I've been allowed to develop my own character, which I'm still working on.
quote by Rue McClanahan
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I Should Be Allowed To Think
I saw the best minds of my generation
Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim, one occurs to me
If necessary, leave paper stains on the grey utility pole
I saw the worst bands of my generation
Applied by magic marker to dry wall
I should be allowed to shoot my mouth off
I should have a call in show
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim, one occurs to me
If necessary, leave paper stains on the grey utility pole
I am not allowed
To ever come up with a single original thought
I am not allowed
To meet the criminal government agent who oppresses me
I was the worst hope of my generation
Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical
I should be allowed to share my feelings
I should be allowed to feel
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim one occurs to me
But sadly, this can never be
I am not allowed to think
I am not allowed to think
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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Am I Allowed
Am I allowed
To wish not to breathe?
Am I allowed
To skip over tomorrow?
And,
Am I allowed
Not to believe,
Who it is that speaks.
Or,
Whom everybody follows?
Am I allowed
To want my own needs?
Am I allowed
Not to beg or borrow.
Am I allowed
Not to be deceived,
By who those that I know
Are low, lazy and shallow?
Am I allowed
My own company?
Am I allowed
To float or row my boat?
And,
Am I allowed
To see what I see,
Who it is that show
Not which way to go?
Am I allowed
To want my own needs?
Am I allowed
Not to beg or borrow.
Am I allowed
Not to be deceived,
By who those that I know
Are low, lazy and shallow?
Am I allowed
My own company?
Am I allowed
To float or row my boat?
And,
Am I allowed
To see what I see,
Who it is that show
Not which way to go?
Am I allowed
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Working For The Man
Roy orbison
Re-recorded version of 1987
----------------------------------
Hey now
You better listen to me every one of you
We got a lot of lot of lot of lot of work to do
Forget about your women
No, no water can
Today you're working for the man
Well pick up your feet
We got a deadline to meet
I'm gonna see you make it on time
Now, don't relax
I want elbows and backs
I wanna see everybody from behind
'cause you're working for the man
Working for the man
Gotta make him a hand
When you're working for the man
Well i'm pickin' em' up
And i'm layin' 'em down
I believe he's gonna work me into the ground
I pulled to the left, and i heaved to the right
I wanna kill him but it wouldn't be right
'cause i'm working for the man
Working for the man
Gotta make him a hand
When you're working for the man
Well the bossman's daughter sneaks me water
Everytime her daddy's down the line
She says "meet me tonight,
Love me right
And everyting's gonna be fine."
So i slave all day, without much pay
I'm just abiding my time
'cause the company and the daughter, you see
They both gonna be all mine
Yeah i'm gonna be the man
Gonna be the man
Gotta make him a hand
If you gonna be the man
Working for the man
Working for the man
Gotta make him a hand
When you're working for the man
Working for the man
Working for the man
Original version
------------------------
Hey now
[...] Read more
song performed by Roy Orbison
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Love Working On You
(jim collins/craig wiseman)
You woke up this morning
Changes were taking place
You looked in the mirror
A smile was all over your face
cause out of nowhere
Someone was there
Who dared to climb
Those walls you made
Its exciting, a little frightening
But girl dont you be afraid
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
Cant even remember
All the sorrow that you left behind
Its a brand new day
Theres a bright new way
And your tears have turned into wine
You never forget
When your eyes met
Or just how clearly you could see
Where the turns are deep in your heart
That lead you to believe
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
All of the while you felt forsaken
And all of the while
Loves been waiting, waiting
Suddenly you see how it could be
If we all only felt this way
And for a while girl you can see this world
Looking through the eyes of fate
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
Thats just the love working
Love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
Thats just the love working on you
Thats just the love working
Working on pulling you through
song performed by John Michael Montgomery
Added by Lucian Velea
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Clampdown
Taking off his turban they said is this man a jew
Cause theyre working for the clampdown
And they put up a poster saying we earn more than you
When were working for the clampdown
We will teach our twisted speech
To the young believers
Train our blue-eyed men
To be young believers
Judge said five to ten - I said double that again
Im not working for the clampdown
Well no one born with a living soul
Could be working for the clampdown
Kick over the wall cause governments to fall
How can you refuse it
Let fury have the hour, anger can be power
Dont you know that you can use it
The voices in your head are calling
Stop wasting your time theres nothing coming
Only a fool would think someone could save you
The men at the factory are old and cunning
You dont owe nothing so boy get running
Its the best years of your life they want to steal
You grow up and you calm down
Cause youre working for the clampdown
And you start wearing the blue and the brown
Cause youre working for the clampdown
So you got someone to boss around
Does it makes you feel big now
And you drift until you brutalize
Youve made your first kill now
I say in these days of evil presidentes
Working for the clampdown
I said lately one or two have fully paid their dues
Working for the clampdown
Working for the clampdown
Hey you are now
Working for the clampdown
Hey you are now
(working for the clampdown)
Kick over the wall (working for the clampdown)
Cause governments to fall (working for the clampdown)
How can you refuse it (working for the clampdown)
Hey get along now
(working for the clampdown)
Giving away no secrets
song performed by Indigo Girls
Added by Lucian Velea
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Virginia's Story
Elizabeth Gates-Wooten is my Grand mom.
