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Pardon me for loitering in front of an orchestra.

quote by John Goodman
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Pardon Me

Pardon me while i burst
Pardon me while i burst
A decade ago, i never thought i would be.
A twenty three on the verge of spontaneous combustion woe is me
But i guess that it comes with the territory.
An ominous landscape of never-ending calamity.
I need you to hear. i need you to see.
That i have had all i can take
And exploding seems like a definite possibility
To me
So pardon me while i burst into flames.
I've had enough of the world, and its people's mindless games
So pardon me while i burn, and rise above the flame
Pardon me, pardon me. i'll never be the same.
Not, two days ago i was having a look in a book
And i saw a picture of a guy fried up above his knees
I said i can relate
Cause lately i've been thinking of combustication as a welcomed vacation from.
The burdens of the planet earth, like gravity, hypocrisy, and the perils of being in 3-d...
And thinking so much differently.
Pardon me while i burst into flames.
I've had enough of the world, and it's people's mindless games
Pardon me while i burn, and rise above the flame
Pardon me, pardon me. i'll never be the same.
Never be the same...yeah.
Pardon me while i burst into flames.
Pardon me, pardon me, pardon me.
So pardon me while i burst into flames.
I've had enough of the world, and it's people's mindless games
So pardon me while i burn, and rise above the flame
Pardon me, pardon me. i'll never be the same.
Pardon me, never be the same. yeah

song performed by Incubus
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Old Pardon, the Son of Reprieve

You never heard tell of the story?
Well, now, I can hardly believe!
Never heard of the honour and glory
Of Pardon, the son of Reprieve?
But maybe you're only a Johnnie
And don't know a horse from a hoe?
Well, well, don't get angry, my sonny,
But, really, a young un should know.
They bred him out back on the "Never",
His mother was Mameluke breed.
To the front -- and then stay there - was ever
The root of the Mameluke creed.
He seemed to inherit their wiry
Strong frames -- and their pluck to receive --
As hard as a flint and as fiery
Was Pardon, the son of Reprieve.

We ran him at many a meeting
At crossing and gully and town,
And nothing could give him a beating --
At least when our money was down.
For weight wouldn't stop him, nor distance,
Nor odds, though the others were fast;
He'd race with a dogged persistence,
And wear them all down at the last.

At the Turon the Yattendon filly
Led by lengths at the mile-and-a-half,
And we all began to look silly,
While her crowd were starting to laugh;
But the old horse came faster and faster,
His pluck told its tale, and his strength,
He gained on her, caught her, and passed her,
And won it, hands down, by a length.

And then we swooped down on Menindie
To run for the President's Cup;
Oh! that's a sweet township -- a shindy
To them is board, lodging, and sup.
Eye-openers they are, and their system
Is never to suffer defeat;
It's "win, tie, or wrangle" -- to best 'em
You must lose 'em, or else it's "dead heat".

We strolled down the township and found 'em
At drinking and gaming and play;
If sorrows they had, why they drowned 'em,
And betting was soon under way.
Their horses were good uns and fit uns,
There was plenty of cash in the town;

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 07

Treuthe herde telle herof, and to Piers sente
To taken his teme and tilien the erthe,
And purchaced hym a pardoun a pena et a culpa
For hym and for hyse heirs for ever oore after-

