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Ashley Tisdale

I did find some time to go to a record store and check out ""Headstrong"" actually in the racks. It was pretty cool; I never thought I'd see my own CD sitting there with everyone else's. I made my Mom take lots of pics!

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The Call From On High

Come into the Church, the Vicar said,
Otherwise you'll be standing in the flowerbed,
Because outside, there really is no space,
It's filled seemingly by the 'whole human race',
So into the Church I made my way,
To sit, to sing and maybe to pray.

The organ was playing loud and clear,
The volume well up, so easy to hear,
With the choir rendering a psalm or two,
I made my way into a pew,
And knelt in reverence as one should,
Feeling infinitely good.

And as I knelt there all alone,
A sudden noise, or should I say tone,
Came to my ear, a sound well known,
Dear Lord, it was my mobile phone.
I felt my body start to freeze,
Kneeling there upon my knees.

I switched it off with rapid speed,
Picked up a hymn book and began to read,
Trying to ignore the stares,
And even more than that, the glares,
Which penetrated my poor back,
Like I'd encountered a shower of flak.

I edged my way along the seat,
Hoping to make my escape complete,
But suddenly the pew was brimming over,
With aliens from another nova,
Who didn't seem to see my plight,
And that now I was turning rather white.

I had to sit the whole service through,
Well you see, what else could I do,
Stuck up against an embroidered banner,
Dedicated to someone called Hannah,
Who passed away in 1907,
And was guaranteed a place in heaven.

At last the Vicar gave his blessing,
My urge to leave was very pressing,
When were these neighbours going to budge,
It was very hard for me to judge
If they would join the growing queue,
To wish the Vicar 'fond adieu'.

By the time that they had all moved out,
I realised without a doubt,
That I was the very last one to stand,
And to have to shake the Vicar's hand,
Who asked me if my 'call' had come from 'on high',
Have you ever felt you wanted to die.

I tried to laugh it off as best I could,
'You'll come again'? he asked, I said I would,
But without my mobile next time, I think,
He smiled at me and gave a 'wink',
Actually I liked him, he was pretty okay,
So, Yes, I'll go there another day.

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You Will Remember Me When

YOU WILL REMEMBER ME WHEN
Sitting in the NYC Barnes & Noble,
I met an old lady who was very bold.
Sitting there with her sheepish grin,
She made fun of everything.
Like the way Melodie looked,
She was mean and a schmook.
She talked to me like
she was the editor of Reader’s Digest,
“You’ll never be like Dr. Suess,
for he is the best,
you don’t have a chance
for he’s the best.”
Now after she was finished
with her ranting stuff,
I said with my voice a gruff.
I will be famous one day,
and you will regret every
word you say.”
Now I realize I developed
the NYC style, really frank
But with with a smile.

Written by Christina Sunrise on Feb.6,2011
www.christinasunrise.com www.purplepoems.com

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You'll Regret Every Word You Say

Sitting in the NYC Barnes & Noble,

I met an old lady who was very bold.

Sitting there with her sheepish grin,

she made fun of everything.

Like the way Melodie looked,

she was mean and a schmook.

She talked to me like

she was the editor of Reader’s Digest,

acting like a professional trying to impress.

“You’ll never be like Dr. Suess,

for he is the very best,

you don’t have a chance

your like all the rest.”

Now after she was finished

with her ranting stuff,

I said with my voice a gruff.

I will be famous one day,

and you will regret every

word you say.”

Now I realize I developed

the NYC style,

really frank but with with a smile,

just like Razel who is very blunt,

I wish she was there that day

to tell off this nut.

Written by Christina Sunrise on Feb.6,2011

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You'll Regret Every Word You Say

Sitting in the NYC Barnes & Noble,

I met an old lady who was very bold.

Sitting there with her sheepish grin,

she made fun of everything.

Like the way Melodie looked,

she was mean and a schmook.

She talked to me like

she was the editor of Reader’s Digest,

acting like a professional trying to impress.

“You’ll never be like Dr. Suess,

for he is the very best,

you don’t have a chance

your like all the rest.”

Now after she was finished

with her ranting stuff,

I said with my voice a gruff.

I will be famous one day,

and you will regret every

word you say.”

Now I realize I developed

the NYC style,

really frank

but with with a smile,

just like Razel who is very blunt,

I wish she was there that day

to tell off this nut.

Written by Christina Sunrise on Feb.6,2011

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Live without him

I would live without him
I would go deep and swim
To find the hidden treasure
To miss the truth and measure

I did not fail dope test
Just wanted to have respite and rest
Despite having done all the best
Nothing was coming out it just

We are essential parts of life
What would it mean if I prefer to be your wife?
Will it change entire scenario for both of us?
If we continue to live at odds and without trust/

I thought and re- thought over entire gamut
There were nothing but ifs and buts
You were proving difficult
It was adding injury to insult

I am confident and respected female
I would never want domination from male
I shall subdue and submit when needed
And rise when injustice is committed

We are not helpless and pet animal
We too want and wait for spring’s arrival
Who will not want the beautiful roses on the way?
Why something should be done to take you away?

