At twelve I was determined to shoot only For honor; at twenty not to shoot at all; I know at thirty-three that one must shoot As often as one gets the rare chance - In killing there is more than commentary.
quote by Allen Tate
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Genocide
When they try to tell you knowledge is a dangerous thing
"it's such a dangerous thing"
The people that have it are the people that sin
And the people that need it are the people that can never win
"they can never win"
Let me get you out of here little broken wing
There are people round here that are right
There are people round here that like to sleep at night
There are people round here that go slow
There are people round here that don't kindly to the killing of the buffalo
When they tear up all the treaties and break up all the plans
"they break up all the plans"
Did you do your duty and kill on command?
Did you know the redman used to roam this land?
"he used to roam this land"
Now the souls of lost warriors blow across the sands
People round here they get it right
People round here we like to sleep at night
There are people round here that go slow
People round here that don't take kindly to the killing of the buffalo, oh no
So listen to my story and listen to it well
"you better listen well"
Listen to the glory of the gory details of the tale i tell
Did you know the redman very well?
"i used to know him well"
Did you know the hunting ground before it became a hell?
There are people round here that are right
There are people round here that like to sleep at night
There are people round here i don't know
There are people round here that don't take kindly to the killing of the buffalo
The killing of the buffala-o
The killing of the buffala-o
The killing
The killing of the
The killing of the buffala-o
The killing of the buffala-o
The killing of the buffala-o
The killing of the buffala-o
The killing of the buffala-o
The killing
The killing
So listen to my story of genocide
How they were hunted and slaughtered till there was no place left to hide
Did you know the redman used to hold his head with pride?
Till every man, woman and child were destroyed
There are people round here that get it right
There are people round here that couldn't sleep at night
There are people round here i don't know
There are people round here that don't take kindly to the killing of the buffalo
There are people round here that understand
[...] Read more
song performed by Thin Lizzy
Added by Lucian Velea
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XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Good Times Are Killing Me
MODEST MOUSE - The Good Times Are Killing Me
Album: Good News For People Who Love Bad News (2004)
The good times are killing me.
Here we go!
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
Shrug off shortsighted false excitement and oh what can I say?
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Kick butt buzz-cut dickheads
who didn't like what I said.
The good times are killing me.
Jaws clenched tight we talked all night,
oh but what the hell did we say?
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
Fed up with all that LSD.
Need more sleep than coke or methamphetamines.
Late nights with warm, warm whiskey.
I guess the good times they were all just killing me.
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
The good times are killing me.
Enough hair of the dog to make myself an entire rug.
The good times are killing me.
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Shit-kicker city slickers who all wanted me dead.
The good times are killing me.
Get sucked in and stuck in late nights
with more folks that I don't know.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
song performed by Modest Mouse
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Good Times Are Killing Me
The good times are killing me.
Here we go!
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
Shrug off shortsighted false excitement and oh what can I say?
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Kick butt buzz-cut dickheads
who didn't like what I said.
The good times are killing me.
Jaws clenched tight we talked all night,
oh but what the hell did we say?
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
Fed up with all that LSD.
Need more sleep than coke or methamphetamines.
Late nights with warm, warm whiskey.
I guess the good times they were all just killing me.
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
The good times are killing me.
Enough hair of the dog to make myself an entire rug.
The good times are killing me.
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Shit-kicker city slickers who all wanted me dead.
The good times are killing me.
