One of the best ways to persuade others is with your ears by listening to them.
quote by Dean Rusk
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0008 A Ghazal
I lie awake as the light night-rain falls, listening
to its irregularities, listening
as the breeze blows it now and then
against the window and the curtain flutters; listening
and wondering if I can hear
the rain listening
to itself, as if – I sometimes think I hear this –
there’s a moment just before it stops as if listening
to its own decision to stop, as if it sighs,
thinks, that’s enough; it could be listening
to the gratitude of the closed flowers, the wet earth,
the ecstasy of roots which are themselves listening
to the flowers sleeping, sighing in their sleep.
But do you wonder why I’m listening
instead of sleeping, this warm rainy night?
What’s so important that it needs my listening?
It was the rain that woke me; and as I turned, sighed,
it was the thought of you last night here next to me, listening
not to me, but to your own dreams – which I may never share;
though I may share you in my listening
to your sweet sleep’s breath, felt faintly on my shoulder;
and so, there’s a question in my listening –
did you awake at the same night rain, you so far away,
awake, sigh, and in your half-awakened listening
know that I too, thought of you?
Sighed that sweet thought, of our shared, single listening? …
As the perfume of a rose may be more evocative than the rose,
So sweeter, steadier than thought, dream, memory – the listening!
[A ghazal has a rhyme scheme aa ba ca da >]
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Listening Week
This is the listening week of the year
Listening-in.
A-cock and alert is the national ear
Listening-in.
All over the land in the country towns,
From the back of the Leeuwin to Darling Downs,
Layers of 'quids' or the odd half-crowns,
They are listening-in.
On the far-flung farms they are round each set,
Listening-in.
The work and the worry they all forget,
Listening-in.
Wherever an aerial soars in space
To the Cup, or the Oaks or the Steeplechase,
To the roar of the ring and the lure of the race
They are listening-in.
In the far outback there are sun-tanned men,
Listening-in.
Where the woolshed stands by the drafting pen
Listening-in.
Old Dad's come in from the Ninety Mile;
He scored on the Cup and he wears a smile,
And he 'reckons this game is well worth while'
So he's listening in.
To the edge of the desert the sound-waves go;
And, listening-in,
Ned of the Overland, Saltbush Joe
Listening-in
Recall the giants of years long past,
And the loneliness of these spaces vast;
But they reckon that life's worth living at last
With this listening-in.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Running on
Running on
But you, don't know what you're running from
Hiding on
But you, don't know what you're hiding from
It's amazing
You're acting so crazy
You're trying to persuade me
There's no escaping
Taking off in full drive
Afraid of the full ride
You're trying to persuade me
There's no escaping
Running on
But you, don't know what you're running from
Hiding on
But you, don't know what you're hiding from
On the move
Everyplace I try to talk to you
You don't know what to do
I really can't tell whats wrong with you
Every time you see my face
You act amazed
Stunned I'm still in this place
And haven't yet escaped
I don't know what what you're trying to do
I don't know if I should be running too
Away from who?
I need a clue
You won't give me answers
Just keep moving faster
From a huge disaster
That's trying to get after
you....and us others, too...
Running on
But you, don't know what you're running from
Hiding on
But you, don't know what you're hiding from
It's amazing
You're acting so crazy
You're trying to persuade me
There's no escaping
Taking off in full drive
Afraid of the full ride
[...] Read more
poem by Sugar Bear
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Just Walk Away
When you've given all you've got...
Just walk away.
Don't you dare to get uptight.
Just walk away.
If someone does not act right.
Just walk away.
Don't argue or defend,
When no one there is listening.
When you've given all you've got...
Just walk away.
Don't you dare to get uptight.
Just walk away.
If someone does not act right.
Just walk away.
Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.
Don't argue or defend,
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.
When you've given all you've got...
Just walk away.
Don't you dare to get uptight.
Just walk away.
If someone does not act right.
Just walk away.
Don't argue or defend,
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Do you just walk away.
Just walk away.
Just-walk-away.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Two Ways To Play
Somethin' crossed my mind again
You were in my eyes
It was somewhere out by Bombay
And I'm tellin' all those lies
I've been there and you've been there
And there ain't no mistake
We could take it anyway
But the one thing we can't fake
There's just two ways to play
Just two ways to play
And I don't want to stay
There's just two ways to play
And I'm gonna play it right, this time
Yeah
There's always the easy numbers
There's those hard ways too
There's those cheaters blunders
It's either one of two
But fortune telling's mezmorizing
In the game of chance
But rollin' dice ain't sympathizing
When you play romance
There's just two ways to play
Just two ways to play
And I don't want to stay
There's just two ways to play
I can't control the numbers
I can't control your sexy ways
I can't control my inner thunder
It makes me want????????
