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The thing about rights is that in the end you can't prove what should be considered a right.

quote by Paul Farmer
Added by Lucian Velea
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Will you still accept me as your husband? ? ?

Does only going to the corporate office from an exact 9 in the morning to 9 in the bewitching night; prove that a man is indeed an infallibly true husband to his jubilantly vivacious wife?

Does only possessing a perfectly sculptured masculine and virile body; prove that a man is indeed an unconquerably blessed husband to his euphorically tantalizing wife?

Does only earning infinite bundles of quintessential currency note every month; prove that a man is indeed an inimitably worthy husband to his pristinely effulgent wife?

Does only attending the world’s premium cocktail parties and conferences; prove that a man is indeed a pricelessly undefeatable husband to his wondrously enthralling wife?

Does only draping each conceivable pore of the skin with the most opulent fabric; pearls; and ties available in the world; prove that a man is indeed a stupendously enamoring husband to his beautifully effervescent wife?

Does only attracting gargantuan hordes of crowds towards with the mere essence of a celebrity personality; prove that a man is indeed a deservedly smart husband to his insuperably redolent wife?

Does only unceasingly perpetuating the atmosphere with the scent of majestic cigar smoke and kingly wine; prove that a man is indeed a effulgently princely husband to his poignantly intricate wife?

Does only having an inimitably infallible signature proudly embossed on every existing check; prove that a man is indeed a regally eclectic husband to his triumphantly gyrating wife?
Does only conversing at an unbelievably adroit nineteen to the dozen in the most enviably impregnable British accent; prove that a man is indeed an amazingly fulfilling husband to his unimpeachably contemporary wife?

Does only exuding into a billion globules of perseveringly golden sweat every day; prove that a man is indeed an earnestly hard working husband to his piquantly boisterous wife?

Does only possessing supernaturally miraculous qualities of being able to fly bare-chested in freezing air; prove that a man is indeed a truly devoted husband to his eternally replenishing wife?

Does only possessing an unparalleled sense of humor wherein even the most deliriously suicidal metamorphosed into smiling saints; prove that a man is indeed a proficiently versatile husband to his robustly exhilarating wife?

Does only having a magically unwavering baritone that spell bound millions in minute seconds; prove that a man is indeed a bountifully ardent husband to his unfathomably sensuous wife?

Does only writing countless lines of “Nobel Prize Winning” literature on Immortal Love; prove that a man is indeed an uniquely pioneering husband to his unconventionally Samaritan wife?

Does only endlessly winning over every territory of the boundless earth; prove that a man is indeed a fervently unassailable husband to his magnetically enthralling wife?

Does only being inundated with infinite hair and glistening muscle on the chest; prove that a man is indeed an astonishingly audacious husband to his gregariously pretty wife?

Does only being an unequivocally svelte emperor on the world stage of unprecedented power; prove that a man is indeed a wondrously iridescent husband to his gorgeously supple wife?

Does only indefatigably gallivanting in the most scintillating of “Rolls Royce” and “Mercedes”; prove that a man is indeed an unmatched dream husband to his unfathomably vanity wife?

Does only astoundingly sketching the persona of any organism on the unceasing Universe merely by fantasizing about the same; prove that a man is indeed a jubilantly embracing husband to his charmingly benign wife?

And if didn’t posses even a single quality amongst the several spell bindingly enriching ones as listed above; although each beat of my immortally throbbing heart loves you like noone else could on this tirelessly proliferating planet; will you still accept me as your husband; O! darling wife? ? ?

