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I left Apple in April of 1984, pretty soon after the introduction of the Mac.

quote by Andy Hertzfeld
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1984/do Do

Someday they wont let you, now you must agree
The times they are a-telling, and the changing isnt free
Youve read it in the tea leaves, the tracks are on tv
Beware the savage jaw
Of 1984
Theyll break your pretty cranium, and fill it full of air
And tell that youre eighty, but lover you wont care
Youll be shooting up this huge world, like tomorrows wasnt there
Beware the savage jaw
Of 1984
(come see, come see, remember me? )
We played out an all night movie role
You said it would last, but I guess weve grown
In 1984 (who could ask for more)
1984 (who could ask for more)
Now we can talk in confidence
Did you guess that weve been done wrong
Lies jumped the queue to be first in line
Such a shameless design
He thinks hes well screened from the man at the top
Its a shame that his children disagree
They cooly decide to sell him down the line
Daddys brainwashing time
Hes a do do, no no didnt hear it from me
Hes a do do, no no didnt hear it from me
She doesnt recall her blessed childhood out of yore
When a unit was a figure not a she
When lovers chose each other seems the perks are due
Another memo to screw
Shes a do do, no no didnt hear it from me
Shes a do do, no no didnt hear it from me
Can you wipe your nose my child without them slotting in your file a photograph
Will you sleep in fear tonight wake to find the scorching light of neighbour jim
Come to, turn you in
But the do do, no no, didnt hear it from me
Another do do, no no, didnt hear it from me
Another do do, no no, didnt hear it from me
Another do do, no no, didnt hear from me
Come see, come see, remember me?
We played out an all night movie role
You said it would last, but I guess we enrolled
In 1984 (who could ask for more)
1984 (who could ask for mor-or-or-or-ore)
(mor-or-or-or-ore)
1984
1984
1984 (mor-or-or-or-ore)
1984
1984 (mor-or-or-or-ore)
1984

[...] Read more

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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1984

Someday they wont let you, now you must agree
The times they are a-telling, and the changing isnt free
Youve read it in the tea leaves, and the tracks are on tv
Beware the savage jaw
Of 1984
Theyll split your pretty cranium, and fill it full of air
And tell that youre eighty, but brother, you wont care
Youll be shooting up on anything, tomorrows never there
Beware the savage jaw
Of 1984
Come see, come see, remember me?
We played out an all night movie role
You said it would last, but I guess we enrolled
In 1984 (who could ask for more)
1984 (who could ask for mor-or-or-or-ore)
(mor-or-or-or-ore)
Im looking for a vehicle, Im looking for a ride
Im looking for a party, Im looking for a side
Im looking for the treason that I knew in 65
Beware the savage jaw
Of 1984
Come see, come see, remember me?
We played out an all night movie role
You said it would last, but I guess we enrolled
In 1984 (who could ask for more)
1984 (who could ask for mor-or-or-or-ore)
(mor-or-or-or-ore)
1984
1984
1984 (mor-or-or-or-ore)
1984
1984 (mor-or-or-or-ore)
1984

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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April, Dear April

April, dear April, I beg you come soon –
And bring your sweet primroses too.
Let them join in with the daffodils’ play,
As skies offer sunshine anew.

April, dear April, my blessed spring child,
Ornate in your yellow and white,
Teasing the birds into trilling their songs
And dancing to music of flight.

April, dear April, come enter my dreams
And rid me from cold winter chills.
Banish the rain and those blustery winds
And warm up our countryside hills.

April, dear April, I know you can’t stay -
You have to move on ‘till next year.
And though I shall cherish the glory of summer,
You’ll always be my month most dear.