Two ways to play
There's Just two ways to play
There's just two ways to play
There's just two ways to play
I'm gonna play it right this time
There's two ways to play
There's just two ways to play
Two ways to play
There's just two ways to play
And I don't want to stay
There's just two ways to play
song performed by ZZ Top
Added by Lucian Velea
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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
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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S.O.S.
Is anybody listening?
Can they hear me when I call?
I'm shooting signals in the air
'Cause I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
So I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening
Listening
I'll be standing here and I'm miles away
Making signals hoping they'd save me
I lock myself inside these walls
'Cause out there I'm always wrong
I don't think I'm gonna make it
So while I'm sitting here
On the eve of my death bed
I'll write this letter and hope it saves me
Is anybody listening?
Can they hear me when I call?
Shooting signals in the air
'Cause I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
So I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening
Listening
I'm stuck in my own head and I'm oceans away
Would anybody notice if I chose to stay?
I'll send and SOS tonight
Wonder if I will survive
How in the hell did I get so far away this time
So now I'm sitting here
The time of my departure's near
I say a prayer
Please someone save me
Is anybody listening?
Can they hear me when I call?
Shooting signals in the air
'Cause I need somebody's help
I can't make it on my own
So I'm giving up myself
Is anybody listening
Listening
I'm lost here
I can't make it on my own
I don't wanna die alone
I'm so scared
Drowning now
Reaching out
Holding on to everything I love
Crying out
Dying now
[...] Read more
song performed by Good Charlotte
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Listening
Your skin attached this fragile cliche
Of my broken heart attack
You should swallow your teeth and hang out
Stay for a while
If your heart's still beating it must be the blood
If your lungs are still working it must be the mud
If its still light out than a kick in the ribs
today's worth living
I don't see anything now
So just say what you wanna say
It's kind of funny how I'm not listening anyway
Lights out, I can't stand to hear you scream
While we were making love I was fast asleep
and the night sky better give something up (give something up)
I don't see anything now
So just say what you wanna say
It's kind of funny how I'm not listening anyway
[x2]
Lights out, lights out, lights out, lights out...
Lights out! I can't stand to hear you scream
While we were making love I was fast asleep
If your heart's still beating it must be the blood
If your lungs are still working it must be the mud
If its still light out than a kick in the ribs
And today's worth living, it probably is
I don't see anything now
So just say what you wanna say
It's kind of funny how I'm not listening anyway
[x2]
I'm not listening anyway
I'm not listening anyway
I'm not listening
Listening, I'm not listening
I'm not listening
I'm not listening
I'm not listening
song performed by Used
Added by Lucian Velea
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Venus and Adonis
Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis tried him to the chase;
Hunting he lov'd, but love he laugh'd to scorn;
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-fac'd suitor 'gins to woo him.
'Thrice fairer than myself,' thus she began,
'The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are;
Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.
'Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed
A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know:
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses;
And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses:
'And yet not cloy thy lips with loath'd satiety,
But rather famish them amid their plenty,
Making them red and pale with fresh variety;
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:
A summer's day will seem an hour but short,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.'
With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,
The precedent of pith and livelihood,
And, trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good:
Being so enrag'd, desire doth lend her force
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.
Over one arm the lusty courser's rein
Under her other was the tender boy,
Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;
She red and hot as coals of glowing fire
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.
The studded bridle on a ragged bough
Nimbly she fastens;--O! how quick is love:--
The steed is stalled up, and even now
To tie the rider she begins to prove:
Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust,
And govern'd him in strength, though not in lust.
So soon was she along, as he was down,
Each leaning on their elbows and their hips:
Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown,
And 'gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips;
And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken,
'If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.'
He burns with bashful shame; she with her tears
Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks;
[...] Read more
poem by William Shakespeare (1593)
Added by Dan CostinaÅŸ
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Venus and Adonis
'Vilia miretur vulgus; mihi flavus Apollo
Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.'
To the right honorable Henry Wriothesly, Earl of Southampton, and Baron of Tichfield.
Right honorable.
I know not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship, nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden only, if your honour seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised, and vow to take advantage of all idle hours, till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be sorry it had so noble a god-father, and never after ear so barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. I leave it to your honourable survey, and your honour to your heart's content; which I wish may always answer your own wish and the world's hopeful expectation.
Your honour's in all duty.
Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he loved, but love he laugh'd to scorn;
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-faced suitor 'gins to woo him.
'Thrice-fairer than myself,' thus she began,
'The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are;
Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.
'Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed
A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know:
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,
And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses;
'And yet not cloy thy lips with loathed satiety,
But rather famish them amid their plenty,
Making them red and pale with fresh variety,
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:
A summer's day will seem an hour but short,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.'
With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,
The precedent of pith and livelihood,
And trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good:
Being so enraged, desire doth lend her force
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.
Over one arm the lusty courser's rein,
Under her other was the tender boy,
Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;
She red and hot as coals of glowing fire,
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.
The studded bridle on a ragged bough
Nimbly she fastens:--O, how quick is love!--
The steed is stalled up, and even now
To tie the rider she begins to prove:
[...] Read more
poem by William Shakespeare
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto II
THE ARGUMENT
The Saints engage in fierce Contests
About their Carnal interests;
To share their sacrilegious Preys,
According to their Rates of Grace;
Their various Frenzies to reform,
When Cromwel left them in a Storm
Till, in th' Effigy of Rumps, the Rabble
Burns all their Grandees of the Cabal.
THE learned write, an insect breeze
Is but a mungrel prince of bees,
That falls before a storm on cows,
And stings the founders of his house;
From whose corrupted flesh that breed
Of vermin did at first proceed.
So e're the storm of war broke out,
Religion spawn'd a various rout
Of petulant Capricious sects,
The maggots of corrupted texts,
That first run all religion down,
And after ev'ry swarm its own.
For as the Persian Magi once
Upon their mothers got their sons,
That were incapable t' enjoy
That empire any other way;
So PRESBYTER begot the other
Upon the good old Cause, his mother,
Then bore then like the Devil's dam,
Whose son and husband are the same.
And yet no nat'ral tie of blood
Nor int'rest for the common good
Cou'd, when their profits interfer'd,
Get quarter for each other's beard.
For when they thriv'd, they never fadg'd,
But only by the ears engag'd:
Like dogs that snarl about a bone,
And play together when they've none,
As by their truest characters,
Their constant actions, plainly appears.
Rebellion now began, for lack
Of zeal and plunders to grow slack;
The Cause and covenant to lessen,
And Providence to b' out of season:
For now there was no more to purchase
O' th' King's Revenue, and the Churches,
But all divided, shar'd, and gone,
That us'd to urge the Brethren on;
Which forc'd the stubborn'st for the Cause,
[...] Read more
poem by Samuel Butler
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Old Mans Rubble
Are you living in an old mans rubble,
Are you listening to the father of lies?
Are you walking with unnecessary burdens,
Are you trying to take them upon yourself?
If you are, then youre living in bondage,
And you know thats bad for your spiritual health.
And are you trying to live by your emotions,
Are you putting your faith in what you feel and see?
Then youre living just to satisfy your passions,
And you better be careful cause youre being deceived.
Are you living in an old mans rubble,
Are you listening to the father of lies?
If you are then youre headed for trouble;
If you listen too long youll eventually die.
Are you living in an old mans rubble,
Are you listening to the father of lies?
If you are then youre headed for trouble;
If you listen too long youll eventually die.
Are you puzzled by the way that youre behaving,
Do you wonder why you do the things you do?
And are you troubled by your lack of resistance,
Do you feel that somethings got a hold on you?
Well deep within you, theres a spiritual balance;
Theres a voice of the darkness and a voice of the light.
And just by listening, you have made a decision,
cause the voice you hear is gonna win the fight.
Are you living in an old mans rubble,
Are you listening to the father of lies?
If you are then youre headed for trouble;
If you listen too long youll eventually die.
If youre living as a new creation,
If youre listening to the father of light,
Then youre living in a mighty fortress,
And youre gonna be clothed in power and might.
But are you living in an old mans rubble,
Are you listening to the father of lies?
If you are then youre headed for trouble;
If you listen too long youll eventually die.
If youre living as a new creation,
If youre listening to the father of light,
Then youre living in a mighty fortress,
And youre gonna be clothed in power and might.
But are you living in an old mans rubble,
Are you listening to the father of lies?
If you are then youre headed for trouble;
If you listen too long youll eventually die.
But if youre living as a new creation,
If youre listening to the father of light,
Then youre living in a mighty fortress,
And youre gonna be clothed in power and might.
song performed by Amy Grant
Added by Lucian Velea
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In Your Own Ways
You are smart in your own ways
you are lovely in your own ways
you are beautiful in your own ways
You smile in your own ways
So crazy in your own ways
The madness of your own ways
such mysterious in your own ways
Those eyes of your own ways
You inspire me in your own ways
You talk in you own ways
you love me in your own ways
You suprise me in your own ways
Your kindness of its own kind
Your love of its own loveliness
your touch of its own comfort
And your kisses of its own sweetness
There is nothing so much worth to
treasure in my own ways than the
sweet memories of your own ways
Your life in your own ways
changes mine in its own way
God must have taken His own time
for sush a creation of its own kind
With everything in its own way
I must live your way.
poem by Moffat Mbuzi
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Endymion: Book I
ENDYMION.