Get sucked in and stuck in late nights
with more folks that I don't know.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
song performed by Modest Mouse
Added by Lucian Velea
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My Twenty-Four Plus One More
How I love twenty-five
From her hips to her lips
How I worship twenty-five
From her nose to her dainty toes
I love twenty-five
From her eyes to her thighs
I really love twenty-five
From her hair to everywhere
I admire twenty-five
From her footwear to her underwear
I live for twenty-five
Seven days twenty-four she I adore
I love and desire my twenty-five
From her hands to her fingers she’s a winner
Twenty-five is the answer to all my payers
She’s as refreshing as pure spring waters
Twenty-five has a beautiful face
The curves of her behind right down to her waistline
She is slim and neat and likes to keep things discrete
She has a great body dressed her best never gaudy
Twenty-five is so dam sexy
She’s so sweet and foxy
Twenty-five is one of the world’s most natural beauties
Can’t wait to see her booty in her panties
I love her purple, white, and black sweater
I some how know how to make her feel better
I truly love gregarious twenty-five
She is the reason I stay alive
Sweetness I find in twenty-five
In her love I can thrive
She is every beat of my heart
By the hands Michael Angelo, she’s truly a work of art
I’d give her the world if I could
In my arms to stay she should
She is like symphony from Mozart
She is love and my sweetheart
I was in love at first sight
She makes me feel that everything will be alright
Twenty-five loves her some penguins
If only down she would lay all her burdens
[...] Read more
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator
Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!
It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!
Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Twenty Years
I burned the bridge. There's no going back.
Would never be ten or fifteen again.
Opening my eyes to a blood red sky
Designed with black and all shades of darkness
Inscribed in it was 'Welcome To Life'
I cried and cried, everyone smiled and grinned
I really don't wanna be here but ssshh
You can't say that, life is for living
The dead hath no friendship with the living
Holding the back of hope's hand
On the other hand holding tightly
The photograph of the days of my life.
I run for my dear...not so dear life
Here comes the seasons changing on me again
When it rains, it pours, I drown, and become rain
When it shines, it burns, I ignite, and become passion
There's been no rain, I prayed
Took an umbrella, with faith in my chest
I chilled under the sky for an answer
It didn't rain, so I went for a gin
Twenty years. Twenty failures. One cynic.
Pure Russian water wash through my bleeding soul.
Twenty years looking for something
Not sure what, the whole world is moving
I'm standing, chilling, and stilling
A confused fish, stuck in life, a tough shore
Death and nothingness, the peaceful ocean
How do you fill up an empty heart?
Twenty years with an empty side
The best way to give your life a meaning
Is to give someone's life a meaning
Twenty years, I've sounded an alarm
To the higher heavens, to the Only one
But how do you give what you don't have?
Twenty years. Twenty heartbreaks. Twenty failures. Twenty prayers.
Twenty kisses. Twenty goodbyes.
Twenty attempts. Still breathing.
Twenty caresses by Him who wooed me young
He who loves and chases me old
Yet His absence is chilling and silence, killing.
Twenty years. Of clueless motions.
And the crowds' mental insanity.
Twenty years. History has told her story.
Time is penning my story.
I repeat again; I wish I knew
At any point knew how life should be lived.
Twenty years. Prince Charming. Remained a frog, or perhaps had disdain for sleeping beauty.
Twenty years. The rain is pouring, my heart is needing
But the umbrella's missing.
Disney made me dream...weak...love
[...] Read more
poem by Jenim Dibie
Added by Poetry Lover
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Killing Time
(originally recorded by sweet savage)
Sound of gunfire comes through the night
Killing and hatred, its a terrible sight
Reports come in of the heavy attack
Message is seen, were moving back
Preparations are made for the journey back
Its a survival, supplies are packed
No more nights in this eternal hell
Destination is simple, we move out
Killing time - you left from the line
Killing time - your turn to kill
Killing time - what do you say?
Killing time - aha, killing time
And he knew what he needed to keep us alive
No time for cowardice, kill and survive
Like a killer kid with a switchblade knife
Nasty word, hell take your life
The silence is over, they attack again
Killing and hatred drive me insane
Reports come in of a heavy attack
Message is seen, were moving back
Killing time - you left from the line
Killing time - your turn to kill
Killing time - what do you say?
Killing time - aha, killing time
Sound of gunfire comes through the night
Killing and hatred, its a terrible sight
Reports come in of a heavy attack
Message is seen, were moving back
And he knew what he needed to keep us alive
No time for cowardice, kill and survive
Like a killer kid with a switchblade knife
Nasty word, hell take your life
Killing time - you left from the line
Killing time - your turn to kill
Killing time - what do you say?
