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If somebody in the crowd spits at you, you've got to swallow it.

quote by Gary Lineker
Added by Lucian Velea
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She Won't Swallow It

Warning-Sexual content! May not be suitable for all readers!

Parody of the classic song from the film of the same name The Girl Can't Help It

She won't swallow it, the girl won't swallow it
She won't swallow it, the girl won't swallow it

She walks by, got mine standing at attention
Tight inside of my jeans
Still...
She won't swallow it, the girl won't swallow it
She winks her eye, flirts with me so outragous and naughty
Gets me so damn horny
Only to burn me like toast
Cos no matter how often I ask
She won't swallow it, the girl won't swallow it
She' s got me turned on the most
Yet even if I got down tonight on my knees
I think I know still what her answer would be
She won't swallow it, the girl won't swallow it

The girl won't swallow it
Won't get down on her knees
Not even once just to see if she would like it
Oh yeah
Sad but true
She won't swallow it, the girl won't swallow it
And even when I beg her pretty please
A horny boyfriend down on his knees
She won't swallow it, the girl won't swallow it
Still I'm hopin' and prayin' someday
Her answer will be
The girl will swallow it cos she's just as horny as me
She won't swallow it, the girl won't swallow it

She won't even pretend to mess around with it
In the dark or in the sun
She won't swallow it, the girl won't swallow it
If I give her some good old fashion lovin' way down there
Then should't she do the same for me?
The girl won't swallow it, the girl won't swallow it
Always makes me feel so damn bad just for askin'
Just like a dirty old grandpa instead of the young kinky 21 that I am
She won't swallow it, the girl won't swallow it

The girl won't swallow it

[...] Read more

poem by Ramona Thompson
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Itylus

Swallow, my sister, O sister swallow,
How can thine heart be full of the spring?
A thousand summers are over and dead.
What hast thou found in the spring to follow?
What hast thou found in thine heart to sing?
What wilt thou do when the summer is shed?

O swallow, sister, O fair swift swallow,
Why wilt thou fly after spring to the south,
The soft south whither thine heart is set?
Shall not the grief of the old time follow?
Shall not the song thereof cleave to thy mouth?
Hast thou forgotten ere I forget?

Sister, my sister, O fleet sweet swallow,
Thy way is long to the sun and the south;
But I, fulfilled of my heart's desire,
Shedding my song upon height, upon hollow,
From tawny body and sweet small mouth
Feed the heart of the night with fire.

I the nightingale all spring through,
O swallow, sister, O changing swallow,
All spring through till the spring be done,
Clothed with the light of the night on the dew,
Sing, while the hours and the wild birds follow,
Take flight and follow and find the sun.

Sister, my sister, O soft light swallow,
Though all things feast in the spring's guest-chamber,
How hast thou heart to be glad thereof yet?
For where thou fliest I shall not follow,
Till life forget and death remember,
Till thou remember and I forget.

Swallow, my sister, O singing swallow,
I know not how thou hast heart to sing.
Hast thou the heart? is it all past over?
Thy lord the summer is good to follow,
And fair the feet of thy lover the spring:
But what wilt thou say to the spring thy lover?

O swallow, sister, O fleeting swallow,
My heart in me is a molten ember
And over my head the waves have met.
But thou wouldst tarry or I would follow
Could I forget or thou remember,
Couldst thou remember and I forget.

O sweet stray sister, O shifting swallow,

[...] Read more

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Songs In A Cornfield

A song in a cornfield
Where corn begins to fall,
Where reapers are reaping,
Reaping one, reaping all.
Sing pretty Lettice,
Sing Rachel, sing May;
Only Marian cannot sing
While her sweetheart's away.

Where is he gone to
And why does he stay?
He came across the green sea
But for a day,
Across the deep green sea
To help with the hay.

His hair was curly yellow
And his eyes were grey,
He laughed a merry laugh
And said a sweet say.
Where is he gone to
That he comes not home?
To-day or to-morrow
He surely will come.
Let him haste to joy
Lest he lag for sorrow,
For one weeps to-day
Who'll not weep to-morrow:
To-day she must weep
For gnawing sorrow,
To-night she may sleep
And not wake to-morrow.

