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I am turned into a sort of machine for observing facts and grinding out conclusions.

quote by Charles Darwin
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tin Machine

Tin machine
Tin machine
Take me anywhere
Somewhere without alcohol
Or goons with muddy hair
Tin machine
Tin machine
Tin machine
Tin machine
The zombies that I pass
The guy that beats his baby up
The preachers and their past
Tin machine
Tin machine
Tin machine
Baby doll
Baby doll
Clarity and prayer
Theres more than money moving here
Theres mindless maggot glare
Working horrors-humping tories
Spittle on their chins
Carving up my childrens future
Read em pal and grin
Raging raging raging
Burning in my room
Cmon and get a good idea
Cmon and get it soon
Im waiting on the fire escape
Im not exactly well
Im neither red nor black nor white
Im grey and blown to hell
Tin machine
Tin machine
Make some new computer thing
That puts me on the moon
Not this psycho-time-bomb planet
Poised to meet its maker
Shake a leg
Tin machine
Tin machine
One sick deathless duty to remain endangered species
They reach right out to touch someone
Then wash their crusty hands
Tin machine
Tin machine
Baby doll
Baby doll
Blue suede tuneless wonders
Mass confusion-faithless blues

[...] Read more

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sexy Feline Machine

Shes a funky feline machine
Crazy cat inside a dream
shes a hunny she stings like a bee
your the punk and shes the queen
shes an angel shes a dove
with a taste for a villans blood
packing heat strutting on the street
chew you up and make you meat
sexy feline machine
sexy feline machine
(shes a sexy feline machine)
sexy feline machine
sexy feline machine
(shes a sexy feline machine)
Shes a sexy feline machine
Shes a sexy feline machine
Shes a sexy feline machine
Shes a sexy feline machine
you cant stop her
ya ya ya ya ya ya ya ya ya........
Shes a funky feline machine
Crazy cat inside a dream
shes a hunny she stings like a bee
your the punk and shes the queen
sexy feline machine
sexy feline machine
(shes a sexy feline machine)
sexy feline machine
sexy feline machine
(every thing is not as it seems)
sexy feline machine
sexy feline machine
(shes a sexy feline machine)
Shes a sexy feline machine
you cant stop her
ya ya ya ya ya ya ya ya ya ya...........
(bow bow bow)

song performed by Fat Joe
Added by Lucian Velea
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Love Machine

Performed by the time
Love machine, yeah. hey, yeah.
Ive got the toys, 2 turn your body out
Ive got the noise, 2 make u scream and shout
The love machine will take your body higher
cause if it dont then I know ure a liar
Dont lie, u want some love that will make u cry
17 tongues licking from the neck down moving in a quickspeed circular motion
Round and round, I said it round and round,
Like u like it, I can lick it like u like it.
Ive got the toys, 2 turn your body out
Ive got the noise, 2 make u scream and shout
The love machine will take your body higher
cause if it dont then I know ure a liar
Love machine. dont bathe.
The love machine cleanses with a little faith
Like a car wash spitting out soap and oil
There aint never been a cleaner girl in the whole wide world
Turning in your bodys, psyche, dial a perfume that u like,
The love machine will put it on u right.
Ive got the toys, 2 turn your body out (think I dont)
Ive got the noise, 2 make u scream and shout
The love machine will take your body higher
cause if it dont then I know ure a liar
Hey yeah, what time it is, love machine
Love machine, what time it is, love machine
Fast or slow like a leslie goes
If u want I can give u complete control
Over your climax and over mine,
The harder u come, the longer the time, (time)
The longer the time, (higher) the longer the time,
The longer the time, the longer the time, the longer the time it takes
Love machine, the love machine.
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, yeah
Shall we say were in paris? (I dont know)
Shall we say were in rome? (we could.)
Shall we imagine a menage-a-trois? (Im too young.)
Shall we imagine were alone? (what can I say 2 that? )
Shall we dream of each other naked? (shit.)
Shall we get undressed right here? (I dont know.) (love machine)
Shall we do this thing by the books? (what are u doing 2 me? )
Shall we give in 2 our biggest fears? (the love machine) (are u afraid? )
Are u going 2 dance with me? (higher) (yes.) (love machine)
Are u going 2 going to let me spin u around? (I might.)
Are u going 2 kiss me quietly? (cant u hear me? )
Are u going 2 make love with sound? (the love machine, higher love machine)
(isnt that the way its done? )
Are u playing the part of a shadow? (I am not.)
Or are your inhibitions gone? (they are.)
Are u afraid of the love machine? (love machine) (hell no)