A Poetic Romance.
"THE STRETCHED METRE OF AN AN ANTIQUE SONG."
INSCRIBED TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS CHATTERTON.
Book I
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.
Nor do we merely feel these essences
For one short hour; no, even as the trees
That whisper round a temple become soon
Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon,
The passion poesy, glories infinite,
Haunt us till they become a cheering light
Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast,
That, whether there be shine, or gloom o'ercast,
They alway must be with us, or we die.
Therefore, 'tis with full happiness that I
Will trace the story of Endymion.
The very music of the name has gone
Into my being, and each pleasant scene
[...] Read more
poem by John Keats
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Black Bruises II
I can ponder upon the blackness,
the garrulous of silence
placated by benign solitude
I can endure the ostracizing
listening to lulling lullabies,
listening to trembling metals,
listening to enraptured echoes,
listening to a soundless shattering,
listening to nothingness,
listening to guffawing crows,
listening to diffident clocks,
listening to the waning time;
but am I the only one listening
to these black bruised whispers?
poem by Norman Santos
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Turn Off The World
Got to pull it up
Got to pull it out
Got to survive
Got to stay calm
Got to think fast
Dont want to burn
Searching for a door
Searching for a way
Out of this thing
I dont know whats wrong
Dont know what to do
Im out of control
Nothing I can do
Nothing seems to work
Im barely alive
Got to slow it down
Got to do something
Or give in
Watching us fall
Trying everything
Fighting for life
Running out of time
I dont have a choice
Im riding it in
Im inside and Im trying to get out
Im inside and Im screaming for some help
And everythings gone wrong
Im listening to the sound of my own fear
Im listening to the sound of someones tears
Im listening to me
This is the fear
This is nothing like
You could believe
Panic in my heart
Like a cold hand
Pulling at strings
Ill do anything
Even pray to god
Just let me out
Turn off the machine
Turn off all the noise
Turn off the world
Im inside and Im trying to get out
Im inside and Im screaming for some help
And everythings gone wrong
Im listening to the sound of my own fear
Im listening to the sound of someones tears
Im listening to me
Im inside and Im trying to get out
Im inside and Im screaming for some help
[...] Read more
song performed by Gary Numan
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Gebir
FIRST BOOK.
I sing the fates of Gebir. He had dwelt
Among those mountain-caverns which retain
His labours yet, vast halls and flowing wells,
Nor have forgotten their old master's name
Though severed from his people here, incensed
By meditating on primeval wrongs,
He blew his battle-horn, at which uprose
Whole nations; here, ten thousand of most might
He called aloud, and soon Charoba saw
His dark helm hover o'er the land of Nile,
What should the virgin do? should royal knees
Bend suppliant, or defenceless hands engage
Men of gigantic force, gigantic arms?
For 'twas reported that nor sword sufficed,
Nor shield immense nor coat of massive mail,
But that upon their towering heads they bore
Each a huge stone, refulgent as the stars.
This told she Dalica, then cried aloud:
'If on your bosom laying down my head
I sobbed away the sorrows of a child,
If I have always, and Heaven knows I have,
Next to a mother's held a nurse's name,
Succour this one distress, recall those days,
Love me, though 'twere because you loved me then.'
But whether confident in magic rites
Or touched with sexual pride to stand implored,
Dalica smiled, then spake: 'Away those fears.
Though stronger than the strongest of his kind,
He falls-on me devolve that charge; he falls.
Rather than fly him, stoop thou to allure;
Nay, journey to his tents: a city stood
Upon that coast, they say, by Sidad built,
Whose father Gad built Gadir; on this ground
Perhaps he sees an ample room for war.
Persuade him to restore the walls himself
In honour of his ancestors, persuade -
But wherefore this advice? young, unespoused,
Charoba want persuasions! and a queen!'
'O Dalica!' the shuddering maid exclaimed,
'Could I encounter that fierce, frightful man?
Could I speak? no, nor sigh!'
'And canst thou reign?'
Cried Dalica; 'yield empire or comply.'