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Get Up, Stand Up

Get up, stand up: stand up for your rights!
Get up, stand up: stand up for your rights!
Get up, stand up: stand up for your rights!
Get up, stand up: dont give up the fight!
Preacherman, dont tell me,
Heaven is under the earth.
I know you dont know
What life is really worth.
Its not all that glitters is gold;
alf the story has never been told:
So now you see the light, eh!
Stand up for your rights. come on!
Get up, stand up: stand up for your rights!
Get up, stand up: dont give up the fight!
Get up, stand up: stand up for your rights!
Get up, stand up: dont give up the fight!
Most people think,
Great God will come from the skies,
Take away everything
And make everybody feel high.
But if you know what life is worth,
You will look for yours on earth:
And now you see the light,
You stand up for your rights. jah!
Get up, stand up! (jah, jah!)
Stand up for your rights! (oh-hoo!)
Get up, stand up! (get up, stand up!)
Dont give up the fight! (life is your right!)
Get up, stand up! (so we cant give up the fight!)
Stand up for your rights! (lord, lord!)
Get up, stand up! (keep on struggling on!)
Dont give up the fight! (yeah!)
We sick an tired of-a your ism-skism game -
Dyin n goin to heaven in-a jesus name, lord.
We know when we understand:
Almighty God is a living man.
You can fool some people sometimes,
But you cant fool all the people all the time.
So now we see the light (what you gonna do? ),
We gonna stand up for our rights! (yeah, yeah, yeah!)
So you better:
Get up, stand up! (in the morning! git it up!)
Stand up for your rights! (stand up for our rights!)
Get up, stand up!
Dont give up the fight! (dont give it up, dont give it up!)
Get up, stand up! (get up, stand up!)
Stand up for your rights! (get up, stand up!)
Get up, stand up! ( ... )
Dont give up the fight! (get up, stand up!)
Get up, stand up! ( ... )

[...] Read more

song performed by Bob Marley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dont You Think It's Time?

children have rights,
women have rights.
lovers have rights.
people of all religions,
and even atheists have rights.
people of all colors,
speaking every language have rights.
trees and rivers have rights.
cats and dogs have rights.
cattle have rights,
homeless people have rights.
prisoners have rights.
democrats and republicans have rights,
even socialists have rights.
the jobless have rights,
old people have rights...
and the hungry have
the right to be fed!

damnit! dont you think it's time?

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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With A Pity That You Want

With a pity that you want,
To prove it.
With a pity that you want.

And with a pity that you want,
To prove it.
With a pity that you want.

You weep too deep,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
To realize...
A pain you keep.
With a pity that you want,
To prove it.
With a pity that you want.

Other people who have less,
Do their best to not in public bleed.

But...
You're one of those,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
Yes you're one of those,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.

You weep too deep,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
And your wants are weak.
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.

Other people who have less,
Do their best to not in public bleed.

But...
You're one of those,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
Yes you're one of those,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.

You're one of those,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
Yes you're one of those,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Man Could Get Arrested

(tennant/lowe)
--------------
Do it (do it do it do it do it do it...)
Do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it...
Do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now do it now
Do it (do it do it do it do it...)
Late on tuesday evening, such a commotion in the street
Someone broke a window, and someones head got beat
A wave of breaking bottles, crashed across the city street
And someone got arrested, for the breach of the peace
If you wanna walk (walk walk walk walk)
Dont talk (talk talk talk talk)
Do it! (do it do it do it do it do it do it do it)
If you wanna earn (earn earn earn earn)
Learn (learn learn learn)
How to do it! (do it do it do it do it do it do it do it)
And if you wanna ride (ride ride ride ride)
Dont hide (dont hide)
Do it! (do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it)
If you wanna stay (stay stay stay)
Dont say (say say say)
Prove it! (prove it prove it prove it prove it prove it prove it)
How much longer are you gonna sit and talk to me?
You got so many problems and a split personality
You want to see a doctor before our love is tested
How much longer a man could get arrested?
If you wanna walk (walk walk walk walk)
Dont talk (talk talk talk talk)
Do it! (do it do it do it do it do it do it do it)
If you wanna earn (earn earn earn earn)
Learn (learn learn learn learn)
How to do it! (do it do it do it do it do it)
And if you wanna ride (ride ride ride ride)
Dont hide (hide hide hide hide hide)
Do it! (do it do it do it do it do it do it)
And if you wanna stay (stay stay stay)
Dont say (say say say)
Prove it! (prove it prove it prove it prove it prove it prove it)
Youve got your health, youve got everything, thats what my doctor said
You may not have much cash, but youve got a roof over your head
Of course I said I loved you, not just cause you insisted
How much longer a man could get arrested?
If you wanna walk (walk walk walk walk)
Dont talk (talk talk talk talk)
Do it! (do it do it do it do it do it do it do it)
If you wanna earn (earn earn earn earn)
Learn (learn learn learn learn)
How to do it! (do it do it do it do it do it do it)
If you wanna ride
Dont hide

[...] Read more

song performed by Pet Shop Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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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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Prove Your Love