Killing time - aha, killing time
song performed by Metallica
Added by Lucian Velea
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society
Epigraph
Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.
I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.
You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Pearl
Pearl of delight that a prince doth please
To grace in gold enclosed so clear,
I vow that from over orient seas
Never proved I any in price her peer.
So round, so radiant ranged by these,
So fine, so smooth did her sides appear
That ever in judging gems that please
Her only alone I deemed as dear.
Alas! I lost her in garden near:
Through grass to the ground from me it shot;
I pine now oppressed by love-wound drear
For that pearl, mine own, without a spot.
2
Since in that spot it sped from me,
I have looked and longed for that precious thing
That me once was wont from woe to free,
To uplift my lot and healing bring,
But my heart doth hurt now cruelly,
My breast with burning torment sting.
Yet in secret hour came soft to me
The sweetest song I e'er heard sing;
Yea, many a thought in mind did spring
To think that her radiance in clay should rot.
O mould! Thou marrest a lovely thing,
My pearl, mine own, without a spot.
3
In that spot must needs be spices spread
Where away such wealth to waste hath run;
Blossoms pale and blue and red
There shimmer shining in the sun;
No flower nor fruit their hue may shed
Where it down into darkling earth was done,
For all grass must grow from grains that are dead,
No wheat would else to barn be won.
From good all good is ever begun,
And fail so fair a seed could not,
So that sprang and sprouted spices none
From that precious pearl without a spot.
4
That spot whereof I speak I found
When I entered in that garden green,
As August's season high came round
When corn is cut with sickles keen.
There, where that pearl rolled down, a mound
With herbs was shadowed fair and sheen,
With gillyflower, ginger, and gromwell crowned,
And peonies powdered all between.
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
Added by Poetry Lover
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Killing Time
Everybodys going somewhere
See how they stand in line
All complaining their lives are unfair
Too bad for them, too bad for mine
(its the killing time) from now till then
(killing time), not knowing when
Theyre watching me, Im watching them
Standing by the empty mine
(killing time)
Its a killing time
I know it well
Killing time
Until the bell
Too late to change, too soon to tell
And in between, the killing time
(killing time) giving me hell
Up above the stars still shine
Through the poverty and grime
Of the empty streets below
Killing time, nowhere to go
(killing time)
Tell me, brother whats the plan?
Will I be a working man?
And occupy my idle mind
Or kill the time I knew so well
(killing time) giving me hell
Still I can smile at what I see
Soap operas full of vanity
So much wealth and property
Side by side with petty crime
Is that all lifes meant to be?
Commercials full of luxuries
A man has one, a cat has nine
And in between its killing time
(killing time)
Its a killing time
I know it well
Too late to change
Too soon to tell
Still I can smile at what I find
Waiting round and killing time
Bite the bullet
Help me through it
These lunatics will take my mind
Why cant life be more sublime
Than all of this waste and killing time
Killing time
I know it well
Its the killing time
song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 12
WHEN Turnus saw the Latins leave the field,
Their armies broken, and their courage quell’d,
Himself become the mark of public spite,
His honor question’d for the promis’d fight;
The more he was with vulgar hate oppress’d, 5
The more his fury boil’d within his breast:
He rous’d his vigor for the last debate,
And rais’d his haughty soul to meet his fate.
As, when the swains the Libyan lion chase,
He makes a sour retreat, nor mends his pace; 10
But, if the pointed jav’lin pierce his side,
The lordly beast returns with double pride:
He wrenches out the steel, he roars for pain;
His sides he lashes, and erects his mane:
So Turnus fares; his eyeballs flash with fire, 15
Thro’ his wide nostrils clouds of smoke expire.
Trembling with rage, around the court he ran,
At length approach’d the king, and thus began:
“No more excuses or delays: I stand
In arms prepar’d to combat, hand to hand, 20
This base deserter of his native land.