I remained silent only with mind
It was not at all difficult for you to find
My eyes could have revealed many things
Yet you failed to grasp and catch something

We are not simple helpless animals grazing on the ground
Even they react badly when chased or nothing to be found
It is give and take so far as the honor is concerned
No one can be pushed extreme and unnecessarily cornered

I would not buy the argument in favor or against
It should follow the natural justice and is must
We have to push the chariot wheels of precious life
Even though it is as difficult as edge of knife


We have strong mettle to prove to the world
You can not blow hot and at the same time cold
The world is totally different today and full of the challenge
One must try to live honorably and positively manage

There may be some strong appetite for body hunger
It is necessasity and some times can not be solved with anger
Even though the matter is delicate and needs some serious thought
The life can not be put at peril and unreasonable solution to be sought

It is not easy for woman to survive amidst hard times
But it is not to be forgotten altogether sometimes
Life is like ocean and one must decide to swim or sink
There has to be no double mind or any other option to think

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Put It Down

Put it down!
Pick it up tomorrow.
It will be more relevant.
And then a defensiveness,
You now today hold that is senseless...
Will become easier for you to admit,
Without me being around to witness it.

Put it down.
Do not attempt to absorb any of this.
Your lack of comprehension,
Will only lead to an argument.
And just for the sake of peace and quiet,
I will pretend your thought process...
Does not inhibit your lack to exhibit understanding.

Put it down.
I am sure you will find some time...
To allow your mind to open.
And digesting what is being addressed,
Without me reminding you...
How disgusted you are with my directness.
And if I came to deceive you with sweetness,
Everything I said you would accept.

Put it down.
With me in your presence...
And handing you this message,
The only thing you will remember...
Is being upset.
Not by the message...
But by my presence you will not forget.

Put this down!
It will make more sense to you tomorrow.

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Question

Theres a lie that runs
Across the human race
Theres a truth that draws
A tear upon your face
A child is crying and it echoes
All over the world
If we try to find some
Deep communication
Bring an end to war
And start a new creation
From the truth inside
Its waiting, its waiting
Suddenly then
The clearest voice will call
Feeling the air
You have no choice at all
Can I ask the question to you
Do you know who you are
Do you know what were doing here
Try to see the way from within
cause it isnt outside
Let your honesty see it clear
Why does anger fit our hearts
With missconception
Turn us inside out in every direction
From the truth inside
Thats waiting, its waiting
Follow the voice
That lives inside your heart
Never the choice
That tears your world apart
Take a walk and be
A wave upon the ocean
Touch the sky and
Feel our spirit in motion
This is the love inside thats waiting
Just waiting
Suddenly everything is there to see
You can be everything you want to be
Are you ready to go my love
Are you ready to be my love
Are you ready to die for love

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Kilroy Was Here

Theres a fellow roaming round the street
I think most of all Id like to meet
I must consider him a clever lad
Making like a young sir galahad
Everywhere I go I think hes been
He autographs the walls around the scene
If you look hard enough youll find him there
In rooms of public places everywhere
Kilroy was here
Left his name around the place
Kilroy was here
Thought Ive never seen his face
On a short vacation with my friends
I found I had time on my hands to spare
Surveyed my telescope around the land
And saw his name imprinted in the sand
Kilroy was here
Left his name around the place
Kilroy was here
Thought Ive never seen his face
On a short vacation with my friends
I found I had time on my hands to spare
Surveyed my telescope around the land
And saw his name imprinted in the sand
I wonder could he be a cavalier
Or a roving musketeer
Or just a dustman whos insane
Everyplace regardless where or when
.... strikes again and again and again
If I ever meet that man at all
Ill hang a plague upon my bedroom wall
A monument erected in his name
Would help to contribute his name
Kilroy was here
Left his name around the place
Kilroy was here
Thought Ive never seen his face
On a short vacation with my friends
I found I had time on my hands to spare
Surveyed my telescope around the land
And saw his name imprinted in the sand
Kilroy was here
Though Ive never seen his face

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Spring has sprung. We're free at last, people. Free at last. Thank you mother nature, we're free. Time to toss open that metaphysical window and check out that psychic landscape. See lots of possibilities budding out there. Time to hoe those rows, feed that seed. Pretty soon you get a garden.

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Christina Georgina Rossetti

An Apple-Gathering

I plucked pink blossoms from mine apple tree
And wore them all that evening in my hair:
Then in due season when I went to see
I found no apples there.
With dangling basket all along the grass
As I had come I went the selfsame track:
My neighbours mocked me while they saw me pass
So empty-handed back.