Written by christine mcvie.
Ooh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, ooooooh...
I want to be, inside your heart
Thats place, the place for me
But I could understand, it wont be easy
Youve got to prove, prove your love to me
Youve got to prove, prove your love to me
Like I say it aint easy
To let your heart run wild
So if you want to please me baby
Then dont act like a child
But I can understand, it won t be easy
Youve got to prove, prove your love to me
Youve got to prove, prove your love to me
It doesnt matter if youre far away
Or right here by my side
Thats the way I feel about it
We cant let the whole thing slide...
So if you cant see me
Right where you are
They why dont you send for me baby
By the nearest star
It wont be easy, and youve got to prove
Youve got to prove, prove your love to me
Youve got to prove, prove your love to me
Ooooohhhh, oooooohh, ooooooh...

song performed by Fleetwood Mac
Added by Lucian Velea
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Equal Rights,2011

equal rights to live,
equal rights to love.
equal rights to believe,
to speak out, to stand up
and be counted.

equal rights to work,
equal rights to study.
equal rights to build.
equal rights to profess faith,
equal rights to pray.

equal rights to give...
equal rights to live,
equal rights to love!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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All Things Considered

All things considered I'm doin' just fine even though
You left a hole the size of Texas deep inside of my heart
The way I feel I should be losing my mind
But all things considered
I'm doin just fine
Woke up this morning to the sound of you slammin' the door
I got served a piece of paper for breakfast that said
You don't live here no more
And the dog won't let me pet him, he just lays around
And growls at my feet
And the paper boy forgot me again
I should have stayed in bed asleep
All things considered I'm doin' just fine even though
You left a hole the size of Texas deep inside of my heart
The way I feel I should be losing my mind
But all things considered
I'm doin' just fine
Well my car broke down again right before it ran out of gas
Yeah my boss is still ringing in my head
One more time and your out on your... yeah
Well I can't wait till that five o'clock whistle blows
So I can sit in traffic all day
And end up going home alone
All things considered I'm doin just fine even though
You left a hole the size of Texas deep inside of my heart
The way I feel I should be losing my mind
But all things considered
I'm doin' just fine
All things considered I'm doin' just fine even though
You left a hole the size of Texas deep inside of my heart
The way I feel I should be losing my mind
But all things considered
I'm doin' just fine

song performed by Yankee Grey, music by Tim Hunt
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto I

THE ARGUMENT

The Knight and Squire resolve, at once,
The one the other to renounce.
They both approach the Lady's Bower;
The Squire t'inform, the Knight to woo her.
She treats them with a Masquerade,
By Furies and Hobgoblins made;
From which the Squire conveys the Knight,
And steals him from himself, by Night.

'Tis true, no lover has that pow'r
T' enforce a desperate amour,
As he that has two strings t' his bow,
And burns for love and money too;
For then he's brave and resolute,
Disdains to render in his suit,
Has all his flames and raptures double,
And hangs or drowns with half the trouble,
While those who sillily pursue,
The simple, downright way, and true,
Make as unlucky applications,
And steer against the stream their passions.
Some forge their mistresses of stars,
And when the ladies prove averse,
And more untoward to be won
Than by CALIGULA the Moon,
Cry out upon the stars, for doing
Ill offices to cross their wooing;
When only by themselves they're hindred,
For trusting those they made her kindred;
And still, the harsher and hide-bounder
The damsels prove, become the fonder.
For what mad lover ever dy'd
To gain a soft and gentle bride?
Or for a lady tender-hearted,
In purling streams or hemp departed?
Leap'd headlong int' Elysium,
Through th' windows of a dazzling room?
But for some cross, ill-natur'd dame,
The am'rous fly burnt in his flame.
This to the Knight could be no news,
With all mankind so much in use;
Who therefore took the wiser course,
To make the most of his amours,
Resolv'd to try all sorts of ways,
As follows in due time and place

No sooner was the bloody fight,
Between the Wizard, and the Knight,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
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Prove It All Night

Ive been working real hard, trying to get my hands clean,
Tonight well drive that dusty road from monroe to angeline,
To buy you a gold ring and pretty dress of blue,
Baby just one kiss will get these things for you,
A kiss to seal our fate tonight,
A kiss to prove it all night.
(chorus)
Prove it all night,
Girl theres nothing else that we can do,
Sp prove it all night, prove it all night,
And girl Ill prove it all night for you.
Everybodys got a hunger, a hunger they cant resist,
Theres so much that you want, you deserve much more than this,
But if dreams came true, oh, wouldnt that be nice,
But this aint no dream were living through tonight,
Girl, you want it, you take it, you pay the price.
(chorus)
Prove it all night, prove it all night girl and call the bluff,
Prove it all night, prove it all night and girl,
I prove it all night for your love.
Baby, tie your hair back in a long white bow,
Meet me in the fields out behind the dynamo,
You hear the voices telling you not to go,
They made their choices and theyll never know,
What it means to steal, to cheat, to lie,
What its like to live and die.
(chorus)
To prove it all night...

song performed by Bruce Springsteen
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Giving Up Should Be A Thought To Rid

Giving up should never be an option,
For anyone...
With more to be done.
Giving up should never be considered.
Giving up should be a thought to rid.

