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Max von Sydow

I'm getting too old to play some parts, but I'm still greedy.

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Some Things Just Get Too Old

To tap into one's energy,
With a sapping of most of it away...
To then say how distant someone has become,
With a leaving of nothing getting done...
By those voicing their complaints,
Should expose to anyone passing judgement...
Just who had been doing all the work.
AND promoting those to sit...
WITH a getting paid to do it no one mentions.

Some things just get too old but not quick enough!

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Never Too Old, For Romance !

Please , give me another dance !
Take my hand , give me some sense !
Make me feel , the music , the rhyme !
Let's enjoy , let's spend , nicely our time !

I see it in your eyes, ' The Romance ',
Of your desire to dance !
You are so romantic , so sweet !
You better know , how much we fit !

You were so nice , with so much delight ,
When I gave , my first 'light '!
Now , after so many files ,
I even remember our smiles !

It is never , too old for A ROMANCE,
FOR A KISS OR A DANCE !
We can feel the same today ,
No matter WHAT PEOPLE SAY !

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To Play Some Music

Say everybody
And everyone
Weve been waitin, so very long
To play some music
And have some fun
Bring some happiness to everyone
Well come with us and try and learn
Whats on your mind
Open your ears and eyes and lets see what you can find
Youre not so different, I dont mean to be unkind
Somethings unfolding if you really take the time
So let the sun shine
Its just begun
Youve given all you could to anyone
Well dont you lose it
Dont run away
Its getting stronger, day after day
Youre sittin there, you say youre
Waiting for the show
And what you have, and what you
Hear is what you really want to know
Youve only come here cause heres
Nowhere else to go
Were only sorry, that we have
To end the show.
Play some music
Play some music
Play some music
Play some music
Play some music
Play some music
Play some music
Yeah

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Too Old To Rock n Roll: Too Young To Die

The old rocker wore his hair too long, wore his trouser cuffs too tight. unfashionable to the end --- drank his ale too light. deaths head belt buckle --- yesterdays dreams --- the transport c
Rophet of doom. ringing no change in his double-sewn seams in his post-war-babe gloom. now hes too old to rocknroll but hes too young to die. he once owned a harley davidson and a triumph bo
Lle. counted his friends in burned-out spark plugs and prays that he always will. but hes the last of the blue blood greaser boys all of his mates are doing time: married with three kids up by
Ing road sold their souls straight down the line. and some of them own little sports cars and meet at the tennis club dos. for drinks on a sunday --- work on monday. theyve thrown away their b
Uede shoes. now theyre too old to rocknroll and theyre too young to die. so the old rocker gets out his bike to make a ton before he takes his leave. up on the a1 by scotch corner just like
Ed to be. and as he flies ---
Tears in his eyes --- his wind-whipped words echo the final take and he hits the trunk road doing around 120 with no room left to brake. and he was too old to rocknroll but he was too young t
. no, youre never too old to rocknroll if youre too young to die.

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Too Old To Rock 'n' Roll

The old rocker wore his hair too long, wore his trouser cuffs too tight.
Unfashionable to the end - drank his ale too light.
Deaths head belt buckle - yesterdays dreams -
The transport caf prophet of doom
Ringing no change in his double-sewn seams, in his post-war baby-gloom
Chorus:
Now hes too old to rocknroll but hes too young to die
yes hes too old ... etc.
He once owned a Harley Davidson and a Triumph Bonneville
Counted his friends in burned out spark plugs and prays that he always
will
But hes the last of the blue blood greaser boys
And all his mates are doin time
Married with three kids up by the ring road
Sold their souls straight down the line
And some of them own little sports cars and meet at their tennis club
dos
For drinks on a Sunday - work on Monday
Theyve thrown away their blue suede shoes
Chorus:
Now theyre too old to rocknroll but theyre to young to die
Yes theyre too old ... etc.
So the old rocker gets out his bike to make a ton before he takes his
leave
Upon the A1 by Scotch Corner just like it used to be.
And as he flies tears in his eyes -
His wind-whipped words echo the final take
As he hits the trunk road doing around 120
With no room left to brake
Chorus:
And he was too old to rocknroll
And he was too young to die