The Trojan, by his word, is bound to take
The same conditions which himself did make.
Renew the truce; the solemn rites prepare,
And to my single virtue trust the war. 25
The Latians unconcern’d shall see the fight;
This arm unaided shall assert your right:
Then, if my prostrate body press the plain,
To him the crown and beauteous bride remain.”
To whom the king sedately thus replied: 30
“Brave youth, the more your valor has been tried,
The more becomes it us, with due respect,
To weigh the chance of war, which you neglect.
You want not wealth, or a successive throne,
Or cities which your arms have made your own: 35
My towns and treasures are at your command,
And stor’d with blooming beauties is my land;
Laurentum more than one Lavinia sees,
Unmarried, fair, of noble families.
Now let me speak, and you with patience hear, 40
Things which perhaps may grate a lover’s ear,
But sound advice, proceeding from a heart
Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art.
The gods, by signs, have manifestly shown,
No prince Italian born should heir my throne: 45
Oft have our augurs, in prediction skill’d,
And oft our priests, a foreign son reveal’d.
Yet, won by worth that cannot be withstood,
Brib’d by my kindness to my kindred blood,
Urg’d by my wife, who would not be denied, 50
[...] Read more
poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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The Victories Of Love. Book II
I
From Jane To Her Mother
Thank Heaven, the burthens on the heart
Are not half known till they depart!
Although I long'd, for many a year,
To love with love that casts out fear,
My Frederick's kindness frighten'd me,
And heaven seem'd less far off than he;
And in my fancy I would trace
A lady with an angel's face,
That made devotion simply debt,
Till sick with envy and regret,
And wicked grief that God should e'er
Make women, and not make them fair.
That he might love me more because
Another in his memory was,
And that my indigence might be
To him what Baby's was to me,
The chief of charms, who could have thought?
But God's wise way is to give nought
Till we with asking it are tired;
And when, indeed, the change desired
Comes, lest we give ourselves the praise,
It comes by Providence, not Grace;
And mostly our thanks for granted pray'rs
Are groans at unexpected cares.
First Baby went to heaven, you know,
And, five weeks after, Grace went, too.
Then he became more talkative,
And, stooping to my heart, would give
Signs of his love, which pleased me more
Than all the proofs he gave before;
And, in that time of our great grief,
We talk'd religion for relief;
For, though we very seldom name
Religion, we now think the same!
Oh, what a bar is thus removed
To loving and to being loved!
For no agreement really is
In anything when none's in this.
Why, Mother, once, if Frederick press'd
His wife against his hearty breast,
The interior difference seem'd to tear
My own, until I could not bear
The trouble. 'Twas a dreadful strife,
And show'd, indeed, that faith is life.
He never felt this. If he did,
I'm sure it could not have been hid;
For wives, I need not say to you,
[...] Read more
poem by Coventry Patmore
Added by Poetry Lover
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Shoot To Thrill
All you women who want a man of the street
But you dont know which way you wanna turn
Just keep a coming and put your hand out to me
cause Im the one whos gonna make you burn
Im gonna take you down - down, down, down
So dont you fool around
Im gonna pull it, pull it, pull the trigger
Shoot to thrill, play to kill
Too many women with too many pills
Shoot to thrill, play to kill
I got my gun at the ready, gonna fire at will
Yeah
Im like evil, I get under your skin
Just like a bomb thats ready to blow
cause Im illegal, I got everything
That all you women might need to know
Im gonna take you down - yeah, down, down, down
So dont you fool around
Im gonna pull it, pull it, pull the trigger
Shoot to thrill, play to kill
Too many women with too many pills
Shoot to thrill, play to kill
I got my gun at the ready, gonna fire at will
cause I shoot to thrill, and Im ready to kill
I cant get enough, I cant get the thrill
I shoot to thrill, play to kill
Yeah, pull the trigger
Pull it, pull it, pull it, pull the trigger
Oh
Shoot to thrill, play to kill
Too many women, with too many pills
I said, shoot to thrill, play to kill
I got my gun at the ready, gonna fire at will
cause I shoot to thrill, and Im ready to kill
And I cant get enough, and I cant get my thrill
cause I shoot to thrill, play it again
Yeah
Shoot you down
Yeah
Im gonna get you to the bottom and shoot you
Im gonna shoot you
Oh hoo yeah yeah yeah
Im gonna shoot you down yeah yeah
Im gonna get you down