May sang with Rachel
In the waxing warm weather,
Lettice sang with them,
They sang all together:—

'Take the wheat in your arm
Whilst day is broad above,
Take the wheat to your bosom,
But not a false love.
Out in the fields
Summer heat gloweth,
Out in the fields
Summer wind bloweth,
Out in the fields
Summer friend showeth,
Out in the fields

[...] Read more

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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The Borough. Letter VI: Professions--Law

'TRADES and Professions'--these are themes the Muse,
Left to her freedom, would forbear to choose;
But to our Borough they in truth belong,
And we, perforce, must take them in our song.
Be it then known that we can boast of these
In all denominations, ranks, degrees;
All who our numerous wants through life supply,
Who soothe us sick, attend us when we die,
Or for the dead their various talents try.
Then have we those who live by secret arts,
By hunting fortunes, and by stealing hearts;
Or who by nobler means themselves advance,
Or who subsist by charity and chance.
Say, of our native heroes shall I boast,
Born in our streets, to thunder on our coast,
Our Borough-seamen? Could the timid Muse
More patriot ardour in their breasts infuse;
Or could she paint their merit or their skill,
She wants not love, alacrity, or will:
But needless all; that ardour is their own,
And for their deeds, themselves have made them known.
Soldiers in arms! Defenders of our soil!
Who from destruction save us; who from spoil
Protect the sons of peace, who traffic, or who toil;
Would I could duly praise you; that each deed
Your foes might honour, and your friends might read:
This too is needless; you've imprinted well
Your powers, and told what I should feebly tell:
Beside, a Muse like mine, to satire prone,
Would fail in themes where there is praise alone.
- Law shall I sing, or what to Law belongs?
Alas! there may be danger in such songs;
A foolish rhyme, 'tis said, a trifling thing,
The law found treason, for it touch'd the King.
But kings have mercy, in these happy times.
Or surely One had suffered for his rhymes;
Our glorious Edwards and our Henrys bold,
So touch'd, had kept the reprobate in hold;
But he escap'd,--nor fear, thank Heav'n, have I,
Who love my king, for such offence to die.
But I am taught the danger would be much,
If these poor lines should one attorney touch -
(One of those Limbs of Law who're always here;
The Heads come down to guide them twice a year.)
I might not swing, indeed, but he in sport
Would whip a rhymer on from court to court;
Stop him in each, and make him pay for all
The long proceedings in that dreaded Hall: -
Then let my numbers flow discreetly on,
Warn'd by the fate of luckless Coddrington,

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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The Princess (part 4)

'There sinks the nebulous star we call the Sun,
If that hypothesis of theirs be sound'
Said Ida; 'let us down and rest;' and we
Down from the lean and wrinkled precipices,
By every coppice-feathered chasm and cleft,
Dropt through the ambrosial gloom to where below
No bigger than a glow-worm shone the tent
Lamp-lit from the inner. Once she leaned on me,
Descending; once or twice she lent her hand,
And blissful palpitations in the blood,
Stirring a sudden transport rose and fell.

But when we planted level feet, and dipt
Beneath the satin dome and entered in,
There leaning deep in broidered down we sank
Our elbows: on a tripod in the midst
A fragrant flame rose, and before us glowed
Fruit, blossom, viand, amber wine, and gold.

Then she, 'Let some one sing to us: lightlier move
The minutes fledged with music:' and a maid,
Of those beside her, smote her harp, and sang.

'Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.

'Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

'Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

'Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more.'

She ended with such passion that the tear,

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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The Odyssey: Book 3

