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Nationalism is a silly cock crowing on his own dunghill.

quote by Richard Aldington
Added by Lucian Velea
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Silly, Silly Fool

(kenneth gamble / leon huff)
Such a silly, silly, silly, silly fool am i
Oh, i, just a silly, silly, silly, silly fool am i
Hey, I should have never fallen
Back in love with you
Knowin how you get a pleasure
Breaking my poor heart in two
You made it sound so convincin
When you said
Im your woman, youre my man
Now I really need you
And I sit here a loser again
I guess Im just a silly, silly, silly, silly fool am i, oh i
Im such a silly, silly, silly, silly, fool am i, mmm
I should have never trusted
In my heart to lead the way
Now my mind is all busted
Thats a fools price to pay
You made it sound so convincin
When you said youd never, never go away
I should have never listened
To anything you had to say
Im such a silly, silly, silly, silly, silly, silly fool am i, yes I am
Im such a silly, silly, silly, silly fool am i, oh
Such a silly, silly, dilly, silly, dilly fool am i, oh yeah
Im such a silly, silly, silly, silly, silly fool am i, oh yes I am
Im such a silly, silly, dilly, silly, dilly, silly fool am i, oh yeah
Im such a silly, dilly, silly, dilly, silly fool am i, oh
Silly, dilly

song performed by Dusty Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Song at Cock-Crow

1918 -- Ille autem iterum negavit.

The first time that Peter denied his Lord
He shrank from the cudgel, the scourge and the cord,
But followed far off to see what they would do,
Till the cock crew--till the cock crew--
After Gethsemane, till the cock crew!

The first time that Peter denied his Lord
'Twas only a maid in the palace who heard,
As he sat by the fire and warmed himself through.
Then the cock crew! Then the cock crew!
("Though also art one of them.") Then the cock crew!

The first time that Peter denied his Lord
He had neither the Throne, nor the Keys nor the Sword--
A poor silly fisherman, what could he do,
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
But weep for his wickedness when the cock crew?
. . . . . .

The next time that Peter denied his Lord
He was Fisher of Men, as foretold by the Word,
With the Crown on his brow and the Cross on his shoe,
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
In Flanders and Picardy when the cock crew!

The next time that Peter denied his Lord
'Twas Mary the Mother in Heaven Who heard,
She grieved for the maidens and wives that they slew
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
At Tirmonde and Aerschott when the cock crew!

The next time that Peter denied his Lord
The Babe in the Manger awakened and stirred,
And He stretched out His arms for the playmates
He knew--
When the cock crew--when the cock crew--
But the waters had covered them when the cock crew!

The next time that Peter denied his Lord
'Twas Earth in her agony waited his word,
But he sat by the fire and naught would he do,
Though the cock crew--though the cock crew--
Over all Christendom, though the cock crew!

The last time that Peter denied his Lord,
The Father took from him the Keys and the Sword,
And the Mother and Babe brake his Kingdom in two,

[...] Read more

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Cock And The Fox: Or, The Tale Of The Nun's Priest

There lived, as authors tell, in days of yore,
A widow, somewhat old, and very poor;
Deep in a dale her cottage lonely stood,
Well thatched, and under covert of a wood.
This dowager, on whom my tale I found,
Since last she laid her husband in the ground,
A simple sober life, in patience led,
And had but just enough to buy her bread;
But huswifing the little Heaven had lent,
She duly paid a groat for quarter rent;
And pinched her belly, with her daughters two,
To bring the year about with much ado.
The cattle in her homestead were three sows,
An ewe called Mally, and three brinded cows.
Her parlour window stuck with herbs around,
Of savoury smell; and rushes strewed the ground.
A maple-dresser in her hall she had,
On which full many a slender meal she made,
For no delicious morsel passed her throat;
According to her cloth she cut her coat;
No poignant sauce she knew, nor costly treat,
Her hunger gave a relish to her meat.
A sparing diet did her health assure;
Or sick, a pepper posset was her cure.
Before the day was done, her work she sped,
And never went by candle light to bed.
With exercise she sweat ill humours out;
Her dancing was not hindered by the gout.
Her poverty was glad, her heart content,
Nor knew she what the spleen or vapours meant.
Of wine she never tasted through the year,
But white and black was all her homely cheer;
Brown bread and milk,(but first she skimmed her bowls)
And rashers of singed bacon on the coals.
On holy days an egg, or two at most;
But her ambition never reached to roast.
A yard she had with pales enclosed about,
Some high, some low, and a dry ditch without.
Within this homestead lived, without a peer,
For crowing loud, the noble Chanticleer;
So hight her cock, whose singing did surpass
The merry notes of organs at the mass.
More certain was the crowing of the cock
To number hours, than is an abbey-clock;
And sooner than the matin-bell was rung,
He clapped his wings upon his roost, and sung:
For when degrees fifteen ascended right,
By sure instinct he knew ’twas one at night.
High was his comb, and coral-red withal,
In dents embattled like a castle wall;