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Shoot you, shoot you, shoot you, shoot you down
Shoot you, shoot you, shoot you down
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, ooooooh
Im gonna shoot to thrill
Play to kill
[...] Read more
song performed by AC-DC
Added by Lucian Velea
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Free, Male, & Twenty-one
Were free
Were male
Were twenty-one
Free, male, and twenty-one
Free, male, and twenty-one
Its not enough to be twenty-one and free
Its not the same as male and twenty-one
Free, male, and twenty-one
This is such a fine distinction
The career that weve begun
I just made twenty-one
Im old enough to run
For congressman or clerk of the public works
Or dogcatcher or something just as dumb
If I should choose to run
I make no exaggeration
Just a statement of the facts
Now Im second generation
And I am manly to the max
And no one can decree
Just who I have to be
The choice is up to me
And if I could be anything, Id be
Male and twenty-one
Its nice to be a man
I use it all I can
I never had a choice for a higher voice
But I have to say Im glad to be a man
Since this is what I am
Sigmund freud may have a crisis
With his own identity
But theres nothing wrong with me
Because I enjoy being a boy
And all that it will say upon my resume
Free, male, and twenty-one
Free, male, and twenty-one
Free, male, and twenty-one
Free, male, and twenty-one
If I could change
Change anything, everything
Everything in the world
Then I would make
Half of the world
Free, male, and twenty-one
Free, male, and twenty-one
Free, male, and twenty-one
And I dont believe in heaven
What a let down it would be
And I hope theres not a hell
But there must be a God cause he made me
[...] Read more
song performed by Todd Rundgren
Added by Lucian Velea
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Take A Chance
Words and music by bob seger
You take a chance on an airplane
You take a chance when you cross the street
You take a chance when you love somebody
When youre standing near the heat
You take a chance when youre honest
You take a chance when you tell lies
You take a chance when you trust somebody
When you look em in the eyes
Take a chance on me
Take a chance on me
Im exactly what you see honey
Take a chance on me
You take a chance when youre indecisive
You take a chance when youre aloof
You take a chance when you judge somebody
When youve really got no proof
You take a chance when you refuse to hear
You take a chance when youre unkind
You take a chance when you refuse to grow up baby
You end up left behind
Take a chance on me
Take a chance on me
Im exactly what you see honey
Take a chance on me
You take a chance when youre ruthless
You take a chance when youre cruel
You take a chance when you make a vow babe
To be nobodys fool
You take a chance when youre distant
You take a chance when you live inside
You take a chance when someone loves you
And you leave them with no pride
Take a chance on me
Take a chance on me
Im exactly what you see honey
Take a chance on me
Oh take a chance on me
Take a chance on me
Im exactly what you see honey
Take a chance on me
song performed by Bob Seger
Added by Lucian Velea
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Canto the First
I
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,
The age discovers he is not the true one;
Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,
I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan—
We all have seen him, in the pantomime,
Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time.
II
Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke,
Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe,
Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk,
And fill'd their sign posts then, like Wellesley now;
Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk,
Followers of fame, "nine farrow" of that sow:
France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumourier
Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.
III
Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau,
Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette,
Were French, and famous people, as we know:
And there were others, scarce forgotten yet,
Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Desaix, Moreau,
With many of the military set,
Exceedingly remarkable at times,
But not at all adapted to my rhymes.
IV
Nelson was once Britannia's god of war,
And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd;
There's no more to be said of Trafalgar,
'T is with our hero quietly inurn'd;
Because the army's grown more popular,
At which the naval people are concern'd;
Besides, the prince is all for the land-service,
Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis.
