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The Death Penalty
Bring back the death penalty screamed a lady as the blood ran, dripping from the cold concrete as her sons blood fled from its body. Bring back, bring back the death penalty screamed a mother as her child dies slowly watching the pools of life fade away from his eyes.
Bring back, bring back the death penalty screamed a mother while she watched her child being killed by the hands of another man, bring back the death penalty.
Bring back the death penalty as she screamed holding her dying child while he laid his last words and breath upon her chest. Bring back the death penalty she screamed in mercy so that she will so that she will no longer have to hold any more of her dying sons and lay them in graves before she lays in her own.
Bring back the death penalty she screamed as her sons soul left his body and he became another victim to a violent society. Bring back the death penalty, bring back our sons.
poem by Melvyn Mohan
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Courage The Cowardly Dog
Eustace, Muriel, somebody's at the door.
Creepy, surreal, someone better get the door.
Someone better get the door.
Who's gonna' get the door?
Courage the Cowardly Dog, Courage the Cowardly Dog.
Something horrible wants to destroy our humble
Nowhere shack. Who will protect our home?
Someone protect our home, Who will protect our home?
Courage the Cowardly Dog, Courage the Cowardly Dog
Courage the Cowardly Dog, Courage the Cowardly Dog
song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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V. Count Guido Franceschini
Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Soccer Rollback
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[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Bold Jack Donahoe (1)
'Twas of a valiant highwayman and outlaw of disdain
Who'd scorn to live in slavery or wear a convicts chain;
His name it was Jack Donahoe of courage and renown -
He'd scorn to live in slavery or humble to the Crown.
This bold, undaunted highwayman, as you may understand,
Was banished for his natural life from Erin's happy land.
In Dublin city of renoun, where his first breath he drew,
It's there they titled him the brave and bold Jack Donahoe.
He scarce had been a twelvemonth on the Australian shore,
When he took to the highway, as oft he had before,
Brave MacNamara, Underwood, Webber and Warmsley too,
These were the four associates of bold Jack Donahoe.
As Jack and his companions roved out one afternoon,
Not thinking that the pains of death would overcome so soon,
To their surprise five horse police appeared all in their view,
And in quick time they did advance to take Jack Donahoe.
"Come, come, you cowardly rascals, oh, do not run away!
We'll fight them man to man, my boys, their number's only three;
For I'd rather range the bush around, like dingo or kangaroo,
Than work one hour for Government," said bold Jack Donahoe.
'Oh, no,' said cowardly Walmsley, 'to that I won't agree;
I see they're still advancing us - their numbers more than three.
And if we wait we'll be too late, the battle we will rue.'
'Then begone from me, you cowardly dog,' replied Jack Donahoe.
The Sergeant of the horse police, discharged his car-a-bine,
And called aloud to Donahoe, 'Will you fight or resign?'
'Resign, no, no! I never will, until your cowardly crew,
For today I'll fight with all my might,' cried bold Jack Donahoe.
The Sergeant then, in a hurry his party to divide,
Placed one to fire in front of him, and another on each side;
The Sergeant and the Corporal, they both fired too,
Till the fatal ball had pierced the heart of bold Jack Donahoe.
Six rounds he fought those horse police before the fatal ball,
Which pierced his heart with cruel smart, caused Donahoe to fall;
And as he closed his mournful eyes he bade this world adieu,
Saying, 'Good people all, pray for the soul of poor Jack Donahoe.
' There were Freincy, Grant, bold Robin Hood, Brennan and O'hare;
With Donahoe this highwayman none of them could compare.
But now he's gone to Heaven, I hope, with saints and angels too -
May the Lord have mercy on the soul of Brave Jack Donahoe.
poem by Anonymous Oceania
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Joseph’s Dreams and Reuben's Brethren [A Recital in Six Chapters]
CHAPTER I
I cannot blame old Israel yet,
For I am not a sage—
I shall not know until I get
The son of my old age.