Lilian and Lilias smiled in trudging by,
Their heaped-up basket teazed me like a jeer;
Sweet-voiced they sang beneath the sunset sky,
Their mother's home was near.

Plump Gertrude passed me with her basket full,
A stronger hand than hers helped it along;
A voice talked with her thro' the shadows cool
More sweet to me than song.

Ah Willie, Willie, was my love less worth
Than apples with their green leaves piled above?
I counted rosiest apples on the earth
Of far less worth than love.

So once it was with me you stooped to talk
Laughing and listening in this very lane:
To think that by this way we used to walk
We shall not walk again!

I let my neighbours pass me, ones and twos
And groups; the latest said the night grew chill,
And hastened: but I loitered, while the dews
Fell fast I loitered still.

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For Heavens Sake

(gill/johnson/nash/otoole)
Leave them behind, those clouds of trouble
We have to find a world thats new
Buy a new dress and go out dancing
Do all the things you wanna do
For heavens sake, you have to break away
Unchain yourself, from the mood of today
We dont need aggression
We dont need recession
Just give us some money
Our life could be sunny too
We dont need regression
Nor means of repression
Our life could be sunny too ,ooh
Our lives should be so full of laughter
With endless joy to follow after
Summer comes to girls and boys
Never too late, but to enjoy, to enjoy
Oh come on down from your ivory tower
Unlock the doors and give us flowers
Weve wored for you now for too long
Weve done whats right, youve done us wrong
For heavens sake, we got to break away
Unchain yourself, from the mood of today
We dont need regression
Make your impression
Oooh, world is waiting
We need to go out dancing
Oooh, world is waiting
We need a new t.v.
Oooh, world is waiting
We dont need fear and fighting
Oooh, world is waiting
We dont need history
She should buy us all a drink
She should buy us all a drink
She should stop the pain, stop the pain
She should buy us all a drink
Yeah
We dont need recession
Nor means of repression
Just give us some money
Our life could be sunny too
Just give us some money
Our life could be sunny too, ooh
She should stop and think, stop and think, oooh
We dont need regression
Nor means of repression
Just give us some money
Our lives could be sunny too, ooh

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Then we tried to come up with ideas for the sketches, and then, when we actually shot the movie, we really just sat down - never previewed the movie - we just really winged it.

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There Is Still Some Time Left Before the Dawn!

To those who dare to defy convention...
Shut up!
To those who intent to awaken and shake,
Those in pretentions they can not break.
To those conforming to a higher consciouness...
Shut up!
There are those still asleep,
As they cheat and play roulette with their lives!
Shut up...
They might hear,
Something that stops their addictions!
And the nonsense uncovered in their false traditions.
Shut up...
There is still some time left before the dawn!
And those who know what is going on,
Are trying to get a nap.
A rest before delusions end...
To begin the cracking of those minds that snap!

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Everyone Else Is On Your List

What choices have you made,
That were enforced upon you?
Which decisions did you select,
Under hypnosis?
Or denied a participation...
After awakening from amnesia?

If none of these apply...
And you today try to blame someone else,
For those circumstances that have left you 'disadvantaged'.
When did you first notice you weren't blooming like a flower?
And who then untied your hands?
To encourage you to nourish with a sniff...
Scented with life.

What then unlocked your mind?
If it is unlocked,
To leave seductive excuses behind.
And who chose to freeze when those obstacles appeared?
Did you yell for a demolition crew?
To free you from the torment.

'Are you being sarcastic? '

Of course!
Nothing else seems to sink through!

I am waiting for you to accuse me...
For your defeat.
Since everyone else is on your list,
Except yourself.
But how can I forget?
You 'are' into accusations!

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Patrick White

For All The Seers And Seekers Out There

For all the seers and seekers out there,
all you bright seeds on a blind wind
looking for a vision of life you can root in
and express yourselves like willows in the moonlight
to the night creek nearby that listens
when you cry out in mystical bliss
at the surprise of waterlilies gathered at your feet
to catch a taste of the same essence that makes you weep,
deep inside, inside, inside, look there for paradise,
where the stars are dazzled by your eyes
that don't fade away in the blazing like Venus at dusk.

Looking for the spirit with the spirit
like a breathless wind looking for the wind
to give it mouth to mouth resuscitation
is a snake with its tail in its mouth
enchained to its own liberation.
Is a candle in the sun living on borrowed light
when it's already well-provisioned with its own shining
for the long nights in the heart
of an unknown radiance within?
Long nights on the high slopes
of the world mountain you're sitting on alone
like a pauper with kingly second thoughts
about abdicating the ancestral throne of your ego.

For you who are not stuck
like a false idol the size of your thumb
through a three and a half pound brain of starmud.

For you who are not voidbound by your freedom,
or cower in the shadows of your solitude
afraid to read the messages that flower under your doorsill
from anonymous admirers passing in the hall.

