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The West hasn't reached its universal state as yet, although its close to it, but it certainly has evolved out of its warring state phase, which it was in for a couple of centuries.

quote by Samuel P. Huntington
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West End Girls

(....forever)
Sometimes youre better off dead
Theres gun in your hand and its pointing at your head
You think youre mad, too unstable
Kicking in chairs and knocking down tables
In a restaurant in a west end town
Call the police, theres a madman around
Running down underground to a dive bar
In a west end town
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
West end girls
Too many shadows, whispering voices
Faces on posters, too many choices
If, when, why, what?
How much have you got?
Have you got it, do you get it, if so, how often?
And which do you choose, a hard or soft option?
(how much do you need? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
West end girls
West end girls
(how much do you need? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
Oooh west end town, a dead end world
East end boys, west end girls
West end girls
Youve got a heart of glass or a heart of stone
Just you wait till I get you home
Weve got no future, weve got no past
Here today, built to last
In every city, in every nation
From lake geneva to the finland station
(how far have you been? )
In a west end town, a dead end world
The east end boys and west end girls
A west end town, a dead end world
East end boys, west end girls
West end girls
West end girls
West end girls
(how far have you been? )
Girls
East end boys

[...] Read more

song performed by Pet Shop Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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When two hearts bonded together

When the clouds in the cosmos bonded together; there
pelted down showers of ferocious and sparkling rain,

When the minuscule winds in the atmosphere bonded
together; there evolved a tumultuous storm that swept
turbulently across the entire city,

When all the inconspicuous little ripples of water
bonded together; there was formed the colossal ocean;
smashing and swirling magnificently against the cold
blooded rocks,

When the seed and earth bonded together; there arose a
majestic tree; sprinkling scores of appetizing fruits
on the famished soil,

When diminutive wisps of smoke bonded together; there
blazed a Kingly fire; escalating handsomely towards
the sky; imparting loads of warmth and reprieve from
freezing winds winter,

When all fingers of the palm bonded together; there
evolved a strength so unprecedented; that it could
fight against any evil loitering on this earth,

When all loose bones strewn haphazardly on the ground
bonded together; there evolved the perfectly
synchronized body; which ran, ate, slept, wept, in
splendid harmony,

When all pieces of stray and incongruous stones bonded
together; there evolved the imposing structure of the
building; which wholesomely catered to the life of
thousands of individuals,
When all the small fish in the sea bonded together;
there evolved a battalion of unsurpassable tenacity;
easily capable of defeating the most gargantuan of
whale and shark,

When the shattered petals of different creepers bonded
together; there evolved a flower with the most
stupendous of scent,

When all the disheveled twigs lying desolate on the
ground bonded together; there evolved a mighty bridge
which didn’t budge an inch even in the most vicious of
storm waters,

When all tribes existing in different part of the
earth bonded together; there evolved a land with no

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Universal Traveler

Universal Traveler - Air
(Talkie Walkie; Trans. by Tish)
I know so many
Places in the world
I follow the sun
In my silver plane
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
If you have a look
Outside on the sea
Everything is white
It's so wonderful
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
So far
So far
So far away
I met so many
People in my life
I've got many friends
Who can care for me
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Trust fills everywhere ?
And tomorrow
Is a brand new day
Let's go somewhere else
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
Universal traveler
So far
So far
So far away
So far
So far
So far away
So far
So far
So far away
So far
So far
So far away

song performed by Air
Added by Lucian Velea
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I. The Ring and the Book

Do you see this Ring?
'T is Rome-work, made to match
(By Castellani's imitative craft)
Etrurian circlets found, some happy morn,
After a dropping April; found alive
Spark-like 'mid unearthed slope-side figtree-roots
That roof old tombs at Chiusi: soft, you see,
Yet crisp as jewel-cutting. There's one trick,
(Craftsmen instruct me) one approved device
And but one, fits such slivers of pure gold
As this was,—such mere oozings from the mine,
Virgin as oval tawny pendent tear
At beehive-edge when ripened combs o'erflow,—
To bear the file's tooth and the hammer's tap:
Since hammer needs must widen out the round,
And file emboss it fine with lily-flowers,
Ere the stuff grow a ring-thing right to wear.
That trick is, the artificer melts up wax
With honey, so to speak; he mingles gold
With gold's alloy, and, duly tempering both,
Effects a manageable mass, then works:
But his work ended, once the thing a ring,
Oh, there's repristination! Just a spirt
O' the proper fiery acid o'er its face,
And forth the alloy unfastened flies in fume;
While, self-sufficient now, the shape remains,
The rondure brave, the lilied loveliness,
Gold as it was, is, shall be evermore:
Prime nature with an added artistry—
No carat lost, and you have gained a ring.
What of it? 'T is a figure, a symbol, say;
A thing's sign: now for the thing signified.