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Never Too Old

You’re never too old to pop plastic bubbles
Never too old to have a twinkle in your eye
Never too old to stir up some trouble
Never too old til the day that you die

You’re never to old to sneak a few cookies
Never too old to give someone the ‘eye’
Never too old to like ‘Star Wars and Wookies’
Never too old til the day that you die

You’re never too old to enjoy a good dirty joke
Never too old to still wish you could fly
Never too old to think you could croak
Never too old til the day that you die

You’re never too old to splash thru a puddle
Never too old to watch a fire truck scream by
Never to old for tag football and to huddle
Never too old til the day that you die

You’re never too old to get a bean stuck in your nose
Never too old to like a big slice of pizza pie
Never too old to toss away your support hose
Never too old til the day that you die

You’re never to old to be young at heart
And if you ever let that thought enter your head
if you ever start thinking that way you ol’ f*#t
You’re not young at heart…you’re just dead

In another poem I said “sing a little song,
And “Do a little dance, ” was another part.
To “Spritch a little seltzer down your pants” is never wrong
You’re never too old to be young at heart

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Too Old

too,
run, too old,
to run, to run too,
old, to run,
run, to, old, too,
too.

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I hope before I am getting too old and when my mind is still functioning, I can tell some better stories.

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I Am Too Old/My Dreams Are Too Old

I AM TOO OLD/ MY DREAMS ARE TOO OLD

I am too old
My dreams are too old
I am afraid
My dreams are afraid
I cannot climb the mountain anymore
I am too old
And my dreams are afraid
And I cannot climb the mountain anymore

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Never Too Old

We often think that age as we grow older
mean that we cannot do things
someone half our age can do.
The reasoning is fallacy;
we are never too old
so long as within our hearts
we want to feel young.
Our smiles never alter,
nor does the love in our hearts.
Age is just a number,
not a constriction be.
You are as young
as you will always want to be.

28 October 2008

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Is He Too Old...

Is he too old to be president?
Can a bird fly with one wing?
No one can say,
What has yet not been observed!
But then again...
Trees have lived for hundreds of years!
Observing.
And providing an 'allowance'
For all of us to live.
And as long as he has life...
Who has the right to question,
His age and abilities...
To do what someone younger,
For years could not do!
And 'youth'...
Although there,
Did not follow through to provide the proof!
Where is that evidence?

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I Am Too Old /To Make Up

I AM TOO OLD / TO MAKE UP

I am too old
To make up
For years of self- delusion.
How can I begin again
When my life is almost over?
I have fought for a dream
But I did not fight in the right way.
I gave my life to writing
But I did not write carefully enough.
I have so much to do
And not enough time and ability to do it.
So I was another one of the millions
Who tried and was not good enough.
Now in the years left
What can I do
So that I and my wife
Do not end up
In complete poverty and humiliation?

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Too Redundant To Play

If manipulation was not prioritized,
In most people's lives...
As something daily to do,
For them to get accomplished...
None of this would exist,
As a representation of reality.
And who has not been used...
In one way or another,
To feel they have achieved 'something'?

How many have played a game,
Without first learning the rules?
That is why there are jobs for people to do.
And schools created to teach,
How best to elevate to higher levels...
Of personal satisfaction.
And one's peace of mind is only recognized,
When the game gets too redundant to play.

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Old And Young

LONG ago, on a bright spring day,
I passed a little child at play;
And as I passed, in childish glee
She called to me, “Come and play with me!”

But my eyes were fixed on a far-off height
I was fain to climb before the night;
So, half-impatient, I answered, “Nay!
I am too old, too old to play.”

Long, long after, in Autumn time—
My limbs were grown too old to climb—
I passed a child on a pleasant lea,
And I called to her, “Come and play with me!”

But her eyes were fixed on a fairy-book;
And scarce she lifted a wondering look,
As with childish scorn she answered, “Nay!
I am too old, too old to play!”

