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You can do what you think you can do and you cannot do what you think you cannot.

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Is There A Power That Can Sustain And Cheer

Is there a power that can sustain and cheer
The captive chieftain, by a tyrant's doom,
Forced to descend into his destined tomb--
A dungeon dark! where he must waste the year,
And lie cut off from all his heart holds dear;
What time his injured country is a stage
Whereon deliberate Valour and the rage
Of righteous Vengeance side by side appear,
Filling from morn to night the heroic scene
With deeds of hope and everlasting praise:--
Say can he think of this with mind serene
And silent fetters? Yes, if visions bright
Shine on his soul, reflected from the days
When he himself was tried in open light.

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To Remove A Boredom

anxieties live in the hair
like the number of locks
the white particles in scalp

someone suggests that to remove them
one must try loving a goldfish

that you put in an aquarium
one that you can love and yet cannot love back

one that you speak with
and yet cannot answer back

it is a love in silence where
silence becomes a necessity

or to see an aggression
one need put too little food to so many fish

and see how they all display
actuation in the middle of their hunger

sometimes one feels it too
walking under the rain some people are looking

yet we cannot look back
somethings like what they tell us

and caress us
with all our hands tightly tied

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That Lime Can Squirt And Burn The Eyes

People will not accept...
Or have patience enough to believe,
They can achieve success if they wished...
Based upon their own merit.
And a willingness to be dedicated,
With a sacrifice of time.

Anyone who believes what one achieves,
Is based upon luck and having good genes...
Is not playing with a full deck.
It is best to be what it is one does,
To avoid disappointment of being in a limelight.
For many that lime can squirt and burn the eyes.

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Who Can See And Feel / The Trees As They Are

WHO CAN SEE AND FEEL/ THE TREES AS THEY ARE

Who can see and feel
The trees as they are
The wind as it rains
The light as it trails
The clouds of dust
Goodbye?

Who can know the way
Of a stream
That feels deeper
Into the heart
Of all water sounds?

And beyond all being
Who can find the name of G-d
When no one knows
Who or why or where of how
All is Great and Good?

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You Can

How many times have we said,
we cannot do this or that?

How many times do we say it,
because we do not want to try?

Nothing is impossible,
think positive, and say, you can.

Trying and failing,
is no real crime.

Never to try at all,
now that is a crime.

You never know what you can do,
until you give it a try.

Just keep saying to yourself,
you can, and you will.

13 May 2007

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What Can I Do For You?

You have given everything to me.
What can I do for you?
You have given me eyes to see.
What can I do for you?
Pulled me out of bondage and you made me renewed inside,
Filled up a hunger that had always been denied,
Opened up a door no man can shut and you opened it up so wide
And youve chosen me to be among the few.
What can I do for you?
You have laid down your life for me.
What can I do for you?
You have explained every mystery.
What can I do for you?
Soon as a man is born, you know the sparks begin to fly,
He gets wise in his own eyes and hes made to believe a lie.
Who would deliver him from the death hes bound to die?
Well, youve done it all and theres no more anyone can pretend to do.
What can I do for you?
You have given all there is to give.
What can I do for you?
You have given me life to live.
How can I live for you?
I know all about poison, I know all about fiery darts,
I dont care how rough the road is, show me where it starts,
Whatever pleases you, tell it to my heart.
Well, I dont deserve it but I sure did make it through.
What can I do for you?

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You Can't Take It With You When You Go!

You can't take it with you when you go, boy,
You can't take it with you when you go.
For what good is all your wealth,
If you haven't got your health,
'Cos you can't take it with you when you go.

You can't take it with you when you go, boy,
You can't take it with you when you go.
Grasping relatives look on,
Hoping that you'll soon be gone,
'Cos you can't take it with you when you go.

You can't take it with you when you go, boy,
You can't take it with you when you go.
When they hear you've taken ill,
They'll be hunting for the will,
'Cos you can't take it with you when you go.

You can't take it with you when you go, boy,
You can't take it with you when you go.
It's a shame to think your bread
Will be squandered once you're dead,
'Cos you can't take it with you when you go.

You can't take it with you when you go, boy,
You can't take it with you when you go.
You don't have to spend the lot!
Sell the rolls and buy a yacht,
'Cos you can't take it with you when you go.

You can't take it with you when you go, boy,
You can't take it with you when you go.
Dress the missus up in Bling!
Diamond necklace, brooch and ring,
'Cos you can't take it with you when you go.

For you can scrimp, and you can save,
But you're a long time in your grave!
So spend it now and have some fun - BEFORE you go! ! !

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If You can Keep your Cheese - after Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your cheese while few about you
are holding onto theirs', all envy ease.
If none can get your goat nor cow could doubt you
your scent which, heaven sent, can tell true bries
from gorgonzola, parmesan without you
planning for house mouse contingencies,
or short supply where larder rats may scout to
grind, compromise the tasty rind most please.

