that
caught their families.
i am the refugee,
no home, no destination.
the convict released,
with nowhere to go.
i am the erection, the file,
and the hammer...
set aside, covered with rust.
i am the mirror, the candle,
and the book of matches...
i am the way stone changes!
i am the prism,
put away in a dark closet.
i am the lover,
whose name you've forgotten.
i am the end
that never ends,
i am the fire
on the tip of your tongue.
i am the smell of your heart,
the whisperings of your feet.
i am the lines beneath your eyes,
that tell the story of god!

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The poem that makes you cry

Why did he write the poem that makes
You cry? Did he intend to make you sad
For the whole day?
He didn’t. He is simply talking about
Himself. It is not about you.It is about his
Own sorrow. The dead ants, the shadow
Of the sun folded and kept in the corner.
The goats that have to go. The lines of your
Palms that you follow. The stars in the
Heavens. The fact that ultimately there
Was no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
They are true. I have seen how they happen.
With him on the grassy plain. There is
Always a story to tell. This time you come.
And you find yourself immersed. You are
Like us and so you cry. It is you in us.
It won’t last long anyhow. We shall soon
Part ways, as he once did. Earlier.

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The Story Of White Man Leading Viet Cong Patrol

The Story of White Man Leading Viet Cong Patrol
-AP Dispatch, Des Moines Register, August 4, 1968

The slain enemy resembled
an American Marine
who was 18 years old
when he disappeared.

The violent episode
was one of the strangest
in this strange war.

*

For a moment
the two young men--
the American Marine
and the white man
in the uniform of the enemy--
stared at each other.

"He had an AK 47
automatic rifle
but he just looked at me."

Gordon fired
after a moment's hesitation.

*

Several of the Marines suspect
that the unknown white man
whom they call "the Caucasian"
could have shot first
but deliberately held fire.

At the debriefing
everyone was afraid
to say what they had seen.


Anonymous submission.

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The Poems Became The Story Of My Inner Life

THE POEMS BECAME THE STORY OF MY INNER LIFE

The poems became the story of my inner life-
A series of confessions-

Often simple and direct
They seemed to lose their poetry-

I wrote them and I write them as I need to
I do not know if their rhythm is real
Or only prose-

I write them as poetry
Because this is what I am and have now-

Still the overwhelming anxiety I have now suggests
I always in them tell only a small part of the story
As if the feeling inside
Is always more than any poetry that pretends to express and represent it

If I doubt the value of this poem and doubt the value of all my poetry and doubt my own value, poetry or not, and doubt and doubt-
Then certainly ‘doubt’ is one keynote of my inner life and story.

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The Story Behind The Fire This Morning

before the house was razed by fire
the old man visited the house and cried
telling me about a young man who promised
that if he ever loves another woman
the house shall be burned
to strip it of its meaning

at 6: 30 today early morning the firemen
called it a day. The house is gone
The old man gone. The young man gone.

i like to write the story behind all these
misfortune
but i am afraid that some parts of it
may not be true
or that if true, it may not be fair at all,
or that it be totally unjust
so that there is no use
writing it anymore

The old woman died a year ago
She floated in air
suffered vertigo
she gave up finally
the young man to the world
heard the promise of the old man
who could not do anything
when the house
got burned.

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How The Story Goes

Telephone girl talkin to her mothers voice
Yet she knows these days will soon be gone
Cadillac crews take the band away tonight
Aint it funny how the story goes
Its a dream I had playin music in my band
Its a dream I had to be happy with the woman I love
Well if dreams came true
And they definitely do
For sayin Im a fool
Aint it funny how the story goes
Aint it funny how the story goes
Hollywood queen lookin from her lacy tomb
Its strange to know that I can laugh at you
Flash guitar instead of an architects tool
Aint it funny how the story goes
Its a dream I had playin music in a band
Its a dream I had to be happy with the woman I love
But if dreams came true
And they definitely do
For sayin Im a fool
Aint it funny how the story goes
Aint it funny how the story goes
(solo)
(chorus)

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The Story Of My Life

Words and music by neil diamond
The story of my life is very plain to read
It starts the day you came
And ends the day you leave
The story of my life begins and ends with you
The names are still the same
And the storys still the truth
I was alone.
You found me waiting and made me your own
I was afraid
That somehow I never could be a man that you wanted of me
Youre the story of my life, and every word is true
Each chapter sings your name
Each page begins with you
Its the story of our times and never letting go
If I die today, I wannted yo to know
Stay with me here
Share with me, care with me
Stay and be near
And when it began Id lie awake every night
Just knowing somewhere deep inside
That our affair just might write
The story of my life is very plain to read
It starts the day you came
It ends the day you leave

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The Story Of A Girl

This Is The Story Of A Girl
Who Never Ever Wanted To Grow
Who Got To Learn People Can Be Cold
The Little Girl Hates The World

This Little Girl Is Lonely And Scared
A Boy Wanted To See Her Underwear
He Promised To Never Hurt Her
But She Knows Its Just A Lie
This Little Girl Wants To Die

She Gives Him A Chance Anyways
She Really Hopes The Boy Will Stay
He Hugs Her A Lot And Makes Her Smile
But She Knows He'll Only Be Here A While

This Little Girl Is Scared Again
She Doesn't Know When This Will End
This Little Girl Would Rather Be Dead
This Little Girl Just Needs A Friend

This Little Girl Is Terrified
She Doesn't Know How Long She's Cried
The Little Girl Looks For A Knife
That Little Girl Just Ended Her Life

That Little Girl Was Me
Oh Just How Could This Be
I Thought That I Was Normal
But Now I'm Not Even A Mortal.

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