And bad hym holde hym at home and erien hise Ieyes,
And alle that holpen hym to erye, to sette or to sowe,
or any [man]er mestier that myghte Piers availe -
Pardon with Piers Plowman Truthe hath ygraunted.
Kynges and knyghtes that kepen Holy Chirche
And rightfully in remes rulen the peple,
Han pardon thorugh purgatorie to passen ful lightly,
With patriarkes and prophetes in paradis to be felawe.
Bysshopes yblessed, if thei ben as thei sholde
Legistres of bothe lawes, the lewed therwith to preche,
And in as muche as thei mowe amenden alle synfulle,
Arn peres with the Apostles - this pardon Piers sheweth -
And at the day of dome at the heighe deys to sitte.
Marchaunts in the margyne hadde manye yeres,
Ac noon A pena et a culpa the Pope nolde hem graunte.
For thei holde noght hir halidayes as Holy Chirche techeth,
And for thei swere 'by hir soule' and-so God moste hem helpe'
Ayein clene Conseience, hir catel to selle.
Ac under his secret seel Truthe sente hem a lettre,
[And bad hem] buggen boldely what hem best liked
And sithenes selle it ayein and save the wynnyng,
And amende mesondieux thermyd and myseise folk helpe;
And wikkede weyes wightly amende,
And do boote to brugges that tobroke were;
Marien maydenes or maken hem nonnes;
Povere peple and prisons fynden hem hir foode,
And sette soolers to scole or to som othere craftes;
Releve Religion and renten hem bettre.
'And I shal sende yow myselve Seynt Michel myn angel,

That no devel shal yow dere ne [in youre deying fere yow],
And witen yow fro wanhope, if ye wol thus werche,
And sende youre soules in saufte to my Seintes in joye.'
Thanne were marchaunts murie - manye wepten for joye-
And preiseden Piers the Plowman, that purchaced this bulle.
Men of lawe leest pardon hadde that pleteden for mede,
For the Sauter saveth hem noght, swiche as take yiftes,
And nameliche of innocents that noon yvel ne konneth
Super innocentem munera non accipies.
Pledours sholde peynen hem to plede for swiche and helpe;
Princes and prelates sholde paie for hire travaille
A regibus et principibus erit merces eorum.
Ac many a justice and jurour wolde for Johan do moore
Than pro Deipietate - leve thow noon oother!
Ac he that spendeth his speche and speketh for the povere

[...] Read more

poem by William Langland
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All I Want For Christmas (Is My Two Front Teeth)

(Donald Yetter Gardner)
All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth
My two front teeth, My two front teeth
Gee, if I could only have my two front teeth
Then I could wish you, "Merry Christmas"
It seems so long since I could say
"Sister, Susie sitting on a thistle!"
Gosh, oh gee, how happy Id be, if I could only whistle
All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth
My two front teeth, My two front teeth
Gee, if I could only have my two front teeth
Then I could wish you, "Merry Christmas"
All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth
My two front teeth, My two front teeth
Gee, if I could only have my two front teeth
Then I could wish you, "Merry Christmas"
It seems so long since I could say
"Sister, Susie sitting on a thistle!"
Gosh, oh gee, how happy Id be, if I could only whistle
(All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth)
(Two front teeth), (two front teeth)
Gee, if I could only have my two front teeth
Then I could wish you, "Merry Christmas"
--- Instrumental ---
It seems so long since I could say
"Sister, Susie sitting on a thistle!"
Gosh, oh gee, how happy Id be, if I could only whistle
All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth
Two front teeth, My two front teeth
Gee, if I could only have my two front teeth
Then I could wish you, "Merry Christmas"...

song performed by George Strait
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Pardon Me

I tried my best
I gave my all
Sometimes my best wasn't good enough
For you
Sometimes I let you go
Sometimes I hurt you so
I know that I can be the meanest person in the world
[Chorus:]
So I apologize to you
And to anyone else that I hurt too
I may not be the perfect soul
But I can't learn self control
So pardon me! pardon me! pardon me my friend!
I never thought
That anyone
Was more important than the plans
I made
But now I feel the shame
There's no one else to blame
For all the broken hearts scattered on the field of war
[Chorus:]
So I apologize to you
And to anyone else that I hurt too
I may not be the perfect soul
But I can't learn self control
So pardon me! pardon me! pardon me my friend!
[guitar solo]
Sometimes I let you go
Sometimes I hurt you sooo!
I know that I can be the meanest person in the world..
[Chorus:]
So I apologize to you,
And to anyone else that I hurt too,
I may not be a perfect soul
But I can't learn self control
And in my heart I feel its true
So I'll be there with you!!!
So pardon me
Pardon me
Pardon me my friend
Pardon meeeee
My friendddd
Pardon meee
My frienddd...