She was born in Canada with her father and brothers.
They owned a Barber Shoppe.
I don't remember exactly where in Canada.
I believe it was right over the border like Windsor or Toronto.
I never knew exactly where it was.
When she was old enough she got married.
First, she married a man by the name of Frank Gates.
He was from Madagascar.
He fathered my mom and her brother and sister.
The boy's name was Frank Gates, Jr.
Two girls name were Anna and Agnes.
Agnes was my mother.
Frank Gates went crazy after the war
He drank a lot and died
Then grandma Elizabeth married a man by the name of Mr. Wooten.
He had a German name, but I don't think he was German.
She took his last name after they got married.
Then they moved to West Virginia in the United States.
Their son, Frank Gates Jr. Became a delegate in the democratic party.
He use to get into a lot of trouble because he liked to fight.
He was a delegate from the 1940's to 1970's.
He died of gout in the 1970's.
Anna was a maid and cook.
She baked cakes and stuff for people as a side line.
She had a hump on her back (scoliosis) .
She had to walk with a cane.
She could cook good though.
She did this kind of work all of her life, just like her mom, Elizabeth
They were both good cooks
They had a lot of money because they had these skills
Especially when people had parties.
Because they would make all of this food and then they would have left-overs.
We got to eat a lot of stuff we normally wouldn't get because of that.
When they cooked, they didn't use no measuring stuff, they would just use there hand.
My moms name was Agnes Barrie Gates.
She married James Wright and moved to Cleveland.
[...] Read more
poem by Talile Ali
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No More Chain Gang
He was black and handsome
And mighty mighty brave
Comin from the backwoods
The grandson of a slave
He was caught for something
They knew hed never done
And he was diggin ditches
Out in the burnin sun
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
No more, no more, no more
Man he was a giant
And iron he could bend
And he swore hed fight them
Down to the bitter end
Though he was no talker
His burnin eyes would say
You may keep on tryin
Cant hold me no way
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
No more, no more, no more
And one night he lay in waiting
Hit the guard and took the key
And before the others caught him
He jumped out and he was free
He jumped out and he was free
He made for the swamp lands
It seemed a hopeless duel
They had dogs and shotguns
And they were mighty cruel
But they couldnt find him
He was too smart and strong
Hiding in the daytime
Wandering all night long
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
Working on the chain gang-no more
song performed by Boney M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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Nature
Weather constantly changes.
No character, only dynamic.
Dull and dreary,
Or bitter and cold,
Or bright and shiny.
This is mother nature.
She is of this world.
She dictates the mood.
She affects mine.
Emotions, constantly changing.
Personality has dynamic,
But lacks character.
It is constantly changing.
Bitter and resentful,
Frustrated and annoyed
Happy & joyous.
This is human nature.
It is of this world.
It dictates our mood.
It affects another.
Mother nature cannot be controlled.
For she is not ours.
Yet mother nature controls me,
Though I am not hers.
Together, we must exist.
We must accept each as we both are.
Though one affects the other.
Based on emotion, not character.
During the storm,
The sky is still the sky,
The ground, is still the ground
The sun is still the sun.
This is the character of mother nature.
The snow may cover the ground,
But the ground remains.
The clouds may cover the sun,
But the sun remains.
Character is always constant.
Nature affects character.
Character is patience, kindness,
Compassion, empathy, forgiving.
Plain and simple,
Our character is love.
Human nature covers human character,
Although it might not be seen,
It still remains.
[...] Read more
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Hats
Amy grant/chris eaton
Copyright 1991 age to age music, inc. (ascap)/clouseau music ltd. (prs), adm. by reunion music group, inc.