For those of you who learned to read and write
in an alphabet of loveletters waiting for a reply
that could answer them all like a return address on the silence.

For you who have taken the splinters of a shattered mirror
out of your eye and replaced them with stars
that have gone on giving light long after
the chandeliers of light-winged sorrows
have stopped waltzing in three four time with their
club-footed candles for the night.

Follow this goat bell up the high dangerous trails
where even overcoming your fear of heights
isn't enough courage to guarantee your footing
and I'll show you the jewelled hoofs of the wild horses
kicking up the dust of stars on the open plains
of an inconceivable spiritual vastness where wishes are horses
and beggars do ride and you can hear the jingling
of constellations like the wind-chimes of Spanish spurs
that get under your skin where the spiritual junkies shoot up
like selflessly motivated thorns of starlight
potent enough to keep them high for the rest of the lives
on the antidote they derive like the milk of human kindness
even from the toxic serums of the most dangerous mystical snakes
that have ever poled danced like a winged caduceus
around the axis of the most habitable planet you've ever been inclined to.

Whether you're a blissed-out gardenia of God
or just another double agent doing espionage for the Devil
to see when the next whirlwind of revelation
is going to sweep you up like a chimney spark
into a maelstrom of cosmic events against your will,
look at how the radiance shining out
from the clear void of an unknown light source deep within you
illuminates heaven like the moon in your window
as surely and truly as it does the prophetic skulls of hell.

And this is the point I've been missing
and trying to make simultaneously throughout this poem
like a tattoo starred on my forehead
that leads me like a lantern into deeper and darker spaces
than any abandoned shrine in a sacred wood
I've ever existed in before like a swallow
among the quake-proof columns of the trees.

We're all three-winged songbirds under the leaf-cluttered eaves
of the temples we brought with us like spiritual refugees
overstepping the bounds and borders of ourselves
like prodigal sons and daughters on the thresholds of exile.

And each of us weaves, after our own fashion,
on a loom of lunar wavelengths of shadows and light,
a crown of thorns we leave with wings
like the mangers of the earthbound killdeer and English skylarks
after we've cracked the koans
of the cosmic eggs we were born from.

We fly away home like ladybirds and dragonflies
whose house is on fire and kids are alone
to have it burned into us like a prison tattoo
that enlightenment is just as white
on the dark side, as it is black on the light.

And though you were to look like billions of fireflies
for millions of lightyears, you'll never find enlightenment
up ahead of you because it will never be found
anywhere other than behind and beside you
where it's always been from the beginningless beginning
like a shadow that's been following you
on the blind side of your third eye that set out
the moment it first opened up to you like a flower to the stars
to look for the other two like a shepherd
looking for lost goats on the altars
of the unblooded sacrificial mountains of the moon.

You just have to look at the stars
and feel them staring back at you on the inside
with the same inconceivable wonder at why and what you are
as you return the light that was given to you back to them
realizing every insight into the nature of life,
every word, every star, every bird, firefly, every
lighthouse and clocktower of the moon
is a sign of mutual greeting that can't be ignored.

For those of you who cry for the earth that is moved
by the same agony you are, as if you were born
to be its tears, its wounds, its scars,
to suffer like flowers for the beauty you aspire to.

For those of you whose seeing
will become the substance of the world tomorrow
though you should lose your eyes for it today
like apple-bloom, for the sake of the root of the light within.

For those of you who are always seeking
the things that belong to all of us, the dreams
the visions, the insights, the perfect expression
of what we have to say to the silence
that's always listening to us
talking to ourselves like a sleepwalking stream
or a wild grapevine putting out tendrils
like Korans of Kufic script and Books of harvest Kells.

May your labour come to love you like a bad habit
that's grown fond of you over the years
because you made an art of your life
that brought the merciless desert to tears
to see how even a delusion or a mirage
with a big enough heart and a taste for compassion
that gives it an eye for how sublime beauty really is
as deep as the watershed at the bottom of a wishing well
it turned into the moment it cried on behalf
of everyone's efforts to make themselves
in all the glory of their schemes, dreams and delusions
streaming out behind them in victory parades
put on by their own minds
like the emperor's non-existent clothes
for knowing how to turn a defeat into a celebration,
come true to life. The seeking life. The seeing life.

The just life like dry oak on a good fire.
The life of thought that eventually forgets
what there is to think about. The wasted life
whose gifts were mistaken for flaws in its character,
The anonymous life of a spiritual blood donor
that sent a single red rose to a dead child
and restored her back to life. Life returning to life
like crocuses and killer whales through the ice,
seeking itself out in every corner of our lives,
and under the stones of our own starmud minds
lodged in the earth like meteorites
that once flashed across the sky like insight
from an unknown radiant i
in the eye sockets of prophetic skulls
as if strange new life forms were going on in there
it knew nothing about and was dying to see.
And who knows? Maybe even something
unspeakably precious it thought was lost for good.