song performed by Weezer
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Boys

I'm as lonely as boys
I'm as lonely as boys
I'm as lonely as monkeys taught to destroy
Anything they learn to enjoy
So pardon me angel
So pardon me angel
Pardon me my love for you is a stranger
That you met some place but ignored
So break and go home
Break and go home
Why don't you leave me, leave me alone?
I'm as lonely as boys
Who are lonely for girls
Who are lonely as monkeys taught to enjoy
Everything they learn to destroy
So pardon me angel
So pardon me angel
Pardon me my love for you is in danger
In danger of becoming a bore
So break and go home
Break and go home
Why don't you leave me, leave me alone?
And break and go home
Break and go home
And break and go home
Break and go home
And go home
Im the loneliest boy
With the loneliest plan
But Im ready and I want to understand
That aint a woman, thats a girl
So pardon me angel
So pardon my anger
Pardon me my faith in girls is in danger
She leaves you addicted, wantin' more
So break and go home
Break and go home
Why don't you leave me, leave me alone?
And break and go home
Break and go home

song performed by Ryan Adams
Added by Lucian Velea
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Playing Music Is Like Making Love

PLAYING MUSIC IS LIKE MAKING LOVE

Many people who insist that they enjoy
music known as classical merely say
they do, pretending. Far more serious is the ploy
planned by LSO, who'll just pretend to play.

There is surely nothing wrong with those who fake
enjoyment, like a woman faking an orgasm,
but pretense of playing music's a mistake,
since music needs not only sound, but ectoplasm.

Orchestras and lovemakers should never mimic:
they should always show their skin when they perform,
and should not be, although poetic, metonymic:
the use of any substitute is rotten form.

Denis Bartel reported the news about the London Symphony Orchestra's decision to mimic their playing while a performance is broadcast to visits at the Olympic Games. David Ng writes in the LA Times:
Musicians with the London Symphony Orchestra are reportedly going to have to pull a Milli Vanilli when they appear at the opening ceremony of the Summer Olympic Games in London. Reports from Britain state that the orchestra will mimic playing to prerecorded music due to concerns about the weather and the shape of the performing venue - a large, oval-shaped arena whose scale would apparently make a live-music performance tricky….
The London Symphony has reportedly recorded the music that is scheduled to be played during the July 27 ceremony. The Daily Mail reports that Boyle wanted the orchestra to perform live, but that he was overruled by the organizing committee for the Games. When viewers around the world tune in for the ceremony, they can expect to see the conductor and musicians from the renowned orchestra going through the motions while a soundtrack plays.
This wouldn't be the first time that the mimicking of live music was used at an Olympics ceremony. In 2008, a mini-controversy developed during the Beijing Games when it was revealed that a 9-year-old singer lip-synced to the voice of another young girl whom officials had deemed less telegenic. Similarly, at President Obama's inauguration, the musical performance by cellist Yo-Yo Ma, violinistItzhak Perlman, pianist Gabriella Montero and clarinetist Anthony McGill played, unamplified, to a recording. The decision to use a recording was made over fears that the cold weather that day could damage the instruments.

6/4/12 #10403

poem by Gershon Hepner
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In Front Of Me