If by a whisker cheshire follows trout to
provide fit end for sweet delicacies,
or cheddar meat meal follows leaves no gout to
blur enjoyment, taste buds' harmonies.
If desert heat no threat presents, no pout too
in winter's cold where lizard's blood would freeze,
If neither flood nor drought can mar, throughout you
may triumph over blue mould colonies.

If all kowtow, if none would ever flout you
remembering to bow before ‘big cheese'...
if hole in one you score in club you clout to
take golden trophy - competition flees.
If all above's accomplished taste devout, true,
while others fail to prove their expertise,
your's is the world, which elsewhere's up the spout, few
can make their time your rhyme's real_I_tease!

IF - A Writers' Guild Gild Guile Guide
If you can form and not make norms your master,
conformity, performance formal, flame.
If you inform, share, [fl]airing, flow far faster,
yet let not copyright bind tight to shame.
If you treat critic's inconstructive blaster
with humour, beat him at his game's lame claim,
take not to hea[r]t his tumour, bandage, plaster
half-heartedly, pretend [s]he never came.

If you can couple energy creative
well in advance of others in your field,
without confusing nominative, dative,
rei[g]n arguments through cogency revealed
in context, in a manner innovative,
code palimpsests from all but s[t]age concealed,
If trust in self is never compensative
reaction used when you refused to yield.

If you can link great ends with small beginnings,
and yet not brag, nor tag each copy sold,
If dialogue's more vital than piled winnings,
to trim the quill where will won't be short-sold,
If, ignorance ignored, your story's spinnings
creates a pot no Potter has outsold,
yet you can fi[e]nd the flaw, to fresh beginnings
return to steer towards horizons bold.

If you can write without cash motivation,
self-righteousness avoiding like the plague,
create consensus round an innovation
embraced by all without appearing vague,
If you can span from logic to emotion
set constant course from vested interests clear,
If you can ban all untoward commotion,
while conscience clings to all that it holds dear,

If you can set the good within you flowing
without the itch to pitch beyond kitsch brink,
If you can give the nod and wink while knowing
that mental states aren't always in the pink,
If you use inner kinks to keep on growing
without denying others' right to think,
If you continue for tomorrow sowing
refusing using methods now that stink.

If you can lead lead soldiers Caxton crafted
without kowtow before cold compromise,
If neither editor nor public shafted
the output that your inner soul supplies,
If you can improvise, provide redrafted
communication keyed to catalyze,
you'll find to your surprise that you have rafted
alone on conscious stream your just dream buys.

Writers' Real Mirror Reflection Reel
With inside out, and out, surprised, inside,
When penning verse whose end may, too, begin it,
When rhyming reel with real can coincide
Your's is the world and everything that's in it.
If you can write without cash motivation,
Self-righteousness avoiding like the plague,
Create consensus round an innovation
Embraced by all without appearing vague.
If you can scan, span logic to emotion
Set constant course from vested interests clear,
If you can ban all untoward commotion,
While conscience clings to all that it holds dear,
If rhymes may improvise, spurn prose redrafted,
Communication key to catalyze,
You'll find to your surprise that you have rafted
On stream it seems when wit reverse dream tries.

On stream it seems when wit reverse dream tries
You'll find to your surprise that you have rafted
Communication key to catalyze.
If rhyme may improvise, spurn prose redrafted
While conscience clings to all that it holds dear,
If you can ban all untoward commotion,
Set constant course from vested interests clear.
If you can scan span logic to emotion
Embraced by all without appearing vague,
Create consensus round an innovation,
Self-righteousness avoiding like the plague,
If you can write without cash motivation,
Your's is the world and everything that's in it
When rhyming reel with real can coincide
When penning verse whose end may, too, begin it,
With inside out, and out, surprised, inside!

Cropped Apologies to Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your crops when all the nation
rails, vain assailing creepy crawly bugs,
If you can thrive when most lives' reputation
is knocked for skittles, stumped by snails and slugs,
If you can sow, show though you stay surrounded
by failing harvests sere upon the stem,
where hopes unfounded, speculations grounded,
face farmers who through jealousy condemn.

If greenhouse gases can't delay your planting,
with fallow Brussels' edicts all ignored,
If CO² you compensate by chanting
an incantation to the heavens poured.
If snail trails slip upon your sensor networks,
if nano tech protects your fields' high yield
which on the Futures markets harvests net perks
that from the tax collector stay concealed.

If you can fight Monsanto's sterile sowing,
deny blight warnings, nor fear climate change,
if cash in hand exceeds debts most's greed's owing,
if you're the early bird with worms in range,
If you free farm through seasons, thank your maker
from man's pollution, safe solution find,
yours is the race, you, ace, may need pacemaker
for luck can turn, earn bridges burned behind.