Unfixed though seeming fixed, her eyes downcast,
The wonted buzz and bustle of the court
From far through sculptured galleries met her ear;
Then lifting up her head, the evening sun
Poured a fresh splendour on her burnished throne-
[...] Read more
poem by Walter Savage Landor
Added by Poetry Lover
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Change Your Ways
[Intro/Chorus]
Come on, come on, come on, come on
Change your ways
[LL Cool J]
Why don't you make, hah, a resolution
Heh, for God sake, give a contribution
Huh, you're filthy rich huh, so help the world
Donate some dough to the starvin' boys and girls
They ain't eatin', we're just chillin', stop the killin'
[Chorus]
Come on, come on, come on, come on
Change your ways
[LL Cool J]
Change your ways huh, start givin'
Huh, you're livin' like every day is thanksgivin'
Huh, cool songs huh, nice cars, clear sky, bright stars
Funky, funky beats on the radio be pumpin'
Hah, you're so cool, well let us tell you somethin':
Change your ways
[Chorus]
Come on, come on, come on, come on
Change your ways
[LL Cool J]
Hey you, don't be stupid, comprehend
the words I'm speakin' to a beat
that's crazy funky and keeps the people freakin'
Just trust through us, you're listenin' to God talk
Mic check 1, 2, huh, hey fellas tell 'em what they need to do
[Chorus]
Come on, come on, come on, come on
Change your ways
[LL Cool J]
Come on, come on, let's do it, let's do it
There's just so many of us, huh
hey yo, there ain't nothin' to it
We're just too strong, can't nothin' stop the movement
Hah, party people listen - the world has room for improvement
The groove is small and I know you've
been thinkin' a lot about this jam
So take his hand and take her hand
and let's all lend a hand to our fellow man
[Chorus]
Come on, come on, come on, come on
Change your ways
[LL Cool J]
We can do it, we can do it, we can do it
We can do it, we can do it, we can do it
We can do it, we can do it, we can do it
We can do it, we can do it, we can do it
[Chorus]
[...] Read more
song performed by LL Cool J
Added by Lucian Velea
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Just Make It Stop
Just make it stop.
The stillness in the air.
The shattered mirror just sitting their.
The hate.
The anger.
Just make it all stop.
I can't take it no more.
The constant ringing upon my ears.
The blood curdling screams I continuously hear.
Just make it stop.
The stillness in the air.
The shattered mirror just sitting their.
The hate.
The anger.
Just make it all stop.
I can't take it no more.
The constant ringing upon my ears.
The blood curdling screams I continuously hear.
Fist flying.
Object Throwing.
Door Slamming.
Here's my pause button.
Cranking up the music and start jamming.
For its my only way out.
Just make it stop.
The stillness in the air.
The shattered mirror just sitting their.
The hate.
The anger
Just make it all stop.
I can't take it no more.
The constant ringing upon my ears.
The blood curdling screams I continuously hear.
Just make it stop.
The stillness in the air.
The shattered mirror just sitting their.
The hate.
The anger.
Just make it all stop.
I can't take it no more.
The constant ringing upon my ears.
The blood curdling screams I continuously hear.
[...] Read more
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Singing Of The Magnificat
A LEGEND
IN midst of wide green pasture-lands, cut through
By lines of alders bordering deep-banked streams,
Where bulrushes and yellow iris grew,
And rest and peace, and all the flowers of dreams,
The Abbey stood--so still, it seemed a part
Of the marsh-country's almost pulseless heart.
Where grey-green willows fringed the stream and pool,
The lazy meek-faced cattle strayed to graze,
Sheep in the meadows cropped the grasses cool,
And silver fish shone through the watery ways,
And many a load of fruit and load of corn
Into the Abbey storehouses was borne.
Yet though so much they had of life's good things,
The monks but held them as a sacred trust,
Lent from the storehouse of the King of kings
Till they, His stewards, should crumble back to dust.
'Not as our own,' they said, 'but as the Lord's,
All that the stream yields, or the land affords.'
And all the villages and hamlets near
Knew the monks' wealth, and how their wealth was spent.
In tribulation, sickness, want, or fear,
First to the Abbey all the peasants went,
Certain to find a welcome, and to be
Helped in the hour of their extremity.
When plague or sickness smote the people sore,
The Brothers prayed beside the dying bed,
And nursed the sick back into health once more,
And through the horror and the danger said:
'How good is God, Who has such love for us,
He lets us tend His suffering children thus!'
They in their simple ways and works were glad:
Yet all men must have sorrows of their own.
And so a bitter grief the Brothers had,
Nor mourned for others' heaviness alone.
This was the secret of their sorrowing,
That not a monk in all the house could sing!
[...] Read more
poem by Edith Nesbit
Added by Poetry Lover
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