Do you see this square old yellow Book, I toss
I' the air, and catch again, and twirl about
By the crumpled vellum covers,—pure crude fact
Secreted from man's life when hearts beat hard,
And brains, high-blooded, ticked two centuries since?
Examine it yourselves! I found this book,
Gave a lira for it, eightpence English just,
(Mark the predestination!) when a Hand,
Always above my shoulder, pushed me once,
One day still fierce 'mid many a day struck calm,
Across a Square in Florence, crammed with booths,
Buzzing and blaze, noontide and market-time,
Toward Baccio's marble,—ay, the basement-ledge
O' the pedestal where sits and menaces
John of the Black Bands with the upright spear,
'Twixt palace and church,—Riccardi where they lived,
His race, and San Lorenzo where they lie.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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The Next Phase

It's only a phase.

The next phase.

The next phase...
To come and change the last days,
To put up on a higher stage!
It's only a phase.

The next phase.

The next phase...
To come and change the last days,
To put up on a higher stage!
It's only a phase.

The next phase.

The next phase...
To come and change the last days,
To put up on a higher stage!
It's only a phase.
Many will taste it
Many will hate it.
And some of the stunned will run.
Run-run-run.

Many will taste it
Many will hate it.
The elated,
Will be baited!
And some of the stunned will run...
Run-run-run.

Many will taste it.
The next phase.
Many will hate it.
The next phase.
The elated,
Will be baited!
And some of the stunned will run...
Run-run-run.

And some of the stunned will run...
Run.
Run.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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III. The Other Half-Rome

Another day that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
And lamentable smile on those poor lips,
And, under the white hospital-array,
A flower-like body, to frighten at a bruise
You'd think, yet now, stabbed through and through again,
Alive i' the ruins. 'T is a miracle.
It seems that, when her husband struck her first,
She prayed Madonna just that she might live
So long as to confess and be absolved;
And whether it was that, all her sad life long
Never before successful in a prayer,
This prayer rose with authority too dread,—
Or whether, because earth was hell to her,
By compensation, when the blackness broke
She got one glimpse of quiet and the cool blue,
To show her for a moment such things were,—
Or else,—as the Augustinian Brother thinks,
The friar who took confession from her lip,—
When a probationary soul that moved
From nobleness to nobleness, as she,
Over the rough way of the world, succumbs,
Bloodies its last thorn with unflinching foot,
The angels love to do their work betimes,
Staunch some wounds here nor leave so much for God.
Who knows? However it be, confessed, absolved,
She lies, with overplus of life beside
To speak and right herself from first to last,
Right the friend also, lamb-pure, lion-brave,
Care for the boy's concerns, to save the son
From the sire, her two-weeks' infant orphaned thus,
And—with best smile of all reserved for him—
Pardon that sire and husband from the heart.
A miracle, so tell your Molinists!

There she lies in the long white lazar-house.
Rome has besieged, these two days, never doubt,
Saint Anna's where she waits her death, to hear
Though but the chink o' the bell, turn o' the hinge
When the reluctant wicket opes at last,
Lets in, on now this and now that pretence,
Too many by half,—complain the men of art,—
For a patient in such plight. The lawyers first
Paid the due visit—justice must be done;
They took her witness, why the murder was.
Then the priests followed properly,—a soul
To shrive; 't was Brother Celestine's own right,
The same who noises thus her gifts abroad.
But many more, who found they were old friends,
Pushed in to have their stare and take their talk

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Pharsalia - Book VII: The Battle

Ne'er to the summons of the Eternal laws
More slowly Titan rose, nor drave his steeds,
Forced by the sky revolving, up the heaven,
With gloomier presage; wishing to endure
The pangs of ravished light, and dark eclipse;
And drew the mists up, not to feed his flames,
But lest his light upon Thessalian earth
Might fall undimmed.