It's hard to breathe, from underneath
Smothering in all your heat
It's hard to take, It's tough to break
So I don't make the same mistakes
The same mistake, (4x)
Out in the yard is where I play,
Don't come in cause I'm afraid
You saw my face, I faced my friends
Do I tell or just pretend?
I found a friend, a friend who knows
Who says he'll help but then he goes
And then he goes (4x)
In front of me, In front of me, so far from me, yeah, yeah
I'm in the way, the way it goes, so go away, yeah, yeah
In front of me, In front of me, so far from me, yeah, yeah
Fingernails, filled with dirt
If you don't tell, you don't get hurt
I cry for help, I pray to God
Another tear he tries to rob
To rob me of, my dignity
Cause sanctuary's far from me
Far from me (4x)
In front of me, In front of me, so far from me, yeah, yeah
I'm in the way, the way it goes, so go away, yeah, yeah
It's hard to take, a piece of me, so peacefully, yeah, yeah
In front of me, In front of me, so far from me, yeah, yeah
So broke inside, don't run away
And find another place to stay
And make our inhibition go away
Because I'm so afraid, yeah, yeah
It's hard to breathe, from underneath
Smothering in all your heat
It's hard to take, It's tough to break
So I don't make the same mistakes
In front of me, In front of me, so far from me, yeah, yeah
I'm in the way, the way it goes, so go away, yeah, yeah
It's hard to take, a piece of me, so peacefully, yeah, yeah
In front of me, In front of me, so far from me, yeah, yeah

song performed by Nickelback
Added by Lucian Velea
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Child Molester

Note- I wanted to write something something darker and deeper then what I currently have been.

This is what came out.

Dark Rewrite of Britney Spear's Womanizer

Storyline-One woman takes the stand that no one else will to save her street from the unthinkable

Perverted neighbor
I know where you're from
I think it's best you get your twisted... going
Got more then just a clue what you're up to
You can play squeaky clean tp all the others gathered here
But I know what you really are, what you really are sickie

Look at you
Tryin' to act so on the up and up
Sickie, you
Got everyone else here fooled
But not me, oh no, not me
Fakin' like deep down you're a good one
Let's just lay our cards out on the table
Get it all out now
Call 'em like we both know 'em

Child molester, child-child molester
You're a child molester
Oh, child molester, oh you're a child molester, sickie
You-you know-you know you are
You-you know-you know you are
Child molester, child molester, child molester

Sicko, don't try stage that front
Oh no, no, not with me
Cos I know just-just what you are, ah, ah, what you are
Sicko, don't try to stage that front
Oh no, no, not with me
Cos I know just-just what you are, ah, ah, what you are
(Spoken) You got some kind of twisted game goin'
You got them all believin' you're so charmin'
But I won't let you keep on doin' it
You child molester

Sicko, don't try stage that front
Oh no, no, not with me
Cos I know just-just what you are, ah, ah, what you are
Sicko, don't try to stage that front
Oh no, no, not with me
Cos I know just-just what you are, ah, ah, what you are
(Spoken) You say I'm crazy

[...] Read more

poem by Ramona Thompson
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Pharsalia - Book IV: Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea. Death Of Curio.

But in the distant regions of the earth
Fierce Caesar warring, though in fight he dealt
No baneful slaughter, hastened on the doom
To swift fulfillment. There on Magnus' side
Afranius and Petreius held command,
Who ruled alternate, and the rampart guard
Obeyed the standard of each chief in turn.
There with the Romans in the camp were joined
Asturians swift, and Vettons lightly armed,
And Celts who, exiled from their ancient home,
Had joined 'Iberus' to their former name.
Where the rich soil in gentle slope ascends
And forms a modest hill, Ilerda stands,
Founded in ancient days; beside her glides
Not least of western rivers, Sicoris
Of placid current, by a mighty arch
Of stone o'erspanned, which not the winter floods
Shall overwhelm. Upon a rock hard by
Was Magnus' camp; but Caesar's on a hill,
Rivalling the first; and in the midst a stream.
Here boundless plains are spread beyond the range
Of human vision; Cinga girds them in
With greedy waves; forbidden to contend
With tides of ocean; for that larger flood
Who names the land, Iberus, sweeps along
The lesser stream commingled with his own.