Advice to an Applicant
If you can back your boss and keep on smiling,
while toning down his brash absurdities,
if, having watched the man manhandle filing,
you rearrange the folders pretty please,
if coy and charming, beautiful, beguiling,
anticipating all contingencies,
you manage new accounts, contacts redialling,
correct crass spelling, cover vagaries...

If you can keep your head while he's resiling,
evolve successful counter-strategies,
if ‘mum's the word', discrete, ignoring tyling,
from busy-bodies safe when he agrees.
If you can spend your time in reconciling
his intellectual inanities,
never upset his fragile ego, heiling
whene'er he feels the need, or profits sneeze...

If Windows easy comes, while modem dialing
to DSL migration's not a tease,
if firewall free from viruses hostiling
you clean can keep, recalling password keys,
if the above you show him recompiling
the data lost when he lacks expertise, -
yet know your place as cypher, never riling,
remembering to bow before ‘big cheese'...

If you can stand him publicly reviling
your good ideas, then claim them his with ease,
can watch while rival's ruin he's compiling
so coldly that a lizard's blood would freeze.
If when betrayed by his ambitious wiling
you triumph through innate abilities,
ignoring basic scheming, baser guiling,
you seize the precious point he never sees! ...

If you won't blush when, rash, he'll rush, exiling
your intuitions as freak fantasies,
but confidently while free-time he's whiling,
circumvent his incapacities.
Surpassing him in brains, tact, versatiling,
you never strive to swap your salaries,
but both feet on the ground, still patient, smiling,
can counteract his incoherencies...

If you are sure his image needs restyling,
select the suits that suit down to the tees,
if you are ever ready camomiling,
or sprinkling sugar, creaming, coffee, teas,
if you can trick his wayward infantiling
and censure not his immaturities,
ignore his clumsy tries at fond defling,
yet fondled, tactful, rise from off his knees...

If you take three degrees while reconciling
your private life to further Ph.D.'s,
if you can children bear without work piling
and keep them free from trouble and disease,
if you can spring his quick promotion - vile thing -
and play the game of happy families...
Your's is the job, the rest's cosmetic styling,
Oh prized princess and pride of... secret'ries!

A l'assistante de l'Indirection
Si tu peux supporter de voir tes dossiers
démolis sans souffler mot et puis reclasser,
si tu sais appuyer partout ton PDG
sans sceptique rester quant à ses qualités...

Si tu souris, beauté, sans être emmerdante,
si vive mais jamais surprise, impatiente,
le soutenant quand des contresens fous l'enchantent,
ses lubies supporter sans paroles tranchantes...

Si tu sais sans délais t'adapter au progrès,
les autres anticiper, sans jamais hésiter,
bien le préparer avec de bons conseils,
des envieux protéger ton patron hébété...

Très expérimentée, mais sans prendre de l'age,
compréhensive aider avec ses rattrapages
sans pourtant mériter accéder aux voyages
‘d'études' et aux congrès, - ces minables volages!

Si tu sais lui montrer se servir du clavier,
aux réseaux si primés vite se connecter,
de l'Internet cliquer sur l'intranet branché,
son PC débugger sans jamais se broncher...

Si sa peur du souris, du clic-clic, du mulot
tu peux sans interdits dépasser au boulot,
à ses flagrants délits trouver tout ce qu'il faut,
si tu ses buts poursuis en soufflant le bon mot...

Si tu sais compenser l'orthographe qu'il perd,
scanner, penser, noter, téléphoner, tout faire,
son planning programmer, sans être trop mémère,
le soutenir, si gaie, quand son coeur désespère...

Si tu peux accoucher à l'heure du dîner,
tes enfants élever tous en bonne santé,
ton patron remplacer - ronronnant au soleil -
sans pour autant rêver qu'on t'accorde sa paye.

Si tu sors d'H.E.C. sans prétendre à la gloire,
Sciences Po, c'est fait, sans en faire une histoire,
ou Enarque tu es, faisant dans ton pouvoir
le tout pour manier les re(i) nes du Pouvoir.

Lors mieux qu'homme d'affaires, ou chef de cabinet
mieux que tous ces experts si souvent égarés,
tu seras à tout faire une bonne rêvée,
mieux que mère, sacrée ASSISTANTE tu es!

If
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on';

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!
Rudyard Kipling 1865_1936


Biff! The same father to the same son, now grown up.

If you can keep your job when all about you
Are losing theirs (by cutting down of screw) :
If you can keep yourself - for, make no doubt you
Won't get allowance, just for you to blue.
If you can make a heap by all your winnings
Risked on outsiders backed at Kempton Park,
Don't think that you will always get your innings
And kiss your boss's daughter in the dark.