The sun comes up
The breakfast show
Cant you see me running
Its crazy dont you know?
(dont you know? dont you know? )
The moon is high
Im working through the night
Will somebody tell me
Where do all the hours go?
(I dont know.)
Well it dont stop
No, its never gonna stop
Why do I have to wear so many things on my head?
Hats!
One day Im a mother
One day Im a lover
What am I supposed to do?
Hats!
Working for a livin
(working for a livin)
All because Im driven
(all because Im driven)
To be the very best for you.
The water is hot
(so hot)
The phone dont stop
(hello, good-bye)
So how do I manage
To hold on to my sanity
(I dont know, baby, I dont know)
The red dress on
Time for having fun
(time for having fun)
But can I really be
The girl you see in me?
The spirit is willing
But the flesh is weak
Why do I have to wear so many things on my head?
Hats!
One day Im a mother
(one day Im a mother)
One day Im a lover
(one day Im a lover)
What am I supposed to do?
Hats!
Working for a livin
(working for a livin)
All because Im driven
[...] Read more
song performed by Amy Grant
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How Are You?
By cheap trick
Hello
How are you?
Howd you sleep last night?
Did you dream of me all night?
How are you?
Wake up
Good morning
You shouldnt sleep all day
Such a beautiful day
How are you?
Good morning
Whats with you?
How could you?
I heard your voice
I couldnt stand it
You know you talk too much
You even scare my friends
Whats with you?
The world you said
I know youre lying
You lie in bed
You lie, you lie
You lie there crying
Whats with you?
How could you?
Why did you?
Hey, hey
I said its alright
Come on, come on
Ive been working all night
Hey, hey
I said its okay
Come on, come on
Ive been working all day
Working all day, hey!
Hello
How are you?
I couldnt sleep last night
I dreamed of you all night
Good morning
Get up
I know youre lying
You lie in bed
You lie, you lie
You lie there crying
Whats with you?
How could you?
Why did you?
Hey, hey
[...] Read more
song performed by Cheap Trick
Added by Lucian Velea
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Chain Gang Medley
Chain Gang - Written by - Sam Cooke
He Don't Love You - Written by - J. Butler, C. Mayfield & C. Carter
Searchin' - Written by - Jerry Leiber & Mike Stoller
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
All day long they work so hard till the sun is goin' down
Working on the highways and byways and wearin', wearin' a frown
Hear them moanin' their lives away
Then you hear somebody say
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
He don't love you, like I love you
If he did he wouldn't break your heart
He don't love you, like I love you
He's trying to tear us apart
Gonna find her, I'm gonna find her, I'm gonna find her
Oh, if I have to climb a mountain, you know I will
And if I have to swim a river, you know I will
And I might find her hidin' up on Blueberry Hill
How am I gonna find her, child, you know I will
Cause I'm goin' searchin'
I'm goin' searchin'
Searchin' everywhere
Just like some Northwest Mountie
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
All day long they work so hard till the sun is goin' down
Working on the highways and byways and wearin', wearin' a frown
Hear them moanin' their lives away
Then you hear somebody say
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang
That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang (5 x's)
song performed by Jim Croce
Added by Lucian Velea
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Stop writing Literature, You garrulous Indian
a life of toil for the man in the centre
a hub in the peripheral tireless wheel
where he go then where he go this working man
he go on waking people working at waking man
no words cling now no words meant in blame
the tongue he lash the words they now tame
no shock of blast open laughter rock the hall
everyman there say there sure were a man
a man no fear cowed in communion to other
made for no gods made for no demons either
all men he know best when he see just once
no second thought resurrect the man if bad
so go tell the magi no trek in sight in sky
here a man be born here he so sure die
other no like see one so bright stand up high
other no like feel like sky fall low into ocean
what make ‘m i say with feeling so just
is sure he different he force hisself work
work work work work an' again work
he work nite an' nite so 50-hour in day
where he go then where he go this working man
he go on waking people working at waking man
where you go from word born here now
turn and twist all whoring the alphabet
‘don't write anything you can get published'
so publish only what you can't call your own
writing like reading's a public coital act
so showing your work is exhibitionism
‘why don't you send your stuff around
keeping it to yourself's sheer masturbation'
reading-watching-listening's just voyeurism
so sending wares around is prostitutionism
where he go then where he go this working man
he go on waking people working at waking man
[...] Read more
poem by T. Wignesan
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Berenice by edgar allan poe
MISERY is manifold. The wretchedness of earth is multiform. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow, its hues are as various as the hues of that arch, -as distinct too, yet as intimately blended. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow! How is it that from beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness? -from the covenant of peace a simile of sorrow? But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born. Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day, or the agonies which are have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been.