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Too Old To Work And Too Young To Die

That time catches up on us all is surely not a lie
He is too old to work and he is too young to die
On retirement pension and quite bored with life
He spends much of his time arguing with his wife
On their fortieth year of marriage and love between them long dead
With a son and daughter and seven grandchildren and old age ahead
Since the warm feelings of love in their life has gone cold
They have nothing to look forward to but growing old
He and his wife in their mid to late sixties and their best years long gone
And only the will to live keeps them living on
Years ago they used to walk hand in hand to the park off of the street
But nowadays out walking them one never does meet
On his own in the pub he sits and drinks his beer
Looking rather unhappy and lacking in cheer.

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Much Too Old and Too Lazy

You wanna go to bed early,
And get up late.
You wanna make demands,
And not appreciate.
You want to say what you wanna,
And think you are great.
But today is that day,
No more mistakes you make.

You are much too old and too lazy for me.
And today is that day no more mistakes you make.
You're going to do something around here if you want to eat.
Because today is that day no more mistakes you make.
You're going to clean your room and sweep the floor.
Because today is that day no more mistakes you make.
You're gonna do as I say or get your own place.

You wanna go to bed early,
And get up late.
You wanna make demands,
And not appreciate.
Tired of you,
I am.

You are much too old and too lazy for me.
And today is that day no more mistakes you make.
You're going to do something around here if you want to eat.
Because today is that day no more mistakes you make.
You're going to clean your room and sweep the floor.
Because today is that day no more mistakes you make.
You're gonna do as I say or get your own place.

You wanna go to bed early,
And get up late.
You wanna make demands,
And not appreciate.
You want to say what you wanna,
And think you are great.
But today is that day,
No more mistakes you make.

Tired of you,
I am.
You are much too old and too lazy for me.
Tired of you,
I am.
You are much too old and too lazy for me.
Tired of you,
I am.

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Confession

I love you - I love you, e'en as I
Rage at myself for this obsession,
And as I make my shamed confession,
Despairing at your feet I lie.
I know, I know - It ill becomes me,
I am too old, time to be wise ...
But how? ... This love - it overcomes me,
A sickness this in passion's guise.
When you are near I'm filled with sadness,
When far, I yawn, for life's a bore.
I must pour out this love, this madness,
There's nothing that I long for more!
When your shirts rustle, when, my angel,
Your girlish voice I hear, when your
Light step sounds in the parlour - strangely,
I turn confused, perturbed, unsure.
Your frown - and I'm in pain, I languish;
You smile - and joy defeats distress;
My one reward for a day's anguish
Comes when your, pale hand, love, I kiss.
When you sit, bent over your sewing,
Your eyes cast down and fine curls blowing.
About your face, with tenderness
I like childlike watch, my heart o'erflowing
With love, in my gaze a caress.
Shall I my jealousy and yearning
Describe, my bitterness and woe
When by yourself on some bleak morning
Off on a distant walk you go,
Or with another spend the evening
And, with him near, the piano play,
Or for Opochka leave, or, grieving
Weep and in silence, pass the day?
Alina! Pray relent have mercy!
I dare not ask for love - with all
My many sins, both great and small,
I am perhaps of love unworthy!
But if feigned love, if you would
Pretend, you'd easily deceive me,
For happily would I, believe me,
Deceive myself if but I could!

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Show Yourself

When I was small I used to stand
With my hand on my heart
And I would sing to you
You were my son and my lover
My father and my brother
I beleived in you
It was so easy then
It was so easy then
But where are you now
It seems like you cant hear me anymore
Maybe youre just getting too old
But do you remember
201 years ago
When you were young
How strong you had become
Promising every one you sweet gift of freedom,
Now you know exactly who I am
I seem to tell you all the time
Now tell me some kind of truth about yourself
Your life should be as opena s mine
There are children dying for you
That doesnt sound like freedom to me
You keep lyin about why theyre dyin
When they should be concieved in liberty
Show yourself
Show yourself to me
Youre the one that told me
Remember
You told me I was born to be free
Open all your doors I want to see
All your doors and your keys
I want to see I want to hear you
All 88 keys yeah
Oh give it to me
Show yourself
Show yourself to me
I want to see tha stars and the stripes
That can make those things scream
Show yourself
Show yourself to me
Expose yourself I wanna see your face
Come on give it to me
Show yourself
Show yourself to me
Are you rca
Are you standard oil
Are you a.t.&t. I wanna see
Give it to me if you got one
I wanna see come on and show yourself
Who runs this? who runs this country?
Show me
Show yourself
Give it to me
Show yourself to me
I want to know I wanna see
Give it to me show yourself
Show yourself to me
I want you know I wanna see
Give it to me show yourself
Show yourself to me
Who runs it? who runs it around?
Show me show me show your face to me