But as the sun was rising from the fair sea into the firmament of
heaven to shed Blight on mortals and immortals, they reached Pylos the
city of Neleus. Now the people of Pylos were gathered on the sea shore
to offer sacrifice of black bulls to Neptune lord of the Earthquake.
There were nine guilds with five hundred men in each, and there were
nine bulls to each guild. As they were eating the inward meats and
burning the thigh bones [on the embers] in the name of Neptune,
Telemachus and his crew arrived, furled their sails, brought their
ship to anchor, and went ashore.
Minerva led the way and Telemachus followed her. Presently she said,
"Telemachus, you must not be in the least shy or nervous; you have
taken this voyage to try and find out where your father is buried
and how he came by his end; so go straight up to Nestor that we may
see what he has got to tell us. Beg of him to speak the truth, and
he will tell no lies, for he is an excellent person."
"But how, Mentor," replied Telemachus, "dare I go up to Nestor,
and how am I to address him? I have never yet been used to holding
long conversations with people, and am ashamed to begin questioning
one who is so much older than myself."
"Some things, Telemachus," answered Minerva, "will be suggested to
you by your own instinct, and heaven will prompt you further; for I am
assured that the gods have been with you from the time of your birth
until now."
She then went quickly on, and Telemachus followed in her steps
till they reached the place where the guilds of the Pylian people were
assembled. There they found Nestor sitting with his sons, while his
company round him were busy getting dinner ready, and putting pieces
of meat on to the spits while other pieces were cooking. When they saw
the strangers they crowded round them, took them by the hand and
bade them take their places. Nestor's son Pisistratus at once
offered his hand to each of them, and seated them on some soft
sheepskins that were lying on the sands near his father and his
brother Thrasymedes. Then he gave them their portions of the inward
meats and poured wine for them into a golden cup, handing it to
Minerva first, and saluting her at the same time.
"Offer a prayer, sir," said he, "to King Neptune, for it is his
feast that you are joining; when you have duly prayed and made your
drink-offering, pass the cup to your friend that he may do so also.
I doubt not that he too lifts his hands in prayer, for man cannot live
without God in the world. Still he is younger than you are, and is
much of an age with myself, so I he handed I will give you the
precedence."
As he spoke he handed her the cup. Minerva thought it very right and
proper of him to have given it to herself first; she accordingly began
praying heartily to Neptune. "O thou," she cried, "that encirclest the
earth, vouchsafe to grant the prayers of thy servants that call upon
thee. More especially we pray thee send down thy grace on Nestor and
on his sons; thereafter also make the rest of the Pylian people some
handsome return for the goodly hecatomb they are offering you. Lastly,
grant Telemachus and myself a happy issue, in respect of the matter

[...] Read more

poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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Laugh song

(it's just a silly song, please sing with your own melody)

Drunken man: The bottle is empty
I’m still thirsty
What can we do right now?
Crowd: Let’s steal some wine!

Bar owner: It’s the time up now!
You must pay and go
Crowd: Why is she so cruel?
We’re just having fun

Bar owner: The wind goes strong
I’m afraid storm comes
What can I do old man
With drunken men and fool?

Crowd: Our friends with us
You are warm and nice
Bar owner: No more drink tonight
Go home, goodnight!

Servant boy: The rain goes heavy
The bridge is down!
Crowd: Lord has mercy
We can’t go right now!

Crowd: The road is dark
Hard storm around
What can we do right now?
Bar owner: Sit and wait sad clown!

Man: Thunder sparks wild
Do we have some bone?
The dog still barks
Crowd: Bark, bark, bark, bark, bark

Drunken man: The bone is gone
Tomorrow we’ll mourn
What can we do right now?
Crowd: What can we do right now?

Man: No feet dance here
No music I hear
Crowd: Let’s ask our dear!
She can cheer we here

Man: The fiddle’s asleep
Her cords are curling
Crowd: Let’s just sing a song!

[...] Read more

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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ThE pAiN..........

I'll swallow the pain of being misunderstood.
I'll swallow the pain of being no good.

I'll just swallow the pain of not fitting in.
I'll just swallow the pain of not deserving.

I'll swallow the pain of hiding myself.
I'll swallow the pain of having no help.

I'll just swallow the pain of being constantly hurt.
I'll just swallow the pain of being thought as a nerd.

I'll swallow the pain of breaking my heart.
And in all of my dreams, with sorrow I'll part........

poem by Urmila Reghunath
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The Hind And The Panther, A Poem In Three Parts : Part III.

Much malice, mingled with a little wit,
Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ;
Because the muse has peopled Caledon
With panthers, bears, and wolves, and beasts unknown,
As if we were not stocked with monsters of our own.
Let Æsop answer, who has set to view
Such kinds as Greece and Phrygia never knew;
And Mother Hubbard, in her homely dress,
Has sharply blamed a British lioness;
That queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep,
Exposed obscenely naked, and asleep.
Led by those great examples, may not I
The wonted organs of their words supply?
If men transact like brutes, 'tis equal then
For brutes to claim the privilege of men.
Others our Hind of folly will indite,
To entertain a dangerous guest by night.
Let those remember, that she cannot die,
Till rolling time is lost in round eternity;
Nor need she fear the Panther, though untamed,
Because the Lion's peace was now proclaimed;
The wary savage would not give offence,
To forfeit the protection of her prince;
But watched the time her vengeance to complete,
When all her furry sons in frequent senate met;
Meanwhile she quenched her fury at the flood,
And with a lenten salad cooled her blood.
Their commons, though but coarse, were nothing scant,
Nor did their minds an equal banquet want.
For now the Hind, whose noble nature strove
To express her plain simplicity of love,
Did all the honours of her house so well,
No sharp debates disturbed the friendly meal.
She turned the talk, avoiding that extreme,
To common dangers past, a sadly-pleasing theme;
Remembering every storm which tossed the state,
When both were objects of the public hate,
And dropt a tear betwixt for her own children's fate.
Nor failed she then a full review to make
Of what the Panther suffered for her sake;
Her lost esteem, her truth, her loyal care,
Her faith unshaken to an exiled heir,
Her strength to endure, her courage to defy,
Her choice of honourable infamy.
On these, prolixly thankful, she enlarged;
Then with acknowledgments herself she charged;
For friendship, of itself an holy tie,
Is made more sacred by adversity.
Now should they part, malicious tongues would say,
They met like chance companions on the way,