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Woman Machine

She'll do your work in half the time
Never sick and can't go blind
Oh, woman machine
Brains of tape that fill her head
She knows more now than all the dead
Oh, woman machine
Oh, woman machine
Oh, woman machine
Oh, woman machine
Oh, woman machine
Heart of steel and skin that's cold
Can't wear her out, she can't grow old
Oh, woman machine
She goes to bed when her work is through
She'll do it all, just change the tubes
Oh, woman machine
Oh, woman machine
Oh, woman machine
Oh, woman machine
Oh, woman machine-ine
Oh, woman machine
Oh, woman machine
Oh, woman machine
Oh, woman
She can't talk back
With no playback
But she'll listen
To all your woe
Trade your old one
For a new one
They just don't make 'em like they used to
No!
Oh, woman machine
Oh, woman machine
Oh, woman machine
Oh, woman machine
''...exceeds one million when the stop button is pressed,
the... has results PCR621, into the drayer reading pool
to hold the relay on for one quarter second after the
Q603 deenergizes. Therefore, the time delay occurs only
when the stop button is pressed, during the record nine.
The sole function of the capacitor c620 is to maintain
charge in

song performed by Alice Cooper
Added by Lucian Velea
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Crosseyed & Painless

Lost my shape-trying to act casual!
Cant stop-i might end up in the hospital
Im changing my shape-i feel like an accident
Theyre back!-to explain their experience
Isnt it weird/looks too obscure to me
Wasting away/and that was their policy
Im ready to leave-i push the fact in front of me
Facts lost-facts are never what they seem to be
Nothing there!-no information left of any kind
Lifting my head-looking for danger signs
There was a line/there was a formula
Sharp as a knife/facts cut a hole in us
There was a line/there was a forula
Sharp as a knife/facts cut a hole in us
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
The feeling returns/whenever we close out eyes
Lifting my head/looking around inside
The island of doubt-its like the taste of medicine
Working by hindsight-got the message from the oxygen
Making a list-find the cost of opportunity
Doing it right-facts are useless in emergencies
The feeling returns/whenever we close out eyes
Lifting my head/looking around inside.
Facts are simple and facts are straight
Facts are lazy and facts are late
Facts all come with points of view
Facts dont do what I want them to
Facts just twist the truth around
Facts are living turned inside out
Facts are getting the best of them
Facts are nothing on the face of things
Facts dont stain the furniture
Facts go out and slam the door
Facts are written all over your face
Facts continue to change their shape
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...Im still waiting...
Im still waiting...Im still waiting...

song performed by Talking Heads
Added by Lucian Velea
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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IV. Tertium Quid