My baptismal name is Egaeus; that of my family I will not mention. Yet there are no towers in the land more time-honored than my gloomy, gray, hereditary halls. Our line has been called a race of visionaries; and in many striking particulars -in the character of the family mansion -in the frescos of the chief saloon -in the tapestries of the dormitories -in the chiselling of some buttresses in the armory -but more especially in the gallery of antique paintings -in the fashion of the library chamber -and, lastly, in the very peculiar nature of the library's contents, there is more than sufficient evidence to warrant the belief.
The recollections of my earliest years are connected with that chamber, and with its volumes -of which latter I will say no more. Here died my mother. Herein was I born. But it is mere idleness to say that I had not lived before -that the soul has no previous existence. You deny it? -let us not argue the matter. Convinced myself, I seek not to convince. There is, however, a remembrance of aerial forms -of spiritual and meaning eyes -of sounds, musical yet sad -a remembrance which will not be excluded; a memory like a shadow, vague, variable, indefinite, unsteady; and like a shadow, too, in the impossibility of my getting rid of it while the sunlight of my reason shall exist.
In that chamber was I born. Thus awaking from the long night of what seemed, but was not, nonentity, at once into the very regions of fairy-land -into a palace of imagination -into the wild dominions of monastic thought and erudition -it is not singular that I gazed around me with a startled and ardent eye -that I loitered away my boyhood in books, and dissipated my youth in reverie; but it is singular that as years rolled away, and the noon of manhood found me still in the mansion of my fathers -it is wonderful what stagnation there fell upon the springs of my life -wonderful how total an inversion took place in the character of my commonest thought. The realities of the world affected me as visions, and as visions only, while the wild ideas of the land of dreams became, in turn, -not the material of my every-day existence-but in very deed that existence utterly and solely in itself.
Berenice and I were cousins, and we grew up together in my paternal halls. Yet differently we grew -I ill of health, and buried in gloom -she agile, graceful, and overflowing with energy; hers the ramble on the hill-side -mine the studies of the cloister -I living within my own heart, and addicted body and soul to the most intense and painful meditation -she roaming carelessly through life with no thought of the shadows in her path, or the silent flight of the raven-winged hours. Berenice! -I call upon her name -Berenice! -and from the gray ruins of memory a thousand tumultuous recollections are startled at the sound! Ah! vividly is her image before me now, as in the early days of her light-heartedness and joy! Oh! gorgeous yet fantastic beauty! Oh! sylph amid the shrubberies of Arnheim! -Oh! Naiad among its fountains! -and then -then all is mystery and terror, and a tale which should not be told. Disease -a fatal disease -fell like the simoom upon her frame, and, even while I gazed upon her, the spirit of change swept, over her, pervading her mind, her habits, and her character, and, in a manner the most subtle and terrible, disturbing even the identity of her person! Alas! the destroyer came and went, and the victim -where was she, I knew her not -or knew her no longer as Berenice.
Among the numerous train of maladies superinduced by that fatal and primary one which effected a revolution of so horrible a kind in the moral and physical being of my cousin, may be mentioned as the most distressing and obstinate in its nature, a species of epilepsy not unfrequently terminating in trance itself -trance very nearly resembling positive dissolution, and from which her manner of recovery was in most instances, startlingly abrupt. In the mean time my own disease -for I have been told that I should call it by no other appelation -my own disease, then, grew rapidly upon me, and assumed finally a monomaniac character of a novel and extraordinary form -hourly and momently gaining vigor -and at length obtaining over me the most incomprehensible ascendancy. This monomania, if I must so term it, consisted in a morbid irritability of those properties of the mind in metaphysical science termed the attentive. It is more than probable that I am not understood; but I fear, indeed, that it is in no manner possible to convey to the mind of the merely general reader, an adequate idea of that nervous intensity of interest with which, in my case, the powers of meditation (not to speak technically) busied and buried themselves, in the contemplation of even the most ordinary objects of the universe.