Guiltless of war, the first day saw the hosts
In long array confronted; standard rose
Opposing standard, numberless; yet none
Essayed attack, in shame of impious strife.
One day they gave their country and her laws.
But Caesar, when from heaven fell the night,
Drew round a hasty trench; his foremost rank
With close array concealing those who wrought.
Then with the morn he bids them seize the hill
Which parted from the camp Ilerda's walls,
And gave them safety. But in fear and shame
On rushed the foe and seized the vantage ground,
First in the onset. From the height they held
Their hopes of conquest; but to Caesar's men
Their hearts by courage stirred, and their good swords
Promised the victory. Burdened up the ridge
The soldier climbed, and from the opposing steep
But for his comrade's shield had fallen back;
None had the space to hurl the quivering lance
Upon the foeman: spear and pike made sure
The failing foothold, and the falchion's edge
Hewed out their upward path. But Caesar saw
Ruin impending, and he bade his horse

[...] Read more

poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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Down the seafront tonight - Pinewood Royal

Tall ships in the harbour
Waiting for a sailing far away
Stones across the water
Herring gulls drifting across the bay
Painted lady in the garden
The Blackcap sings from early dawn
The warm air slumbers
Soothing the Trevello Lawn
On the red cliffs of The Berry
The lighthouse shines till early dawn

We're going down
Down to the sea front tonight
We're going down
Down to the sea front tonight
We're going down to where the lights, the lights are shining bright
On the sea front you can see the rows of coloured lights
We're going down
Down to the sea front tonight
We're going down
Down to the sea front tonight
Just you and I

The bright lights sparkle
On the sea front walking by
The ice cream parlour
Fairground rides and coconut shy
Ocean going liners
Cabin lights blazing wave goodbye
White horses in the moonlight
Constellations across the sky
Red glow from leaded windows
A summer's evening in July

We're going down
Down to the sea front tonight
We're going down
Down to the sea front tonight
We're going down to where the lights, the lights are shining bright
On the sea front you can see the rows of coloured lights
We're going down
Down to the sea front tonight
We're going down
Down to the sea front tonight
Just you and I

poem by GuyPaul MitchellDwelly
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Oklahoma Backroom Dancer

By michael nesmith
Shes always appearing with a band of renown
You want to go and see her when youre feeling down
Shes a breathtaking spectacle, with guaranteed hope
Shell make you feel good, cause shes the best thing since soap
Shell greet you in the alley with a .45 smile [or fortified smile]
Shes the original sideshow and shes got her own style.
Pardon my baby, she got to have her fun
Yes, I say, pardon my baby, she got to have her fun
cause shes a oklahoma backroom dancer, watch her run.
Now, she dances on air just like supermans child
Like a [? ? ? ] shes wild but shes mild
Shes more fun than colorado, and more far-out than maine
She comes on like thunder and shes more right than rain
Shes the mother of earth, and the goddess of [? ? ? ]
Shes the chicken and the egg and whichever came first.
Pardon my baby, she got to have her chance
Oh, I say pardon my baby, she got to have her chance.
cause shes a oklahoma backroom dancer, watch her dance.
Yeah, I say pardon my baby, she got to have her fun
Yeah, I say pardon my baby, she got to have her fun
Yes, shes a oklahoma backroom dancer, watch her run.
Woooo! my, my!

song performed by Monkees
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Opening Ceremony

by Michael Murphey
She's always appearing with a band of renown,
You want to go and see her when you're feeling down,
She's a breathtaking spectacle with guaranteed hope,
She'll make you feel good 'cause she's the best thing since soap,
She'll greet you in the alley with a fortified smile,
She's the original sideshow and she's got her own style.
Pardon my baby, she got to have her fun,
Yes, I say, pardon my baby, she got to have her fun,
'Cause she's the Oklahoma backroom dancer, watch her run.
Now, she dances on air just like Superman's child,
Like a field of sheep grazing, she's wild but she's mild,
She's more fun than Colorado and more farout than Maine,
She comes on like thunder and she's more right than rain,
She's the mother of earth and the goddess of thirst,
She's the chicken and the egg and whichever came first.
Pardon my baby, she got to have a chance,
Oh, I say, pardon my baby, she got to have a chance,
'Cause she's the Oklahoma backroom dancer, watch her dance.
Whoo...
SOLO
Oh, my, somebody get the piano player a drink of water...
Yeah, I say pardon my baby, she got to have her fun,
Yeah, I say pardon my baby, she got to have her fun,
Yes, she's the Oklahoma backroom dancer, watch her run,
Whoo, my-my.