True, Excellency—as his Highness says,
Though she's not dead yet, she's as good as stretched
Symmetrical beside the other two;
Though he's not judged yet, he's the same as judged,
So do the facts abound and superabound:
And nothing hinders that we lift the case
Out of the shade into the shine, allow
Qualified persons to pronounce at last,
Nay, edge in an authoritative word
Between this rabble's-brabble of dolts and fools
Who make up reasonless unreasoning Rome.
"Now for the Trial!" they roar: "the Trial to test
"The truth, weigh husband and weigh wife alike
"I' the scales of law, make one scale kick the beam!"
Law's a machine from which, to please the mob,
Truth the divinity must needs descend
And clear things at the play's fifth act—aha!
Hammer into their noddles who was who
And what was what. I tell the simpletons
"Could law be competent to such a feat
"'T were done already: what begins next week
"Is end o' the Trial, last link of a chain
"Whereof the first was forged three years ago
"When law addressed herself to set wrong right,
"And proved so slow in taking the first step
"That ever some new grievance,—tort, retort,
"On one or the other side,—o'ertook i' the game,
"Retarded sentence, till this deed of death
"Is thrown in, as it were, last bale to boat
"Crammed to the edge with cargo—or passengers?
"'Trecentos inseris: ohe, jam satis est!
"'Huc appelle!'—passengers, the word must be."
Long since, the boat was loaded to my eyes.
To hear the rabble and brabble, you'd call the case
Fused and confused past human finding out.
One calls the square round, t' other the round square—
And pardonably in that first surprise
O' the blood that fell and splashed the diagram:
But now we've used our eyes to the violent hue
Can't we look through the crimson and trace lines?
It makes a man despair of history,
Eusebius and the established fact—fig's end!
Oh, give the fools their Trial, rattle away
With the leash of lawyers, two on either side—
One barks, one bites,—Masters Arcangeli
And Spreti,—that's the husband's ultimate hope
Against the Fisc and the other kind of Fisc,
Bound to do barking for the wife: bow—wow!
Why, Excellency, we and his Highness here
Would settle the matter as sufficiently

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Teaching Of The Facts Can Relax

Vulnerability when needed,
Can attract true love.
With a getting of some pity too.

A vulnerability when needed,
Can attract true love.
With a bit of innocence,
That can put one in the mood.

And when,
Facts of life are slow...
A teaching of the facts can relax.
A teaching of the facts,
Can get one to relax.

And when,
A nervousness sets in...
A teaching of the facts can relax,
In those moments.
A teaching of the facts can relax.

And when,
Eyes begin to cry...
A teaching of the facts can relax,
In those moments.
A teaching of the facts can relax.
A teaching of the facts can relax.

Vulnerability when needed,
Can attract true love.
With a teaching of the facts to relax,
In those moments.
A teaching of the facts can relax.

A vulnerability when needed,
Can attract true love.
With a bit of innocence,
That can put one in the mood.

And when,
A nervousness sets in...
A teaching of the facts can relax,
In those moments.
A teaching of the facts can relax.

And when,
Eyes begin to cry...
A teaching of the facts can relax,
In those moments.
A teaching of the facts can relax.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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There Is Something Really Wrong About That

There's something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
There is something really wrong about that!
They're not based in truth of action.
Something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
Absent is the truth of action.
Nothing is said about that.

There is something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
There's something really wrong about that!
They're not based in truth of action.
Something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
Absent is the truth of action.
Nothing is said about that.

Truth has been manipulated.
Something is wrong about that!

And people now themselves they hate.
Something is wrong about that!

Racism is the indicator.
Something is wrong about that!

And how one lives is too debated.
Something is wrong about that!

There is something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
There's something really wrong about that!
They're not based in truth of action.
Something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
Absent is the truth of action.
Nothing is said about that.

We've all been underestimated.
Something is wrong about that!
The thoughts of people are degraded.
Something is wrong about that!
Deceivers seem too much elated.
Something is wrong about that!
And truth for us has been created...
With an ease that's made..

Oh there's something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Machine

Im not a machine... (echos)
Verse 1:
Tell me can I live my life
Doing what I feel is right
I dont need you to hold my hand
The last time I checked I was a grown man
I got my own opinion and I know whats best for me
I do what I want when I want and thats how its gotta be
Chorus:
Im not a machine no you cant control me
Dont just think you can turn me on and off as you please
Im not a machine youre making me overheat
Love me for who I am not who you want me to be
Im not a machine
Verse 2:
Tell me can I do my thing
Without you calling my name
Asking me where Im going, where Ive been
When Im leaving, why I came
Cant chose my own clothes go where I wanna go
Im not a toy for you to command Im not under your control
Girl why cant we just live equally oh girl it would be so nice
Instead of you giving an attitude and trying to run my life
Chorus:
Im not a machine no you cant control me
Dont just think you can turn me on and off as you please
Im not a machine youre making me overheat
Love me for who I am not who you want me to be
Im not a machine
Oh...yeah...
Im not a machine, oh....
Yeah
Chorus:
Im not a machine no you cant control me
Dont just think you can turn me on and off as you please
Im not a machine youre making me overheat (whoa)
Love me for who I am not who you want me to be (want me to be)
Im not a machine
Im not a machine no you cant control me
Dont just think you can turn me on and off as you please
Im not a machine youre making me overheat
Love me for who I am not who you want me to be
Im not a machine
Im not a machine (echos to end)

song performed by Youngstown
Added by Lucian Velea
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Time Machine Jive

