You see, that's the problem I have with ""you people.""
quote by Katie Couric
Added by Lucian Velea
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Problems
Too many problems, oh why am I here?
I need to be me, cause youre all to clear
And I can see theres something wrong with you
Oh, what do you expect me to do?
At least I gotta know what I wanna be
Dont come to me if you need pity
Are you lonely, you got no-one
You got your body in suspension
Thats a problem, problem, problem
The problem is you
Eat your heart out on a plastic tray
You dont do what you want and you fade away
You work for me, youre working nine-to-five
Its too much fun of being alive
Im using my feet for my human machine
You work for me, living for the screen
Are you lonely, all needs catered
You got your brains dehydrated
Problem, problem, problem, the problem is you
Oh what what you gonna do, problem, problem
Problem, problem, problem, the problem is you
Well, what you gonna do with your problem
The problem is you, problem
I aint death trip, but I aint automatic
You work for me, just stay ecstatic
Dont you give me any orders
To people like me, there is no order
Bet you thought you had it all worked out
Bet you thought you knew what I was about
Bet you thought youd solved all your problems
But you are the problem
Problem, problem, problem, the problem is you
Oh, what you gonna do with your problem?
Ill leave it up to you, oh problem
The problem is you, you got a problem
Oh what you gonna do?
They know a doctor, gonna take you away
Thay take you away and they throw away the key
They dont want you and they dont want me
You got a problem the problem is you
Problem, well, what you gonna do?
Problem, have you got a problem?
Problem, well you got a problem
Problem (x17)
song performed by Megadeth
Added by Lucian Velea
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Salut Au Monde
O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman!
Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds!
Such join'd unended links, each hook'd to the next!
Each answering all--each sharing the earth with all.
What widens within you, Walt Whitman?
What waves and soils exuding?
What climes? what persons and lands are here?
Who are the infants? some playing, some slumbering?
Who are the girls? who are the married women?
Who are the groups of old men going slowly with their arms about each
other's necks?
What rivers are these? what forests and fruits are these?
What are the mountains call'd that rise so high in the mists?
What myriads of dwellings are they, fill'd with dwellers?
Within me latitude widens, longitude lengthens;
Asia, Africa, Europe, are to the east--America is provided for in the
west;
Banding the bulge of the earth winds the hot equator,
Curiously north and south turn the axis-ends;
Within me is the longest day--the sun wheels in slanting rings--it
does not set for months;
Stretch'd in due time within me the midnight sun just rises above the
horizon, and sinks again;
Within me zones, seas, cataracts, plants, volcanoes, groups,
Malaysia, Polynesia, and the great West Indian islands.
What do you hear, Walt Whitman?
I hear the workman singing, and the farmer's wife singing;
I hear in the distance the sounds of children, and of animals early
in the day;
I hear quick rifle-cracks from the riflemen of East Tennessee and
Kentucky, hunting on hills;
I hear emulous shouts of Australians, pursuing the wild horse;
I hear the Spanish dance, with castanets, in the chestnut shade, to
the rebeck and guitar;
I hear continual echoes from the Thames;
I hear fierce French liberty songs;
I hear of the Italian boat-sculler the musical recitative of old
poems;
I hear the Virginia plantation-chorus of negroes, of a harvest night,
in the glare of pine-knots;
I hear the strong baritone of the 'long-shore-men of Mannahatta;
I hear the stevedores unlading the cargoes, and singing;
I hear the screams of the water-fowl of solitary north-west lakes;
I hear the rustling pattering of locusts, as they strike the grain
and grass with the showers of their terrible clouds;
I hear the Coptic refrain, toward sundown, pensively falling on the
[...] Read more
poem by Walt Whitman
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Lets See Action
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see freedom, lets see who cares,
Lets see freedom, lets see who cares,
Take me with you when you leave me
Take me with you when you leave me
And my shell behind us there.
And my shell behind us there.
I have learned it, known who burned me,
I have learned it, known who burned me,
Avatar has warmed my feet,
Avatar has warmed my feet,
Take me with you, let me see you,
Take me with you, let me see you,
Time and life can meet.
Time and life can meet.
Nothing is everything, everything is, nothing is,
Nothing is everything, everything is, nothing is,
Please the people, audiences,
Please the people, audiences,
Break the fences,
Break the fences,
Nothing is.
Nothing is.
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see freedom up in the air,
Lets see freedom up in the air,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets be free, lets see who cares.
Lets be free, lets see who cares.