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
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On this silly hill

On this silly hill I remember the silly things
That we did
We were so young and we decided to pick
Some ripe mangoes on this silly
Isolated hill away from
Our teasing
Silly friends

And I really liked her a lot
My heart was trembling
Her heart too quivering
We felt we like each other
Feelings like hot chili
Heating our ears

We said we love each other
We promised to love each other
Till the end of days

And so I climbed the mango tree
And picked the most luscious
Delicious mangoes as may be gleaned
From their color and shape
Thinking all the best for her
That I could give
To her

I put all the mangoes in my shirt
And I was silly looking silly like a tray to her
And she picked them one by one
Near my chest lower to my tummy
Nearer to my bulge

I was breathless
As she took more
Ripe mangoes from me
Slowly
Gracefully
Peeling with her mouth and tongue
Licking the yellowish pulp
And she said the mangoes were all
So sweet smelling and delicious
Like me

She was craving
She was raving
I was simply receptive
Giving in
All
To what she wanted

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Silly Confusion

Meet me on the moon very very soon
Meet me on the stars jupiter and mars
Fly me to a star
Burning out in space shining on my face
Fly me through the night on your silver wings
Over crystal seas valleys of the kings
By the lilac shore where the dragon flies
In the diamond skies
Silly silly confusion
And tangle of wild illusion
Were living in a wonderworld of fantasy
We spent all our times in sweet living dreams
Its a silly silly confusion
Like a flower of wild profusion
You can do the things in life
You always wanted to
Within your heart you know it always will come through
Take me for a ride in your dream-machine
To a time and place where no one has been
Let me look upon worlds Ive never seen
In your dream-machine
Fly me to a star burning out in space
Let me feel the light shining on my face
Sail on solar winds sail on silver birds
Through the universe
Silly silly confusion...
Its a silly silly confusion...
Silly silly confusion...
Its a silly silly confusion...
Silly silly confusion
Silly silly confusion

song performed by Boney M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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Couple Of Chicken Religious Meal

The couple of chicken religious meal
On the ruwatan of my mother
Offering to me

8. Couple Of Chicken Religious Meal
I left the hen one at my grandma house
and bring the cock going home
after arrive at home
that cock
I bring everywhere
aver meet the another one
keep fighting with my cock and win
sometime meet with the cockfighter
neighbour, who have gerobak repair house
where they iron for
and teakwood for
in the center field
they fight my cock and theirs
the winner is always my cock
Their face look very regretful
And they offering to bought my cock
I avoid
And tomorrow eveing, when I went home from school
I found my cock foot
He stay and asleep in my house corner
My cockfoot had injury was harpooned
I care with garlic, not yet recover
I care with peniciclin, not
a week after that cock dead
I cry for the whole day
I don’t understand adult will won theirself
they dont understand, that is not just a cock
But a cock for religious meal in the ruwatan of my mother
My grandma gift

poem by Prasetya Utama
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When Dawn Comes to the City

The tired cars go grumbling by,
The moaning, groaning cars,
And the old milk carts go rumbling by
Under the same dull stars.
Out of the tenements, cold as stone,
Dark figures start for work;
I watch them sadly shuffle on,
'Tis dawn, dawn in New York.

