It's very important, at least for me and for Cynthia, to get outside input.
quote by Barry Mann
Added by Lucian Velea
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Colin Clouts Come Home Againe
Colin Clouts Come Home Againe
THe shepheards boy (best knowen by that name)
That after Tityrus first sung his lay,
Laies of sweet loue, without rebuke or blame,
Sate (as his custome was) vpon a day,
Charming his oaten pipe vnto his peres,
The shepheard swaines, that did about him play:
Who all the while with greedie listfull eares,
Did stand astonisht at his curious skill,
Like hartlesse deare, dismayed with thunders sound.
At last when as he piped had his fill,
He rested him: and sitting then around,
One of those groomes (a iolly groome was he,
As euer piped on an oaten reed,
And lou'd this shepheard dearest in degree,
Hight Hobbinol) gan thus to him areed.
Colin my liefe, my life, how great a losse
Had all the shepheards nation by thy lacke?
And I poore swaine of many greatest crosse:
That sith thy Muse first since thy turning backe
Was heard to sound as she was wont on hye,
Hast made vs all so blessed and so blythe.
Whilest thou wast hence, all dead in dole did lye:
The woods were heard to waile full many a sythe,
And all their birds with silence to complaine:
The fields with faded flowers did seem to mourne,
And all their flocks from feeding to refraine:
The running waters wept for thy returne,
And all their fish with langour did lament:
But now both woods and fields, and floods reuiue,
Sith thou art come, their cause of meriment,
That vs late dead, hast made againe aliue:
But were it not too painfull to repeat
The passed fortunes, which to thee befell
In thy late voyage, we thee would entreat,
Now at thy leisure them to vs to tell.
To whom the shepheard gently answered thus,
Hobbin thou temptest me to that I couet:
For of good passed newly to discus,
By dubble vsurie doth twise renew it.
And since I saw that Angels blessed eie,
Her worlds bright sun, her heauens fairest light,
My mind full of my thoughts satietie,
Doth feed on sweet contentment of that sight:
Since that same day in nought I take delight,
Ne feeling haue in any earthly pleasure,
But in remembrance of that glorious bright,
My lifes sole blisse, my hearts eternall threasure.
Wake then my pipe, my sleepie Muse awake,
Till I haue told her praises lasting long:
[...] Read more
poem by Edmund Spenser
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Cynthia
Cynthia, when you come walkin by
Youre an inspirin sight
Cynthia, you dont smile or say hi
But baby thats alright
cause I dont need to hold you
Or taste your kiss
I just like knowin cynthia, you exist at all
In a world like this
Cynthia, when you pass it seems
Like this whole town drops
Cynthia, maybe its just me babe
Some fool stuck here watchin the clock
Well, you give us a reason to start whisper why
To stop singin, baby, and salute your style
Yeah cynthia
Well now you aint the finest thing Ill never have
And when you go the hurt you leave
Well, baby, it aint so bad
No it aint cynthia
Yeah there aint a man in this whole town
Wholl say you aint fine
Dyou hear them guys talkin
Tell me, baby, do you mind
Well you make us happy, honey, when we feel sad
To see sumpnso good, in a world gone bad
Theres still cynthia, oh yeah
Cynthia, no one knows your number
No one knows where you live
Cynthia, I wonder do you understand
This strange thing you give
Yeah, well baby, is it your style
The mystery in your smile
Or just how cool you walk
In a world gone wild
Ah tell me if you will, cynthia
Well I gotta be pretty naive to believe in you
I know you aint ever gonna be my dream come true
Thats alright, I gotta dream
Thats as good as you, cynthia
Oh now baby, this aint no come-on
Its a walk on, walk on
Oh thats right, oh yeah
Mmmm, you make me holier
Yeah, yeah, alright
I said yeah, yeah, alright
Well shes a yeah, yeah, alright
I said yeah, yeah, alright
Well its a yeah, yeah, alright
Well shes a yeah, yeah, alright
I said yeah, yeah, alright
song performed by Bruce Springsteen
Added by Lucian Velea
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To Songs At the Marriage Of The Lord Fauconberg And The Lady Mary Cromwell
song Fauc1
First.
[Chorus. Endymion. Luna.]
Chorus.
Th' Astrologers own Eyes are set,
And even Wolves the Sheep forget;
Only this Shepherd, late and soon,
Upon this Hill outwakes the Moon.