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see freedom up in the air,
Lets see freedom up in the air,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets see action, lets see people,
Lets be free, lets see who cares.
Lets be free, lets see who cares.
Give me a drink boy, wash my feet,
Give me a drink boy, wash my feet,
Im so tired of running from my own heat,
Im so tired of running from my own heat,
Take this package and heres what you do,
Take this package and heres what you do,
Gonna get this information through.
Gonna get this information through.
I dont know where Im going,
I dont know where Im going,
[...] Read more
song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Libelle of Englyshe Polycye
Here beginneth the Prologe of the processe of the Libelle of Englyshe polycye, exhortynge alle Englande to kepe the see enviroun and namelye the narowe see, shewynge whate profete commeth thereof and also whate worshype and salvacione to Englande and to alle Englyshe menne.
The trewe processe of Englysh polycye
Of utterwarde to kepe thys regne in rest
Of oure England, that no man may denye
Ner say of soth but it is one the best,
Is thys, as who seith, south, north, est and west
Cheryshe marchandyse, kepe thamyralte,
That we bee maysteres of the narowe see.
For Sigesmonde the grete Emperoure,
Whyche yet regneth, whan he was in this londe
Wyth kynge Herry the vte, prince of honoure,
Here moche glorye, as hym thought, he founde,
A myghty londe, whyche hadde take on honde
To werre in Fraunce and make mortalite,
And ever well kept rounde aboute the see.
And to the kynge thus he seyde, 'My brothere',
Whan he perceyved too townes, Calys and Dovere,
'Of alle youre townes to chese of one and other
To kepe the see and sone for to come overe,
To werre oughtwardes and youre regne to recovere,
Kepe these too townes sure to youre mageste
As youre tweyne eyne to kepe the narowe see'.
For if this see be kepte in tyme of werre,
Who cane here passe withought daunger and woo?
Who may eschape, who may myschef dyfferre?
What marchaundy may forby be agoo?
For nedes hem muste take truse every foo,
Flaundres and Spayne and othere, trust to me,
Or ellis hyndered alle for thys narowe see.
Therfore I caste me by a lytell wrytinge
To shewe att eye thys conclusione,
For concyens and for myne acquytynge
Ayenst God, and ageyne abusyon
And cowardyse and to oure enmyes confusione;
For iiij. thynges oure noble sheueth to me,
Kyng, shype and swerde and pouer of the see.
Where bene oure shippes, where bene oure swerdes become?
Owre enmyes bid for the shippe sette a shepe.
Allas, oure reule halteth, hit is benome.
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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The Big Problem....
There is this BIG PROBLEM
WE decided not to talk about it
We think that that problem must solve itself
Auto-resolution
So day and night the problem stays there
Like a drunkard in the room
Vomiting
To every nook of the house
The house
That smells like fucking
Shit
But that problem is never considered a problem
There is a room for it to stay
And it can stay
It cannot consume us
It has no mouth and so it has no teeth
It has no tongue it cannot say a word
It stays there like a piece of art
And we begin to appreciate it
Like a piece of rock
Unchanged in the middle of the living room
We eat lunch there
They prepare nice dinners
We drink red wine
We munch chocolates
And sweet berries
The problem stays but it cannot nag us
Because we can pretend
That it is a brother
That we cannot junk but only love
And keep as part of the
Company
There is still this problem
And it did not solve itself
We live by this problem and this problem lives with us
Symbiosis
And so now
What is the problem? Is this a problem after all these years?
It is not anymore
We have learned that it is not a problem anymore
We die soon
And it shall perhaps disappear
Shall it weep over our departure?
That is its problem.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Problem Child
(roy orbison)
Roy orbison (sun, 1957)
Well my heartbeat is running wild
Because of you my problem child
Oh-oh baby, don't be running wild
Well cool off baby, don't be a problem child
Well don't you see this shakin' spree
Is bound to be the death of me
Oh baby, don't be running wild
Well cool off baby, don't be a problem child
Well my heartbeat is runnin' wild
Because of you my problem child
Oh baby, don't be running wild
Control yourself, don't be a problem child
Well don't you see this shakin' spree
Is bound to be the death of me
Oh baby, don't be running wild
Well cool off baby, don't be a problem child
Well then i'm gone, that's all she wrote
You'll sing this same song note for note
Oh baby, don't be running wild
Control yourself, you're a problem child
Ooh, problem child
Yeah, problem child
Well, problem child
Yeah, problem child
Oh baby,you're a problem child
Slow down girl, down
Slow down girl, down
Down girl, down
Slow down girl, down......
song performed by Roy Orbison
Added by Lucian Velea
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All Different, But Still The Same
Some people have short hair, some have long.