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
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The Click

Hoo Wah!!!!
Just because i walk like Obie Won Kenobie
you people talk but you dont even know me
and all these guys they think they want to fight me
and all these girls i know that they dont like me
i made them laugh
they do it just to spite me
a . . . . crowd
and none of them are like me
I dont care what u say
I dont need u anyway
I'll just go about my day
but anyway
You go out on Friday nights
i'll stay in but thats all right
cuz i have found a planet to call my own
in crowd out crowd I dont care
Your crowd my crowd we can share
cuz i have found a planet to call my own
Lets go!!
They call and talk to me on my computer screen
the best years of our lives arent as easy as they seem
and one day we'll look back and then we'll have to laugh
they use to call us babes and they want our autographs
so i dont care what u say
i dont need u anyway
i'll just go about my day but anyway
i dont care what u say
i dont need you anyway
i'll just go about my day
but anyway
u go out on friday nights
i'll stay in but thats all right
cuz i have found a planet to call my own
in crowd out crown i dont care
your crowd my crowd we can share
cuz i have found a planet to call my own
she said she'd call
but i know she won't
she wont
she wont
but anyway
You go out on friday nights
i stay in but thats all right
cuz i have found a planet to call my own
in crowd out crowd i dont care
your crowd my crowd we can share
cuz i have found a planet to call my own
Lets go!
But anyway

[...] Read more

song performed by Good Charlotte
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One Of The Crowd

(lowe/tennant)
--------------------
When I go fishing with my rod
I often get that urge
To fall asleep a sleep so deep that
No-one notices me
Dont want anyone to know my name
Dont want to get a fax
Dont want to meet the royal family
Just cause Ive paid my tax
Dont wanna be seen or heard
Dont want to shout out loud
I want to be part of the herd
One of the crowd
Dressing individually doesnt impress me
I think that its pathetic
Following fashion, I just like it
Dont i?
Dont wanna be seen or heard
Dont want to shout out loud
I want to be part of the herd
One of the crowd
(one of the crowd)
(one of the crowd)
Fishing
Fishing
I never fight, but every night
I think its gonna be alright
I think I might think in spite of
Every - thing
Dont wanna be seen or heard
Dont want to shout out loud
I want to be part of the herd
One of the crowd
One of the crowd
One of the crowd
One of the crowd
One of the crowd
One of the crowd
(one of the crowd)
Fishing
(one of the crowd)
Fishing

song performed by Pet Shop Boys
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The House Of Dust: Complete

I.

The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.

And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.

'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.

We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .

Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.

Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.

Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.

II.

[...] Read more

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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I Swallow

I swallow pride,
I swallow guilt,
I swallow everything he spilt.
I wipe away the remnants of,
What is left of both our love.
I swallow all that is not seen,
I swallow every broken dream,
I swallow when I want to scream,
This by itself is magic.
I swallow if just for his likes,
I swallow and it’s tragic.

poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Night Of The Swallow

The night doesnt like it.
Looks just like your face on the moon, to me.
And I wont let you do
What you want to do.
Its funny how, even now,
Youre laughing.
I wont let you do it.
If you go, Ill let the law know,
And theyll head you off when you touch the ground.
Ooh, please, dont go through with this.
I dont like the sound of it.
Its funny how, even now,
Youre miles away.
I wont let you do it.
I wont let you do it.
I wont let you go through with it.
Meet them over at dover.
Ill just pilot the motor,
Take them over the water
With a hired plane,
And no names mentioned.
Tonights the night of the flight.
Before you know,
Ill be over the water
Like a swallow.
Theres no risk.
Ill whisk them up in no moonlight.
And though pigs can fly,
Theyll never find us
Posing as the night,
And Im home before the morning.
In malta, catch a swallow,
For all of the guilty--to set them free.
Wings fill the window,
And they beat and bleed.
They hold the sky on the other side
Of borderlines.
Meet them over at dover.
Ill just pilot the motor,
Take them over the water,
Like a swallow flying to malta,
With a hired plane,
And no names mentioned.
Tonights the night of the flight.
Before you know,
Ill be over the water
Like a swallow.
Theres no risk.
Ill whisk them up in no moonlight.
And though pigs can fly,