To muse for long unwearied hours with my attention riveted to some frivolous device on the margin, or in the topography of a book; to become absorbed for the better part of a summer's day, in a quaint shadow falling aslant upon the tapestry, or upon the door; to lose myself for an entire night in watching the steady flame of a lamp, or the embers of a fire; to dream away whole days over the perfume of a flower; to repeat monotonously some common word, until the sound, by dint of frequent repetition, ceased to convey any idea whatever to the mind; to lose all sense of motion or physical existence, by means of absolute bodily quiescence long and obstinately persevered in; -such were a few of the most common and least pernicious vagaries induced by a condition of the mental faculties, not, indeed, altogether unparalleled, but certainly bidding defiance to anything like analysis or explanation.
Yet let me not be misapprehended. -The undue, earnest, and morbid attention thus excited by objects in their own nature frivolous, must not be confounded in character with that ruminating propensity common to all mankind, and more especially indulged in by persons of ardent imagination. It was not even, as might be at first supposed, an extreme condition or exaggeration of such propensity, but primarily and essentially distinct and different. In the one instance, the dreamer, or enthusiast, being interested by an object usually not frivolous, imperceptibly loses sight of this object in a wilderness of deductions and suggestions issuing therefrom, until, at the conclusion of a day dream often replete with luxury, he finds the incitamentum or first cause of his musings entirely vanished and forgotten. In my case the primary object was invariably frivolous, although assuming, through the medium of my distempered vision, a refracted and unreal importance. Few deductions, if any, were made; and those few pertinaciously returning in upon the original object as a centre. The meditations were never pleasurable; and, at the termination of the reverie, the first cause, so far from being out of sight, had attained that supernaturally exaggerated interest which was the prevailing feature of the disease. In a word, the powers of mind more particularly exercised were, with me, as I have said before, the attentive, and are, with the day-dreamer, the speculative.
My books, at this epoch, if they did not actually serve to irritate the disorder, partook, it will be perceived, largely, in their imaginative and inconsequential nature, of the characteristic qualities of the disorder itself. I well remember, among others, the treatise of the noble Italian Coelius Secundus Curio 'de Amplitudine Beati Regni dei'; St. Austin's great work, the 'City of God'; and Tertullian 'de Carne Christi, ' in which the paradoxical sentence 'Mortuus est Dei filius; credible est quia ineptum est: et sepultus resurrexit; certum est quia impossibile est' occupied my undivided time, for many weeks of laborious and fruitless investigation.
Thus it will appear that, shaken from its balance only by trivial things, my reason bore resemblance to that ocean-crag spoken of by Ptolemy Hephestion, which steadily resisting the attacks of human violence, and the fiercer fury of the waters and the winds, trembled only to the touch of the flower called Asphodel. And although, to a careless thinker, it might appear a matter beyond doubt, that the alteration produced by her unhappy malady, in the moral condition of Berenice, would afford me many objects for the exercise of that intense and abnormal meditation whose nature I have been at some trouble in explaining, yet such was not in any degree the case. In the lucid intervals of my infirmity, her calamity, indeed, gave me pain, and, taking deeply to heart that total wreck of her fair and gentle life, I did not fall to ponder frequently and bitterly upon the wonder-working means by which so strange a revolution had been so suddenly brought to pass. But these reflections partook not of the idiosyncrasy of my disease, and were such as would have occurred, under similar circumstances, to the ordinary mass of mankind. True to its own character, my disorder revelled in the less important but more startling changes wrought in the physical frame of Berenice -in the singular and most appalling distortion of her personal identity.
During the brightest days of her unparalleled beauty, most surely I had never loved her. In the strange anomaly of my existence, feelings with me, had never been of the heart, and my passions always were of the mind. Through the gray of the early morning -among the trellised shadows of the forest at noonday -and in the silence of my library at night, she had flitted by my eyes, and I had seen her -not as the living and breathing Berenice, but as the Berenice of a dream -not as a being of the earth, earthy, but as the abstraction of such a being-not as a thing to admire, but to analyze -not as an object of love, but as the theme of the most abstruse although desultory speculation. And now -now I shuddered in her presence, and grew pale at her approach; yet bitterly lamenting her fallen and desolate condition, I called to mind that she had loved me long, and, in an evil moment, I spoke to her of marriage.
And at length the period of our nuptials was approaching, when, upon an afternoon in the winter of the year, -one of those unseasonably warm, calm, and misty days which are the nurse of the beautiful Halcyon*, -I sat, (and sat, as I thought, alone,) in the inner apartment of the library. But uplifting my eyes I saw that Berenice stood before me.
*For as Jove, during the winter season, gives twice seven days of warmth, men have called this clement and temperate time the nurse of the beautiful Halcyon -Simonides.