And most especially a life that feels life
has shapeshifted it into the dupe of its own ideals,
that all its disguises and deathmasks were removed
like painful tattoos only to reveal a rodeo clown
dressed in a barrel with a red poppy for a cape in its hat
to draw the bull away from the rider that's down.

To feel like a clown in all your actions
to judge by the crowd's reactions,
but to put your life on the line anyway
as a funny kind of sacrifice that saves the hero
you risked as much to rescue, as he did
to put you in harm's way when he faltered.

And you embodied the human condition with compassion,
running away as a way of coming to the rescue,
without realizing, as you laughed at yourself,
it doesn't get anymore divine than that.
Trying to get a smile out of the bull
you're running before on someone else's behalf
in a funny hat with an artificial flower
is a sublime act of devotion
and the truest form of worship
from the human divinity in each of us to another.

Because getting up after life's been struck to its knees,
is how everything grows, even when its roots
are watered by delusions and its butt gets kicked up
into the grandstands of the amused demons and angels,
that funny little dejected flower in a rodeo clown's hat
that steals the show like the Buddha's purse
to buy the Buddha a horse to get back up on,
regardless of what you, the bull, the Buddha,
his purse, the horse or the thrown rider feel,
still blossoms from the heart it's rooted in for real.

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Thinking I Was There to be The Only One!

She enjoyed her men packed.
He enjoyed his women stacked...
And full of chested love,
Kept bared

But they were not demonstrative.
And no one ever strayed...
To betray what they had together.
Who gave what and why is the question.
And who learned what lesson from this?

'You all are being too delusional'.

She enjoyed her men packed.
He enjoyed his women stacked...
And full of chested love,
Kept bared.

Preferences and prerequisites.
Sitting on a desk somewhere,
Collecting dust.
With references preferred,
And none to spare.
Mixed with preferences that are dated and timed.
These are new visions on the horizon,
Of my sunset?
And I'm a one on one kind!
With prerequisites.
Sitting on a desk somewhere,
Collecting dust.
And I'm thinking her kiss is for us.
When she has him and me on her mind...
For lust!
At the same time?

'Poppa don't arch his back for that! '

Preferences and prerequisites.
Sitting on a desk somewhere,
Collecting dust.
With references preferred,
And none to spare.
And I'm thinking her kiss is for us.
When she has him and me on her mind...
For lust!

Preferences and prerequisites.
Sitting on a desk somewhere,
Collecting dust.
With references preferred,
And none to spare.

She enjoyed her men packed.
He enjoyed his women stacked...
And full of chested love,
Kept bared
But for him.
Not for the whims she dared to expose.
I never thought I would think of her,
As a cheap 'ho'!

And There I stood.
Hiding in the bushes while another man,
Made her squeal louder than I could.
Louder than a man's man can.

Preferences and prerequisites.
Sitting on a desk somewhere,
Collecting dust.
With references preferred,
And none to spare.
Thinking I was there to be the only one!
Thinking no one like me could do her.

'And then...
Like a miracle,
You found your ass awakened!
Right? '

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The Toad And The Crocodile

“Good morning, ” said Toad, as she rested on a lily pad burping bubbles.
“Good morning, ” said Crocodile, looking disturbed and troubled.
I don’t suppose, ” said Toad “that you saw two toads pass by this way? ”
“Let me think…” said Crocodile “oh yes, I saw them earlier today.”

A tear rolled down the cheek of the crocodile and splashed into the pond.
“Why are you crying Crocodile, what could’ve possibly gone wrong? ”
I’m sorry, ” said Crocodile, “I’m an emotional old crocodile and often cry.”
“What a shame, ” said Toad, “you say my husband and daughter passed by? ”

“Oh… I didn’t realise they were your family, they were so nice,
I gave them a helping hand and some very good advice.”
“Thanks for your time and trouble; you’re a very considerate crocodile,
so unlike the ones I’ve heard about that live in the Nile.

Can you remember which direction they went, ” said Toad full of hope.
I can, ” said Crocodile, “they slid down a very slippery slope.”
“But did they seem alright, I mean did they look safe and well? ”
“Yes they did, but I don’t really know, it was hard to tell.”

“Why do you say that, is there something that you’re not telling me? ”
I’m sorry you’re quite right, I shouldn’t keep you from your family.
When they asked for help they were being chased by a ferocious lion,
so I suggested that they came aboard and hid until it had gone.”

“Wonderful, so where are they now? ” She said with a puzzled stare.
“Why, they’re having tea with everyone else that’s hiding in there.”
“Would it be possible to speak with them before I burst into tears? ”
Of course I’ll open my mouth, so you can tell them you’re here.”