If you should risk promotion, aught should tempt ye,
Eyeing the safe when all the staff have gone,
And, jemmying it open, find it empty,
And hear the watchman growl to you, ‘Hold on! '
If you should fill the unforgiving ‘minutes'
With names of all the people you have ‘done, '
Yours is the gaol, and everything that's in ti,
And, what is more, you'll get six months, my son.
Rachel Ferguson Nymphs and Satires 1932

A London Sparrow's IF
If you c'n keep alive when li'l bleeders
Come arter t' wi' catapults an' stones;
If you c'n grow up unpertickler feeders,
An' live on rugidge, crumbs, an' ‘addock bones;
If you c'n nest up in the bloomin' gutters,
An' dodge the blinkin' tabby on the tiles;
Nip under wheels an' never git the flutters,
Wear brahn an' no bright-coloured fevver-styles;
If you ain't blown b'nippers (Cor, I'd skin ‘me!) :
Stop y'r shells nah, warm-like, under me;
Yous is the eggs an' everyfink ‘at's in ‘em -
An' when they ‘atch, yor be cock-sparrers, see?
J A LINDON

If You can Keep Your Man
If You can Keep Your Man when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
Avert a break-up when he starts to doubt you,
Without behaving like a tart or shrew;

If you can bake a cake or change a nappy,
Although you've got a good Redbrick degree,
And yet can say you're reasonably happy
When other graduate wives dropp in for tea;

If you can lose yourself in ‘To the Lighthouse',
Yet, changing books, seek first the Thriller shelf,
If you can laugh at Mrs. Mary Whitehouse,
But sometimes wince at Wednesday Plays yourself;

If you stand up for Women's Liberation,
Think sex equality long overdue,
Yet purr when men evince consideration
And in a bus or train stand up for you;

If you can be a protest march frequenter,
But sometimes think the marchers a bit queer,
Yet, spite of everything, stay left of centre,
Oh, well, who knows? You may be right, my dear.
Stanley Sharpless

If You Can Crush
If you can crush, when all your chums are cribbing,
The urge that beckons you to do the same;
Can keep your tongue from telling tales or fibbing,
And can, when others err, take all the blame.

If you can nurse a crush on dear Miss Withers,
Yet bully off with just one silent tear;
Be resolute when even Matron dithers,
And weld the House together with a cheer.

If you can foil the fiendish Russian spy-ring,
Who've ‘got a hold' upon the Head (the swine!)
And by example selfless and inspiring,
Can make those ghastly Juniors toe the line.

If you while staying virgo quite intacta,
Can scoff at those who label you a prude;
And, when you leave, can know you've never slacked or
(Except to Ma'moiselle) been flip or rude.

If you can scale such pinnacles of virtue
And earn your teachers' praises as ‘a brick',
The truth, dear girl, (I do so hate to hurt you) -
The simple truth, dear Daphne, is you're thick!
Martin Fagg

IF
If you can stand the Quest and all her antics
When all around you turn somersaults upon her deck;
And go aloft when no one has told you
And not fall down and break your blooming neck;

If you can work like Wild and also like Wuzzles
Spend a convivial night with some old bean,
And then come down and meet the Boss at breakfast
And never breathe a word of where you've been.

If you can fill the port and starboard bunkers
With fourteen tons of coal; and call it fun;
Yours is the ship and everything that's in it
And you're a marvel; not a man my son.
Ernest H Shackleton

(28 July 2007)

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What I Can Be To You

i can be
whatever you want me to be
i can be a whisper
to your ear

on storms
i can be the lighthouse
of your lost ship

when something sinks
give me the sign

i can grieve
and turn off the light
i can offer
the consolation of darkness
it will be so dark
it will be, it will be

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Can You Feel The Winds?

I cast my fate to the winds
and hope that they will blow
into the direction where true love lies
and where all true lovers go.

For the winds are peaceful breezes
until I think of thee.
Then they become tempestuous
and as fierce as they can be.

And if you're peacefully sleeping
and cannot hear their sound
then all the fates that have ever been
will not bring you 'round.

And only I will feel the winds
as they make their way.
And you, my love will never know
that my feelings blew away.

If you enjoy my love poetry visit my bookstore and my 2 love books
at http: //stores.lulu.com/reizerj

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You Can't Say (You Don't Love Me Anymore)

You can say, old things must end
You can smile and even pretend
And you can turn and walk away so easily
But you can't say, you don't love me anymore.
You can dream of what might have been
You can cry for what won't pass again
And you can say there's every reason you should leave
But you can't say, you don't love me anymore.
You can say I'm right you're wrong
You can make your plans to find somebody else
But I can't believe you can carry on
We know what should be said
But you can't find the words instead.
You say, old things must end
You can smile and even pretend
And you can turn and say you're leaving me for good
But you can't say, you don't love me anymore.
And you can turn and say you're leaving me for good
But you can't say, you don't love me
First just say, you don't love me anymore...