From: Succumbed to Thinking by Mark Raymond Slaughter, lulu.com
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved

April April April April
April April April April
April April April April

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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On the Range

On Nungar the mists of the morning hung low,
The beetle-browed hills brooded silent and black,
Not yet warmed to life by the sun's loving glow,
As through the tall tussocks rode young Charlie Mac.
What cared he for mists at the dawning of day,
What cared he that over the valley stern “Jack,”
The Monarch of frost, held his pitiless sway? -
A bold mountaineer born and bred was young Mac.
A galloping son of a galloping sire -
Stiffest fence, roughest ground, never took him aback;
With his father's cool judgement, his dash, and his fire,
The pick of Manaro rode young Charlie Mac.
And the pick of the stable the mare he bestrode -
Arab-grey, built to stay, lithe of limb, deep of chest,
She seemed to be happy to bear such a load
As she tossed the soft forelock that curled on her
crest.
They crossed Nungar Creek where its span is but
short
At its head, where together spring two mountain rills,
When a mob of wild horses sprang up with a snort -
"By thunder!" quoth Mac, "there's the Lord of
the Hills.
Decoyed from her paddock, a Murray-bred mare
Had fled to the hills with a warrigal band;
A pretty bay foal had been born to her there,
Whose veins held the very best blood in the land -
"The Lord of the Hills" as the bold mountain men
Whose courage and skill he was wont to defy
Had named him, they yarded him once, but since
then
He held to the saying, "Once bitten, twice shy."

The scrubber, thus suddenly roused from his lair,
Struck straight for the timber with fear in his heart;
As Charlie rose up in his stirrups, the mare
Sprang forward, no need to tell Empress to start.
She laid to the chase just as soon as she felt
Her rider's skill’d touch, light, yet firm, on the rein;
Stride for stride, lengthened wide, for the green
timber belt,
The fastest half-mile ever done on the plain.
They reached the low sallee before he could wheel
The warrigal mob; up they dashed with a stir
Of low branches and undergrowth - Charlie could feel
His mare catch her breath on the side of the spur
That steeply slopes up till it meets the bald cone.
'Twas here on the range that the trouble began,

[...] Read more

poem by Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
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Kavya-2

The afternoon of 2nd April was profusely bountiful; as
the Sun cast its flamboyantly Omnipotent spell; upon
even the most penuriously obsolete granules of soil,

The afternoon of 2nd April was unbelievably rhapsodic;
as vivaciously striped butterflies; melodiously
philandered over the; perennially blooming lotuses,

The afternoon of 2nd April was exotically enchanting;
as gorgeous waterfalls cascaded harmoniously from the
mountains; euphorically titillating dreary earth,

The afternoon of 2nd April was blissfully bestowing;
as fountains of ever pervading beauty; sprang in
ebulliently untamed unison; from the aisles of
orphaned nothingness,

The afternoon of 2nd April was blisteringly patriotic;
as unflinchingly scintillating soldiers fearlessly
marched forward; to impregnably defend their
ruthlessly imprisoned motherland,

The afternoon of 2nd April was ingratiatingly
heavenly; as gigantically enamoring festoons of
leaves; exotically placated all those aimlessly
loitering without the most insipid of roof,

The afternoon of 2nd April was marvelously majestic;
as a blanket of vividly fascinating rainbows;
poignantly enshrouded the fathomless firmament of blue
sky,

The afternoon of 2nd April was stupendously royal; as
an unsurpassable fleet of kingly eagles; indefatigably
encircled the gloriously misty cocoon of satiny
clouds,

The afternoon of 2nd April was impeccably candid; as
even the most disastrously beleaguered of
conscience’s; irrefutably drifted towards the
corridors of unassailable truth,

The afternoon of 2nd April was exhilaratingly
adventurous; as torrentially frosty winds of
timelessness; ecstatically gushed past the
unsurpassably grandiloquent landscapes,

The afternoon of 2nd April was incredulously mystical;
as the endless undulations of the ravishing forests;
incessantly reverberated; with an ocean of melodious

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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The Beggar's Daughter of Bednall-Green

Part the First
Itt was a blind beggar, had long lost his sight,
He had a faire daughter of bewty most bright;
And many a gallant brave suiter had shee,
For none was soe comelye as pretty Bessee.