She shouted their names, as the crocodile’s mouth opened wider and wider.
“They’re not coming, ” said Crocodile; “they’re enjoying the cakes and cider.”
Toad began to cry, which made her burp louder, as she sadly walked away.
“Where are you going, ” said the crocodile, “your family is not here to stay.

Would you like to come aboard and join in with the others having a good time?
Come on Toad, I’ll open the doors; hurry now before I change my mind.”
Toad cautiously hopped forward and took a giant leap down the crocodiles throat,
she landed in a dark place where she heard noises and two other toads croak.

“Is that you husband” she said, “why didn’t you come out when I shouted you? ”
The crocodile wouldn’t open the doors, ” he said “what more could I do? ”
“Well, we can’t just sit here and do nothing we’ve got to try and jump free,
let’s hope we can burp enough to give him wind; come on, on my count of three.”

For ages the toads burped and jumped about trying to fill the crocodile with air,
then a rumbling turned into an eruption and they were burped out of there.
Before the crocodile had noticed the toads were sitting a safe distance away,
“Hello friend crocodile, ” said mother toad, “we’re sorry we couldn’t stay.”

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A Mouse In My Stomach.....[LONG; Human Body; Animals]

Two months ago, in the mail, I got a company's exciting offer.
I could get a host of diagnostic tests, in exchange for a few coins into their coffer.
Soon to my town was coming a great big mobile-medical van,
in which m body could be subjected to sonograms and x-rays, and even a cat scan.

So I called the toll free number immediately; that is really quick.
They made my appointment for last week, and said 'to that time' I had to stick.
Here at last was their chance to find in me cysts, plaque, clots, and tumors.
I'd heard some negative things about the company, but I'm SURE they were just rumors.

The tests all seemed painless, even comfortable, as if there was nothing being done.
A pretty nurse (all the 'patients' were men) served coffee and donuts between each test. It was really sort of fun.

This afternoon, by first class mail, I received my results from their expert doc.
What I read, two pages long (single-spaced0 sent me into shock.

I have a little mouse in my stomach, exhaling between each stomach squeeze,
just sitting there expectantly, waiting for some bits of cheese.
And that's not all!
From head to toes my body is inhabited by various creatures young and old.
If I hadn't READ the official results, I'd not believe it. I need support on which to hold.

I have bats in my belfry (that's my BRAIN; I tell you so you'll know) .
Brown bats are in the right hemisphere and vampire bats in the left, flying to and fro.
Fleas sleep beneath my toenails. Be careful whose dog you kick!
Woodpeckers make holes in my pelvis, as if each bone was just a stick.
I have armadillos in each armpit, where they hole up for the night,
and needle fish swimming behind my kneecaps. To me that isn't right!
Termites scurry up and down my spine, messing up the works.
Moths inhabit soles of my feet. And they CHEW holes in my sox (one of moths' quirks) .

And that's not all either! !
There is a magpie egg in each eye; no wonder I need specs,
and throughout my vascular system, worms and snakes, one test detects.
Of special interest, they found inside my heart a coiled cobra snake,
so you'd better be especially careful not to by heart break.
There's a live mud turtle in my liver; each day it walks half a mile,
and hovering inside my gall bladder there's a hummingbird sipping bile.

There's a young badger in my large intestines, getting larger by the day,
and inside my small bowel there's a pine squirrel with which the badger often does play.
There are spiders in my lungs, hanging from webs and waiting for a fly.
Earwigs in my ears and silverfish in my sinuses. Please don't ask my why.
There are a pair of scorpions in my spleen, and the female is expecting.
But kidneys are clear, thank God, as the kidneys, all intruders, keep rejecting.
I have land crabs in my scrotum, living on my tiny pubic hair roots,
and scarab beetles feeding on scraps inside my mouth. They are insect-world galoots.

I have a blow fish in my bladder, my body's own fish bowl,
and some rodents in my rectum. During a test, one came out my hole.

(But the last finding mentioned in test results I already knew about.)
There's a swarm of bees living in my penis, making lots of honey,
and I agree with the doctor's words: 'When a bee flies out it sure looks awfully funny.'

NOW I KNOW what you are thinking. 'What SHOULD Bri do? '
But to tell you the honest truth, I'm not too worried. It's TRUE!
SOME WILL SAY SUCH AN INVASION OF FAUNA IS DANGEROUS. I think that's just a rumor.
Besides, the report says 'You've got NO plaque, NO cysts, NO clots, and NO tumor.