But I would be on the island of the sea,
In the heart of the island of the sea,
Where the cocks are crowing, crowing, crowing,
And the hens are cackling in the rose-apple tree,
Where the old draft-horse is neighing, neighing, neighing,
Out on the brown dew-silvered lawn,
And the tethered cow is lowing, lowing, lowing,
And dear old Ned is braying, braying, braying,
And the shaggy Nannie goat is calling, calling, calling
From her little trampled corner of the long wide lea
That stretches to the waters of the hill-stream falling
Sheer upon the flat rocks joyously!
There, oh, there! on the island of the sea,
There would I be at dawn.

The tired cars go grumbling by,
The crazy, lazy cars,
And the same milk carts go rumbling by
Under the dying stars.
A lonely newsboy hurries by,
Humming a recent ditty;
Red streaks strike through the gray of the sky,
The dawn comes to the city.

But I would be on the island of the sea,
In the heart of the island of the sea,
Where the cocks are crowing, crowing, crowing,
And the hens are cackling in the rose-apple tree,
Where the old draft-horse is neighing, neighing, neighing
Out on the brown dew-silvered lawn,
And the tethered cow is lowing, lowing, lowing,
And dear old Ned is braying, braying, braying,
And the shaggy Nannie goat is calling, calling, calling,
From her little trampled corner of the long wide lea
That stretches to the waters of the hill-stream falling
Sheer upon the flat rocks joyously!
There, oh, there! on the island of the sea,
There I would be at dawn.

poem by Claude McKay
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Silence is Deafening

Hush, silly girl, stop breathing.
Hush, silly girl, keep it inside.

Stop, silly girl, wipe you tears.
Stop, silly girl, your crying.

Quit, silly girl, stay still.
Quit, silly girl, don’t move.

Close, silly girl, your eyes.
Close, silly girl, your mouth.

Don't, silly girl, bite my hand.
Don't, silly gril, kick my side.

Yes, silly girl, you’re mine.
Yes, silly girl, you’re mine.

I am before you.
I won’t adore you.
I control you.
You are mine.

Hush.

poem by Lyndee Michelle
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Mishmash! Wish-wash! A LONELY FISH Washes Away in Troubled life Seas!

Among twinkling stars – blue, red, yellow, I am blue with lonely flu!
Among the glossy stars, I am a dark space, a black hole, a black dwarf;
My life sucks for lonely bucks, everything sucks by lonely heat blue,
Squashed inside, packed outside by lonely gravity sucks – it kicks me off!
Mishmash! Wish-wash! A lonely fish washes away in troubled life seas.
Cock-a-hoop! Cock a snook! Oh my god! Lonely fish weeps in sleep!

Night has started, brain is heated – a lonely man repeated word ‘awful’;
I read lonely book full, It can be harmful, and it can be dreadful;
My heart is filled with empty space, my mind killed in the rat race!
Life dies inside me; hope dies outside as no one is beside my face;
Mishmash! Wish-wash! A lonely fish washes away in troubled life seas.
Cock-a-hoop! Cock a snook! Oh my god! Lonely fish weeps in sleep!

Alone I am in blowing wind as I stood in dark ravine of lonely ground!
Alone I am, I heard a baying sound – a tiny translucent gray cloud;
Alone I am, it is the loudest noise in the silence – a howling cry!
Alone I am, it echoes everywhere – I can’t explain any more – I’m dry;
Mishmash! Wish-wash! A lonely fish washes away in troubled life seas.
Cock-a-hoop! Cock a snook! Oh my god! Lonely fish weeps in sleep!

Alone I am wherever I go; alone I am whatever I do, I’m a lonely flower;
Alone I am in depression, alone I am in frustration – oh lonely sparrow!
Alone I am in today, alone I am tomorrow – all the time in sorrow....
Alone I am – lift me up, alone I am – help me out of the lonely river.
Mishmash! Wish-wash! A lonely fish washes away in troubled life seas.
Cock-a-hoop! Cock a snook! Oh my god! Lonely fish weeps in sleep!

poem by Harindhar Reddy
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Silly Boy Blue