Heark how he sings, with sad delight,
Thorough the clear and silent Night.
Endymion
Cynthia, O Cynthia, turn thine Ear,
nor scorn Endymions plaints to hear.
As we our Flocks, so you command
The fleecy Clouds with silver wand.
Cynthia
If thou a Mortal, rather sleep;
Or if a Shepherd, watch thy Sheep.
Endmymion
The Shepherd, since he saw thine Eyes,
And Sheep are both thy Sacrifice.
Nor merits he a Mortal's name,
That burns with an immortal Flame.
Cynthia
I have enough for me to do,
Ruling the Waves that Ebb and Flow.
Endymion
Since thou disdain'st not then to share
On Sublunary things thy Care;
Rather restrain these double Seas,
Mine Eyes uncessant deluges.
Cynthia
My wakeful Lamp all night must move,
Securing their Repose above.
Endymion
If therefore thy resplendent Ray
Can make a Night more bright then Day;
Shine thorough this obscurer Brest,
With shades of deep Despair opprest.
Chorus.
[...] Read more
poem by Andrew Marvell
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If It's Love!
It's important that unshown love,
Comes directly shown from you.
To say it...
Doesn't make,
That-love-be-true!
It's important that unshown love,
Is a thing one wants to do...
Just to prove what is said,
Is absolutely true.
A hug,
And maybe a kiss.
A touch,
That has been missed.
A show of thoughtfulness...
Can go a very long distance.
A call,
Every once in a while...
Will go further than a mile.
If love is there to be shared...
Show someone they are cared for!
And doubts will come no more.
It's important that unshown love,
Comes directly shown from you.
To say it...
Doesn't make,
That-love-be-true!
It's important it's directly shown,
If it's love.
Yes!
It's important it's directly shown,
If it's love.
Yes!
It's important it's directly shown.
It's important it's directly shown.
It's important it's directly shown,
If it's love!
It shoos a boo-hooin'...
Known.
It's important it's directly shown.
It's important it's directly shown.
It's important it's directly shown,
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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With A Push Afoot
Stampeded in a heated field,
And crushed by one's beliefs.
Eventually has shown to those,
A strong faith kept succeeds.
And...
Lessons taught,
Once hard to face...
Surfaces to show,
A Sunrise seen exposes...
Truth is not disposable.
Those burdens carried on one's back,
Fall off like a stunned rat trapped.
Stampeded in a heated field,
And crushed by one's beliefs.
Eventually has shown to those,
A strong faith kept succeeds.
And...
Lessons taught,
Once hard to face...
No longer face defeat.
With a push afoot,
All stampedes ceases.
All input,
Seeks honesty.
With a push afoot,
All stampedes ceases.
All input,
Seeks honesty.
Stampeded in a heated field,
And crushed by one's beliefs.
Eventually has shown to those,
A strong faith kept succeeds.
With a push afoot,
All stampedes ceases.
All input,
Seeks honesty.
With a push afoot,
All stampedes ceases.
All input,
Seeks honesty.
And...
Lessons taught,
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Starfish & Coffee
It was 7:45 we were all in line
2 greet the teacher miss cathleen
First was kevin, then came lucy, third in line was me
All of us where ordinary compared to cynthia rose
She always stood at the back of the line
A smile beneath her nose
Her favorite number was 20 and every single day
If u asked her what she had 4 breakfast
This is what shed say
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
Butterscotch clouds, a tangerine
And a side order of ham
If u set your mind free, baby
Maybe youd understand
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
Cynthia wore the prettiest dress
With different color socks
Sometimes I wondered if the mates where in her lunchbox
Me and lucy opened it when cynthia wasnt around
Lucy cried, I almost died, u know what we found?
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
Butterscotch clouds, a tangerine
And a side order of ham
If u set your mind free, honey
Maybe youd understand
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
Starfish and coffee
Cynthia had a happy face, just like the one shed draw
On every wall in every school
But its all right, its 4 a worthy cause
Go on, cynthia, keep singin
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
Butterscotch clouds, a tangerine
And a side order of ham
If u set your mind free, baby
Maybe youd understand
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
(starfish in your coffee, you will love it, told ya so)
(starfish in your coffee, you will love it, told ya so)
song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Endymion: Book IV
Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse!