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Please Don't Pass Me By

I was walking in new york city and i brushed up against the man in front of me. i felt a cardboard placard on his back. and when we passed a streetlight, i could read it, it said "please do
Ass me by - i am blind, but you can see -i've been blinded totally - please don't pass me by." i was walking along 7th avenue, when i came to 14th street i saw on the corner curious mutilat
Of the human form; it was a school for handicapped people. and there were cripples, and people in wheelchairs and crutches and it was snowing, and i got this sense that the whole city was singin
S:
Oh please don't pass me by,
Oh please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, but you can see,
Yes, i've been blinded totally,
Oh please don't pass me by.
And you know as i was walking i thought it was them who were singing it, i thought it was they who were singing it, i thought it was the other who was singing it, i thought it was someone else.
S i moved along i knew it was me, and that i was singing it to myself. it went:
Please don't pass me by,
Oh please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, but you can see,
Well, i've been blinded totally,
Oh please don't pass me by.
Oh please don't pass me by.
Now i know that you're sitting there deep in your velvet seats and you're thinking "uh, he's up there saying something that he thinks about, but i'll never have to sing that song." but
Omise you friends, that you're going to be singing this song: it may not be tonight, it may not be tomorrow, but one day you'll be on your knees and i want you to know the words when the time co
Because you're going to have to sing it to yourself, or to another, or to your brother. you're going to have to learn to sing this song, it goes:
Please don't pass me by,
Ah you don't have to sing this .. not for you.
Please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, but you can see,
Yes, i've been blinded totally,
Oh please don't pass me by.
Well i sing this for the jews and the gypsies and the smoke that they made. and i sing this for the children of england, their faces so grave. and i sing this for a saviour with no one to save.
Won't you be naked for me? hey, won't you be naked for me? it goes:
Please don't pass me by,
Oh please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, but you can see,
Yes, i've been blinded totally,
Oh now, please don't pass me by.
Now there's nothing that i tell you that will help you connect the blood tortured night with the day that comes next. but i want it to hurt you, i want it to end. oh, won't you be naked for me?
W:
Please don't pass me by,
Oh please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, but you can see,
Yes, i've been blinded totally,
Oh now, please don't pass me by.
Well i sing this song for you blonde beasts, i sing this song for you venuses upon your shells on the foam of the sea. and i sing this for the freaks and the cripples, and the hunchback, and the
Ed, and the burning, and the maimed, and the broken, and the torn, and all of those that you talk about at the coffee tables, at the meetings, and the demonstrations, on the streets, in your mus
N my songs. i mean the real ones that are burning, i mean the real ones that are burning
I say, please don't pass me by,
Oh now, please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, but you can see,
Ah now, i've been blinded totally,
Oh no, please don't pass me by.
I know that you still think that its me. i know that you think that there's somebody else. i know that these words aren't yours. but i tell you friends that one day
You're going to get down on your knees,
You're going to get down on your knees,
You're going to get down on your knees,
You're going to get down on your knees,
You're going to get down on your knees,
You're going to get down on your knees,
You're going to get down on your knees,
You're going to get down on your knees,
You're going to get down ...
Oh, please don't pass me by,
Oh, please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, yeah but you can see,
Yes, i've been blinded totally,
Oh, please don't pass me by.
Well you know i have my songs and i have my poems. i have my book and i have the army, and sometimes i have your applause. i make some money, but you know what my friends, i'm still out there on
Corner. i'm with the freaks, i'm with the hunted, i'm with the maimed, yes i'm with the torn, i'm with the down, i'm with the poor. come on now ...
Ah, please don't pass me by,
Well i've got to go now friends,
But, please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, yeah but you can see,
Oh, i've been blinded, i've been blinded totally,
Oh now, please don't pass me by.
Now i want to take away my dignity, yes take my dignity. my friends, take my dignity, take my form, take my style, take my honour, take my courage, take my time, take my time, .. time .. 'cause
Now i'm with you singing this song. and i wish you would, i wish you would, i wish you would go home with someone else. wish you'd go home with someone else. i wish you'd go home with someone el
On't be the person that you came with. oh, don't be the person that you came with, oh don't be the person that you came with. ah, i'm not going to be. i can't stand him. i can't stand who i am.
S why i've got to get down on my knees. because i can't make it by myself. i'm not by myself anymore because the man i was before he was a tyrant, he was a slave, he was in chains, he was broken
Then he sang:
Oh, please don't pass me by,
Oh, please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, yes i am blind, oh but you can see,
Yes, i've been blinded totally,
Oh, please don't pass me by.
Well i hope i see you out there on the corner. yeah i hope as i go by that i hear you whisper with the breeze. because i'm going to leave you now, i'm going to find me someone new. find someone
And please don't pass me by.

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The Future.

I WAS a laughing child, and gaily dwelt
Where murmuring brooks, and dark blue rivers roll'd,
And shadowy trees outspread their silent arms,
To welcome all the weary to their rest.
And there an antique castle rais'd its head,
Where dwelt a fair and fairy girl: perchance
Two summers she had seen beyond my years;
And all she said or did, was said and done
With such a light and airy sportiveness,
That oft I envied her, for I was poor,
And lowly, and to me her fate did seem
Fraught with a certainty of happiness.
Years past; and she was wed against her will,
To one who sought her for the gold she brought,
And they did vex and wound her gentle spirit,
Till madness took the place of misery.