And though shee was of favor most faire,
Yett seing shee was but a poor beggars heyre,
Of ancyent housekeepers despised was shee,
Whose sonnes came as suitors to prettye Bessee.

Wherefore in great sorrow faire Bessy did say,
'Good father, and mother, let me goe away
To seeke out my fortune, whatever itt bee.'
This suite then they granted to prettye Bessee.

Then Bessy, that was of bewtye soe bright,
All cladd in gray russett, and late in the night
From father and mother alone parted shee,
Who sighed and sobbed for prettye Bessee.

Shee went till shee came to Stratford-le-Bow,
Then knew shee not whither, nor which way to goe;
With teares shee lamented her hard destinie,
So sadd and soe heavy was pretty Bessee.

Shee kept on her journey untill it was day,
And went unto Rumford along the hye way;
Where at the Queenes Armes entertained was shee,
Soe faire and wel favoured was pretty Bessee.

Shee had not beene there a month to an end,
But master and mistres and all was her friend;
And every brave gallant that once did her see
Was straight-way enamoured of pretty Bessee.

Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold,
And in their songs daylye her love was extold;
Her beawtye was blazed in every degree,
Soe faire and soe comelye was pretty Bessee.

The young men of Rumford in her had their joy;
Shee shewed herself courteous, and modestlye coye,
And at her commandment still wold they bee,
Soe fayre and so comelye was pretty Bessee.

Foure suitors att once unto her did goe,
They craved her favor, but still she sayd noe;
'I wild not wish gentles to marry with mee,-'
Yett ever they honored pretty Bessee.

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Pretty Boy

I lie awake at night
See things in black and white
I've only got you inside my mind
You know you have made me blind

I lie awake and pray
That you will look my way
I have all this longing in my heart
I knew it right from the start

Oh my pretty pretty boy I love you
Like I never ever loved no one before you
Pretty pretty boy of mine
Just tell me you love me too
Oh my pretty pretty boy
I need you
Oh my pretty pretty boy I do
Let me inside
Make me stay right beside you

I used to write your name
And put it in a frame
And sometime I think I hear you call
Right from my bedroom wall

You stay a little while
And touch me with your smile
And what can I say to make you mine
To reach out for you in time

Oh my pretty pretty boy I love you
Like I never ever loved no one before you
Pretty pretty boy of mine
Just tell me you love me too
Oh my pretty pretty boy
I need you
Oh my pretty pretty boy I do
Let me inside
Make me stay right beside you

[BRIDGE]
Oh pretty boy
Say you love me too

Oh my pretty pretty boy I love you
Like I never ever loved no one before you
Pretty pretty boy of mine
Just tell me you love me too
Oh my pretty pretty boy
I need you

[...] Read more

song performed by M2M from Shades Of Purple
Added by Lucian Velea
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Donn Piatt Of Mac-O-Chee

Donn Piatt--of Mac-o-chee,--
Not the one of History,
Who, with flaming tongue and pen,
Scathes the vanities of men;
Not the one whose biting wit
Cuts pretense and etches it
On the brazen brow that dares
Filch the laurel that it wears:
Not the Donn Piatt whose praise
Echoes in the noisy ways
Of the faction, onward led
By the statesman!--But, instead,
Give the simple man to me,--
Donn Piatt of Mac-o-chee!

II.

Donn Piatt of Mac-o-chee!
Branches of the old oak tree,
Drape him royally in fine
Purple shade and golden shine!
Emerald plush of sloping lawn
Be the throne he sits upon!
And, O Summer sunset, thou
Be his crown, and gild a brow
Softly smoothed and soothed and calmed
By the breezes, mellow-palmed
As Erata's white hand agleam
On the forehead of a dream.--
So forever rule o'er me,
Donn Piatt of Mac-o-chee!

III.