Giving up should never be an option,
For anyone...
With more to be done.
Giving up should never be considered.
Giving up should be a thought to rid.

People who've been spoiled haven't lived,
To know all there is...
About life.
To let it quickly fizzle into an abyss.
It's about risks!
That's what life is!

Giving up should never be considered.
Giving up should be a thought to rid.

People who've been spoiled haven't lived,
To know all there is...
About life.
Giving up should never be considered.
Giving up should be a thought to rid.

Giving up should never be an option,
For anyone...
With more to be done.
Giving up should never be considered.
Giving up should be a thought to rid.

People who've been spoiled haven't lived,
To know that living life is taking risks.
And...
Giving up should never be an option,
For anyone...
With more to be done.
Giving up should never be considered.
Giving up should be a thought to rid.

Giving up should never be considered.
Giving up should be a thought to rid.
Giving up should be a thought to rid.
Yes,
Giving up should be a thought to rid.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Racism Poem - Where Racism matters

i live in a country
multi racial in nature
where certain communities
enjoy special rights

the politicians keep asking
why there is racial polarisation

well, if i have special rights
i will make sure i really
get the best deal of it all

i will not be a stupid fool
or even modest

no two way about it

that includes telling others
to be aware that they do
not have special rights

drawing the line doubly clear
just in case they
infringe on these rights

rights to everything special
housing, education,
medication, career advances

etc, etc, etc

and of course
i would make
every citizen aware
they are living in a society
where racism matters
because it is a matter
of life and death
for those with special rights

and of course for those
without the rights to
keep decently quiet about it

or else these special rights
could mean the rights
to take away things
dearest to them

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator

Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!

It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!

Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Lets Get Loud[Pablo Flores Remix]

Hey! hey!hey! hey!hey! hey!hey! hey!hey! hey!hey! hey!hey
Chorus: lets get loud, lets get loud
Turn the music up, lets do it
Cmon people lets get loud
Lets get loud
Turn the music up to hear that sound
Lets get loud, lets get loud
Aint nobody gotta tell ya
What you gotta do
If you wanna live your life
Live it all the way and dont you waste it
Every feelin every beat
Can be so very sweet you gotta taste it
You gotta do it (you gotta do it)
You gotta do it your way
You gotta prove it (you gotta prove it)
You gotta mean what you say
You gotta do it (do it)
You gotta do it your way
You gotta prove it (prove it)
You gotta mean what you say
Lifes a party, make it hot
Dance dont ever stop, whatever rhythm
Every minute, every day
Take them all the way you gotta live em (cause Im going to live my life)
You gotta do it (you gotta do it)
You gotta do it your way
You gotta prove it (you gotta prove it)
You gotta mean what you say
You gotta do it (do it)
You gotta do it your way
You gotta prove it (prove it)
You gotta mean what you say
Chorus:
Lets get loud, lets get loud
Turn the music up to hear that sound
Lets get loud, lets get loud
Aint nobody gotta tell you
What you gotta do, oh no
(make it hot)
Lets get loud, lets get loud
Lets get loud, letsget loud
Its just a party, baby
Lets get loud, lets get loud
Lets get loud, pop it up
(hey! hey!hey! hey!hey! hey!hey! hey!hey! hey!hey! hey!)
Life is meant to be big fun
Youre not hurtin anyone
Nobody loses
Let the music make you free

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song performed by Jennifer Lopez
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!

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Columbiad: Book VIII

The Argument

Hymn to Peace. Eulogy on the heroes slain in the war; in which the Author finds occasion to mention his Brother. Address to the patriots who have survived the conflict; exhorting them to preserve liberty they have established. The danger of losing it by inattention illustrated in the rape of the Golden Fleece. Freedom succeeding to Despotism in the moral world, like Order succeeding to Chaos in the physical world. Atlas, the guardian Genius of Africa, denounces to Hesper the crimes of his people in the slavery of the Afripans. The Author addresses his countrymen on that subject, and on the principles of their government.