And oft I heard her low, soft, gentle song,
Breathing of early times with mournful sound,
Till I could weep to hear, and thought how sad.
The envied future of her life had prov'd.
And then I grew a fond and thoughtful girl,
Loving, and deeming I was lov'd again:
But he that won my easy heart, full soon
Turn'd to another:-she might be more fair,
But could not love him better. And I wept,
Day after day, till weary grew my spirit,
With fancying how happy she must be
Whom he had chosen-yet she was not so;
For he she wedded, loved her for a time,
And then he changed, even as he did to me,
Though something later; and he sought another
To please his fancy, far away from home.
And he was kind: oh, yes! he still was kind.
It vex'd her more; for though she knew his love
Had faded like the primrose after spring,
Yet there was nothing which she might complain,
Had cause to grieve her; he was gentle still.
She would have given all the store she had,
That he would but be angry for an hour,
That she might come and soothe his wounded spirit,
And lay her weeping head upon his bosom,
And say, how freely she forgave her wrongs:

But still, with calm, cold kindness he pursued
(Kindness, the mockery of departed love!)
His way-and then she died, the broken-hearted;
And I thanked heaven, who gave me not her lot,
Though I had wish'd it.
Again, I was a wife, a happy wife;
And he I loved was still unchangeable,
And kind, and true, and loved me from his soul;
But I was childless, and my lonely heart
Yearned for an image of my heart's beloved,
A something which should be my 'future' now
That I had so much of my life gone by;
Something to look to after I should go,
And all except my memory be past.
There was a child, a little rosy thing,
With sunny eyes, and curled and shining hair,
That used to play among the daisy flowers,
Looking as innocent and fair as they;
And sail its little boat upon the stream,
Gazing with dark blue eyes in the blue waters,
And singing in its merriment of heart
All the bright day: and when the sun was setting,
It came unbid to its glad mother's side,
To lisp with holy look its evening prayer:
And, kneeling on the green and flowery ground,
At the sweet cottage door-he fixed his eyes

For some short moments on her tranquil face,
As if she was his guiding star to God;
And then with young, meek, innocent brow upraised,
Spoke the slow words with lips that longed to smile,
But dared not. Oh! I loved that child with all
A mother's fondest love; and, as he grew
More and more beautiful from day to day,
The half-involuntary sigh I gave
Spoke but too plain the wish that he were mine-
My child-my own. And in my solitude,
Often I clasped my hands and thought of him,
And looked with mournful and reproachful gaze
To heaven, which had denied me such a one.
Years past: the child became a rebel boy;
The boy a wild, untamed, and passionate youth;
The youth a man-but such a man! so fierce,
So wild, so headlong, and so haughty too,
So cruel in avenging any wrongs,
So merciless when he had half avenged them!
At length his hour had come-a deed of blood,
Of murder, was upon his guilty soul.
He stood in that same spot, by his sweet home,
The same blue river flowing by his feet,
(Whose stream might never wash his guilt away
The same green hills, and mossy sloping banks,
Where the bright sun was smiling as of yore:

With pallid cheek and dark and sullen brow,
The beautiful and lost; you might have deemed
That Satan, newly banished, stood and gazed
On the bright scenery of an infant world.
For, fallen as he was, his Maker's hand
Had stamped him beauteous, and he was so still.
And his eyes turned from off his early home
With something like a shudder; and they lighted
On his poor broken-hearted mother's grave.
And there was something in them of old times,
Ere sin had darkened o'er their tranquil blue,
In that most mournful look-that made me weep;
'For I had gazed on him with fear and anguish
Till now. And, 'weep for her,' my favourite said,
For she was good-I murdered her-I killed
Many that harmed me not.' And still he spoke
In a low, listless voice; and forms came round
Who dragged him from us. I remember not
What followed then. But on another day,
There was a crowd collected, and a cart
Slowly approached to give to shameful death
Its burden; and there was a prayer, and silence,
Silence like that of death. And then a murmur!
And all was over. And I groaned, and turned
To where his poor old father had been sitting;
And there he sate, still with his feeble limbs

And palsied head, and dim and watery eyes,
Gazing up at the place where was his son;
And with a shuddering touch I sought to rouse him,
But could not, for the poor old man was dead.
And then I flung myself upon the ground,
And mingled salt tears with the evening dew;
And thanked my God that he was not my son;
And that I was a childless, lonely wife.
To-morrow I will tell thee all that now
Remains to tell-but I am old and feeble.
And cannot speak for tears.
She rose and went,
But she returned no more. The morrow came,
But not to her;-the tale of life was finished,
Not by her lips, for she had ceased to breath.
But, by this silent warning joined to hers,
How little we may count upon the future,
Or reckon what that future may bring forth!

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