Pompeius on that morn,
To him the latest day of happy life,
In troubled sleep an empty dream conceived.
For in the watches of the night he heard
Innumerable Romans shout his name
Within his theatre; the benches vied
To raise his fame and place him with the gods;
As once in youth, when victory was won
O'er conquered tribes where swift Iberus flows,
And where Sertorius' armies fought and fled,
The west subdued, with no less majesty
Than if the purple toga graced the car,
He sat triumphant in his pure white gown
A Roman knight, and heard the Senate's cheer.
Perhaps, as ills drew near, his anxious soul,
Shunning the future wooed the happy past;
Or, as is wont, prophetic slumber showed
That which was not to be, by doubtful forms
Misleading; or as envious Fate forbade
Return to Italy, this glimpse of Rome
Kind Fortune gave. Break not his latest sleep,
Ye sentinels; let not the trumpet call
Strike on his ear: for on the morrow's night
Shapes of the battle lost, of death and war
Shall crowd his rest with terrors. Whence shalt thou
The poor man's happiness of sleep regain?
Happy if even in dreams thy Rome could see
Once more her captain! Would the gods had given
To thee and to thy country one day yet
To reap the latest fruit of such a love:
Though sure of fate to come! Thou marchest on
As though by heaven ordained in Rome to die;
She, conscious ever of her prayers for thee
Heard by the gods, deemed not the fates decreed
Such evil destiny, that she should lose
The last sad solace of her Magnus' tomb.
Then young and old had blent their tears for thee,
And child unbidden; women torn their hair
And struck their bosoms as for Brutus dead.
But now no public woe shall greet thy death
As erst thy praise was heard: but men shall grieve

[...] Read more

poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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The City of Dreadful Night

Per me si va nella citta dolente.

--Dante

Poi di tanto adoprar, di tanti moti
D'ogni celeste, ogni terrena cosa,
Girando senza posa,
Per tornar sempre la donde son mosse;
Uso alcuno, alcun frutto
Indovinar non so.

Sola nel mondo eterna, a cui si volve
Ogni creata cosa,
In te, morte, si posa
Nostra ignuda natura;
Lieta no, ma sicura
Dell' antico dolor . . .
Pero ch' esser beato
Nega ai mortali e nega a' morti il fato.

--Leopardi

PROEM

Lo, thus, as prostrate, "In the dust I write
My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears."
Yet why evoke the spectres of black night
To blot the sunshine of exultant years?
Why disinter dead faith from mouldering hidden?
Why break the seals of mute despair unbidden,
And wail life's discords into careless ears?

Because a cold rage seizes one at whiles
To show the bitter old and wrinkled truth
Stripped naked of all vesture that beguiles,
False dreams, false hopes, false masks and modes of youth;
Because it gives some sense of power and passion
In helpless innocence to try to fashion
Our woe in living words howe'er uncouth.

Surely I write not for the hopeful young,
Or those who deem their happiness of worth,
Or such as pasture and grow fat among
The shows of life and feel nor doubt nor dearth,
Or pious spirits with a God above them
To sanctify and glorify and love them,
Or sages who foresee a heaven on earth.

For none of these I write, and none of these
Could read the writing if they deigned to try;

[...] Read more

poem by James Thomson
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V. Count Guido Franceschini

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto II

THE ARGUMENT

The Saints engage in fierce Contests
About their Carnal interests;
To share their sacrilegious Preys,
According to their Rates of Grace;
Their various Frenzies to reform,
When Cromwel left them in a Storm
Till, in th' Effigy of Rumps, the Rabble
Burns all their Grandees of the Cabal.

THE learned write, an insect breeze
Is but a mungrel prince of bees,
That falls before a storm on cows,
And stings the founders of his house;
From whose corrupted flesh that breed
Of vermin did at first proceed.
So e're the storm of war broke out,
Religion spawn'd a various rout
Of petulant Capricious sects,
The maggots of corrupted texts,
That first run all religion down,
And after ev'ry swarm its own.
For as the Persian Magi once
Upon their mothers got their sons,
That were incapable t' enjoy
That empire any other way;
So PRESBYTER begot the other
Upon the good old Cause, his mother,
Then bore then like the Devil's dam,
Whose son and husband are the same.
And yet no nat'ral tie of blood
Nor int'rest for the common good
Cou'd, when their profits interfer'd,
Get quarter for each other's beard.
For when they thriv'd, they never fadg'd,
But only by the ears engag'd:
Like dogs that snarl about a bone,
And play together when they've none,
As by their truest characters,
Their constant actions, plainly appears.
Rebellion now began, for lack
Of zeal and plunders to grow slack;
The Cause and covenant to lessen,
And Providence to b' out of season:
For now there was no more to purchase
O' th' King's Revenue, and the Churches,
But all divided, shar'd, and gone,
That us'd to urge the Brethren on;
Which forc'd the stubborn'st for the Cause,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
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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
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Going Back West