Mountains of lhasa are feeling the rain
People are walking the botella lanes
Preacher takes the school
One boy breaks a rule
Silly boy blue, blue
Silly boy blue
Yak butter statues that melt in the sun
Cannot dissolve all the work youve not done
A chela likes to feel
That his overself pays the bill
Silly boy blue, blue
Silly boy blue
You wish and wish, and wish again
Youve tried so hard to fly
Youll never leave your body now
Youve got to wait to die
La la la la la , la la , la la la la
La la la la la , la la , la la la la
La la la , la la
La la la , la la
Silly boy blue, blue
Silly boy blue
Child of tibet, youre a gift from the sun
Reincarnation of one better man
The homeward road is long
Youve left your prayers and song
Silly boy blue , blue
Silly boy blue
Silly boy blue
Silly boy blue

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sugar We're Going Down

Am I more than you bargained for yet
I've been dying to tell you anything you want to hear
Cause that's just who I am this week
Lie in the grass, next to the mausoleum
I'm just a notch in your bedpost
But you're just a line in a song
(A notch in your bedpost, but you're just a line in a song)
Drop a heart, break a name
We're always sleeping in, and sleeping for the wrong team
We're going down, down in an earlier round
And Sugar, we're going down swinging
I'll be your number one with a bullet
A loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
We're going down, down in an earlier round
And Sugar, we're going down swinging
I'll be your number one with a bullet
A loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
Is this more than you bargained for yet
Oh don't mind me I'm watching you two from the closet
Wishing to be the friction in your jeans
Isn't it messed up how I'm just dying to be him
I'm just a notch in your bedpost
But you're just a line in a song
(Notch in your bedpost, but you're just a line in a song)
Drop a heart, break a name
We're always sleeping in, and sleeping for the wrong team
We're going down, down in an earlier round
And Sugar, we're going down swinging
I'll be your number one with a bullet
A loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
[x2]
Down, down in an earlier round
And Sugar, we're going down swinging
I'll be your number one with a bullet
A loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
We're going down, down in an earlier round
And Sugar, we're going down swinging
I'll be your number one with a bullet
A loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
We're going down, down (down, down)
Down, down (down, down)
We're going down, down (down, down)
A loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
We're going down, down in an earlier round
And Sugar, we're going down swinging
I'll be your number one with a bullet
A loaded god complex, cock it and pull it

song performed by Fall Out Boy
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cuckoo Clock

We knew it must have been late
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We had no time to wait
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I went to light the fireplace
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I planned it all this way, and
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I snuggled close to her
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
Her heart began to purr
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I held my breath inside, and then
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I put my arms around her
(tick-tock)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo
I put that birdie away
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
His cuckoo was gone to stay
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We both apologized for why
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
Forgave that doggone cuckoo
I went back to her side
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I had to swallow my pride
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
The fire had almost died away
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We just got situated
(tick-tock)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo
I took that clock apart
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I broke the cuckoos heart
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
Hell never bother us again
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We just forgot about him
(tick-tock)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)

[...] Read more

song performed by Beach Boys
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The Pig and the Rooster

On a warm sunny day, in the midst of July,
A lazy young pig lay stretched out in his sty,
Like some of his betters, most solemnly thinking
That the best things on earth are good eating and drinking.
At length, to get rid of the gnats and the flies,
He resolv'd, from his sweet meditations to rise;
And, to keep is skin pleasant, and pliant, and cool,
He plung'd him, forthwith, in the next muddy pool.

When, at last, he thought fit to arouse from his bath,
A conceited young rooster came just in his path:
A precious smart prig, full in vanity drest,
Who thought, of all creatures, himself far the best.
'Hey day! little grunter, why where in the world
Are you going so perfum'd, pomatum'd, and curl'd?
Such delicate odors my senses assail,
And I see such a sly looking twist in your tail,
That you, sure are intent on some elegant sporting;
Hurra! I believe, on my life, you are courting;
And that figure which moves with such exquisite grace,
Combin'd with the charms of that soft-smiling face,
In one who's so neat and adorn'd with such art,
Cannot fail to secure the most obdurate heart.
And much joy do I wish you, both you and your wife,
For the prospect you have of a nice pleasant life.'

'Well, said, master Dunghill,' cried Pig in a rage,
'You're doubtless, the prettiest beau of the age,
With those sweet modest eyes staring out of your head,
And those lumps of raw flesh, all so bloody and red.
Mighty graceful you look with those beautiful legs,
Like a squash or a pumpkin on two wooden pegs.
And you've special good reason your own life to vaunt,
And the pleasures of others with insult to taunt;
Among crackling fools, always clucking or crowing,
And looking up this way and that way, so knowing,
And strutting and swelling, or stretching a wing,
To make you admired by each silly thing;
and so full of your own precious self, all the time,
That you think common courtesy almost a crime;
As if all the world was on the look out
To see a young rooster go scratching about.'