(sylvester / clarke / hicks)
Time machine jive time machine jive
Time machine jive time machine jive
You better look out
Look out your window tonight
Therell be a hot cat on your tin roof
Layin it loose
Therell be a full band
To give me a hand
The moon will be a spotlight
For this one-night stand
You better look out
Look out your window tonight
Chorus
You gotta reach out
And try to grab my glitter suit
Snatch your hand full of stars
Take a trip in my seven league boots
Come silver surfin
Youll know you had a ride
My star-treck musics gonna take me high
You better look out
Look out your window tonight
Time machine jive time machine jive
Dimensional intentional sensual
Immeasurable pleasurable hitch a ride
Chorus x2
Dont leave it too late
Or you wont get a ticket on my cruise
Dont be the last one
Or else youll have to light the fuse
You cant afford not
To be on board
Come on baby
Hear the music thats calling
And look out look out your window tonight (time machine jive time machine jive)
You better look out look out your window tonight(time machine jive time machine jive)
Look out look out your window tonight(time machine jive time machine jive)
You better look out look out your window tonight (time machine jive time machine jive)

song performed by Hollies
Added by Lucian Velea
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Violet The Organ Grinder

Chorus:
I am violet the organ grinder
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that I am grinding
Ill die, but I wont go away
I am violet the organ grinder
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that I am grinding
Ill die, but I wont go away
Ooh, wait a minute, I think u better trip on this
Ooh, wait a minute, I think u better trip on this
I was on my way to another room
When an image of u sweetly
Appeared in the mirror
Perhaps u recall
U and I were neatly
In the middle of a crystal ball
That now serves as a reminder
On the wall of u and I the organ grinder
In the greatest concert of them all
I am violet the organ grinder {chorus in the background}
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that I am grinding
Ill die, but I wont go away
Did u know that I still have your stockings?
I keep em in a drawer next to your brazier
Come hither, my sweet, lend me your attention,
Come hither lend my your ear
I do believe that my piano was stolen
I do believe that u want me near
Well I can deal with a sucker
If hes in your mouth,
But I cant deal with insincere
Im the one that lives in your heart
U love me, no matter what u say
Swear you dont miss the organ grinder
Grinding on you every day
I am violet the organ grinder (I am violet the organ grinder)
And I grind all the live long day (and I grind all the live long day)
(check this out)
Ooh, wait a minute, I think u better trip on this
I took all the pictures you gave me,
And I placed them right under my bed
And I pumped and I pumped
til the gasm much as jumped
From my feet to the top of my head, oh boy!
Im violet the organ grinder {chorus in the background}
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that I am grinding
Ill die, but I will not go away

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Canto the First

I
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,
The age discovers he is not the true one;
Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,
I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan—
We all have seen him, in the pantomime,
Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time.

II
Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke,
Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe,
Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk,
And fill'd their sign posts then, like Wellesley now;
Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk,
Followers of fame, "nine farrow" of that sow:
France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumourier
Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.

III
Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau,
Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette,
Were French, and famous people, as we know:
And there were others, scarce forgotten yet,
Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Desaix, Moreau,
With many of the military set,
Exceedingly remarkable at times,
But not at all adapted to my rhymes.

IV
Nelson was once Britannia's god of war,
And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd;
There's no more to be said of Trafalgar,
'T is with our hero quietly inurn'd;
Because the army's grown more popular,
At which the naval people are concern'd;
Besides, the prince is all for the land-service,
Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis.