I was born and raised in the ghetto
Talk with me and youll know
I wasnt satisfied, with living on the side
I started looking around, for a possibility
Listen to my story, of what became of me
I met a businessman
Who said he had some friends back east
So why dont you come along
Well we can help you at least
Well make you into a big star
By playing your guitar
But the joke was on me
They left me flat to see
Going back west
Yes I know Ill make out alright
Going back west
Where my musics playing all night
Going back west (going back west)
I think Ill do alright
Going back west
Yes I know Ill make out alright
Going back west
Where my musics playing all night
Going back west (going back west)
I think Ill do alright
Struggling for recognition, identity and respect
I got a lot of promises
They told me not to fret
So we will stand by you
If the going gets rough
But when I started thinking
They didnt even bluff
bout a year has come and gone
And left me standing here
Thinking how it could have been
For still I aint nowhere
They surely took me for a ride
Trampled on my pride
But I hold my head up high
Got no more tears to cry
Going back west
Yes I know Ill make out alright
Going back west
Where my musics playing all night
Going back west (going back west)
I think Ill do alright
Going back west
Yes I know Ill make out alright
Going back west
Where my musics playing all night

[...] Read more

song performed by Boney M.
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Polyhymnia

[Polyhymnia: Describing, The honourable Triumph at Tylt,
before her Maiestie, on the 17. of Nouember, last past,
being the first day of the three and thirtith yeare of
her Highnesse raigne. With Sir Henrie Lea, his resignation
of honour at Tylt, to her Maiestie, and receiued by the right
honourable, the Earle of Cumberland.]

[Polyhimnia. Entituled, with all dutie to the Right
Honourable, Lord Compton of Compton.]

Therefore, when thirtie two were come and gone,
Years of her raigne, daies of her countries peace,
Elizabeth great Empresse of the world,
Britanias Atlas, Star of Englands globe,
That swaies the massie scepter of her land,
And holdes the royall raynes of Albion:
Began the gladsome sunnie day to shine,
That drawes in length date of her golden raigne:
And thirtie three shee numbreth in her throne:
That long in happinesse and peace (I pray)
May number manie to these thirtie three.
Wherefore it fares as whilom and of yore,
In armour bright and sheene, faire Englands knights
In honour of their peerelesse Soueraigne:
High Maistresse of their seruice, thoughtes and liues
Make to the Tyltamaine: and trumpets sound,
And princelie Coursers neigh, and champ the byt,
When all addrest for deeds of high deuoyre,
Preace to the sacred presence of their Prince.

The 1. couple. Sir Henrie Lea. The Earle of Cumberland.

Mightie in Armes, mounted on puissant horse,
Knight of the Crown in rich imbroderie,
And costlie faire Caparison charg'd with Crownes,
Oreshadowed with a withered running Vine,
As who would say, My spring of youth is past:
In Corslet gylt of curious workmanship,
Sir Henry Lea, redoubted man at Armes.
Leades in the troopes, whom woorthie Cumberland
Thrice noble Earle, aucutred as became
So greate a Warriour and so good a Knight.
Encountred first, yclad in coate of steele,
And plumes and pendants al as white as Swanne,
And speare in rest, right readie to performe
What long'd vnto the honour of the place.
Together went these Champions, horse and man,
Thundring along the Tylt, that at the shocke

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poem by George Peele
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Coast 2 Coast