Hereupon, a debate, like a whirlwind arose,
Which seem'd fast approaching to bitings and blows;
'Mid squeaking and grunting, Pig's arguments flowing;
And Chick venting fury 'twixt screaming and crowing.
At length, to decide the affair, 'twas agreed
That to counsellor Owl they should straightway proceed;
While each, in his conscience, no motive could show,

[...] Read more

poem by Clement Clarke Moore
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The Paper Windmill

The little boy pressed his face against the window-pane and looked out
at the bright sunshiny morning. The cobble-stones of the square
glistened like mica. In the trees, a breeze danced and pranced,
and shook drops of sunlight like falling golden coins into the brown water
of the canal. Down stream slowly drifted a long string of galliots
piled with crimson cheeses. The little boy thought they looked as if
they were roc's eggs, blocks of big ruby eggs. He said, 'Oh!' with delight,
and pressed against the window with all his might.

The golden cock on the top of the `Stadhuis' gleamed. His beak was open
like a pair of scissors and a narrow piece of blue sky was wedged in it.
'Cock-a-doodle-do,' cried the little boy. 'Can't you hear me
through the window, Gold Cocky? Cock-a-doodle-do! You should crow
when you see the eggs of your cousin, the great roc.' But the golden cock
stood stock still, with his fine tail blowing in the wind.
He could not understand the little boy, for he said 'Cocorico'
when he said anything. But he was hung in the air to swing, not to sing.
His eyes glittered to the bright West wind, and the crimson cheeses
drifted away down the canal.

It was very dull there in the big room. Outside in the square, the wind
was playing tag with some fallen leaves. A man passed, with a dogcart
beside him full of smart, new milkcans. They rattled out a gay tune:
'Tiddity-tum-ti-ti. Have some milk for your tea. Cream for your coffee
to drink to-night, thick, and smooth, and sweet, and white,'
and the man's sabots beat an accompaniment: 'Plop! trop! milk for your tea.
Plop! trop! drink it to-night.' It was very pleasant out there,
but it was lonely here in the big room. The little boy gulped at a tear.

It was queer how dull all his toys were. They were so still.
Nothing was still in the square. If he took his eyes away a moment
it had changed. The milkman had disappeared round the corner,
there was only an old woman with a basket of green stuff on her head,
picking her way over the shiny stones. But the wind pulled the leaves
in the basket this way and that, and displayed them to beautiful advantage.
The sun patted them condescendingly on their flat surfaces, and they seemed
sprinkled with silver. The little boy sighed as he looked at his disordered
toys on the floor. They were motionless, and their colours were dull.
The dark wainscoting absorbed the sun. There was none left for toys.

The square was quite empty now. Only the wind ran round and round it,
spinning. Away over in the corner where a street opened into the square,
the wind had stopped. Stopped running, that is, for it never
stopped spinning. It whirred, and whirled, and gyrated, and turned.
It burned like a great coloured sun. It hummed, and buzzed, and sparked,
and darted. There were flashes of blue, and long smearing lines of saffron,

[...] Read more

poem by Amy Lowell
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Happy Easter

Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?

Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?

To strut and cluck for someone sleeping,
To get up.
And do that if programmed before the dawn shows up.
And if that rooster gets into a rut...
Who will then do the clucking?

Or wake up,
To collect the eggs!

Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.

Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?

Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.

Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?

To strut and cluck for someone sleeping,
To get up.
And do that if programmed before the dawn shows up.
And if that rooster gets into a rut...
Who will then do,
The clucking?

Or wake up,
To collect the eggs!
'Happy Easter'
~Do you notice anything different about those eggs? ~

'Yeah!
They are colored.
Why? '
~They are for the Easter Egg Hunt.
Put them back.~
'Oh!
I must be dreaming.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Jubilate Agno: Fragment B, Part 1

Let Elizur rejoice with the Partridge, who is a prisoner of state and is proud of his keepers.