Hesper, recurring to his object of showing Columbus the importance of his discoveries, reverses the order of time, and exhibits the continent again in its savage state. He then displays the progress of arts in America. Fur-trade. Fisheries. Productions. Commerce. Education. Philosophical discoveries. Painting. Poetry.

Hail, holy Peace, from thy sublime abode
Mid circling saints that grace the throne of God!
Before his arm around our embryon earth
Stretch'd the dim void, and gave to nature birth.
Ere morning stars his glowing chambers hung,
Or songs of gladness woke an angel's tongue,
Veil'd in the splendors of his beamful mind,
In blest repose thy placid form reclined,
Lived in his life, his inward sapience caught,
And traced and toned his universe of thought.
Borne thro the expanse with his creating voice
Thy presence bade the unfolding worlds rejoice,
Led forth the systems on their bright career,
Shaped all their curves and fashion'd every sphere,
Spaced out their suns, and round each radiant goal,
Orb over orb, compell'd their train to roll,
Bade heaven's own harmony their force combine.
Taught all their host symphonious strains to join,
Gave to seraphic harps their sounding lays,
Their joys to angels, and to men their praise.

From scenes of blood, these verdant shores that stain,
From numerous friends in recent battle slain,
From blazing towns that scorch the purple sky,
From houseless hordes their smoking walls that fly,
From the black prison ships, those groaning graves,
From warring fleets that vex the gory waves,
From a storm'd world, long taught thy flight to mourn,
I rise, delightful Peace, and greet thy glad return.

For now the untuneful trump shall grate no more;
Ye silver streams, no longer swell with gore,
Bear from your war-beat banks the guilty stain
With yon retiring navies to the main.
While other views, unfolding on my eyes,
And happier themes bid bolder numbers rise;
Bring, bounteous Peace, in thy celestial throng.
Life to my soul, and rapture to my song;
Give me to trace, with pure unclouded ray,
The arts and virtues that attend thy sway,
To see thy blissful charms, that here descend,
Thro distant realms and endless years extend.

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poem by Joel Barlow
Added by Poetry Lover
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Bishop Blougram's Apology

No more wine? then we'll push back chairs and talk.
A final glass for me, though: cool, i' faith!
We ought to have our Abbey back, you see.
It's different, preaching in basilicas,
And doing duty in some masterpiece
Like this of brother Pugin's, bless his heart!
I doubt if they're half baked, those chalk rosettes,
Ciphers and stucco-twiddlings everywhere;
It's just like breathing in a lime-kiln: eh?
These hot long ceremonies of our church
Cost us a little—oh, they pay the price,
You take me—amply pay it! Now, we'll talk.

So, you despise me, Mr. Gigadibs.
No deprecation—nay, I beg you, sir!
Beside 't is our engagement: don't you know,
I promised, if you'd watch a dinner out,
We'd see truth dawn together?—truth that peeps
Over the glasses' edge when dinner's done,
And body gets its sop and holds its noise
And leaves soul free a little. Now's the time:
Truth's break of day! You do despise me then.
And if I say, "despise me"—never fear!
1 know you do not in a certain sense—
Not in my arm-chair, for example: here,
I well imagine you respect my place
(Status, entourage, worldly circumstance)
Quite to its value—very much indeed:
—Are up to the protesting eyes of you
In pride at being seated here for once—
You'll turn it to such capital account!
When somebody, through years and years to come,
Hints of the bishop—names me—that's enough:
"Blougram? I knew him"—(into it you slide)
"Dined with him once, a Corpus Christi Day,
All alone, we two; he's a clever man:
And after dinner—why, the wine you know—
Oh, there was wine, and good!—what with the wine . . .
'Faith, we began upon all sorts of talk!
He's no bad fellow, Blougram; he had seen
Something of mine he relished, some review:
He's quite above their humbug in his heart,
Half-said as much, indeed—the thing's his trade.
I warrant, Blougram's sceptical at times:
How otherwise? I liked him, I confess!"
Che che, my dear sir, as we say at Rome,
Don't you protest now! It's fair give and take;
You have had your turn and spoken your home-truths:
The hand's mine now, and here you follow suit.

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poem by Robert Browning from Men and Women (1855)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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