The mysteries of this Vale of Tears
We will perchance explain
When we have lived a thousand years
And died and come again.
No doubt old Jacob acted mean
Towards his father’s son;
But other hands were none too clean,
When all is said and done.
There were some things that had to be
In those old days, ’tis true—
But with old Jacob’s history
This tale has nought to do.
(They had to keep the birth-rate up,
And populate the land—
They did it, too, by simple means
That we can’t understand.
The Patriarchs’ way of fixing things
Would make an awful row,
And Sarah’s plain, straightforward plan
Would never answer now.)
his is a tale of simple men
And one precocious boy—
A spoilt kid, and, as usual,
His father’s hope and joy
(It mostly is the way in which
The younger sons behave
That brings the old man’s grey hairs down
In sorrow to the grave.)
Old Jacob loved the whelp, and made,
While meaning to be kind,
A coat of many colours that
Would strike a nigger blind!
It struck the brethren green, ’twas said—
I’d take a pinch of salt
Their coats had coloured patches too—
But that was not their fault.
Young Joseph had a soft thing on,
And, humbugged from his birth,
You may depend he worked the thing
For all that it was worth.
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Lawson
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Zambia
The talented 'Chipolopolo Boys'! !
Zambia is a country in Africa with many talented football players;
And the talented 'Chipolopolo Boys' won the African Cup of Nations.
The penalty shootouts! !
The penalty kicks,
The penalty goals,
The penalty misses;
And Zambia won Ivory Coast to carry the major trophy of the African Cup of Nations,
Yes, in Livreville to carry the day on Sunday the 12th of February 2012.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Even The Score
I stayed up all night long
Drinkin and thinkin bout you
Is there anything left at all
Is there anything that I can do
cause I dont know what to say anymore
I dont know how to even the score with you, with you
Starin hard at that big front door
Is it time now to find my shoes
It aint the loss of love no more
Im just tryin hard to live with you
cause I dont know what to say anymore
And I dont know how to even the score with you, with you
With you, with you
cause I dont know what to say anymore
And I dont know how to even the score with you, oh, with you
Is love a question, whos weak, whos strong
I cant see it, wheres a compromise
Its so confusin where this thing has gone
Its gotta stop, youve gotta realize
cause I dont know what to say anymore
And I dont know how to even the score with you, oh, with you
Yes, with you, oh, with you
cause I dont know what to say anymore
And I dont know how to even the score with you, oh, with you
Yes, with you, oh, with you
I dont know what to say anymore
And I dont know how to even the score with you, oh, with you
Yes, with you, oh, with you
song performed by America
Added by Lucian Velea
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London River
Half a score o' sailormen that want to sail once more,
Cruising round the waterside with the Peter at the fore!
Half a score o' sailormen the sea will never drown -
Seven days in open boats a-drifting up and down! -
Out to find another ship and sail from London Town!
Half a score o' sailormen broke and on the rocks,
Linking down Commercial Road, tramping round the Docks,
Half a score o' sailormen, torpedoed twice before,
Once was in the Channel chops, once was off the Nore,
Last was in the open sea five hundred mile from shore!
Half a score o' sailormen that want to sail again -
And her cargo's all aboard her, and it's blowing up for rain!
Half a score o' sailormen that won't come home to tea -
For she's dropping down the river with the Duster flying free -
Down the London River on the road to the open sea!
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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Frustrated Ambition.
Frustrated ambition.
I can remember vividly
The first person that I chose to kill.
Although selected randomly.
It somehow made me feel fulfilled.
No longer a non entity.
Overlooked by everyone.
It proved my capability
To make my name and be someone.
I thought about it constantly.
I knew that I must kill again
I felt a growing certainty
my only thought was to regain.
The rush of the adrenaline
The sense of power which it brought.
As if the whole wide world was mine.
That was the feeling which I sought.