Was it my own excited imagination -or the misty influence of the atmosphere -or the uncertain twilight of the chamber -or the gray draperies which fell around her figure -that caused in it so vacillating and indistinct an outline? I could not tell. She spoke no word, I -not for worlds could I have uttered a syllable. An icy chill ran through my frame; a sense of insufferable anxiety oppressed me; a consuming curiosity pervaded my soul; and sinking back upon the chair, I remained for some time breathless and motionless, with my eyes riveted upon her person. Alas! its emaciation was excessive, and not one vestige of the former being, lurked in any single line of the contour. My burning glances at length fell upon the face.
The forehead was high, and very pale, and singularly placid; and the once jetty hair fell partially over it, and overshadowed the hollow temples with innumerable ringlets now of a vivid yellow, and Jarring discordantly, in their fantastic character, with the reigning melancholy of the countenance. The eyes were lifeless, and lustreless, and seemingly pupil-less, and I shrank involuntarily from their glassy stare to the contemplation of the thin and shrunken lips. They parted; and in a smile of peculiar meaning, the teeth of the changed Berenice disclosed themselves slowly to my view. Would to God that I had never beheld them, or that, having done so, I had died!
The shutting of a door disturbed me, and, looking up, I found that my cousin had departed from the chamber. But from the disordered chamber of my brain, had not, alas! departed, and would not be driven away, the white and ghastly spectrum of the teeth. Not a speck on their surface -not a shade on their enamel -not an indenture in their edges -but what that period of her smile had sufficed to brand in upon my memory. I saw them now even more unequivocally than I beheld them then. The teeth! -the teeth! -they were here, and there, and everywhere, and visibly and palpably before me; long, narrow, and excessively white, with the pale lips writhing about them, as in the very moment of their first terrible development. Then came the full fury of my monomania, and I struggled in vain against its strange and irresistible influence. In the multiplied objects of the external world I had no thoughts but for the teeth. For these I longed with a phrenzied desire. All other matters and all different interests became absorbed in their single contemplation. They -they alone were present to the mental eye, and they, in their sole individuality, became the essence of my mental life. I held them in every light. I turned them in every attitude. I surveyed their characteristics. I dwelt upon their peculiarities. I pondered upon their conformation. I mused upon the alteration in their nature. I shuddered as I assigned to them in imagination a sensitive and sentient power, and even when unassisted by the lips, a capability of moral expression. Of Mad'selle Salle it has been well said, 'que tous ses pas etaient des sentiments, ' and of Berenice I more seriously believed que toutes ses dents etaient des idees. Des idees! -ah here was the idiotic thought that destroyed me! Des idees! -ah therefore it was that I coveted them so madly! I felt that their possession could alone ever restore me to peace, in giving me back to reason.
And the evening closed in upon me thus-and then the darkness came, and tarried, and went -and the day again dawned -and the mists of a second night were now gathering around -and still I sat motionless in that solitary room; and still I sat buried in meditation, and still the phantasma of the teeth maintained its terrible ascendancy as, with the most vivid hideous distinctness, it floated about amid the changing lights and shadows of the chamber. At length there broke in upon my dreams a cry as of horror and dismay; and thereunto, after a pause, succeeded the sound of troubled voices, intermingled with many low moanings of sorrow, or of pain. I arose from my seat and, throwing open one of the doors of the library, saw standing out in the antechamber a servant maiden, all in tears, who told me that Berenice was -no more. She had been seized with epilepsy in the early morning, and now, at the closing in of the night, the grave was ready for its tenant, and all the preparations for the burial were completed.
I found myself sitting in the library, and again sitting there alone. It seemed that I had newly awakened from a confused and exciting dream. I knew that it was now midnight, and I was well aware that since the setting of the sun Berenice had been interred. But of that dreary period which intervened I had no positive -at least no definite comprehension. Yet its memory was replete with horror -horror more horrible from being vague, and terror more terrible from ambiguity. It was a fearful page in the record my existence, written all over with dim, and hideous, and unintelligible recollections. I strived to decypher them, but in vain; while ever and anon, like the spirit of a departed sound, the shrill and piercing shriek of a female voice seemed to be ringing in my ears. I had done a deed -what was it? I asked myself the question aloud, and the whispering echoes of the chamber answered me, 'what was it? '
On the table beside me burned a lamp, and near it lay a little box. It was of no remarkable character, and I had seen it frequently before, for it was the property of the family physician; but how came it there, upon my table, and why did I shudder in regarding it? These things were in no manner to be accounted for, and my eyes at length dropped to the open pages of a book, and to a sentence underscored therein. The words were the singular but simple ones of the poet Ebn Zaiat, 'Dicebant mihi sodales si sepulchrum amicae visitarem, curas meas aliquantulum fore levatas.' Why then, as I perused them, did the hairs of my head erect themselves on end, and the blood of my body become congealed within my veins?