V
Brave men were living before Agamemnon
And since, exceeding valorous and sage,
A good deal like him too, though quite the same none;
But then they shone not on the poet's page,
And so have been forgotten:—I condemn none,
But can't find any in the present age
Fit for my poem (that is, for my new one);
So, as I said, I'll take my friend Don Juan.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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II. Half-Rome

What, you, Sir, come too? (Just the man I'd meet.)
Be ruled by me and have a care o' the crowd:
This way, while fresh folk go and get their gaze:
I'll tell you like a book and save your shins.
Fie, what a roaring day we've had! Whose fault?
Lorenzo in Lucina,—here's a church
To hold a crowd at need, accommodate
All comers from the Corso! If this crush
Make not its priests ashamed of what they show
For temple-room, don't prick them to draw purse
And down with bricks and mortar, eke us out
The beggarly transept with its bit of apse
Into a decent space for Christian ease,
Why, to-day's lucky pearl is cast to swine.
Listen and estimate the luck they've had!
(The right man, and I hold him.)

Sir, do you see,
They laid both bodies in the church, this morn
The first thing, on the chancel two steps up,
Behind the little marble balustrade;
Disposed them, Pietro the old murdered fool
To the right of the altar, and his wretched wife
On the other side. In trying to count stabs,
People supposed Violante showed the most,
Till somebody explained us that mistake;
His wounds had been dealt out indifferent where,
But she took all her stabbings in the face,
Since punished thus solely for honour's sake,
Honoris causâ, that's the proper term.
A delicacy there is, our gallants hold,
When you avenge your honour and only then,
That you disfigure the subject, fray the face,
Not just take life and end, in clownish guise.
It was Violante gave the first offence,
Got therefore the conspicuous punishment:
While Pietro, who helped merely, his mere death
Answered the purpose, so his face went free.
We fancied even, free as you please, that face
Showed itself still intolerably wronged;
Was wrinkled over with resentment yet,
Nor calm at all, as murdered faces use,
Once the worst ended: an indignant air
O' the head there was—'t is said the body turned
Round and away, rolled from Violante's side
Where they had laid it loving-husband-like.
If so, if corpses can be sensitive,
Why did not he roll right down altar-step,
Roll on through nave, roll fairly out of church,
Deprive Lorenzo of the spectacle,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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III. The Other Half-Rome

Another day that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
And lamentable smile on those poor lips,
And, under the white hospital-array,
A flower-like body, to frighten at a bruise
You'd think, yet now, stabbed through and through again,
Alive i' the ruins. 'T is a miracle.
It seems that, when her husband struck her first,
She prayed Madonna just that she might live
So long as to confess and be absolved;
And whether it was that, all her sad life long
Never before successful in a prayer,
This prayer rose with authority too dread,—
Or whether, because earth was hell to her,
By compensation, when the blackness broke
She got one glimpse of quiet and the cool blue,
To show her for a moment such things were,—
Or else,—as the Augustinian Brother thinks,
The friar who took confession from her lip,—
When a probationary soul that moved
From nobleness to nobleness, as she,
Over the rough way of the world, succumbs,
Bloodies its last thorn with unflinching foot,
The angels love to do their work betimes,
Staunch some wounds here nor leave so much for God.
Who knows? However it be, confessed, absolved,
She lies, with overplus of life beside
To speak and right herself from first to last,
Right the friend also, lamb-pure, lion-brave,
Care for the boy's concerns, to save the son
From the sire, her two-weeks' infant orphaned thus,
And—with best smile of all reserved for him—
Pardon that sire and husband from the heart.
A miracle, so tell your Molinists!

There she lies in the long white lazar-house.
Rome has besieged, these two days, never doubt,
Saint Anna's where she waits her death, to hear
Though but the chink o' the bell, turn o' the hinge
When the reluctant wicket opes at last,
Lets in, on now this and now that pretence,
Too many by half,—complain the men of art,—
For a patient in such plight. The lawyers first
Paid the due visit—justice must be done;
They took her witness, why the murder was.
Then the priests followed properly,—a soul
To shrive; 't was Brother Celestine's own right,
The same who noises thus her gifts abroad.
But many more, who found they were old friends,
Pushed in to have their stare and take their talk

