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You are no better than you should be.

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There Are Poets Better Than Me

There are poets better than me:
Many known, and many more unknown-
They have language I don’t have
And an ability to surprise in ways I cannot
And the beauty of their sound is a beauty beyond mine-
They have worlds I do not know
And rhythms I cannot reach
They can entertain as I cannot-
And they see and feel what I cannot;
They are better than me:

Other poets are better than me
Greater than me
More than me.

And the only consolation is
Writing what I feel I must-
Going on.

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I Like To Think That You Are Much Better Than Myself, But...

you are years ahead
i like you to think that you are much better
in terms of compassion

knowledge had always been
younger than compassion

yet compassion is as meek
as it is not assertive

i like to think that you are much better
but you have not lived that much

you are never water to fire
never a tree to a bird

you have taken side with the ax
and the flint

there is so much blood around
the rocks are bathing

confusion flows to the sea
the rivers are willing victims

you put gasoline on chaos
and you dance around that big fire

i like to think that you are older and much better
than myself

but your hands have grown nails and splinters of glass
and like a hand grenade

you finally exploded and killed so many and
died

i like to think that i should have done better
you have nailed my feet on the floor and splinters wound my soles

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Better Than Anything

Music by David Wheat. Words by Bill Loughborough
Better than cream cheese and bagels
Better than honey on bread
Better than champagne and pretzels
Better than breakfast in bed
Better than chili rellenos
Better than chocolate e'clairs
Better than hothouse tomatoes
Better than fresh Bartlett pears
Better than dining a la carte
Or simply gastronomic art
Better than anything except being in love
Better than making a million
Better than being a queen
Better than oil wells and gold mines
Better than pastures of green
Better than finding a horseshoe
Better than losing your head
Better than anything ever thought of
Better than anything ever said
Ah, ha, better than singing right out loud
Or being, ha, spotted in a crowd
Better than (better than anything) anything except being (except being) in love
(Musical Interlude)
Better than elephants, elephants are dancing
Better than clowns on parade
Better than peanuts and popcorn
Better than pink lemonade
Better than rides on the midway
Better than seals blowing horns
Better than men shot through cannons
Better than fresh ears of corn
Ah, better than balancing on a wire
Or watching tigers jump through fire
Better than anything except being in love
Better than driving 'round the park
Or watching fireflies after the dark
Better than anything except being in love
Hey, Diana?
Yeah?
Are you sure that love is even better than shopping?
Well, therec