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Stuck in a Moment You Can't Get Out Of

I'm not afraid
Of anything in this world
There's nothing you can throw at me
That I haven't already heard

I'm just trying to find
A decent melody
A song that I can sing
In my own company

I never thought you were a fool
But darling look at you
You gotta stand up straight
Carry your own weight
These tears are going nowhere baby

You've got to get yourself together
You've got stuck in a moment
And now you can't get out of it

Don't say that later will be better
Now you're stuck in a moment
And you can't get out of it

I will not forsake
The colors that you bring
The nights you filled with fireworks
They left you with nothing

I am still enchanted
By the light you brought to me
I listen through your ears
Through your eyes I can see

And you are such a fool
To worry like you do
I know it's tough
And you can never get enough
Of what you don't really need now
My

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I Am Real, You Can Touch Me.

i do not live upon
a dream
i cannot live so well
in one of those
magical rooms of that
castle in the
sky

i live here
upon the floors of what is real
white sands slipping
from the hands of my
five fingers
i sleep in this bed
of reality
my pillow this conscience
of every hour
of my days

i do not exchange the
roughness of the touch of your hands
to what is still ideal
coming from that future
that is yet
to come

what i have is minimal
imperfect
what you dream is colossal
and well thought of
as perfect

i do not envy you
mist upon a mountain
i am the dew upon a leaf
real
glowing to the lights
of packet sun

i am
what you can touch and smell and
see
what you can mold
with the skin from your tongue
i am massive
as a storm that can blow away
the walls of your house
do not be afraid
i am for change
and for the better
i do not exempt
destruction
it is one of the steps of the stairs
towards
the magnificence of that
heavenly dwelling.

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I can make you Happy

I can be clown if it makes you laugh, I can
be a big tree so you can climb and see
beautiful world for free, I can be a fish for you
to make you happy, even turn myself into a
good fairy as you wish making your day be
blessed

every day, as you look up the clouds, all are
fall of memories, leaving all misery behind
and embrace, the glamorous wind surfing your
soft lips watching my chinita eye, like bubble
in the air ready to merge the blue eyes in the
ocean, facing the pearl of the orient sea

I can be your servant, or captain of the Caribbean
galleon, I can be your friend telling you great
stories yes! I will be a king in the castle, where
our children and children are happy and I can be
your shield like a shinning armor in fighting
against our enemies

I am what you want, I will do what you tell, and
I can be a leader of the many, and a good father
for you, for anything you say, I can do as long that
you’re in my side, watching me in all my day......
thank you darling

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Can't You Remember?

How often have you heard me cry?
How often have you not asked why
the tears are flowing down my face?
Maybe it's guilt you can't erase.
The lack of caring has gotten to me.
And all of those tears have got to be
drying me up inside.

We started out with so much to do.
There was never a time when tears would flow
because you always seemed to know
how to keep our love alive,
how to make our love just thrive,
making me feel like a bride.

We raised our kids and moved along
helping each other when things went wrong.
And eventually we got through it all.
When the kids moved out I recall
that what we had moved out too.
Now it was just me and you,
trying to hide our pride.

I know we can't turn back the clock.
You know I still love you. You're my rock.
And so my tears are flowing again
'cause I can still remember when
all that we had was just we two
sharing a love that was brand new
when no feelings would we hide.

But somewhere in the back of my mind
I have the feeling we still might find
what it was we had back then
and maybe we can bring it back again.
If we can't and it's all gone
I know that I will have to move on
and turn a brand new tide.


If you enjoyed this poem visit my site at
stores.lulu.com/reizerj

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How Can You Drive With A Stuck Clutch?

Why do you do what you do with a stuck clutch?
Or are you proving you can drive and do it without limits.
Why you do what you do with a stuck clutch?
Or is this your way of showing me,
With a mind you can overcome...
To get what's done.

Why do you do what you do with a stuck clutch?
Or are you proving you can drive and do it without limits.
Why you do what you do with a stuck clutch?
Or is this your way of showing me,
With a mind you can overcome...
To get what's done.

How can you drive with a stuck clutch?
I've never seen it done.
How can you drive with a stuck clutch?
You're the only one.
How can you drive with a stuck clutch?
Is this your way of showing me,
With a mind you can overcome...
To get what's done.

How can you drive with a stuck clutch?
I've never seen it done.
How can you drive with a stuck clutch?
You're the only one.
How can you drive with a stuck clutch?
Is this your way of showing me,
With a mind you can overcome...
To get what's done.

Why do you do what you do with a stuck clutch?
Or are you proving you can drive and do it without limits.
Why you do what you do with a stuck clutch?
Is this your way of showing me,
With a mind you can overcome...
To get what's done.

How can you drive with a stuck clutch?
Is this your way of showing me,
With a mind you can overcome...
To get what's done.