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Whispers From Bones

THE WAR MACHINE
IS QUITE OBSCENE

THE WAR MACHINE
IS QUITE UNCLEAN

BUT
THE WAR MACHINE
WILL NOT STOP

BECAUSE
THE WAR MACHINE
MUST BE FED

THE WAR MACHINE
MUST HAVE BLOOD

THE WAR MACHINE
MUST HAVE DEATH

THE WAR MACHINE
MUST HAVE LIFE

THE WAR MACHINE
MUST HAVE STRIFE

THE WAR MACHINE
MUST BE FED

THE WAR MACHINE
LOVES THE DEAD

THE WAR MACHINE
WILL NOT STOP

BECAUSE
THE WAR MACHINE
IS ANGRY MAN.

poem by M.L. Squier
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Old Spookses' Pass

I.
WE'D camped that night on Yaller Bull Flat,--
Thar was Possum Billy, an' Tom, an' me.
Right smart at throwin' a lariat
Was them two fellers, as ever I see;
An' for ridin' a broncho, or argyin' squar
With the devil roll'd up in the hide of a mule,
Them two fellers that camp'd with me thar
Would hev made an' or'nary feller a fool.
II.
Fur argyfyin' in any way,
Thet hed to be argy'd with sinew an' bone,
I never see'd fellers could argy like them;
But just right har I will hev to own
Thet whar brains come in in the game of life,
They held the poorest keerds in the lot;
An' when hands was shown, some other chap
Rak'd in the hull of the blamed old pot!
III.
We was short of hands, the herd was large,
An' watch an' watch we divided the night;
We could hear the coyotes howl an' whine,
But the darned critters kept out of sight
Of the camp-fire blazin'; an' now an' then
Thar cum a rustle an' sort of rush--
A rattle a-sneakin' away from the blaze,
Thro' the rattlin', cracklin' grey sage bush.
IV.
We'd chanc'd that night on a pootyish lot,
With a tol'ble show of tall, sweet grass--
We was takin' Speredo's drove across
The Rockies, by way of "Old Spookses' Pass"--
An' a mite of a creek went crinklin' down,
Like a "pocket" bust in the rocks overhead,
Consid'able shrunk, by the summer drought,
To a silver streak in its gravelly bed.
V.
'Twas a fairish spot fur to camp a' night;
An' chipper I felt, tho' sort of skeer'd
That them two cowboys with only me,
Couldn't boss three thousand head of a herd.
I took the fust of the watch myself;
An' as the red sun down the mountains sprang,
I roll'd a fresh quid, an' got on the back
Of my peart leetle chunk of a tough mustang.
VI.
An' Possum Billy was sleepin' sound
Es only a cowboy knows how to sleep;
An' Tommy's snores would hev made a old
Buffalo bull feel kind o' cheap.

[...] Read more

poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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The Mill

WINDING and grinding
Round goes the mill:
Winding and grinding
Should never stand still.
Ask not if neighbor
Grind great or small:
Spare not your labor,
Grind your wheat all.
Winding and grinding round goes the mill:
Winding and grinding should never stand still.

Winding and grinding
Work through the day,
Grief never minding--
Grind it away!
What though tears dropping
Rust as they fall?
Have no wheel stopping--
Work comforts all.
Winding and grinding round goes the mill:
Winding and grinding should never stand still.

poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Added by Poetry Lover
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Back To The Facts

From minds the chains are gone.
From minds the chains are gone.
From minds the chains are gone.
From minds the chains are gone.
And it's...
Back to the facts.
Back to unpack those facts,
Packed.
Back to the facts!
To dust them off and stack them tall.
Back to the facts...
To unwrap and stack.

Medieval evils,
No longer can be forced on people.
Walls are falling.
And used as steps for those who crawl.
To see life without limits,
With a higher consciousness.

And it's...
Back to the facts.
Back to unpack those facts,
Packed.
Back to the facts!
To dust them off and stack them tall.
Back to the facts...
To unwrap and stack.

Medieval evils,
From minds the chains are gone...
To keep the people,
From a...
Bouncing off the walls.

Medieval evils,
From minds the chains are gone...
To keep the people,
From a...
Bouncing off the walls.

And it's...
Back to the facts.
Back to unpack those facts,
Packed.
Back to the facts!
To dust them off and stack them tall.
Back to the facts...
To unwrap and stack.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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