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Patrick White

My Eyes Are Getting Better

My eyes are getting better
as I get older
despite the sunspots
and leggy eclipses
and when I look back
I can see further than I ever did
except it isn't the light
that illuminates things any more
it's time
and that's a whole other palette
with colours of its own
wavelengths faster than light.
When you see things with your eyes
the past may be red deepening into black
and the future a furious white-blue
that pushes the darkness back
a T Tauri star or two
but when you see things
with the whole of your being
it isn't time that's passing
it's you
and it turns out linear perspective isn't true
and things in the distance aren't blue
because there are as many farewells
in the foreground
as there are the prophetic yellows
of intimate tomorrows
that haven't happened yet
way at the back.
Memory isn't the distilled essence of existence
you can swill in your hand
like a glass of brandy in front of the fireplace
to keep warm when it's cold outside.
Memory doesn't drink out of a glass
like sacrificial blood out of a thermometer.
It scoops the moon out of the nightstream
and drinks with both hands.
It revels in its madness
like Li Po's poetry
not the prose of a vain Narcissus.
It isn't the pale reflection
of what was once vital.
It walks with those
who haven't been born yet
as easily as it talks to ghosts
without changing the subject.
I've got future memories
I've carried around inside myself for years
like the embryos of what's become of yesterday.
There are sorrows up ahead
I haven't endured yet
that I've already cried for
well in advance of my tears.
Is a river the past
or the future of the sea
and which one's the prophet
and which one's the prophecy
that didn't come to pass?
Does the man head back to the boy he used to be?
A couple of earthquakes
it was hard to stand up to
and the cornerstone of my youth
sank through the quicksand of my maturity
like a California sabre-tooth
that won't be discovered
until thousands of years from now
when archaeologists start looking
for missing links in the fossils of the truth.
Tomorrow's late
and yesterday can't catch up
but the thing that I like best about now
is that it never hesitates
to be where it will when it wants
without worrying about where everyone else is.
At least that's what I tell myself
when I can't stop thinking about you
like someone who will never happen again
the way love first said your name
as if a word
were destined
to become more famous
than the voice that said it
like an afterlife
reclaimed from the lost and found.
Where are you now
who came like a deathwish
to the geni in the lamp
of an unknown constellation
who wouldn't give you what you wanted?
Did you ever forgive me?
Sometimes it's more dangerous to be deceived
than it is to be haunted by a truth
you never believed in.
You wanted to live in the moment
as if time were the homogeneity of space
and I tried to tell you that it wasn't midnight everywhere
and somewhere the sun was still shining
but there are some clouds
that prefer shrouds to happy linings
and I don't remember which one of us died first
but to this day
when anyone rubs me the wrong way
I grant them three curses.
And of the three.
Loving someone unconditionally is the worst.
And neither of the other two
are much better than the first
when you're asked to decide
between truth and compassion
as if you were tasked
to divide the baby like Solomon
between two mothers
and you suddenly realize
how hard it is to choose
which one of your eyes to put out
in the name of the other
like a candleflame with a forked tongue
that sees everything
as if it had two shadows
and one of them was longer than the other
like the short and the long straw
of a subjective risk
that couldn't bridge the gap
between the cool lucidities
of the fireflies of insight
that tried to make constellations out of everything
and the way
you kept splitting the tree of knowledge
like a wishbone
down the middle
between my uncertain intensities
and the unlikely absolutes
of your pre-emptive lightning strikes.
Caesar may have accidentally burned down
the library at Alexandria
where seventy-two imminently isolated scholars
wrote the exact same Septuagint
to prove the divinity of its revelation
but a greater loss
than the amassed wisdom of the past
is the way your intellect
wouldn't take the lid off
a masonjar full of fireflies
you jammed like stars
into a moment you wanted to preserve forever.
I meet the past everywhere on the road I'm on now
coming back from the future
as if I had all the time in the world
to recall tomorrow
without a sense of urgency.
Or as I once said to a beautiful young artist
when she was poor and nameless.
Until you've bought
your own work back
at a garage sale
for next to nothing
you can't be sure
you're going to be famous.