There came a light tap at the library door, and pale as the tenant of a tomb, a menial entered upon tiptoe. His looks were wild with terror, and he spoke to me in a voice tremulous, husky, and very low. What said he? -some broken sentences I heard. He told of a wild cry disturbing the silence of the night -of the gathering together of the household-of a search in the direction of the sound; -and then his tones grew thrillingly distinct as he whispered me of a violated grave -of a disfigured body enshrouded, yet still breathing, still palpitating, still alive!
He pointed to garments; -they were muddy and clotted with gore. I spoke not, and he took me gently by the hand; -it was indented with the impress of human nails. He directed my attention to some object against the wall; -I looked at it for some minutes; -it was a spade. With a shriek I bounded to the table, and grasped the box that lay upon it. But I could not force it open; and in my tremor it slipped from my hands, and fell heavily, and burst into pieces; and from it, with a rattling sound, there rolled out some instruments of dental surgery, intermingled with thirty-two small, white and ivory-looking substances that were scattered to and fro about the floor.
poem by Erie Morganmaples
Added by Poetry Lover
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People In The City
P.e.o.p.l.e.c.i.t.y
People in the city
P.e.o.p.l.e.c.i.t.y
People in the city
P.e.o.p.l.e.c.i.t.y
People in the city
P.e.o.p.l.e.c.i.t.y
People in the city
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling
P.e.o.p.l.e.c.i.t.y
People in the city
P.e.o.p.l.e.c.i.t.y
People in the city
P.e.o.p.l.e.c.i.t.y
People in the city
P.e.o.p.l.e.c.i.t.y
People in the city
On the sidewalk (people in the city)
Near the street lamp (people in the city)
At the bus stop (people in the city)
Down the station (people in the city)
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling
Moving, watching, working, sleeping, driving, walking, talking, smiling.
song performed by Air
Added by Lucian Velea
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Working On It
Oh how Id love it girl, just you and me
Take the day and fly
But oh this job, its got the best of me
Tell you why, tell you why
Somebody above is in a desperate state
Some kind of urgency, the kind that wont wait
I say tomorrow, he say today
And the man in my head well he tell me no way
Keep working
I got eight little fingers and only two thumbs
Will you leave me in peace while I get the work done
Cant you see Im working
Oh, oh Im working on it
Oh, oh Im working on it
Well theyre coming from above me
And theyre coming from below
Yea theyre in there right behind me
Everywhere that I go
And my buddy, hes screaming down the telephone line
He say gimme, gimme, gimme
I say I aint got the time
Oh, oh cant you see Im working on it
Oh, oh Im working on it
Yea, yea, oh tell em
How Id love it girl, just you and me
Take the day and fly
But oh, this job its got the best of me
Tell you why
Well theyre coming from above me
And theyre coming from below
Yea theyre in there right behind me
Everywhere that I go
My buddy, hes screaming down the telephone line
He say gimme, gimme, gimme
I say I aint got the time
Oh, oh cant you see Im working on it
Oh, oh Im working on it
Oh, oh Im working
Oh, oh cant you see Im working on it
song performed by Chris Rea
Added by Lucian Velea
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Got My Mojo Working
Hands off of her, she belongs to me
Mojo working don't belong to you
Well, she's mine all mine no matter what you do
Play it boys, play it boys
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you
But you're mine all mine no matter what you do
Let me tell you now
She's long lean and lanky, sweet as she can be
Hands off of her, she belongs to me
Hands off of her' don't belong to you
Well she's mine all mine no matter what you do
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you
Well you're mine all mine no matter what you do
Play it Jerry, play it ........
No matter what you do, play it son
Well she's long lean and lanky, sweet as she can be
Hands off of her unless you want to deal with me
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you
Well you're mine all mine no matter what you do
Yeah!
I got my mojo workin' I got my mojo workin'
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you
Well, you're mine all mine no matter what you do
She's long lean and lanky, sweet as she can be
Hands off of her, she belongs to me
Hands off of her' don't belong to you
Well you're mine all mine no matter what you do
One more time!
Yeah!