V
Brave men were living before Agamemnon
And since, exceeding valorous and sage,
A good deal like him too, though quite the same none;
But then they shone not on the poet's page,
And so have been forgotten:—I condemn none,
But can't find any in the present age
Fit for my poem (that is, for my new one);
So, as I said, I'll take my friend Don Juan.
[...] Read more
poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Twenty Four
Twenty four oceans
Twenty four skies
Twenty four failures
Twenty four tries
Twenty four finds me
In twenty-fourth place
Twenty four drop outs
At the end of the day
Life is not what I thought it was
Twenty four hours ago
Still I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You
And I'm not who I thought I was twenty four hours ago
Still I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You
Twenty four reasons to admit that Im wrong
With all my excuses still twenty four strong
See I'm not copping out not copping out not copping out
When You're raising the dead in me
Oh, oh I am the second man
Oh, oh I am the second man now
Oh, oh I am the second man now
And You're raising these twenty four voices
With twenty four hearts
With all of my symphonies
In twenty four parts
But I wan to be one today
Centered and true
I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You
You're raising the dead in me
Oh, oh I am the second man
Oh, oh I am the second man now
Oh, oh I am the second man now
And You're raising the dead in me
I want to see miracles, see the world change
Wrestled the angel, for more than a name
For more than a feeling
For more than a cause
I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You
And You're raising the dead in me
Twenty four voices
With twenty four hearts
With all of my symphonies
In twenty four parts.
I'm not copping out. Not copping out. Not copping out.
song performed by Switchfoot
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tom Zart's 52 Best Of The Rest America At War Poems
SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF WORLD WAR III
The White House
Washington
Tom Zart's Poems
March 16,2007
Ms. Lillian Cauldwell
President and Chief Executive Officer
Passionate Internet Voices Radio
Ann Arbor Michigan
Dear Lillian:
Number 41 passed on the CDs from Tom Zart. Thank you for thinking of me. I am thankful for your efforts to honor our brave military personnel and their families. America owes these courageous men and women a debt of gratitude, and I am honored to be the commander in chief of the greatest force for freedom in the history of the world.
Best Wishes.
Sincerely,
George W. Bush
SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF WORLD WAR III
Our sons and daughters serve in harm's way
To defend our way of life.
Some are students, some grandparents
Many a husband or wife.
They face great odds without complaint
Gambling life and limb for little pay.
So far away from all they love
Fight our soldiers for whom we pray.
The plotters and planners of America's doom
Pledge to murder and maim all they can.
From early childhood they are taught
To kill is to become a man.
They exploit their young as weapons of choice
Teaching in heaven, virgins will await.
Destroying lives along with their own
To learn of their falsehoods too late.
The fearful cry we must submit
And find a way to soothe them.
Where defenders worry if we stand down
The future for America is grim.
[...] Read more
poem by Tom Zart
Added by Poetry Lover
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One More Chance
This time, gonna do my best to make it right
cant go on without you by my s hold on
shelter, come and resque me out of this storm
and out of this cold, i need some one if you see her, tell her this for me
all i need is
Hold on
Lightning about to strike in rain only on me
Hurt so bad sometime it's hard to breathe
Oh why why
If you see her
Tell her this from me
All I need is
One more chance at love
One more chance at love
one more
One more chance at love
One more chance at love
One more chance for love
One more chance at love
One more chance at love
One more
One more chance at love
One more chance at love
And I would walk around this world to find her
And I don't care what it takes no
Why
I'd sail the seven seas to be near her
And if you happen to see her
See, tell her this from me
One more chance at love
Yeah yeah
One more chance at love
Tell her this from me
One more chance at love
Yeah yeah
One more chance at love
One more chance at love
One more chance at love
Lovin' you
One more chance at love
I can't find
One more chance at love
Lovin' you
One more chance at love
Yeah yeah one more
One more chance at love
One more chance at love
For love
One more chance at love
One more chance at love
[...] Read more
song performed by Michael Jackson
Added by Lucian Velea
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