song performed by Monkees
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The Iliad: Book 17

Brave Menelaus son of Atreus now came to know that Patroclus had
fallen, and made his way through the front ranks clad in full armour
to bestride him. As a cow stands lowing over her first calf, even so
did yellow-haired Menelaus bestride Patroclus. He held his round
shield and his spear in front of him, resolute to kill any who
should dare face him. But the son of Panthous had also noted the body,
and came up to Menelaus saying, "Menelaus, son of Atreus, draw back,
leave the body, and let the bloodstained spoils be. I was first of the
Trojans and their brave allies to drive my spear into Patroclus, let
me, therefore, have my full glory among the Trojans, or I will take
aim and kill you."
To this Menelaus answered in great anger "By father Jove, boasting
is an ill thing. The pard is not more bold, nor the lion nor savage
wild-boar, which is fiercest and most dauntless of all creatures, than
are the proud sons of Panthous. Yet Hyperenor did not see out the days
of his youth when he made light of me and withstood me, deeming me the
meanest soldier among the Danaans. His own feet never bore him back to
gladden his wife and parents. Even so shall I make an end of you
too, if you withstand me; get you back into the crowd and do not
face me, or it shall be worse for you. Even a fool may be wise after
the event."
Euphorbus would not listen, and said, "Now indeed, Menelaus, shall
you pay for the death of my brother over whom you vaunted, and whose
wife you widowed in her bridal chamber, while you brought grief
unspeakable on his parents. I shall comfort these poor people if I
bring your head and armour and place them in the hands of Panthous and
noble Phrontis. The time is come when this matter shall be fought
out and settled, for me or against me."
As he spoke he struck Menelaus full on the shield, but the spear did
not go through, for the shield turned its point. Menelaus then took
aim, praying to father Jove as he did so; Euphorbus was drawing
back, and Menelaus struck him about the roots of his throat, leaning
his whole weight on the spear, so as to drive it home. The point
went clean through his neck, and his armour rang rattling round him as
he fell heavily to the ground. His hair which was like that of the
Graces, and his locks so deftly bound in bands of silver and gold,
were all bedrabbled with blood. As one who has grown a fine young
olive tree in a clear space where there is abundance of water- the
plant is full of promise, and though the winds beat upon it from every
quarter it puts forth its white blossoms till the blasts of some
fierce hurricane sweep down upon it and level it with the ground- even
so did Menelaus strip the fair youth Euphorbus of his armour after
he had slain him. Or as some fierce lion upon the mountains in the
pride of his strength fastens on the finest heifer in a herd as it
is feeding- first he breaks her neck with his strong jaws, and then
gorges on her blood and entrails; dogs and shepherds raise a hue and
cry against him, but they stand aloof and will not come close to
him, for they are pale with fear- even so no one had the courage to
face valiant Menelaus. The son of Atreus would have then carried off
the armour of the son of Panthous with ease, had not Phoebus Apollo

[...] Read more

poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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The Task: Book III. -- The Garden

As one who, long in thickets and in brakes
Entangled, winds now this way and now that
His devious course uncertain, seeking home;
Or, having long in miry ways been foil’d,
And sore discomfited, from slough to slough
Plunging, and half despairing of escape;
If chance at length he finds a greensward smooth
And faithful to the foot, his spirits rise,
He chirrups brisk his ear-erecting steed,
And winds his way with pleasure and with ease:
So I, designing other themes, and call’d
To adorn the Sofa with eulogium due,
To tell its slumbers, and to paint its dreams,
Have rambled wide. In country, city, seat
Of academic fame (howe’er deserved),
Long held, and scarcely disengaged at last.
But now with pleasant pace a cleanlier road
I mean to tread. I feel myself at large,
Courageous, and refresh’d for future toil,
If toil awaits me, or if dangers new.