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you
Well, you're mine all mine no matter what you do
Listen to me now
I said you're long lean and lanky cute as you can be
Hands off of her unless you want deal with me
Get your hands off of her, she don't belong to you
Well, you're mine all mine no matter what you do
Yeah, I got my mojo workin' I got my mojo workin'
I got my mojo workin' I got my mojo workin'
I got my mojo working but it just don't work on you
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Got My Mojo Working / Keep Your Hands Off Of It
(words & music by preston foster / elvis presley)
Hands off of her, she belongs to me
Mojo working dont belong to you
Well, shes mine all mine no matter what you do
Play it boys, play it boys
I got my mojo working but it just dont work on you
I got my mojo working but it just dont work on you
But youre mine all mine no matter what you do
Let me tell you now
Shes long lean and lanky, sweet as she can be
Hands off of her, she belongs to me
Hands off of her dont belong to you
Well shes mine all mine no matter what you do
I got my mojo working but it just dont work on you
I got my mojo working but it just dont work on you
Well youre mine all mine no matter what you do
Play it jerry, play it ........
No matter what you do, play it son
Well shes long lean and lanky, sweet as she can be
Hands off of her unless you want to deal with me
I got my mojo working but it just dont work on you
Well youre mine all mine no matter what you do
Yeah!
I got my mojo workin I got my mojo workin
I got my mojo working but it just dont work on you
Well, youre mine all mine no matter what you do
Shes long lean and lanky, sweet as she can be
Hands off of her, she belongs to me
Hands off of her dont belong to you
Well youre mine all mine no matter what you do
One more time!
Yeah!
I got my mojo working but it just dont work on you
I got my mojo working but it just dont work on you
Well, youre mine all mine no matter what you do
Listen to me now
I said youre long lean and lanky cute as you can be
Hands off of her unless you want deal with me
Get your hands off of her, she dont belong to you
Well, youre mine all mine no matter what you do
Yeah, I got my mojo workin I got my mojo workin
I got my mojo workin I got my mojo workin
I got my mojo working but it just dont work on you
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Working In The Building
Im working on the building
It's a true foundation
I'm holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
I'm going up to heaven to get my reward
Im working on the building
It's a true foundation
I'm holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
I'm going up to heaven oh yeah, to get my reward
Im working on the building
It's a true foundation
I'm holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
I'm going up to heaven oh yeah, to get my reward
Im working on the building
It's a true foundation
I'm holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
I'm going up to heaven oh yeah, to get my reward
Im working on the building
It's a true foundation
I'm holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
I'm going up to heaven oh yeah, to get my reward
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Working On The Building
(words & music by hoyle - boulas)
Im working on the building
Its a true foundation
Im holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
Im going up to heaven to get my reward
Im working on the building
Its a true foundation
Im holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
Im going up to heaven oh yeah, to get my reward
Im working on the building
Its a true foundation
Im holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
Im going up to heaven oh yeah, to get my reward
Im working on the building
Its a true foundation
Im holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
Im going up to heaven oh yeah, to get my reward
Im working on the building
Its a true foundation
Im holding up the blood-stained
Banner for my lord
Well I never get tired, tired, tired of working on the building
Im going up to heaven oh yeah, to get my reward
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Workin' For The Man
Workin' For The Man
Roy Orbison
Hey now you better listen to me everyone of you
We got a lotta lotta lotta lotta work to do
Forget about your woman and that water can
Today were working for the man
well pick up your feet
we've got a deadline to meet
I'm gonna see you make it on time
Don't relax
I want elbows and backs
I wanna see everybody from behind
'Cause your working for the man working for the man
you gotta make him a hand when you're working for the man
Oh well I'm pickin' 'em up and I'm laying 'em down
I believe he's gonna work me into the ground
I pull to the left I heave to the right
I wanna kill him but it wouldn't be right
'Cause I,m working for the man working for the man
gotta make him a hand when you're working for the man
Well the boss man's daughter sneaks me water
everytime her daddy's down the line
she says meet me tonight love a me right
and everything is gonna be fine
So I slave all day without much pay
'cause I'm just abiding my time
'cause the company and the daughter you see
Their both gonna be all mine
Yah I'm gonna be the man gonna be the man
Gotta make him a hand if I'm gonna be the man
working for the man working for the man
gonna be the man gonna be the man
Gotta make him a hand working for the man
From: Deise (Julio C Pereira
)
song performed by Roy Orbison
Added by Lucian Velea
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