Some people have thick hair; some people’s hair is all gone.
Some people have black hair, some have gray.
Some people have brown hair, some blonde, some red.
Some people’s hair a color unsaid.
Some people are short, some people are tall.
Some people will love you; some won’t like you at all.
Some people like hot weather, some like cold.
Some people are timid, some people are bold.
Some people have dark skin, some people have light.
Some people have black skin, some people have white.
Some people eat meat; some won’t touch it at all.
Some people have a good memory, some can’t recall.
Some people accept Christ, some never will.
Some people are stingy, some people give.
Some people like school, some people don’t.
Some people will excel, some people won’t.
Some people smoke cigarettes, some never will.
Some people are honest, some people steal.
Some people have book knowledge;
But don’t know the Holy Book.
Some people burn food, some people can cook.
Some people are old, some people are young.
Some people do smart things, some people do dumb.
Some people just have a diploma
Some people have degrees.
Some people do things slow, some with a breeze.
Some people are complainers, some easy to please.
Some people hate shopping, some stay in the mall.
Some people hate God, but God loves us all.
We are all different, but still the same.
When I get cut, I bleed red;
You get cut, red blood you’ll shed.
Some people are plump, some people are thin.
But we are all the same, we’re all human being.
Copyright © 2010-Phyllis Strong
poem by Phyllis Strong
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No Problem
(r. palmer)
I think the two of us
Should visit paradise
Wed be so calm inside
Id be your alibi
I want to be the one
That shares in all your dreams
Always be there for you
To staisfy your needs
Thered be no problem - even if you just need someone to talk to
Ill be there to listen any time of day
Theres no problem you cant tell me about it
Oh baby I could make you happy more than any other man
Someone to rely on and
Care for you
I could keep you warm
Protect you from all harm
Id be right by your side
To keep you satisfied
No problem - even if you just need someone to talk to
Ill be there to listen any time of day
Thered be no problem if you tell me about it
Oh baby I could make you happy more than any other man
Someone to rely on and
Care for you girl
No problem
No problem
I think the two of us
Should visit paradise
Youd be so calm inside
Id be your alibi
You could get in my heart
And we could take a ride
We could go all the way
Or just to paradise
No problem
No problem
No problem
No problem
song performed by Robert Palmer
Added by Lucian Velea
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Problem Solver
If we stuck by the rules,
To ensure they're obeyed...
I can be,
A problem solver.
You can be,
A problem solver.
We could all be problem solvers,
If we got to be involved.
I can be,
A problem solver.
You can be,
A problem solver.
We could all be problem solvers,
If we got to be involved.
Troubles would diminish...
If we all got now involved.
Anguishing would disappear...
If it was not thought a job,
To be labored then be robbed!
Troubles would diminish...
If we all got now involved.
Anguishing would disappear...
If it was not thought a job,
To be labored then be robbed!
If we stuck by the rules,
To ensure they're obeyed...
Oh I can be,
A problem solver.
You can be,
A problem solver.
We could all be problem solvers,
If we got to be involved.
Troubles would diminish...
If we all got now involved.
Anguishing would disappear...
If it was not thought a job!
We could all be problem solvers,
If we got to be involved.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Virginia's Story
Elizabeth Gates-Wooten is my Grand mom.
She was born in Canada with her father and brothers.
They owned a Barber Shoppe.
I don't remember exactly where in Canada.
I believe it was right over the border like Windsor or Toronto.
I never knew exactly where it was.
When she was old enough she got married.
First, she married a man by the name of Frank Gates.
He was from Madagascar.
He fathered my mom and her brother and sister.
The boy's name was Frank Gates, Jr.
Two girls name were Anna and Agnes.
Agnes was my mother.
Frank Gates went crazy after the war
He drank a lot and died
Then grandma Elizabeth married a man by the name of Mr. Wooten.
He had a German name, but I don't think he was German.
She took his last name after they got married.
Then they moved to West Virginia in the United States.
Their son, Frank Gates Jr. Became a delegate in the democratic party.
He use to get into a lot of trouble because he liked to fight.
He was a delegate from the 1940's to 1970's.
He died of gout in the 1970's.
Anna was a maid and cook.
She baked cakes and stuff for people as a side line.
She had a hump on her back (scoliosis) .
She had to walk with a cane.
She could cook good though.