I met a girl named hip hop in seventy eight
Hollis Queens New York gave us our first date
man she broke me off proper yo the girl was fast
and everybody kept telling me it would not last
cause ain't no women in the world supposed to be that sweet
and ya just can't trust a hot chick from the street
I could tell she had been through lots of struggle and strife
but yet in still she'd been with me over half of my life
born key Jeff Taylor took me into his home
and intrduced me to some tables and a microphone
hip hop talked to me told me take your time
at the age of eleven I bust my first rhyme
block partys in the day house partys at night
just about one year before Rapper's Delight
everybody in the crew called to make a request
cause rap's on the radio and hip-hop was blessed
didn't go to many clubs I wasn't old enough
And if it try to sneak it out my folks is scolding up
but I still do anything to get on stage
and once I got a club gig I lied about my age
just a couple blocks away was the Hollis crew
Run and them used to rock at one ninety two
up the street was a crew called Solo Sounds
where Davey D and Mex used to throw it down
man I wouldn't trade rap for anything in the world
hip hop meant more to me than diamonds and pearls
and I still reminicse to this very day
and I remember those words hip hop would say
(Do you have love for the east coast?)
yes I do
(the hip hop on the east coast?)
yeah that's true
from the 'yes yes y'all' to 'and you don't stop'
east coast played a role in making a hip hop
(Do you have love for the east coast?)
yeah that's right
(the hip hop on the east coast?)
yeah that's tight
from the 'yes yes y'all' to 'and you don't stop'
east coast played a role in making a hip hop
now I gotta get busy time to make that move
high school over with gotta sho' improve
got college on the coast and I'm makin' plans
so hip hip went and told me go west young man
it was a different kind of style but I liked the sound
everybody in the house gauranteed to get down
I did the casa skateland word on wheels
and the crazy crazy world of the record deal
K-day was the station that played my song
I got love from the people it's a shame they gone

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song performed by Young MC
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II. Half-Rome

What, you, Sir, come too? (Just the man I'd meet.)
Be ruled by me and have a care o' the crowd:
This way, while fresh folk go and get their gaze:
I'll tell you like a book and save your shins.
Fie, what a roaring day we've had! Whose fault?
Lorenzo in Lucina,—here's a church
To hold a crowd at need, accommodate
All comers from the Corso! If this crush
Make not its priests ashamed of what they show
For temple-room, don't prick them to draw purse
And down with bricks and mortar, eke us out
The beggarly transept with its bit of apse
Into a decent space for Christian ease,
Why, to-day's lucky pearl is cast to swine.
Listen and estimate the luck they've had!
(The right man, and I hold him.)

Sir, do you see,
They laid both bodies in the church, this morn
The first thing, on the chancel two steps up,
Behind the little marble balustrade;
Disposed them, Pietro the old murdered fool
To the right of the altar, and his wretched wife
On the other side. In trying to count stabs,
People supposed Violante showed the most,
Till somebody explained us that mistake;
His wounds had been dealt out indifferent where,
But she took all her stabbings in the face,
Since punished thus solely for honour's sake,
Honoris causâ, that's the proper term.
A delicacy there is, our gallants hold,
When you avenge your honour and only then,
That you disfigure the subject, fray the face,
Not just take life and end, in clownish guise.
It was Violante gave the first offence,
Got therefore the conspicuous punishment:
While Pietro, who helped merely, his mere death
Answered the purpose, so his face went free.
We fancied even, free as you please, that face
Showed itself still intolerably wronged;
Was wrinkled over with resentment yet,
Nor calm at all, as murdered faces use,
Once the worst ended: an indignant air
O' the head there was—'t is said the body turned
Round and away, rolled from Violante's side
Where they had laid it loving-husband-like.
If so, if corpses can be sensitive,
Why did not he roll right down altar-step,
Roll on through nave, roll fairly out of church,
Deprive Lorenzo of the spectacle,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Golden Age

Long ere the Muse the strenuous chords had swept,
And the first lay as yet in silence slept,
A Time there was which since has stirred the lyre
To notes of wail and accents warm with fire;
Moved the soft Mantuan to his silvery strain,
And him who sobbed in pentametric pain;
To which the World, waxed desolate and old,
Fondly reverts, and calls the Age of Gold.

Then, without toil, by vale and mountain side,
Men found their few and simple wants supplied;
Plenty, like dew, dropped subtle from the air,
And Earth's fair gifts rose prodigal as prayer.
Love, with no charms except its own to lure,
Was swiftly answered by a love as pure.
No need for wealth; each glittering fruit and flower,
Each star, each streamlet, made the maiden's dower.
Far in the future lurked maternal throes,
And children blossomed painless as the rose.
No harrowing question `why,' no torturing `how,'
Bent the lithe frame or knit the youthful brow.
The growing mind had naught to seek or shun;
Like the plump fig it ripened in the sun.
From dawn to dark Man's life was steeped in joy,
And the gray sire was happy as the boy.
Nature with Man yet waged no troublous strife,
And Death was almost easier than Life.
Safe on its native mountains throve the oak,
Nor ever groaned 'neath greed's relentless stroke.
No fear of loss, no restlessness for more,
Drove the poor mariner from shore to shore.
No distant mines, by penury divined,
Made him the sport of fickle wave or wind.
Rich for secure, he checked each wish to roam,
And hugged the safe felicity of home.