Let Shedeur rejoice with Pyrausta, who dwelleth in a medium of fire, which God hath adapted for him.

Let Shelumiel rejoice with Olor, who is of a goodly savour, and the very look of him harmonizes the mind.

Let Jael rejoice with the Plover, who whistles for his live, and foils the marksmen and their guns.

Let Raguel rejoice with the Cock of Portugal -- God send good Angels to the allies of England!

Let Hobab rejoice with Necydalus, who is the Greek of a Grub.

Let Zurishaddai with the Polish Cock rejoice -- The Lord restore peace to Europe.

Let Zuar rejoice with the Guinea Hen -- The Lord add to his mercies in the WEST!

Let Chesed rejoice with Strepsiceros, whose weapons are the ornaments of his peace.

Let Hagar rejoice with Gnesion, who is the right sort of eagle, and towers the highest.

Let Libni rejoice with the Redshank, who migrates not but is translated to the upper regions.

Let Nahshon rejoice with the Seabreese, the Lord give the sailors of his Spirit.

Let Helon rejoice with the Woodpecker -- the Lord encourage the propagation of trees!

Let Amos rejoice with the Coote -- prepare to meet thy God, O Israel.

Let Ephah rejoice with Buprestis, the Lord endue us with temperance and humanity, till every cow have her mate!

Let Sarah rejoice with the Redwing, whose harvest is in the frost and snow.

Let Rebekah rejoice with Iynx, who holds his head on one side to deceive the adversary.

Let Shuah rejoice with Boa, which is the vocal serpent.

Let Ehud rejoice with Onocrotalus, whose braying is for the glory of God, because he makes the best musick in his power.

Let Shamgar rejoice with Otis, who looks about him for the glory of God, and sees the horizon compleat at once.

Let Bohan rejoice with the Scythian Stag -- he is beef and breeches against want and nakedness.

Let Achsah rejoice with the Pigeon who is an antidote to malignity and will carry a letter.

Let Tohu rejoice with the Grouse -- the Lord further the cultivating of heaths and the peopling of deserts.

Let Hillel rejoice with Ammodytes, whose colour is deceitful and he plots against the pilgrim's feet.

Let Eli rejoice with Leucon -- he is an honest fellow, which is a rarity.

[...] Read more

poem by Christopher Smart
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Ch 05 On Love And Youth Story 20

It is related that the qazi of Hamdan, having conceived affection towards a farrier-boy and the horseshoe of his heart being on fire, he sought for some time to meet him, roaming about and seeking for opportunities, according to the saying of chroniclers:

That straight tall cypress my eyes beheld
It robbed me of my heart and threw me down.
Those wanton eyes have taken my heart with a lasso.
If thou desirest to preserve thy heart shut thy eyes.

I was informed that the boy, who had heard something of the qazi’s passion, happening to meet him in a thoroughfare, manifested immense wrath, assailed the qazi with disrespectful and insulting words, snatched up a stone and left no injury untried. The qazi said to an ullemma of repute who happened to be of the same opinion with him:

‘Look at that sweetheart and his getting angry,
And that bitter knot of his sweet eyebrow.’
The Arab says: ‘A slap from a lover is a raisin.
A blow from the hand on the mouth
Is sweeter than eating bread with one’s own hand.

In the same way the boy’s impudence might be indicating kindness as padshahs utter hard words whilst they secretly wish for peace:

Grapes yet unripe are sour.
Wait two or three days, they will become sweet.

After saying these words he returned to his court of justice, where some respectable men connected with him kissed the ground of service and said: ‘With thy permission we shall, doing obeisance, speak some words to thee although they may be contrary to politeness because illustrious men have said:

It is not permissible to argue on every topic.
To find fault with great men is wrong.

‘But as in consequence of favours conferred by thy lordship in former times upon thy servants it would be a kind of treachery to withhold the opinion they entertain, they inform thee that the proper way is not to yield to thy inclinations concerning this boy but to fold up the carpet of lascivious desires because thy dignity as qazi is high and must not be polluted by a base crime. The companion thou hast seen is this, and our words thou hast heard are these:

One who has done many disreputable things
Cares nothing for the reputation of anyone.
Many a good name of fifty years
Was trodden under foot by one bad name.”