She did this kind of work all of her life, just like her mom, Elizabeth
They were both good cooks
They had a lot of money because they had these skills
Especially when people had parties.
Because they would make all of this food and then they would have left-overs.
We got to eat a lot of stuff we normally wouldn't get because of that.
When they cooked, they didn't use no measuring stuff, they would just use there hand.
My moms name was Agnes Barrie Gates.
She married James Wright and moved to Cleveland.
[...] Read more
poem by Talile Ali
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The Tower Beyond Tragedy
I
You'd never have thought the Queen was Helen's sister- Troy's
burning-flower from Sparta, the beautiful sea-flower
Cut in clear stone, crowned with the fragrant golden mane, she
the ageless, the uncontaminable-
This Clytemnestra was her sister, low-statured, fierce-lipped, not
dark nor blonde, greenish-gray-eyed,
Sinewed with strength, you saw, under the purple folds of the
queen-cloak, but craftier than queenly,
Standing between the gilded wooden porch-pillars, great steps of
stone above the steep street,
Awaiting the King.
Most of his men were quartered on the town;
he, clanking bronze, with fifty
And certain captives, came to the stair. The Queen's men were
a hundred in the street and a hundred
Lining the ramp, eighty on the great flags of the porch; she
raising her white arms the spear-butts
Thundered on the stone, and the shields clashed; eight shining
clarions
Let fly from the wide window over the entrance the wildbirds of
their metal throats, air-cleaving
Over the King come home. He raised his thick burnt-colored
beard and smiled; then Clytemnestra,
Gathering the robe, setting the golden-sandaled feet carefully,
stone by stone, descended
One half the stair. But one of the captives marred the comeliness
of that embrace with a cry
Gull-shrill, blade-sharp, cutting between the purple cloak and
the bronze plates, then Clytemnestra:
Who was it? The King answered: A piece of our goods out of
the snatch of Asia, a daughter of the king,
So treat her kindly and she may come into her wits again. Eh,
you keep state here my queen.
You've not been the poorer for me.- In heart, in the widowed
chamber, dear, she pale replied, though the slaves
Toiled, the spearmen were faithful. What's her name, the slavegirl's?
AGAMEMNON Come up the stair. They tell me my kinsman's
Lodged himself on you.
CLYTEMNESTRA Your cousin Aegisthus? He was out of refuge,
flits between here and Tiryns.
Dear: the girl's name?
AGAMEMNON Cassandra. We've a hundred or so other
captives; besides two hundred
Rotted in the hulls, they tell odd stories about you and your
guest: eh? no matter: the ships
Ooze pitch and the August road smokes dirt, I smell like an
old shepherd's goatskin, you'll have bath-water?
CLYTEMNESTRA
They're making it hot. Come, my lord. My hands will pour it.
[...] Read more
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Ordinary People
In a dusty town a clock struck high noon, two men stood face to face.
One wore black and one wore white, but of fear there wasnt a trace.
Two hundred years later two hot rods drag through the very same place,
And a half a million people
Moved in to pick up the pace, a factory full of people.
Makin parts to go to outer space, a train load of people.
They were aimin for another place, out of town people.
Theres a man in the window with a big cigar, says everythings for sale.
The house and the boat and the railroad car, the owners gotta go to jail.
He acquired these things from a life of crime, now hes selling them to raise his bail.
He was rippin off the people.
Sellin guns to the underground, tryin to help the people.
Lose their ass for a piece of ground, rippin off the people.
Skimmin the top when there was no one around, tryin to help the people.
He was dealing antiques in a hardware store but he sure had a lot to hide.
He had a backroom full of the guns of war and a ton of ammunition besides.
Well, he walked with a cane, kept a bolt on the door with five pit bulls inside,
Just a warning to the people
Who might try to break in at night, protection from the people.
Selling safety in the darkest night, tryin to help the people.
Get the drugs to the street all right, ordinary people.
Well, its hard to say where a man goes wrong, might be here and it might be there.
What starts out weak might get too strong, if you cant tell foul from fair.
But its hard to judge from an angry throng of hands stretched into the air,
The vigilante people.
Takin law into their own hands, conscientious people.
Crackin down on the druglords land, government people.
Confiscatin all the dealers land, patch-of-ground people.
Down at the factory, theyre puttin new windows in.
The vandals made a mess of things, and the homeless just walked right in.
Well, they worked here once, and they live here now, but they might work here again,
Theyre ordinary people.
And theyre livin in a nightmare, hard workin people.