O first-born on the mountains! by the hues
Of heaven on the spiritual air begot:
Long didst thou sit alone in northern grot,
While yet our England was a wolfish den;
Before our forests heard the talk of men;
Before the first of Druids was a child;--
Long didst thou sit amid our regions wild
Rapt in a deep prophetic solitude.
There came an eastern voice of solemn mood:--
Yet wast thou patient. Then sang forth the Nine,
Apollo's garland:--yet didst thou divine
Such home-bred glory, that they cry'd in vain,
"Come hither, Sister of the Island!" Plain
Spake fair Ausonia; and once more she spake
A higher summons:--still didst thou betake
Thee to thy native hopes. O thou hast won
A full accomplishment! The thing is done,
Which undone, these our latter days had risen
On barren souls. Great Muse, thou know'st what prison
Of flesh and bone, curbs, and confines, and frets
Our spirit's wings: despondency besets
Our pillows; and the fresh to-morrow morn
Seems to give forth its light in very scorn
Of our dull, uninspired, snail-paced lives.
Long have I said, how happy he who shrives
To thee! But then I thought on poets gone,
And could not pray:--nor can I now--so on
I move to the end in lowliness of heart.----
"Ah, woe is me! that I should fondly part
From my dear native land! Ah, foolish maid!
Glad was the hour, when, with thee, myriads bade
Adieu to Ganges and their pleasant fields!
To one so friendless the clear freshet yields
A bitter coolness, the ripe grape is sour:
Yet I would have, great gods! but one short hour
Of native air--let me but die at home."
Endymion to heaven's airy dome
Was offering up a hecatomb of vows,
When these words reach'd him. Whereupon he bows
His head through thorny-green entanglement
Of underwood, and to the sound is bent,
Anxious as hind towards her hidden fawn.
"Is no one near to help me? No fair dawn
Of life from charitable voice? No sweet saying
To set my dull and sadden'd spirit playing?
No hand to toy with mine? No lips so sweet
[...] Read more
poem by John Keats
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A Wedding March
Clash your cymbals, maids, to--day.
Chaunt the praise of Cynthia.
You, her virgins, yokeless, free,
Young Time's choice, his brides--to--be.
Nymphs in white, who hand in hand
Next to her high altar stand,
Take your timbrels, strike your strings;
Tune them to Love's clamourings.
Heralds be of her your fairest,
Her of rarities the rarest.
Instant all her laud rehearse,
Idol of your universe;
And thus armed stand forth and say,
``All is nought but Cynthia.''
Clash your cymbals. Beat your drums.
Cynthia in her glory comes,
High with him whose duty is
Her to lead to a new bliss.
Ah, what fortune his to be
Angel of her ecstasy!
Red with roses Love's path lies,
Rich in rainbows of surprise.
They that tread it wiser are
Than the wise kings with their star,
Eve and morn who went pursuing
Eve's old hopes to Time's undoing,
Robbing Time of his vain wrath.
Run to Love; take all he hath,
Idle maids! Nay, shout and sing,
In Love's praise new chorusing,
Stintless this thrice happy day.
Shout aloud for Cynthia!
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Oh That's Right You're Just Another Girl
i like the echo of the narrow mountain:
Oh! that's right
You're just another girl
That loves to show of And to feel important at the same time
And to feel important at the same time
And to feel important at the same time
at the same time at the same time
at the same time at the same time
same time same time same time same time
And to feel important at the same time
And to feel important at the same time
at the same time at the same time
at the same time at the same time
same time same time same time same time
at the same time at the same time
at the same time at the same time
same time same time same time same time
And to feel important at the same time
And to feel important at the same time
at the same time at the same time
at the same time at the same time
same time same time same time same time
And to feel important at the same time
And to feel important at the same time
at the same time at the same time
Oh! that's right
You're just another girl
You're just another girl
You're just another girl
You're just another girl
aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo aldo
crash! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! krassssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss sss!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Musical Box
While henry hamilton-smythe minor (8) was playing croquet with cynthia jane de blaise-william (9), sweet-smiling cynthia raised her mallet high and gracefully removed henrys head. two weeks lat
N henrys nursery, she discovered his treasured musical box. eagerly she opened it and as old king cole began to play, a small spirit- figure appeared. henry had returned - but not f
Ng, for as he stood in the room his body began ageing rapidly, leaving a childs mind inside. a lifetimes desires surged through him. unfortunately the attempt to persuade cynthia jane to fulfi
S romantic desire led his nurse to the nursery to investigate the noise. instinctively nanny hurled the musical box at the bearded child, destroying both.