How can you drive with a stuck clutch?
You're the only one.
How can you drive with a stuck clutch?
Is this your way of showing me,
With a mind you can overcome...
To get what's done.

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You Will Get What's Coming

What makes you think,
You can play me cheap.
Like a bootlegged DVD,
And get away with it?

Look around you
What part of Earth living the experience,
Is suspended from it
And still exists?
And as part of it
From where I observe with contributions,
I attempt to make to express a thankfulness
I am grounded to grow aware,
Of a 'reality' that escapades are mind made.

You and I may have grown,
With similar capabilities.
But being conscious of doing anything to me
Seems to have affected your beliefs,
You can do to me and go unscathed.

There is not one inhabitant on or 'of' this Earth,
That does a misdeed to another
That will not 'one day' become victimized,
By what has been done!

You may have had your fun
Believing what you did to have done,
To lie and deceive like many 'choose' to perceive
They also can do,
And not be repaid for those efforts.

There is no hiding away to convince others,
You have no clue why someone else does
What they do to you,
And 'you' are innocently treated
As a culprit who has initiated an action,
That has been mistakened.

What makes you think,
You can play me cheap.
Like a bootlegged DVD,
And get away with it?

Look around you
What part of Earth living the experience,
Is suspended from it
And still exists?
And as part of it
From where I observe with contributions,
I attempt to make to express a thankfulness
I am grounded to grow aware,
Of a 'reality' that escapades are mind made.

And folks like you who declare not to know,
Why others do to you what they do
Will eventually expose yourselves.
Physically, mentally
However Mother Nature chooses to do it to you.
You will get what's coming.
And at a price you can afford.

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What Do You Do

(8/17/11)

There is always this thought that enters our minds
Of always being left behind.
What do you do when all your loved ones have gone
And by yourself, you must carry on.

When all hopes and dreams are dwindling away
And on your knees you fall to pray.
When it seems that they fall on deaf ears
And you think that no one cares.

What do you do when you feel empty inside
And to people around you, you tend to lie.
What do you do when you come to an empty house
And your children are gone, and so is your spouse.

What do you do when you’re always in a daze
And people around you stay totally amazed
Wondering how you Face the day.

Then you wake up one morning and sitting
At the edge of the bed, and facing the day
You truly do dread.
Then you feel something stirring inside
A feeling so strong that it can’t be denied.

No matter how bad things are, you always
Have something to give- this is the reason
That GOD has elected you to live.

Helping people who are hospitalized
And have lost all faith and hope
And do not know how to cope.
The elderly who can not walk
And needs someone with whom to talk.
A person with cancer who doesn’t have
Long to live, and being able to put a smile
On their face, because it’s all you can give.
A child who has been in and out of hospitals
Since their birth.
Who can not do things that healthy children can do
And you hear your spouses voice come out of the blue.

Whispering in your ear, that you must share
All the love that you have inside, and put smiles
On those who just sit and cry.

We all have a purpose in our Older years
Other than waiting for death to knock on our door.
So I will get myself up and out of this bed
And to the hospitals I will head.

I will try to help every one that I can
And give them a shoulder and a helping hand.

Give HOPE, LOVE, AND FAITH
To all around, and when death comes you
Won’t hear a sound.

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Why Do You Think They Call It Dope?