And they dont know how they go there, ordinary people.
And they think that you dont care, hard workin people.
Down on the assembly line, they keep puttin the same thing out.
But the people today, they just aint buyin, nobody can figure it out.
Well, they try like hell to build a quality end, theyre workin hard without a doubt,
Theyre ordinary people.
And the dollars what its all about, hard workin people.
But the customers are walkin out, lee iacocca people.
Yeah, they look but they just dont buy, hard workin people.
Two out of work models and a fashion slave try to dance away the michelob night.
The bartender poured himself another drink, while two drunks sat watchin the fight.
The champ went down, then he got up again, and then he went out like a light,
He was fightin for the people.
But his timing wasnt right, for las vegas people
Who came to see a las vegas fight, high rollin people.
Takin limos though the neon night, fightin for the people.
And then a new rolls royce and a company car they went flyin down the street.
[...] Read more
song performed by Neil Young
Added by Lucian Velea
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That Little Hole
Some people keep their love in a safe, then forget the combination
Some people think life's a masquerade ball, keeping up with the latest fashion
Some people sell dreams like rag magazines, on the busy fast food city street corners
Some people give, some people take, Some people share, some people fake
And they all believe their mouths to be religion, I ask you who puts their faith in that little hole
Me, I’m happy to be breathing
with both feet on the ground
Some people hide from the world and it’s charms, others flee from its tragedy
Some people wish for a place to call home while they kill off every living thing they see
Some people await the rapture and fate, others are simply looking for the cure
Some people lead some people follow, some people spit, some people swallow
And they all believe their mouths to be religion, I ask you who puts their faith in that little hole
Me, I’m happy to be breathing
Some people search for Utopia and peace, but never seem to laugh
Some people forgot what it’s like to be young, having grown up much to fast
Some people preach salvation and hope to anyone willing to pay
Some people judge to quick, some never judge at all, some people climb, some are simply happy to fall
And they all believe their mouths to be religion, I ask you who puts their faith in that little hole
Me, I’m happy to be breathing
with both feet on the ground
Some people feel the mirror holds the key, to their tomorrows and prosperity
Some people are sealed off from the world by their hearts, their leaders, or their personality
Some people are like cannibals, they devour what they need and move on
Some people are criminals trying to make ends meet, steeling from others trying to make ends meet
And they all believe their mouths to be religion, I ask you who puts their faith in that little hole
Me, I’m happy to be breathing
with both feet on the ground
Some people feel its much more real, to chase rainbows on canvass painted skies
Some people think their shit don’t stink, some have the trust of a saint and tell lies
Some people’s minds react like a nuclear bomb, some people are one with the galaxy
Some people die as they lived, others live as they die, some never give up hope, others don’t even try
And they all believe their mouths to be religion, I ask you who puts their faith in that little hole
Some people wear their hearts on their sleeve, others forget what it means to be free
Some people speak of friendships and love, but don’t know what it means to be a friend
Some people search for enlightenment in the stars, in tea leaves, other find it floating in a glass
Some people smile, some people cry, some people live, some people try
And they all believe their mouths to be religion, I ask you who puts their faith in that little hole
Some people are afraid to take risks, or to be anything they wish until they die
Some people love the sound of their voice, some talk more than they listen
Some people don’t suffer fools only to find the jokes on them
[...] Read more
poem by Colin Coplin
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Some People
Some people seem to have it all
Some people always have to crawl
Some people pay to be abused
Some people end up destitute
Some people search their souls for truth
Some people try to be of use
Some people pray before they kill
Some people kill just for the thrill
Some people follow one mans vision, some others die on television
Some people build their homes on sand, some people live in garbage cans
Some people think that live is dear, some people hope the end is near
Some people fight for right to life, some people hate to stay alive
Some people dream of life on mars, some people end their life in cars
Some people throw their lives away, some others go on holidays
Some people live and love in vain, some people dont and go insane
Some people always need to win, some other people love to sin
Some people breaking all their vows, some people slashing sacred cows
Some people like to worship stars, some people think the worlds a farce
Some people try to make ends meet, some others end up kissing feet
Some people find their holy grail, some other people go to hell
Some people never catch their breath, some people drink themselves to death
Some people seem to have it all, some people always have to crawl
Some people pay to be abused, some people end up destitute
Some people search their souls for truth
Some people try to be of use
Some people
!