Those days are long gone by; but who shall say
Why, like a dream, passed Saturn's Reign away?
Over its rise, its ruin, hangs a veil,
And naught remains except a Golden Tale.
Whether 'twas sin or hazard that dissolved
That happy scheme by kindly Gods evolved;
Whether Man fell by lucklessness or pride,-
Let jarring sects, and not the Muse, decide.
But when that cruel Fiat smote the earth,
Primeval Joy was poisoned at its birth.
In sorrow stole the infant from the womb,
The agëd crept in sorrow to the tomb.
The ground, so bounteous once, refused to bear
More than was wrung by sower, seed, and share.

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Austin
Added by Poetry Lover
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You Watched It Close Under Microscope

You watched it close under microscope.
Closer than anything you watched most
You watched it close under microscope.
Closer than anything you watched most
And now you don't believe,
What you see.

You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close...
And still you don't believe,
What's there to see.

You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close...
And still you don't believe,
What's there to see.

You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close...
And...
Not to believe.

You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
And still you don't believe.

You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
And there to plainly see.

You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
And still you don't believe.
What's there to see.

You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
And there to plainly see.
But you can't believe it masked.

You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Universal

It doesnt matter if youre black or white
Or the God that you choose to pray to
It doesnt matter about the clothes you wear
Or which creator made you
We all bleed the same blood
We all need the same love
And when we die theres no heaven above
Its universal, its universal
It doesnt matter who you think you are
Youre living and you know you feel it
Its not important as to why were here
You know there is no reason
We all bleed the same blood
We all need the same love
And when we die theres no heaven above
Its universal, its universal
Its universal, its universal
We all bleed the same blood
We all need the same love
And when we die theres no heaven above
Its universal, its universal
Its universal, its universal

song performed by Omd
Added by Lucian Velea
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Maps And Legends

He's not to be reached he's to be reached.
He's not to be reached he's to be reached.
Called the fool and the company
On his own where he'd rather be.
Where he ought to be he sees what you can't see can't you see that?
Maybe he's caught in the legend
maybe he's caught in the mood.
Maybe these maps and legends
have been misunderstood.
Down the way the road's divided
Paint me the places you have seen.
Those who know what I don't know
refer to the yellow, red and green
Maybe he's caught in the legend,
maybe he's caught in the mood.
Maybe these maps and legends
have been misunderstood.
He's not to be reached, he's to be reached. (4 times)
The map that you painted didn't seem real.
He just sings whatever he's seen
Point to the legend, point to the east,
Point to the yellow, red and green
Maybe he's caught in the legend,
maybe he's caught in the mood.
Maybe these maps and legends
have been misunderstood, been misunderstood. (Maps and legends)
(Maps and legends) Is he to be reached? He's not to be reached.
(Maps and legends) Is he to be reached? He's not to be reached.
(Maps and legends) Is he to be reached? He's not to be reached anymore

song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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Maps & Legends

Hes not to be reached, hes to be reached.
Hes not to be reached, hes to be reached.
Called the fool and the company,
On his own where hed rather be.
Where he ought to be, he sees what you cant see,
Cant you see that?
Maybe hes caught in the legend,
Maybe hes caught in the mood.
Maybe these maps and legends
Have been misunderstood.
Down the way the roads divided,
Paint me the places you have seen.
Those who know what I dont know
Refer to the yellow, red and green
Maybe hes caught in the legend,
Maybe hes caught in the mood.
Maybe these maps and legends
Have been misunderstood.
Hes not to be reached, hes to be reached. (4 times)
The map that you painted didnt seem real.
He just sings whatever hes seen
Point to the legend, point to the east,
Point to the yellow, red and green
Maybe hes caught in the legend,
Maybe hes caught in the mood.
Maybe these maps and legends
Have been misunderstood, been misunderstood.
(maps and legends)
(maps and legends) is he to be reached?
Hes not to be reached.
(maps and legends) is he to be reached?
Hes not to be reached.
(maps and legends) is he to be reached?
Hes not to be reached anymore.

song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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