And there's no way
you can trick yesterday
out of the arms of the past
like the new moon
out of the arms of the old.
I was one of the tantric children
of literature once
an enfant terrible like Rimbaud.
I got a taste of fame.
I spit it out
like bottled water
from the wellsprings of the muses
who found their inspiration in clean living
but never got fired up
by the lack of truth in their diet.
I shut my mouth.
I was as precocious as a highchair.
I would go to a poetry reading
and turn it into a riot.
Fire on the water.
Autumn trees on the Fall River.
I was an arsonist
in a volunteer fire brigade
witching for water in hell.
Now I'm the emergency exit
at the end of a long line
of alarm bells
I'm swinging on like Quasimodo
in self-defence.
I don't need a mirror
to know
what the lucky don't see
in what's ugly.
Beauty falls in love with the Beast.
But I haven't been to church in awhile
since my soul
took out a restraining order
to keep the priest away from the child.
Early autumn along the backroads into heaven.
The sumac's burning.
The sumac's burning.
The phoenix is on its pyre.
Is this a birth?
Is this a death?
Or just where highway seven
meets the five eleven
and time intersects the timeless
like the red yellow and green
of stop pause and go
that hangs its streetlight
like the stages of a ripening pepper
above the kids in the crosswalk
of another Halloween
that walks with the dead
all the way to the other side of the living
like a ghost in a bedsheet
with a bagful of jelly beans?
Let the living and the dead alike
grasp what little they can
of happiness
but if your hands are full of nothing
there isn't much room
for anything else.
Let go of it.
Throw it down.
Nothing's free
if it's still void-bound.
Then sit down on the ground
and have a good laugh
at your own expense
when you see the dark abundance
in the bright vacancy
like black matter
through a gravitational lens
that expends ninety-six percent of itself
on a universe
to keep the lights on
the other four parts we can see.
But isn't it good to know
there's so much in life
we'll never get our hands on?
That so much that's out there
wants nothing to do with anyone
either of us will ever be?
That you and I
and what we remember
of the way we created each other in agony
in love and lust and jealousy
and all those little endearing ways
we couldn't be each other when we had to
and these hills I keep retiring
more and more to at night alone
just to be closer to the stars
and the stars themselves
exhausting the last of their farewells
on a summer that's already turned its back
and gone down over the hills
and the way memory over the years
stops opening itself up like a family album
and begins to take on the image
of anyone who's standing
near enough to the mirror
for it to appear
in the guise of what it's become?
Isn't it good to know
that memory is the mother of the muses
and that the past
isn't a museum of dead artifacts
and teeth missing from elusive jawbones
grinning at the absurdity
of what does and doesn't last
and how luxuriously the present cherishs
the garbage of the past?
Isn't it good to know
memory is the watershed of inspiration
that flows down the world mountain
to keep the sea's glass full
of the mystic wine
that can drown a drunk in a dropful
and rescue the moon from the eyes of the blind
who refuse to get into the lifeboat
when they're asked to leave
everything else behind?
Isn't it good to know
however many fools go to school
and fall in love with knowledge
like ladders with windows
they can look at the world through
like enlightened towers
with an elevated view
of what surrounds them out there
that even when we die to one another
we're still exceptions to eternity
and not the rule?
That we remember each other creatively
and not as we were
once and for all forever for good
as the people way back when
who misunderstood
when you leave someone
you don't add them
to the great resevoir of the past
like a future you left behind you
that couldn't last
because time had done with it
the same thing it does
to the emotional life
of any other pyramid
lost the sands of an hourglass.
The future's just a ruse of time
that sucks us into
accepting the present
as a provisional compromise
with the moment at hand
as if history without a past
were the only alternative left
to living forever.
But however we refine clarity
it's still not enlightenment
if you're still telling the story
and the story isn't telling you
at the same time
in another universe
stranger than this one
that makes us up as it goes along
out of whatever it comes upon
like someone far away we'll never meet
but we keep looking for in the eyes
of every human we greet
like a myth of origins
taking its seat around the fire
like a house of the zodiac
that bears credible witness
to the truth of the fact
that time is more of a maniac
than a liar.