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The Stockyard Liar

If ever you're handling a rough one
There's bound to be perched on the rails
Of the Stockyard some grizzled old tough one
Whose flow of advice never fails;
There are plenty of course, who aspire
To make plain that you're only a dunce,
But the most insupportable liar
Is the man who has ridden 'em once.
He will tell you a tale and a rum one,
With never a smile on his face,
How he broke for old Somebody Some-one
At some unapproachable place;
How they bucked and they snorted and squealed,
How he spurred 'em and flogged 'em, and how
He would gallop 'em round till they reeled -
But he's 'getting too old for it now'.

How you're standing too far from her shoulder,
Or too jolly close to the same,
How he could have taught you to hold her
In the days when he 'followed the game';
He will bustle, annoy and un-nerve us
Till even our confidence fails -
O Shade of old Nimrod! preserve us
From the beggar that sits on the rails!

How your reins you are holding too tightly,
Your girths might as well be unloosed,
How 'young chaps' don't handle them rightly,
And horses don't buck 'like they used';
Till at last, in a bit of passion,
You ask him in choicest 'Barcoo'
To go and be hanged in a fashion
That turns the whole atmosphere blue!

And the chances are strong the old buffer
Has been talking for something to say,
And never rode anything rougher
Than the shaft of old Somebody's dray;
And the horses he thinks he has broken
Are clothes-horses sawn out of pine,
And his yarns to us simply betoken
The start of a senile decline.

There are laws for our proper protection
From murder and theft and the rest,
But the criminal wanting inspection
Is riding a rail in the West;
And the law that the country requires
At the hands of her statesmen of sense
Is the law that makes meat of the liars
That can sit a rough buck - on the fence!

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Going, Going...Gone!

Gon' git outta here...
Trying to spread that mess!
You ain't heard me say nuthin'...
About her or her ugliness.
All I said,
Was he wasn't wrapped too tight,
In his head.
Because 'you' have issues with her...
You need not tell lies,
To have them roll their eyes at me.
You gooooood for stirring things up!
And then sittin' back and laughin'...
Like you're not the cause for all the fuss!

Gon' git outta here...
Trying to spread that mess!
Talkin' 'bout,
How you saw who with who.
And which one said something,
About me...
That I should address!
And you don't want to get involved?
Because you don't think it is your place?
But you are all up in their business...
And you are telling lies all up in my face?

Gon'...
Git.
Outta here!
You ain't satisfied...
Until an argument hits the air.
And you don't care,
Who is in it or how it starts!
You just like to agitate.
Do it...
And then depart!

Gon' git outta here...
Trying to spread fresh mess!
You are getting too old for this.
This act of yours is too predictable.
And getting easier to resist in protest.
Folks have updated their ways to gossip today!
They use email, blogs and text messages,
To say what they have to say!
And this method that you are using...
Is tired.
Outdated.
Slow and lacking imagination.
Like a turtle stuck in molasses.

'Huh? '

You gotta add some 'beatz'!
And package it with somethin' slammin'.
With a rhyme or two.
And loop that with some hip hop!
Download it and then you in da biz!
Got that?
THEN,
You dropp it!
Hot or not!

'What in the hell are you talking about?
Nobody is in their right mind today.
No where!
I can't find a single person,
Who values the art of gossip!
Going, going...gone, is another lost treasure!
Man, you need to see a doctor...quick.
You're going through some menopause...
Or something!
SOMETHING is wrong with you!
I think your mind has 'flipped'!

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