[...] Read more

song performed by Kate Bush
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Collector

I pick things up, I am a collector
And things, well things, they tend to accumulate
I have this net, it drags behind me
It picks up feelings for me to feed upon
There are times, plenty of times
I wish I could let it go
But it's time to breed
And it's got to grow inside me
There are times, plenty of times
I wish I could let it go
But it's time to make me think things
I don't wanna know
I'm trying to fit it all inside
I'm trying to open my mouth wide
I'm trying not to choke
And swallow it all
Swallow it all
Swallow it all
Swallow it all
I am the plague
I am the swarm
All your heart sticks on me
And I keep it warm
It'll make me stay
It won't let me leave
There are so goddamn many of them
It gets hard to breathe
I'm trying to fit it all inside
I'm trying to open my mouth wide
I'm trying not to choke inside
I am a good boy, and I will
Swallow it all
Swallow it all
Swallow it all
Swallow it all
Every last one [19x]

song performed by Nine Inch Nails
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Stranger in Strange Crowd

STRANGER IN STRANGE CROWD

Dreams stranger’s path divide
from crowd’s uneven t[h]read
who's tissue, issues poorly understood, through dread
is left behind, swirls second rate as flotsam on life's tide,
noise windmills, senses silent, life-blood sped,
bled white, so often fearing fear, by wisdom wide,
unblessed, unsteady set sights low instead.

Despite stress, sentiments denied, imagination set aside,
stranger story stores till head heeds heart, until desires well led
fire understanding rich allied with empathy sustaining ride.
Swift Pegasus is supplied
with neither saddle, A to Zed accoutrements life tears to shreds
when vested interests, motives pure collide.

Defy temptations of soft ride
along straight road which, comfort fed,
selects ‘safe way’, too often dreads
free choice, autonomy. Self-pride
corresponds to quest for bread.

Distrust that moment Fortune’s tide
entwines in fickle thread
conformity, convention wed.
Scorn empty homage, those who glide
through vain p[l]ain life, misled.

Survival instinct, safe homestead, a ‘living wage’, priorities
appear, as opportunities to seize as each spins finite set
tripped, snipped, then ripped by Norms with ease.

Far from madding crowd who dares assign
himself true rôle in life, who thinks,
who sifts chaff, grain, drains lees from wine, palms pearls from swine?
Who, intact, acts and interacts, discerning fiction, facts,

opposes expedience, authority which hoodwinks
manipulated herd unheard, which lacks
true overview impartial, thus reacts
rather than responds, its armour: chinks.
On each new generation weigh rigid systems spawned by Fate unkind.
As pawns most men play puppet parts in Time’s relay game of tiddly-winks.

Is search for self through mirrored minds
just base reflection on sight lost?
Insisting on base ‘skills’ man finds
intuitions atrophy - cost

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Firewater

You sat me down beside myself
To show me all the reasons I was wrong for you
Was this for real? It's hard to tell
'Cause it was such a beautiful mess we had got into
I'm gonna overcome this, paper hearts can't win this time
And all along I should have known this wasn't your dream, it was mine
I know you wanted me to give up this life to be
Everything I was back when you had the hands my heart was in
I was never good at goodbye...
Can I swallow this bottle whole?
So this brain in my head can forget your face
When we were starting out, you believed in me without a doubt
You were the finest thing to happen to a boy like me
It's so much harder now, I wanna try and tell you how
There is so much love in me, even though it's hard to see
And I was never good at goodbye...
Can I swallow this bottle whole?
So this brain in my head can forget your face
Can I swallow this bottle whole?
'Cause I'd rather be dead than make more mistakes
Today I couldn't stay awake
Feels like I'm drowning in this firewater lake
I won't be sleeping much tonight
It's not the same without you lying by my side
(Right beside me)
Can I swallow this bottle whole?
So this brain in my head can forget your face
Can I swallow this bottle whole?
'Cause I'd rather be dead than make more mistakes
I know you wanted me to give up my life to be
(Can I swallow this bottle whole?)
Everything I am when you're the only thing that I can see
(Can I swallow this bottle whole?)
I'm sorry but you're not the, not the only one for me
(So this brain in my head can forget your face)
You left me here beside myself
Left me with all the reasons why I was wrong for you

song performed by Yellowcard
Added by Lucian Velea
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Firewater