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Think You Are Better

Look in the mirror
What do you see
Someone who is special
For there is no one else like me
I may not have the best looks
Or money or fame
But God made me special
For He knows my name
He formed me in His image
Like He did you
So it might not be apparent
I'm alot like you
So if you think of putting me down
Remember we have the same FATHER
So you are no better than me

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Better Than You

Insincerity
Negativity
No Unity
Something's gone wrong
Thinking to myself how smart I am
Because I won't get caught up
In some dick's bad joke.
I'll just walk away
Fight it out yourself
BETTER THAN YOU CREW (x3)
Why even bother?
BETTER THAN YOU CREW (x3)
Why even bother?
I'm smarter cause I joined the crew
And I'm better than those who
Are picking fights
And violating my rights
You can always be the one
To end up on the top
Keep your standards high
Set your goals and never stop
This world of ours is fine and
Our future can be great
If you use our heads not our fists
We can wipe out all the hate
BETTER THAN YOU CREW (x3)
Why even bother?
BETTER THAN YOU CREW (x3)

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No One Can Love You Better Than Me

Lead vocals: kiki dee, marti webb, gary howard, eric woolfson
I am the universal mother
The heart of the family
When you are born in your innocent world
You will depend on me
Mine are the arms to rock you
When youre scared of the dark of the night
But soft though the lips of a girl might be
No one can love you better than me
But somewhere in the dark there is a wall of silence
That hides the love away, that hides the love away
I am the universal father
The head of the family
When you imagine a man of the world
He will be just like me
I am the lord and master
My word is the royal decree
I stand by the side of the woman I love
No one can love her better than me
I am the universal son
The pride of the family
I shine like the stars in my mothers eyes
She can believe in me
I am the young pretender
With fire to bring to the fight
But strong as anothers arms may be
No one can love her better than me
But somewhere in the dark there is a wall of silence
And sometimes in the night there is a wall of silence
Dont take the love away, dont take the love away
No one can love you better than me
No one can love you better than me
No one can love you
No one can love you better than me

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Maybe I Know My History A Little Bit Better Than You Do (In Answer To Sipho Sepamla)

Maybe I know my history
a little bit better than you do.
My friend, you are talking
about stories being heard
around coal-stoves
concerning animals
and no real facts
are expressed in your poem.

I know when my ancestor Joost Strijdom
arrived in the Cape of Good Hope in May 1678,
that I descend from the lovely brave Maryna Ras,
when your ancestors
were migrating from a place called eMbo
at the big African lakes under
leadership of chief Dlamini
and later under chief Nguni.

I know how my ancestors battled
against wild beasts, fought the zulu-impi
at Blood River
and overcame by the help of
the almighty God
and that I would not have existed
if they died at the hands of the Zulus.

I know how my ancestors build
farms, churches and houses
while yours were living
in thatched grass huts.

I know how my great grandfathers
and one of my grandfathers
was enveloped in a war against the British,
how they survived
and how my great grandmother
died in a British concentration camp.

I have even faced Cubans
under Soviet command
in the largest mechanised battle in Africa,
apart from those in the Second World War
and we had a decisive victory
that is now being denied
while history books are being rewritten
and fiction is creeping in
and maybe the new propaganda, the lies
of the new history suits you far better.

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I Know You Better Than You Think

(graham russell)
You didnt have to be so mad
When you ran across the road
The light alone soon told me
You had a heavy load
But I cant see why you didnt stay
Why you didnt come to see if I felt
The same way
And I do, and I do
I never asked for any comfort
To take up your time
But now I feel so very different
I need to make you mine
And I want to take what you have to
Give me
And bring you the words that fall
From my head
And I will, and I will
I know you better than you think
And always will
Know you better than you think
And always will, always will
I know you better than you think
And always will, always will

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Sorrow is better than insomnia.

Neither a sister, nor a daughter,
Nor any one by blood you are.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Never a tryst, nor a rendezvous,
Nor an innuendo, you granted.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Glamour, splendor, or pretext,
You never played to gravitate.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Formidable and forbidden you were.
Sojourn was so short.
Parting was abrupt and aborting.
Yet my sorrow never sleeps.
Every beginning has an end.
An episode should, however, end.
But abortion and usurpation?
May be, by a boon I’ll see you soon.
That can retrieve our past monsoon.
But the crop is already gone.
So my sorrow never sleeps.
Time was over before I could score.
No more game is set up in the court.
That is why my sorrow never sleeps.
With your parting, came to an end
All my springs and monsoons.
Let my sorrow never sleep.
It is better than insomnia.
08.05.2001, Pmdi

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You Know Me Better Than That