Warning, MC's stand back
You better take a chill and observe the skill
of the man who can, so understand god damn
I got a masterpiece a master plan and a brand new
way to attack the wack cut 'em down to size
to realize LL's back
Don't sleep I'm too sweet to repeat a beat
a lyric or rhyme I wouldn't waste your time
with weak words, that's for nerds, you never heard a rhyme
So you deserve a line rougher than rough enough is enough
I'm, gonna slaughter choke ya smoke ya like a sauna
You don't really wanna
But if you wanna battle on here's a lesson: stop 'fessin
I'm a lethal weapon, you better get to steppin
off the stage, and outta my face
You're too light ?? save the bass
Why do you think they call it dope?
Why do you why do you think they call it dope?
It seems like people-'ll never understand
On the microphone I'm not your average man
I cool out sometimes, I save my best rhymes
and then the toy boy thinks that he can come and get mine
Let your friends gas him up, talk trash and make bets
then gets played like those kids who tried to rob Goetz
You don't know what I'm sayin? Yo check it
Give me any microphone and god damnit I'll wreck it!
I'm coldblooded I'm about to mutilate
Last year before I left I told you to wait
But you couldn't stay loyal started goin astray
Thinkin Tom, Dick, and Harry can mess with Cool J
Is you crazy? I'm boomin, got the talent of two men
The stamina and skill in battle to kill a few men
The heart of a lion, the loyalty of a soldier
I wreck your whole mob then tell ya I told ya!
Why do you think they call it dope?
Why do you why do you think they call it dope?
Cause I don't jab around you, I come inside
Bob and weave, deceive until you get tongue tied
Brawl for all give a lyrical display
and next time you know better than to get in my way
"Yo whassup wit LL?
Will he ever make another 'Rock the Bells'?"
Yo brothers is comin up, "I think he's fallin off
I don't think he's still 'hard as hell'"
See, this is the attitude, of ignorant ones
cause they don't know, all them MC'sll get done
One or two might say, "Yo L'll be back"
but the rest they be suckin on SUGAR SMACKS
Talkin that crap about who's better than me
You think so? Just let a MC
make me mad enough, to really wanna battle
I put a L on his ass like he was cattle!
Why do you think they call it dope?
Why do you why do you think they call it dope?
Just cause I make a love song, or say a simple rhyme
"Boom, move over L, it's Miller Time"
I don't know whether to laugh, get ill or get wild
Cause brothers don't realize, I got so many styles
like triplin up the words, confusin all the nerds
Heard put my sights on mics and ?? flippin above the word
to the mother, no other
MC brother, can mess with Ladies Lover
I'm original, I'm bright under color
And when I get on the mic, yo I burn rubber
Can't stand criticism, give 'em an exorcism
Been rockin for years, now I have wisdom
The way I'm kickin the lines you can hear my tongue twist
and it'll have your neck spinnin like you're spineless
I'm pickin 'em up, throwin 'em down
Hypin 'em up and slowin 'em down
All of these words with only one tongue
Shakin 'em up and then bakin 'em up
Smash boom bash scrapin 'em up
Now you thought that was hard, I just begun
Cause I'm a roll on the microphone
And take control just like Al Capone
I'm notorious, you're foolish if you sleep on me
Cause I'm too slick to let a rapper get sweet on me
Try to make a move for my heavyweight belt
You get played like the Wizard of Oz witch, you melt
Yo I'm crazy dope, with super hype lines
and a lot of hype lines make one dope rhyme
Why do you think they call it dope?
Why do you why do you think they call it dope?
Why do you think they call it dope?
Why do you why do you think they call it dope?
Cause that's what it is
Why do you think they call it dope?
Why do you why do you think they call it dope?
Why do you think they call it dope?
[cutting and scratching "Straight from Queens" to the end]

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Patrick White

What Did You See Just Before You Committed Suicide?

in memory of Heidi Clow

What did you see just before you committed suicide?
Did the snake mesmerize the bird that used to sing inside
your rib cage, turn it to stone, dis the lyrics of its song
with a cosmic hiss that underwhelmed all other sound?
Did you die from the inside out or the outside in?
Was there a light that summoned you to the end of the tunnel
like candles on the hillsides of Blue Skies, or did you
step out on stage in the glare of a bare lightbulb
in an interrogation room where you finally answered
what you were keeping secret from yourself? I won't ask you
to forgive the candour of this if it's cruel. I've been
the kind of demonic fool the earth opens up
and swallows from time to time, so I know
death has its jewels as well as life and when the dark energy
expands your eyes like space, you can see them shine
like wolf's eyes in the black mirror of a midnight lake.

And I've always found the brightest diamonds of clarity
that could cut through everything like the clear light of the void
in the darkest, deepest diamond mines of my igneous soul.
And I remember the cotton candy clouds of the pink angels
before I jumped from paradise, but that was so many shrouds ago
I've learned to keep my fire at a distance from inflammable hair-dos
that have been backcombed and hairsprayed too much.
I don't graft a crutch to the tree of knowledge
and expect it to bloom. And even when the moon blossoms
on the dead branch, what fruit ever comes of it?

I don't think you ever liked me much, but if push
had ever come to shove I would have thrown my weight
like the mass of a black hole on your side of the argument.
My heart was too much of a stump to efoliate
in the fires of spring and I was autumns away
from the gates of the garden you brought to the door
with flaming angels and untempered swords
that weren't hard enough to fall upon yet,
but you were in love with my room mate for awhile
and I gave up my studio to the two of you
so you could both work the guile and wile and style
of your respective arts like alchemical spells upon each other
while I retired to the living room like a benign sunset
with a smile on its face over the darkening hills
to re-read Spengler's Decline of the West
intrigued like a ghost at a seminar-seance
by the morphology of knowledge forms based on metaphors.

And I remember you coming over once,
bombed on Fireball Whiskey, grabbing the neck
of the half-finished bottle like an unexploded artillery shell
and falling backwards over a table into a large rubber plant
as you collapsed like a laughing inferno that bounced back
in adolescent tears as we picked you up like a circus tent
or an emergency parachute that didn't open in time,
covered in potting soil, as you apologized over-crucially
about the slashes and striations that scored a painting of mine
I finally repaired years later with scars of pthalo blue after you died.