Since pulpits fail, and sounding boards reflect
Most part an empty ineffectual sound,
What chance that I, to fame so little known,
Nor conversant with men or manners much,
Should speak to purpose, or with better hope
Crack the satiric thong? ‘Twere wiser far
For me, enamour’d of sequester’d scenes,
And charm’d with rural beauty, to repose,
Where chance may throw me, beneath elm or vine,
My languid limbs, when summer sears the plains;
Or, when rough winter rages, on the soft
And shelter’d Sofa, while the nitrous air
Feeds a blue flame, and makes a cheerful hearth;
There, undisturb’d by Folly, and apprised
How great the danger of disturbing her,
To muse in silence, or at least confine
Remarks that gall so many to the few,
My partners in retreat. Disgust conceal’d
Is ofttimes proof of wisdom, when the fault
Is obstinate, and cure beyond our reach.

Domestic Happiness, thou only bliss
Of Paradise that has survived the fall!
Though few now taste thee unimpair’d and pure,
Or tasting long enjoy thee! too infirm,
Or too incautious, to preserve thy sweets
Unmix’d with drops of bitter, which neglect
Or temper sheds into thy crystal cup;
Thou art the nurse of Virtue, in thine arms

[...] Read more

poem by William Cowper
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Sound of the Spheres

The Rastenberg Philharmonic had sat,
Were shuffling in their seats,
And tuning their various instruments
To play ‘The Survivor Suite'.
It had only been played just once before,
They knew they were taking a chance,
The conductor and several cellists had gone
Right after Svrili's Dance!

One moment, the baton was waved in the air,
The next, the podium was clear,
A cellist had sawed at an awful E flat
Before he had disappeared;
Then holes had appeared in the group at the front
Where cellists and violins sat,
And all that was left of the treble bassoon
Was a sandwich, under his hat.

It wasn't as if they hadn't been warned
For Borchnik appeared on the stage,
‘I scribbled this suite in a white hot heat
As I paced, in a boiling rage!
For those sitting close to the glockenspiel,
They really should cover their ears,
For once that crescendo of flute, lute and cello
Is heard - that's the Sound of the Spheres! '

Karamov turned to the audience, bowed,
Then tapped with his baton, twice,
He wouldn't be fazed to the end of his days
Though the Devil was tumbling the dice!
He looked at the fear-crazed Orchestra
Who'd heard about Borchnik's curse,
Then launched them in to The Wages of Sin
As an introductory verse!

The music was nothing like you would expect,
It capered and trilled, and it soared,
It spoke of the aeons of military might,
Of the soldier that fell on his sword,
The audience sat with their open jaws
As it thrilled and it burst into flight,
And carried them out where the planets sang
In a paean to endless night!

The music it raged, and the music roared
And it came to Svrili's Dance,
A blonde violinist took off for the door,
No way was she taking a chance!
A hole opened over a cellist's head

[...] Read more

poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Lord of the Isles: Canto VI.

I.
O who, that shared them, ever shall forget
The emotions of the spirit-rousing time,
When breathless in the mart the couriers met,
Early and late, at evening and at prime;
When the loud cannon and the merry chime
Hail'd news on news, as field on field was won,
When Hope, long doubtful, soar'd at length sublime,
And our glad eyes, awake as day begun,
Watch'd Joy's broad banner rise, to meet the rising sun!
O these were hours, when thrilling joy repaid
A long, long course of darkness, doubts, and fears!
The heart-sick faintness of the hope delay'd,
The waste, the woe, the bloodshed, and the tears,
That track'd with terror twenty rolling years,
All was forgot in that blithe jubilee!
Her downcast eye even pale Affliction rears,
To sigh a thankful prayer, amid the glee,
That hail'd the Despot's fall, and peace and liberty!

Such news o'er Scotland's hills triumphant rode,
When 'gainst the invaders turn'd the battle's scale,
When Bruce's banner had victorious flow'd
O'er Loudoun's mountain, and in Ury's vale;
And fiery English blood oft deluged Douglas-dale,
And fiery Edward routed stout St. John,
When Randolph's war-cry swell'd the southern gale,
And many a fortress, town, and tower, was won,
And fame still sounded forth fresh deeds of glory done.