Gold/ocean/1994
song performed by Alphaville
Added by Lucian Velea
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Who Is The Real Problem?
i am the real problem
i Do not have anything to do with my Life, it has only lonelines as the real cause of its misery.
i am the real problem
i Have figured out the real issue
Of the problem and
it is not capable of exact
Definition,
That seemingly is a problem apparently
Appearing to me as life but there is
No life in it
The right to call it life
Cannot be true, this is just to be frank about it.
I refer to the expertise of sorceress
She put some aluminates in cinders
And she figures out the illuminated forms of my
Problem,
a snake is the illuminated form of my misery
There is a snake in my house
Or
could be in my office or could be in my world.
The real problem is i
Do not believe the sorceress
And I am left with nothing to do but figure out the real
Problem in my dreams
Planes taking off and exploding in mid air
Rivers rising flooding and making a town disappear
Bamboo poles with lots of coconut oil rubbed on its sides and I cannot climb
My way of jumping into murky rivers filled with goldfishes floating dead
A brook filled with feces and I am there swimming
A snake chasing me and I cannot run as fast as I can
and it bites me
And I
Wake up
profusely sweating and trembling
i get a glass of water and
ThankGod that everything is simply
a bad dream
The real problem really is,
On the other hand,
I waking up
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi
Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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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VII. Pompilia
I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.
All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.
Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Exodus (Laswell Mix)
[Bob Marley]
Exodus: Movement of Jah people! Oh-oh-oh, yea-eah!
.......
Men and people will fight ya down (Tell me why!)
When ya see Jah light. (Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!)
Let me tell you if you're not wrong; (Then, why?)
Everything is all right.
So we gonna walk - all right! - through de roads of creation:
We the generation (Tell me why!)
(Trod through great tribulation) trod through great tribulation.
Exodus, all right! Movement of Jah people!
Oh, yeah! O-oo, yeah! All right!
Exodus: Movement of Jah people! Oh, yeah!
Yeah-yeah-yeah, well!
Uh! Open your eyes and look within:
Are you satisfied (with the life you're living)? Uh!
We know where we're going, uh!
We know where we're from.
We're leaving Babylon,
We're going to our Father land.
2, 3, 4: Exodus: movement of Jah people! Oh, yeah!
(Movement of Jah people!) Send us another brother Moses!
(Movement of Jah people!) From across the Red Sea!
(Movement of Jah people!) Send us another brother Moses!
(Movement of Jah people!) From across the Red Sea!
Movement of Jah people!
---
/Instrumental break/
---
Exodus, all right! Oo-oo-ooh! Oo-ooh!
Movement of Jah people! Oh, yeah!
Exodus!
Exodus! All right!
Exodus! Now, now, now, now!
Exodus!
Exodus! Oh, yea-ea-ea-ea-ea-ea-eah!
Exodus!
Exodus! All right!
Exodus! Uh-uh-uh-uh!
Move! Move! Move! Move! Move! Move!
Open your eyes and look within:
Are you satisfied with the life you're living?
We know where we're going;
We know where we're from.
We're leaving Babylon, y'all!
We're going to our Father's land.
Exodus, all right! Movement of Jah people!
Exodus: movement of Jah people!
Movement of Jah people!
Movement of Jah people!
[...] Read more
song performed by Bob Marley
Added by Lucian Velea
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People At The Bustop
People at the bustop.
('people at the bustop? ')
Don't have time to talk a lot.
('people at the bustop? ')
And when it rains or snow on them drops,
People at the bustop,
Don't appear to anger with moods to cop.
People at the bustop.
('people at the bustop? ')
May sing a tune or fingerpop.
('people at the bustop? ')
Listening to music through earplugs blocked,
And unheard to hear by those who are near.
People at the bustop.
('people at the bustop? ')
Don't have time to talk a lot.
('people at the bustop? ')
And when it rains or snow on them drops,
People at the bustop,
Don't appear to anger with moods to cop.
People at the bustop.
('people at the bustop? ')
With ipods bop.
('people at the bustop? ')
Listening to their rap or rockin' hip hop.
Oh those people at the bustop.
('people at the bustop? ')
With ipods bop.
('people at the bustop? ')
Listening to their rap or rockin' hip hop.
People at the bustop.
('people at the bustop? ')
Don't have time to talk a lot.
('people at the bustop? ')
And when it rains or snow on them drops,
People at the bustop,
Don't appear to anger with moods to cop.
People at the bustop.
('people at the bustop? ')
People at the bustop.
('people at the bustop? ')
People at the bustop.
('people at the bustop? ')
Peeping on the people who are nodding to a beat.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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