You sat me down beside myself
To show me all the reasons I was wrong for you
Was this for real? It's hard to tell
'Cause it was such a beautiful mess we had got into
I'm gonna overcome this, paper hearts can't win this time
And all along I should have known this wasn't your dream, it was mine
I know you wanted me to give up this life to be
Everything I was back when you had the hands my heart was in
I was never good at goodbye...
Can I swallow this bottle whole?
So this brain in my head can forget your face
When we were starting out, you believed in me without a doubt
You were the finest thing to happen to a boy like me
It's so much harder now, I wanna try and tell you how
There is so much love in me, even though it's hard to see
And I was never good at goodbye...
Can I swallow this bottle whole?
So this brain in my head can forget your face
Can I swallow this bottle whole?
'Cause I'd rather be dead than make more mistakes
Today I couldn't stay awake
Feels like I'm drowning in this firewater lake
I won't be sleeping much tonight
It's not the same without you lying by my side
(Right beside me)
Can I swallow this bottle whole?
So this brain in my head can forget your face
Can I swallow this bottle whole?
'Cause I'd rather be dead than make more mistakes
I know you wanted me to give up my life to be
(Can I swallow this bottle whole?)
Everything I am when you're the only thing that I can see
(Can I swallow this bottle whole?)
I'm sorry but you're not the, not the only one for me
(So this brain in my head can forget your face)
You left me here beside myself
Left me with all the reasons why I was wrong for you

song performed by Yellowcard
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Princess: A Medley: O Swallow

O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South,
Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves,
And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee.
O tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each,
That bright and fierce and fickle is the South,
And dark and true and tender is the North.
O Swallow, Swallow, if I could follow, and light
Upon her lattice, I would pipe and trill,
And cheep and twitter twenty million loves.

O were I thou that she might take me in,
And lay me on her bosom, and her heart
Would rock the snowy cradle till I died.

Why lingereth she to clothe her heart with love,
Delaying as the tender ash delays
To clothe herself, when all the woods are green?

O tell her, Swallow, that thy brood is flown:
Say to her, I do but wanton in the South,
But in the North long since my nest is made.

O tell her, brief is life but love is long,
And brief the sun of summer in the North,
And brief the moon of beauty in the South.

O Swallow, flying from the golden woods,
Fly to her, and pipe and woo her, and make her mine,
And tell her, tell her, that I follow thee.

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Added by Poetry Lover
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I Saw It Myself (Short Verse Drama)

Dramatis Personae: Adrian, his wife Ester, his sisters Rebecca and Johanna, his mother Elizabeth, the high priest Chiapas, the disciple Simon Peter, the disciple John, Mary Magdalene, worshipers, priests, two angels and Jesus Christ.

Act I

Scene I.- Adrian’s house in Jerusalem. Adrian has just returned home after a business journey in Galilee, in time to attend the Passover feast. He sits at the table with his wife Ester and his sisters, Rebecca and Johanna. It’s just before sunset on the Friday afternoon.

Adrian. (Somewhat puzzled) Strange things are happening,
some say demons dwell upon the earth,
others angelic beings, miracles take place
and all of this when they had put a man to death,
had crucified a criminal. Everybody knows
the cross is used for degenerates only!

Rebecca. (With a pleasant voice) Such harsh words used,
for a good, a great man brother?
They say that without charge
he healed the sick, brought back sight,
cured leprosy, even made some more food,
from a few fishes and loafs of bread…

Adrian. (Somewhat harsh) They say many things!
That he rode into Jerusalem
to be crowned as the new king,
was a rebel against the state,
even claimed to be
the very Son of God,
now that is blasphemy
if there is no truth to it!

Johanna. I met him once.
He’s not the man
that you make him, brother.
There was a strange tranquilly to Him.
Some would say a divine presence,
while He spoke of love that is selfless,
visited the sick, the poor
and even the destitute, even harlots.

Adrian. (Looks up) There you have it!
Harlots! Tax collecting thieves!
A man is know by his friends,
or so they say and probably
there is some truth to it.

Ester. Husband, do not be so quick to judge.
I have seen Him myself, have seen
Roman soldiers marching Him to the hill
to take His life, with a angry crowd
following and mocking Him.

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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