And I thought of you as a high wire act on your spinal cord that night
as I mixed the luminosity and values of the hues
on a palette that seemed like a small, sacrificial altar to you
of my grief and affection in the crazy wisdom of a human insight
into the nature of the tragic follies of love and life and how
we endear loss to ourselves like wounds, like graves, like flowers
we inflict upon the heart in such a way they'll never close
because the sorrow is what binds you to us
like a rose to the thorns in our bloodstream.

And then all your friends came over in a squall of concern
as Spengler and I went and stood by the large bay windows
and looked out into a vast night we knew we'd never understand
as you poured your beauty and passion, darkness and doubts
out on the couch in a flashflood of tears and alcohol, realization and laughter.

Only ever saw you in passing after that and sometimes
you'd say hello back and sometimes you wouldn't
as you seemed embedded in some kind of tempestuous trance
oblivious to the world as you danced around your own fire
deep inside, though I never thought it was any of my business
to guess what it was you were praying for or whether
you were firewalking a warpath into the military as I later
heard you did and thought how strange that such a dancer
should want to learn to march and even Spengler didn't have an answer.

Or I'd watch you from the Perth Restaurant, strutting your stuff
up Gore Street like a model on a runway, range-finding
the effects of your cosmetics and high heels and auburn hair
on an encampment of your boyfriends absent without leave.
But I never saw you, rare for the young women of this town,
being led around by a donkey like an eagle on a leash
and by that I knew the intensity of your vulnerable independence
and the savage innocence of a passionate heart in the wilderness.
Then, I forget who told me, but in a single sentence, you were dead.
An ice storm had shattered the rose like a crashing chandelier
and blunted all its thorns like those stilettoes you used to wear
The dance, the strut, the march was over. Late frost
on an early metaphor for the springtime coming into its prime.


But I need to know, when you fell into the black hole
did it turn into the fountainmouth of a white one on the other side
of a whole new universe that hadn't grown as old and blind as this one?
Teach me the signs so I can rearrange the stars in time
like new astrolabes and starmaps to keep the Milky Way
from turning into the Great Barrier Reef that rips the hull
out of the lifeboat of the moon as it passes over
the brain coral and starmud of other shipwrecked minds
that put to sea looking for salvation in the oceans of the rose
only to return like salvage from the storm washed up
on these isolated shores of haunted islands in the mindstream.

Unborn, unperishing, I believe we're all here indelibly
because you can't pour the universe out of the universe
or where's it going to go, and since the whole is in every part,
that includes you and I and everyone in one way or another
eternally. Is it so, Heidi? Do we move like waterclocks
from world to world, our eyes evaporate into the light
because whatever form we take, fireflies or lightning,
we are, perennially, the shining of our own unique insight
by which the light is known by the light we cast upon it?

That we're the light by which the stars are known
and those immensities in which we hold them deep inside,
as now we do you who have added yourself to the whole
so expansively we must grow like space to keep up with you
and the way we humanize the unknown, as the stars do
like lanterns entering a dark room, is to embrace it as intimately
as you have like the available dimension of a future
we've all been moving into like supernovas and galaxies
from the beginningless beginning of all things, tomorrow
like yesterday, here, now, as you are, and have always been
as if the history of seeing were the biography of the light
that blossoms in each of us like wildflowers in the starfields,
or in every wild rose, as you were, the incarnation of a passionate insight,
even in its passage in the autumn when the rosaries
of the Canada geese call as they're crossing the moon
high overhead, transmigrating the souls of the dead
to the thresholds of new constellations hidden under our eyelids
like Venus in the Pleiades near Aldebaran just before dawn?
No death or birth in the moment, like time in a dream,
how can here and now where we all abide with the stars
and the planets and their shepherd moons ever be gone?

It's night now, Heidi, back in Perth here on earth and it's raining.
I'm watching the ripples in the puddles playing water like music
all up and down Foster Street from my upstairs apartment window.
And how the streetlights are dancing in their garish gypsy scarves
barefoot to the rhythm. As I imagine you're doing right now
among similar wavelengths just out of reach of my eyes
Though I can see you so clearly when I see you with my heart
as I do the stars and the willows and the waterbirds
down by the Tay River when I stand on one bank of life
and look up at the other like the far shore of the Milky Way
wheeling like the girandole of the spiral arm of a starfish.

And though I thought of putting poppies and wheat upon your grave,
remembering you were a sailor back in my hometown,
and hope is a lifeboat that keeps us all from drowning in our tears,
it reminds me of you somehow, and I make a wish upon it
like the star of Isis the ancient sailors used to tattoo
on the left palm of their hands to make it through the storm
and had, somehow, come through the squalls of time like you
there in the heights, a water-sylph of the radiance
shining on like that star just to the right of midnight,
breaking through these clouds of unknowing, like Heidi Clow
looking down upon us all on the nightwatch,
whispering like the carillon of the rain, three bells and all's well.

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