Though when my second victim died
My pleasure was not so intense
and I was left unsatisfied
Which did not seem to make much sense.
When I killed victim number three
There was no rushed adrenaline.
Which only served to convince me
That killing had become routine.
I had not yet achieved my aim.
Although killing had lost its thrill.
The only way I would gain fame
Was by continuing to kill.
I will defy the threatened rain
To add another to my score
Tonight I mean to kill again
and claim my victim number four.
Though others have killed many more
To earn their place in history.
I aim to beat the highest score.
I’m sure I will eventually.
Because I’ve only just begun
I study the case histories.
Familiar with everyone
[...] Read more
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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In our period, they say there is free speech. They say there is no penalty for poets, There is no penalty for writing poems. They say this. This is the penalty.
quote by Muriel Rukeyser
Added by Lucian Velea
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Paradise Lost: Book 10
Mean while the heinous and despiteful act
Of Satan, done in Paradise; and how
He, in the serpent, had perverted Eve,
Her husband she, to taste the fatal fruit,
Was known in Heaven; for what can 'scape the eye
Of God all-seeing, or deceive his heart
Omniscient? who, in all things wise and just,
Hindered not Satan to attempt the mind
Of Man, with strength entire and free will armed,
Complete to have discovered and repulsed
Whatever wiles of foe or seeming friend.
For still they knew, and ought to have still remembered,
The high injunction, not to taste that fruit,
Whoever tempted; which they not obeying,
(Incurred what could they less?) the penalty;
And, manifold in sin, deserved to fall.
Up into Heaven from Paradise in haste
The angelick guards ascended, mute, and sad,
For Man; for of his state by this they knew,
Much wondering how the subtle Fiend had stolen
Entrance unseen. Soon as the unwelcome news
From Earth arrived at Heaven-gate, displeased
All were who heard; dim sadness did not spare
That time celestial visages, yet, mixed
With pity, violated not their bliss.
About the new-arrived, in multitudes
The ethereal people ran, to hear and know
How all befel: They towards the throne supreme,
Accountable, made haste, to make appear,
With righteous plea, their utmost vigilance
And easily approved; when the Most High
Eternal Father, from his secret cloud,
Amidst in thunder uttered thus his voice.
Assembled Angels, and ye Powers returned
From unsuccessful charge; be not dismayed,
Nor troubled at these tidings from the earth,
Which your sincerest care could not prevent;
Foretold so lately what would come to pass,
When first this tempter crossed the gulf from Hell.
I told ye then he should prevail, and speed
On his bad errand; Man should be seduced,
And flattered out of all, believing lies
Against his Maker; no decree of mine
Concurring to necessitate his fall,
Or touch with lightest moment of impulse
His free will, to her own inclining left
In even scale. But fallen he is; and now
What rests, but that the mortal sentence pass
On his transgression,--death denounced that day?
Which he presumes already vain and void,
[...] Read more
poem by John Milton
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The Coquette, and After (Triolets)
I
For long the cruel wish I knew
That your free heart should ache for me
While mine should bear no ache for you;
For, long--the cruel wish!--I knew
How men can feel, and craved to view
My triumph--fated not to be
For long! . . . The cruel wish I knew
That your free heart should ache for me!
II
At last one pays the penalty -
The woman--women always do.
My farce, I found, was tragedy
At last!--One pays the penalty
With interest when one, fancy-free,
Learns love, learns shame . . . Of sinners two
At last ONE pays the penalty -
The woman--women always do!