Play me old king cole
That I may join with you,
All your hearts now seem so far from me
It hardly seems to matter now.
And the nurse will tell you lies
Of a kingdom beyond the skies.
But I am lost within this half-world,
It hardly seems to matter now.
Play me my song.
Here it comes again.
Play me my song.
Here it comes again.
Just a little bit,
Just a little bit more time,
Time left to live out my life.
Play me my song.
Here it comes again.
Play me my song.
Here it comes again.
Old king cole was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he.
So he called for his pipe,
And he called for his bowl,
And he called for his fiddlers three.
But the clock, tick-tock,
On the mantlepiece -
And I want, and I feel, and I know, and I touch,
Her warmth...
Shes a lady, shes got time,
Brush back your hair, and let me get to know your face.
Shes a lady, she is mine.
Brush back your hair, and let me get to know your flesh.
Ive been waiting here for so long
And all this time has passed me by
It doesnt seem to matter now
You stand there with your fixed expression
Casting doubt on all I have to say.
Why dont you touch me, touch me,
Why dont you touch me, touch me,
Touch me now, now, now, now, now...
song performed by Genesis
Added by Lucian Velea
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Musical Box
Play me "Old King Cole"
that I may join with you,
all your hearts now seem so far from me
it hardly seems to matter now.
And the nurse will tell you lies
of a Kingdom beyond the skies.
But I'm lost within this half-world,
it hardly seems to matter now.
Play me my song,
here it comes again.
Play me my song,
here it comes again.
Just a little bit,
just a little bit more time,
time left to live out my life.
Play me my song,
here it comes again.
Play me my song,
here it comes again.
Old King Cole was a merry ould soul,
and a merry old soul was he.
So he called for his pipe,
and he called for his bowl,
and he called the his fiddlers three.
And the clock, tick tock,
on the mantlepiece,
and I want,
and I fell,
and I know,
and I touch the wall.
She's a lady, she's got time.
Brush back you hair, and let me get to know your face.
She's a lady, she's mine.
Brush back you hair, and let me get to know your flesh.
I've been waiting here for so long
and all this time that passed me by.
It doesn't seem to matter now.
You stand there with your fixed expression
casting doubt on all I have to say.
Why don't you touch me, touch me?
Why don't you touch me, touch me?
Touch me now, now now, now, now ...
The musical box:
While Henry Hamilton-Smythe minor (8) was playing croquet with Cynthia Jane De Blaise-William (9), sweet smiling Cynthia
raised her mallet high and gracefully removed Henry's head. Two weeks later, in Henry's nursery, she discovered his treasured
musical box. Eagerly she opened it and as "Old King Cole" began to play, a small spirit-figure appeared. Henry had returned -
but not for long, for as he stood into the room his body began ageing rapidly, leaving a child's mind inside. A lifetime's desires
surged through him. Unfortunately the attempt to persuade Cynthia Jane to fulfill his romantic desire led his nurse to the
nursery to investigate the noise. Instinctively she hurled the musical box at the bearded child, destroying both
song performed by Genesis
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Musical Box
While henry hamilton-smythe minor (8) was playing croquet with cynthia jane de blaise-william (9), sweet-smiling cynthia raised her mallet high and gracefully removed henrys head. two weeks lat
N henrys nursery, she discovered his treasured musical box. eagerly she opened it and as old king cole began to play, a small spirit- figure appeared. henry had returned - but not f
Ng, for as he stood in the room his body began ageing rapidly, leaving a childs mind inside. a lifetimes desires surged through him. unfortunately the attempt to persuade cynthia jane to fulfi
S romantic desire led his nurse to the nursery to investigate the noise. instinctively nanny hurled the musical box at the bearded child, destroying both.
Play me old king cole
That I may join with you,
All your hearts now seem so far from me
It hardly seems to matter now.
And the nurse will tell you lies
Of a kingdom beyond the skies.
But I am lost within this half-world,
It hardly seems to matter now.