Baby since you left me Ive found someone new
She thinks Im perfect I swear
She likes my body, my class, and my charm
She says Ive got a confident air
She respects my ambition, thinks Im talented too
But shes in love with an image time is bound to see through
Chorus:
You know me better than that
You know the me that gets lazy an fat
How moody I can be
All my insecurities
Youve seen me lose all my charm
You know I was raised on a farm
Oh she tells her Im perfect
And that I love her cat
But you know me better than that
I miss picnics and blue jeans and buckets of beer
Now its ballet and symphony hall
Im in culture clean up to my ears
Its like wearn a shoe thats too small
Oh I caught her with an issue of brides magazine
Starin at dresses and pickin out rings
Repeat chorus
Oh she tells her friends Im perfect
And that I love that cat
Oh, but you know me better than that

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Better By You Better Than Me

You could find a way to ease my passion
You listen to the blood flow in my veins
You hear the teaching of the wind
Tell her why Im alive within
I cant find the words
My mind is dead
Its better by you better than me
Guess youll have to tell her how I tried
To speak up thoughts Ive held so inside
Tell her now I got to go
Out in the streets and down the shore
Tell her the worlds not much living for
Its better by you better than me
Everybody
Everybody knows
Everybody
Everybody knows
Better by you better than me
You can tell what I want it to be
You can say what I only can see
Its better by you better than me
Guess Ill have to change my way of living
Dont wanna really know the way I feel
Guess Ill learn to fight and kill
Tell her not to wait until
Theyll find my blood upon her windowsill
Its better by you better than me
Everybody
Everybody knows
Everybody
Everybody knows
Better by you better than me
You can say what I only can see
You can tell what I want it to be
Its better by you better than me
Better by you better than me
You can tell what I want it to be
You can say way all they can see
Better by you better than me

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My God's Better Than Your God...

My god’s better than your god,
My special book tells me so,
It tells me how to think, who to love,
And how my life should go.

My god’s better than your god,
He waits only for me,
Your name’s not on his list,
You are my enemy.

My god’s better than your god,
His book is filled with truth,
Your book’s all wrong you see,
I have all the proof.

My god’s better than your god,
His ways are just and right,
His laws are like a roadmap,
That guide me to the light.

My god’s better than your god,
Yours is weird and wrong,
I have never heard of him,
And he’s been around too long.

My god’s better than your god,
He’s all shiny and real,
Your god belongs in hell,
He’s not the real deal.

My god’s better than your god,
Cause he's without sin,
You're a heathen non-believer,
Not good enough for him.

My god’s better than your god,
Yours has a silly name,
And your book is stupid,
Really dumb and lame.

I will go to heaven
Cause I'm better than you,
I can do anything,
I'm amongst the chosen few….
Cause my god’s better than your god,
You have to say its true,
Cause if you don’t,
My god will come,
And make you suffer till you do.

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You are much more than what you think you are, you have much more than what you think you have

You are not
What you think you are
You are just the force
Operating a robot
Whose physical and
Chemical dimensions
Are determined by
A permutation and combination
Of certain amino-acids
You are not
What you think you are

You are not
What you think you are
You are not a female or male
You are not a daughter or son
You are not a sister of brother
You are not a mother or father
You own not a thing
You belong to one
Nothing is yours
None is yours
The only thing you own
Is you

As said elsewhere
You are born a daughter or son
Only to the nature’s desire
To ensure continuity
Of a particular
Genetic system

Your emotions are thus unreal
Your pleasures are unreal
Your pains are unreal
Your sorrows are unreal
All keep changing
With your change with
Your attitude and out look
The only thing unchanging and real in you
Is you

You are placed in this robot
And operating it
Just to accomplish the
Unmet desires that you
Were nursing
Earlier in yet another robot,
Or in previous birth,
As some learned say
And if you so believe

Remain just a witness
To what all happening
Stay emotion free
Stay fear free
Stay in confidence
Stay in peace
Stay in balance
You will see
Great things got
Achieved by your
Effectively operating
The robot, wherein
You are placed

You are not
What you think
That you are
You are much more
Than what you think you are
You have much more
Than what you think you have