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Sister Sara
Now I don't know but I've been told
There's a nun having fun and she lost her soul
She's got cash, she got laid
Now she's dealin' with me and she's gonna get paid
She got caught with the bishop
She got caught with the abbot
Even cardinal sin tried to feed her habit
Now we get whores and pimps and skanks
But when your judgement came down even
He gave thanks
Whatever happened to me
Can't remember my name
Flying so high on angelic wings
Flew too close to the flame
Sister Sara
It's your penalty for eternity
Did you think that you were saved
You forget your old identity who you used to be
Sister Sara
So depraved
Moment to moment
Hour to hour
We'll be together
Oh, come O ye faithless
Get in line
You're gonna drown in the water
Turned to wine
And you're all going to wallow
When you sin and shame
You had every opportunity to call His name
Don't look surprised
Don't be in shock
You'll be a lovely little demon in my private stock
I'm just doing my job to pull you down
Cuz it's a one way ticket down to Dragontown
You got caught in my web
You made your own bed here
And now you must keep me well fed
You're mine
Too bad
You're here for me
You're just here for me
Sister Sara
It's your penalty for eternity
Did you think that you were saved
You forget your old identity who you used to be
Sister Sara
So depraved
Moment to moment
Hour to hour
[...] Read more
song performed by Alice Cooper
Added by Lucian Velea
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An Ideal State?
The brazen blare of trumpets sounds.
As we approach the temple grounds
the rattling kettle drums compete
with ominously marching feet.
The people gather here today
in the old time honoured way.
To hear our leaders justify
why they have failed to satisfy.
The peoples wants, the peoples needs.
Explain their actions and their deeds
The leaders have no other choice
but hearken to the peoples voice.
If they have failed without just cause.
The peoples justice will enforce
summary execution.
A permanent solution.
For politicians who have lied
by all their fellows they are tried.
Allowed to mount their own defence
they must depend on eloquence.
We listen to their argument
and we consider their intent.
Their motives are what we must judge
This is no time for them to fudge.
They ruled as triumvirate
and so they must anticipate.
If one is guilty then all three
Will suffer the same penalty.
If we adjudge them innocent
by a unanimous consent.
They can retire honourably
having served us honestly.
We the people make the rules
elect the leaders as our tools.
To do as we instruct them to
They do not rule the peopled do.
If we decide they are corrupt.
The peoples anger will erupt.
For them there can be no appeal
it was their choice to cheat and steal.
[...] Read more
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Justice?
How does taking a life justify losing a life
What is good without evil what is love without pain
What is worth without vain the strong survive the intelligent live
Live what is living what is a life worth how much can I get for mine
Can I sell it on eBay or Craig’s list no? Can I loan it to the homeless for a few moments
So my home they can with pride say they own it no? Can I donate it to a drug addict
So they can relapse without mishaps because it's hard to use heroin when your veins collapsed
Hard to get high when you 10 feet in the ground in a box with no sound
No light no life I know the answer is no right? So if you can't tell me how much a life is worth
Then u don't have the right to take one from earth justice is rubbish the death penalty wait penalty?
Last time a checked a penalty was 10 Yards or 2 minutes in a box depending on what sports u watch
So what is justice?
poem by Bron Dayvid
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I'm Not Feelin It Anymore
Have to get back, have to get back the base
I need to talk to somebody, I can trust
Too many cooks, are tryin' to spoil the broth
I can't feel it in my throat, that's all she wrote
I'm not feeling it no more, I'm not feeling it anymore
Not feelin' it no more, not feelin' it anymore
When I was high at the party, everything looked good
I was seein' through rose coloured glasses
Not seein' the wood for the trees
I started out in normal operation
But I just ended up in doubt
All my drinking buddies, they locked me out
I'm not feelin' it no more, I'm not feelin' it anymore
No feelin' it no more, I'm tryin' to give you the score
You see me up there baby, I'm on the screen
But I know better now, it's so unreal
If this is success, then something's awful wrong
'Cause I bought the dream and I had to play along
I'm not feelin' it no more, I'm not feelin' it anymore
I'm tryin' to give you the score, I'm not feelin' it no more