Play me my song.
Here it comes again.
Play me my song.
Here it comes again.
Just a little bit,
Just a little bit more time,
Time left to live out my life.
Play me my song.
Here it comes again.
Play me my song.
Here it comes again.
Old king cole was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he.
So he called for his pipe,
And he called for his bowl,
And he called for his fiddlers three.
But the clock, tick-tock,
On the mantlepiece -
And I want, and I feel, and I know, and I touch,
Her warmth...
Shes a lady, shes got time,
Brush back your hair, and let me get to know your face.
Shes a lady, she is mine.
Brush back your hair, and let me get to know your flesh.
Ive been waiting here for so long
And all this time has passed me by
It doesnt seem to matter now
You stand there with your fixed expression
Casting doubt on all I have to say.
Why dont you touch me, touch me,
Why dont you touch me, touch me,
Touch me now, now, now, now, now...
song performed by Genesis
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ode to Cynthia, on the Approach of Spring
Now in the cowslip's dewy cell
The fairies make their bed,
They hover round the crystal well,
The turf in circles tread.
The lovely linnet now her song
Tunes sweetest in the wood;
The twittering swallow skims along
The azure liquid flood.
The morning breeze wafts Flora's kiss
In fragrance to the sense;
The happy shepherd feels the bliss,
And she takes no offence.
But not the linnet's sweetest song
That ever fill'd the wood;
Or twittering swallow that along
The azure liquid flood
Skims swiftly, harbinger of spring,
Or morning's sweetest breath,
Or Flora's kiss, to me can bring
A remedy for death.
For death-what do I say? Yes, death
Must surely end my days,
If cruel Cynthia slights my faith,
And will not hear my lays.
No more with festive garlands bound,
I at the wake shall be;
No more my feet shall press the ground
In dance with wonted glee;
No more my little flock I'll keep,
To some dark cave I'll fly;
I've nothing now to do but weep,
To mourn my fate, and sigh.
Ah! Cynthia, thy Damon's cries
Are heard at dead of night;
But they, alas! are doom'd to rise
Like smoke upon the sight.
They rise in vain, ah me! in vain
Are scatter'd in the wind;
Cynthia does not know the pain
That rankles in my mind.
[...] Read more
poem by William Shenstone
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Meant to Be Overheard
Listen to them...
And you can tell,
What kinds of people they are.
And what they value,
Most!
What they boast about!
And how that is done well.
It's important to them,
Where they live.
And the prices of the homes,
In their neighborhoods.
It's important to them,
Who they know.
And where they socialize,
At the private clubs they go!
It's important to them,
What they drive.
And the number of vehicles they own.
What they purchase and where they shop!
The prices paid.
To which charities they give.
And the amounts they gave!
It's important to them,
How many degrees they have.
Which schools they were on the honor roll.
The training of their pets.
And where their children are currently enrolled.
It's important to them,
Where they take vacations.
And travel first class...
'Of course! Don't you? '
On buses, trains and planes.
And that once a year 30 day cruise.
It's important to them,
Where they wine and dine.
With the utmost of etiquette.
It's important to them,
The churches they attend.
Their religious and political affiliations.
Where near the pulpit on pews they sit.
And how much they donate...
As an 'anonymous' gift!
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The whole process of getting licenses to broadcast, which took place decades ago, was done behind closed doors by powerful lobbies, and wealthy commercial interests got all the licenses with no public input, no congressional input for that matter.
quote by Robert McChesney
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wisdom
Wisdom is the building blocks of Truth.
And it is the best charity.
Knowing and understanding are different awareness.
Understanding is superior to knowing;
One who understands knows as well
But one who knows doesn’t necessarily understand!
To understand is to know something in detail.
It involves input of information and their processing in brain
In other words it involves thinking.
Whereas knowing
Is the result of some input of information in the brain.
Knowing is an outcome of observation or feeling
But understanding is an outcome of thought.
poem by Asif Andalib
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Charter Imposed on the People
Trudeau wrote our Charter of Rights but we did not participate,
It was imposed from above with establishment type debate,
No input, no referendums and for “EVERYONE” in the world,
That means criminals, terrorists, refugees with their flags unfurled.
And when they arrive they go to the appointed Supreme Court,
They claim rights under the Charter and they all want support,
And we are only observers at these courtroom decisions,
Once again we have no input into these appointees’ visions.