II.
Blithe tidings flew from baron's tower,
To peasant's cot, to forest-bower,
And waked the solitary cell,
Where lone Saint Bride's recluses dwell.
Princess no more, fair Isabel,
A vot'ress of the order now,
Say, did the rule that bid thee wear
Dim veil and wollen scapulare,
And reft thy locks of dark-brown hair,
That stern and rigid vow,
Did it condemn the transport high,
Which glisten'd in thy watery eye,
When minstrel or when palmer told
Each fresh exploit of Bruce the bold?-
And whose the lovely form, that shares
Thy anxious hopes, thy fears, thy prayers?
No sister she of convent shade;
So say these locks in lengthen'd braid,
So say the blushes and the sighs,

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Walter Scott
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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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My Front Porch Looking In

Oh yeah
Yeah oh yeah
The only ground I ever owned was sticking to my shoes
Now I look at my front porch and this panoramic view
I can sit and watch the fields fill up
With rays of glowing sun
Or watch the moon lay on the fences
Like that's where it was hung
My blessings are in front of me
It's not about the land
I'll never beat the view
From my front porch looking in
There's a carrot top who can barely walk
With a sippy cup of milk
A little blue eyed blonde with shoes on wrong
'Cause she likes to dress herself
And the most beautiful girl holding both of them
And the view I love the most
Is my front porch looking in, yeah
I've traveled here and everywhere
Following my job
I've seen the paintings from the air
Brushed by the hand of God
The mountains and the canyons reach from sea to shining sea
But I can't wait to get back home
To the one he made for me
It's anywhere I'll ever go and everywhere I've been
Nothing takes my breath away
Like my front porch looking in
There's a carrot top who can barely walk
With a sippy cup of milk
A little blue eyed blonde with shoes on wrong
'Cause she likes to dress herself
And the most beautiful girl holding both of them
Yeah the view I love the most
Is my front porch looking in
I see what beautiful is about
When I'm looking in
Not when I'm looking out
There's a carrot top who can barely walk
With a sippy cup of milk
A little blue eyed blonde with shoes on wrong
'Cause she likes to dress herself
And the most beautiful girl holding both of them
Yeah the view I love the most
Oh, the view I love the most
Is my front porch looking in
Yeah
Oh, there's a carrot top who can barely walk
(From my front porch looking in)

[...] Read more

song performed by Lonestar
Added by Lucian Velea
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Front Line

I am a veteran of the war
I up and joined the army back in 1964
At sixteen I just had to be a man at any cost
I volunteered for Vietnam where I got my leg shot off
I recall a quote from a movie that said "who's more a man
Than a man with a reason that's worth dyin' for"
They had me standing on the front line
They had me standing on the front line
They had me standing on the front line
But now I stand at the back of the line when it comes to gettin' ahead
They gave me a uniform and a tiny salty pill
To stop the big urge I might have for the wrong kind of thrill
They put a gun in my hand and said, "shoot until he's dead"
But it's hard to kill when 'please your friend' echoes through your head
Brought up in church taught no man should take another's life
But then put in a jungle where life has no price
They had me standing on the front line
They had me standing on the front line
They had me standing on the front line
But now I stand at the back of the line when it comes to gettin' ahead
Back in the world the paper reads today
Another war is in the brewing
But what about the lives of yesterday
And the many happy families that have been ruined
My niece is a hooker and my nephew's a junkie too
But they say I have no right to tell them how they should do
They laugh and say "quit bragging" 'bout the war you should never have been in
But my mind is so brain-washed I'd prob'bly go back and do it again
I walk the neighborhood parading my purple heart
With a fear of agent orange that no one will stop
They had me standing on the front line
They had me standing on the front line
They had me standing on the front line
But now I stand at the back of the line when it comes to gettin' ahead
[Repeat 2 times...fade out]

song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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