We all know that money, don't buy you love
You just get a job and somewhere to live
You have to look for happiness, within yourself
And don't go chasin' thinkin' that it is somewhere else
I'm not feelin' it no more, I'm not feelin' it anymore
Baby I'm tryin' to give you the score,
I'm not feelin' it no more
I was pretending all the time
I was givin' everybody what they wanted
And I lost my peace of mind
And all I ever wanted was simply just to be me
All you ever need is the truth
And the truth will set you free
I'm not feelin' it no more, I'm not feelin' it anymore
I'm tryin' to give you the score, just like I did before
I'm not feelin' it no more, I'm not feelin' it anymore
I'm not feelin' it no more, baby I'm just trying to give you the score
I'm not feelin' it no more, not feelin' it anymore
Not feelin' it no more
Not feelin' it no more baby
song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Im Not Feeling It Anymore
Have to get back, have to get back the base
I need to talk to somebody, I can trust
Too many cooks, are tryin to spoil the broth
I cant feel it in my throat, thats all she wrote
Im not feeling it no more, Im not feeling it anymore
Not feelin it no more, not feelin it anymore
When I was high at the party, everything looked good
I was seein through rose coloured glasses
Not seein the wood for the trees
I started out in normal operation
But I just ended up in doubt
All my drinking buddies, they locked me out
Im not feelin it no more, Im not feelin it anymore
No feelin it no more, Im tryin to give you the score
You see me up there baby, Im on the screen
But I know better now, its so unreal
If this is success, then somethings awful wrong
'cause I bought the dream and I had to play along
Im not feelin it no more, Im not feelin it anymore
Im tryin to give you the score, Im not feelin it no more
We all know that money, dont buy you love
You just get a job and somewhere to live
You have to look for happiness, within yourself
And dont go chasin thinkin that it is somewhere else
Im not feelin it no more, Im not feelin it anymore
Baby Im tryin to give you the score,
Im not feelin it no more
I was pretending all the time
I was givin everybody what they wanted
And I lost my peace of mind
And all I ever wanted was simply just to be me
All you ever need is the truth
And the truth will set you free
Im not feelin it no more, Im not feelin it anymore
Im tryin to give you the score, just like I did before
Im not feelin it no more, Im not feelin it anymore
Im not feelin it no more, baby Im just trying to give you the score
Im not feelin it no more, not feelin it anymore
Not feelin it no more
Not feelin it no more baby.
song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Futbol
There he is standing on the field, looking around and laughing
he wants to see what you see from the stands, himself basking, charming.
The ball slips from the fingers of a dazzled referee and he kicks out,
deftly he is gliding in and out between his opponents, he is glorious.
Then where has the goal gone that it is no longer before him?
So that he spins around and is aghast and desperate with anxiety?
His opponent grins and lives the sport, he breathes the dance,
and he chants in his heart the reality of his passion, as he flies!
You do not doubt that he is dancing, because his eyes are singing.
He floats above the grass, he lifts his knees high and tumbles low.
He watches from afar as his body works his will like an oiled puppet,
and he is certainly a masterful puppeteer, he grins and slides.
Where did our laughing hero go who was so handsome with the crowd?
He is behind, running to catch up and wondering in shock what happened.
His opponent tips the ball into the air with a gentle kick of the toe.
He positions himself and pirouettes slowly, the ball goes flying.
The goalie's heart pumps like a psychotic ocean, he is freaking out now.
The ball parts the breath's of his team mates and loopty loops into the net.
Four tenths of a second after the ball flits into the net, the goalie blocks
and slaps air and is laid out at the post, feeling bested by a better man.
Again and again the dancer, the puppeteer, rides the ball down the field.
Score. Score. Score. Score. Score. There is the clock and the game is over.
Our hero grimaces in angst and seethes at glory lost and wonders...
where was he when he was most needed, where was all his glory and fame?
How was he bested by an up-and-coming punk, he wondered with shock.
When did the cinematographer of this movie decide that his part was over?
He overheard the answer at a news conference after the game
'He knows the rules better than he knows the sport, ' said his opponent
with a grin.
poem by Poet Dragon
Added by Poetry Lover
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