We have no binding referendums so we have to submit,
Refugee-terrorists allowed in or criminals they acquit,
Because binding referendums might give power to the people,
You remember, those who lived within sight of the church steeple.
Jan 3rd 2011
poem by James Bredin
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Don't Crowd My Consciousness With Your Distance
Don't crowd my consciousness with your distance.
You know that drives me crazy.
You know my comprehension must be fed.
And to leave me teased without your input...
Does not satisfy.
And you now try to deny me!
Don't crowd my consciousness with your distance.
You know I'm wondering why...
You keep away.
With no excuse or alibi.
You know if I don't hear from you...
I'll call to leave you a message or two.
And when you refuse to answer my calls.
You know I'm here curiously climbing the walls.
You know I dislike total silence from you.
Did I say or do something you did not approve?
Are you okay?
That's all I want to know!
You believe I wish to smother you in debate.
Well...
Part of that is true.
But I am really concerned more about you!
Come on!
Knock on my door.
Or leave me a note!
Suppose I 'decided' to have a stroke!
Would you be happy then?
Knowing my heart,
You left shattered and broken!
Don't crowd my consciousness with your distance.
You know that drives me crazy.
You know my comprehension must be fed.
And to leave me teased without your input...
Does not satisfy.
And you now try to deny me!
How long has it been?
At least two days.
Why don't you do or say something?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Felt Insulted
I once did a task,
I thought would make others pleased.
I accomplished this with sacrifice...
Hoping this would elevate their priorities.
But they were of limited mindsets.
A bigger picture they could not see.
And one day I got a knock on my door.
From two who came to say...
'We appreciate your efforts.
And the quality of your deeds.
If you want us we are here,
To take you where you wish to go.
To hand out some flyers to promote us...'
Excuse me?
Say what?
You've come to do that,
So I can advertise your abilities?
And accomodate 'my' needs?
For 'me' that is what you will do?
So I can continue to observe you sit?
And watch you eat on my time too?
I felt insulted.
They had no clue as to why!
So I closed the door.
On them and that project...
I said a final goodbye!
And they wanted to get paid.
With a few tickets they sold.
And with lesser time spent,
To promote themselves made!
These Negroes were bold.
They had no clue as to why,
I felt insulted.
So I closed the door.
Not to re-open it again!
On them and that project...
I said a final goodbye!
'When folks begin to take advantage...
Disadvantage your input,
From those who do the taking.
And be sure the time you take for yourself,
Is for you to make better use.
And no one else!
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Borough. Letter XII: Players
These are monarchs none respect,
Heroes, yet an humbled crew,
Nobles, whom the crowd correct,
Wealthy men, whom duns pursue;
Beauties shrinking from the view
Of the day's detecting eye;
Lovers, who with much ado
Long-forsaken damsels woo,
And heave the ill-feign'd sigh.
These are misers, craving means
Of existence through the day,
Famous scholars, conning scenes
Of a dull bewildering play;
Ragged beaux and misses gray,
Whom the rabble praise and blame,
Proud and mean, and sad and gay,
Toiling after ease, are they,
Infamous, and boasting fame.
DRAWN by the annual call, we now behold
Our Troop Dramatic, heroes known of old,
And those, since last they march'd, enlisted and
enrolled:
Mounted on hacks or borne in waggons some,
The rest on foot (the humbler brethren) come.
Three favour'd places, an unequal time,
Join to support this company sublime:
Ours for the longer period--see how light
Yon parties move, their former friends in sight,
Whose claims are all allow'd, and friendship glads
the night.
Now public rooms shall sound with words divine,
And private lodgings hear how heroes shine;
No talk of pay shall yet on pleasure steal,
But kindest welcome bless the friendly meal;
While o'er the social jug and decent cheer,
Shall be described the fortunes of the year.
Peruse these bills, and see what each can do, -
Behold! the prince, the slave, the monk, the Jew;
Change but the garment, and they'll all engage
To take each part, and act in every age:
Cull'd from all houses, what a house are they!
Swept from all barns, our Borough-critics say;
But with some portion of a critic's ire,
We all endure them; there are some admire:
They might have praise, confined to farce alone;
Full well they grin, they should not try to groan;
[...] Read more
poem by George Crabbe
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