The qazi approved of the unanimous advice of his friends and appreciated their good opinion as well as their steadfast fidelity, saying that the view taken by his beloved friends on the arrangement of his case was perfectly right and their arguments admitting of no contradiction. Nevertheless:

Although love ceases in consequence of reproval
I heard that just men sometimes concoct falsehoods.
Blame me as much as thou listest
Because blackness cannot be washed off from a negro.
Nothing can blot out my remembrance of thee.
I am a snake with broken head and cannot turn.

These words he said and sent some persons to make inquiries about him, spending boundless money because it is said that whoever has gold in his hand possesses strength of arm and he who has no worldly goods has no friends in the whole world:

Whoever has seen gold droops his head,
Although he may be hard to bend like iron-backed scales.

In short, one night he obtained privacy but during that night the police obtained information that the qazi is spending the whole of it with wine in his hand and a sweetheart on his bosom, enjoying himself, not sleeping, and singing:

Has this cock perhaps not crowed at the proper time this night
And have the lovers not had their fill of embrace, and kiss

[...] Read more

poem by Sa di
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Silly Boy

In the days when I was young I never had to cry
If I wanted a lover I did not have to try
But I must have set my expectations far too high
Guess Im just a silly boy
I guess Im just a silly boy
There are some things about love that I dont understand
When you promise your heart you do the best you can
But no matter how I try behaving like a man
Seems Im just a silly boy
I guess Im just a silly boy
This is the last time Ill wait to stand in line
If you dont come see me Im dropping the boom on you
cause when you lose me
Then everyone will see what a silly girl can do
Dont you tell me that its over
Dont you make a sound
til I get to the river or someplace I can drown
cause I put my faith upon you and you let me down
Guess Im just a silly boy
I guess Im just a silly boy

song performed by Utopia
Added by Lucian Velea
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Samuel Silly Susage

Come with me down to shady Bottlebrush Way,
Off Cuddly Koala Avenue one bright sunny day.
There's someone I'd very much like you to meet,
My friend Samuel Silly Sausage with two left feet.

Samuel Silly Sausage is a funny little man.
He caught an elephant fish and cooked it in a seaweed pan.
His mother put the fish on a big china dish,
And he smothered it in jam, which was his wish.

Samuel Silly Sausage is a funny little man.
He built a castle made of lovely white sand.
He took the castle and placed it on a slice of bread.
Then walked around with the bread and castle on his head.

Samuel Silly Sausage is a funny little man,
He holds his hair in a rubber band.
He sits in his kitchen eating chocolate and tripe.
With pork chop apples, not quite ripe.

Samuel Silly Sausage is a funny little man.
He wears a pineapple ring on his hand.
Sometimes he wears a big red sock on his ear,
Mostly when he walks by the sea, along the pier.

Now Samuel Silly Sausage does funny things, it's true,
But he'll be a good and honest friend to you.
Who cares if he's a silly sausage from time to time?
He's still a very good friend of mine.

[ RKH 2003-03-05 ]

poem by R.K. Hart
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My Classmates

my classmates/friends are different.see how.

Kevin is super funny and fun and also silly and cool is in percussion

Kelvin is funny and he writes songs but he doesn't want anyone to know

Jasmine E. is fun and cool.plays the clarinet

Jasmine H. is also a poet and fun and nice :) plays the flute (me too)

Justin is annoying, a drama queen (king) and he thinks he is the boss of everyone (not really my friend) plays the saxophone (but SOMETIMES nice)

Brando is funny, clownish, funny, fun, and silly.plays the trumpet

Josiah is super silly and funny (in a nice way) and silly. plays the trumpet

Steven is silly and plays the saxophone

Diareliz is fun funny (used to be in band but not anymore)

Christian is smart like Daniel and does not talk much

Marquis is silly and always falling down

Kim is smart and silly and speaks 3 languages including these: Vietnamese and English and gibberish

Aarin is funny and a good friend

DANIEL IS smart and funny

Courteney is fashionable and a safety patrol

Eric is funny and hilarious

Rosemary is fun and plays with your hair

William is well i don't know how to describe him

Kayden is funny and sometimes annoying

Linquell is super funny

see how my friends are different.they are different, different in a good way.
how about yours?

poem by Adriana Salomon
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