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Funny You Should Say That

Lead vocal: the flying pickets
Well its funny you should say that
Its a most peculiar thing
Yes its funny you should say that
I was talking to a man
And I saw he wore a ring
Yes its funny you should say that
And I told him of a dream
Where I caught and ate a whale
Then I woke up feeling hungry, he said
Thats a curious tale
For a dream contains a wish
In this case a giant fish
As the pressure you were under
Might have woken you from slumber
To relieve the pangs of hunger
You just dreamed yourself a dish
Well its funny you should say that
Its a most peculiar thing
Yes its funny you should say that
For I also met a man
And he also wore a ring
Yes its funny you should say that
And I told him of a dream
Where the sun was at its height
But my toes were blocks of ice, he said
Let me get this right
You are tall and so your feet
Must protrude beyond the sheet
While you sleep theyre unprotected
And its just as I suspected
You were trying to dream some heat
But there are six white wolves
In the dead of the night
On the branch of a tree
And they have such big eyes
And theyre shining so bright
All the better to see
And they have such big ears
All the better to hear
And theyre listening to me
And they have such sharp teeth
All the better to eat
And theyre looking at me
Well its funny you should say that
Its a most peculiar thing
Yes its funny you should say that
I was speaking to a man
But I dont recall a ring
Yes its funny you should say that
And I told him of a dream
Where I turned into a snail
And he said it is simplicity
To follow such a trail
For this creature takes his shell
Anywhere that he may roam
But work must keep you on the move
You fear your wife may disapprove
So in the dream you just remove
And take along your home
If I step on a line
Something will happen
There are rats in a jar
Something will happen
And they have such big eyes
And theyre shining so bright
All the better to see
And they have such sharp teeth
All the better to eat
And theyre looking at me
Tell me what they say
Tell me what can they be
Tell me what does it mean
Tell me what do you see
Fantasia
Nothing is what it seems
Fantasia
A world thats made out of dreams
Fantasia
Nothing is what it seems
Fantasia
Well its funny you should say that
Its a most peculiar thing
Yes its funny you should say that
Though I havent met this man
So he didnt wear a ring
Its so funny you should say that
I told him of a dream
Where I turned into a hat
That was round and made of fur, would he say
Nothing wrong with that
As I sit here in my chair
I can see your growth is spare
And it is my observation
That this caused you much frustration
So you dreamed a consolation
To replace the loss of hair
Im going to be a mother
Im going to have a child
There are wolves in the tree
But the tree never grew
There are rats in the jar
But the curse wasnt true
Fantasia
Nothing is what it seems
Fantasia
A world that is made out of dreams

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You Should Know

You should know
Where and how to go
You should know
What and why to do
You should know
Who are you.

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Better Than Me

I really miss your hair in my face
And the way your innocence tastes
And I think you should know this
You deserve much better than me

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If You Should Dream

If you should dream
Dream that you are so lucky
To share your dream with someone
Be so bold as to dream of love
Because a dream that has not love
Is destined to fall to earth
and dreams are not earthly

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The Last Thing You Should Do

What are you doing to yourself
What are you doing to yourself
What are you doing to yourself
Its the last thing you should do
Nobody laughs anymore
Nobody laughs anymore
Nobody laughs anymore
Its the worst thing you can do
Save the last dance for me
Catch the last bus with me
Give the last kiss to me
Its the safest thing to do

song performed by David BowieReport problemRelated quotes
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Better Than Sunshine

Thoughts of you

are better than sunshine,

and sweeter than

cherry wine.

If I want to be happy

I think of you

in my mind,

then I feel fine.

Memories is

all that will be,

once we are

gone—you & me.

That’s once we are gone,

gone to the other side,

where everything is

just Divine.

So let’s make a memorie

that brings only smiles,

for they are better to

remember all the while.

Written on April 10.2011 by Christina Sunrise

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