Donn Piatt of Mac-o-chee:
Through a lilied memory
Plays the wayward little creek
Round thy home at hide-and-seek--
As I see and hear it, still
Romping round the wooded hill,
Till its laugh-and-babble blends
With the silence while it sends
Glances back to kiss the sight,
In its babyish delight,
Ere it strays amid the gloom
Of the glens that burst in bloom
Of the rarest rhyme for thee,
Donn Piatt of Mac-o-chee!

[...] Read more

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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April 2031

They say the sky used to be blue
I don't quite believe it.
It's probably always been
the color that it is.
And there were cotton candy clouds.
And birds to fly through it.
Just stories we all love to tell our kids.
So I'll close my electronic door
And keep the cold outside.
And hug my aluminium pillow so tight.
And pray the radiation
doesn't make me sick tonight.
No more sky and no more trees.
April 2031
No more oxygen to breathe.
April 2031
No more hate and no more war.
April 2031
Nothing left worth fighting for.
April 2031.
They say there used to be a wind
that wasn't caused by fans
I wonder how it would have felt in my hair
And the nuclear ring
around the moon was caused by man
if it was, then it's much too late to care
So I'll put my safety goggles on
and gaze out at the sun
as the artificial atmostphere machines
give off a constant hum
in a world that's cold and peaceful, april 2031
No more sky and no more trees.
April 2031
No more oxygen to breathe.
April 2031
No more hate and no more war.
April 2031
Nothing left worth fighting for.
April 2031.
As far back as Veitnam,
we should have learned our lesson.
But we closed our eyes
and sent our sons away.
And they told us we were winning
as they sold more ammunition.
Some were angry,
most just looked the other way.
And the night's illuminated
by the endless glowing sand
that swallowed all the oceans

[...] Read more

song performed by Warrant
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pretty Polly

Polly wouldnt listen to her mama,
Polly wouldnt listen to her papa.
She tried to make the swinging city scene,
And now theres not a place that polly hasnt been.
Polly, pretty pretty pollyanna,
Pretty pretty pollyanna,
Pretty polly garter
Oh, I think that pretty polly should have stayed at home.
Pretty polly, dressed as jolly as can be,
Shes so darling, all the fellas do agree,
And half a million people cant be wrong,
Oh, I think that pretty polly should have stayed at home.
Polly wrote a letter to her mama,
Polly made confessions to her papa.
Mummys proud cause pollys still in chains
Shes happy now her babys coming home again.
Pretty polly, she learned that life is just a game,
She is sorry, she just had to break the chains.
And mama knows, cause mama was the same
Oh, shes happy now her babys coming home again.
Polly, pretty pretty pollyanna,
Pretty pretty pretty pretty pollyanna,
Pretty polly garter
Oh, polly, pretty pretty pollyanna,
Pretty pretty pretty pretty pollyanna,
Pretty polly garter
I think that pretty polly should have stayed at home.

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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Polly

Written by: R. D. Davies
Published by: Davray MusicCarlin Music Corp.
Chord file
Polly wouldn't listen to her Mama,
Polly wouldn't listen to her Papa.
She tried to make the swinging city scene,
And now there's not a place that Polly hasn't been.
Polly, pretty pretty Pollyanna,
Pretty pretty Pollyanna,
Pretty Polly Garter
Oh, I think that pretty Polly should have stayed at home.
Pretty Polly, dressed as jolly as can be,
She's so darling, all the fellas do agree,
And half a million people can't be wrong,
Oh, I think that pretty Polly should have stayed at home.
Polly wrote a letter to her Mama,
Polly made confessions to her Papa.
Mummy's proud 'cause Polly's still in chains
She's happy now her baby's coming home again.
Pretty Polly, she learned that life is just a game,
She is sorry, she just had to break the chains.
And Mama knows, 'cause Mama was the same
Oh, she's happy now her baby's coming home again.
Polly, pretty pretty Pollyanna,
Pretty pretty pretty pretty Pollyanna,
Pretty Polly Garter
Oh, Polly, pretty pretty Pollyanna,
Pretty pretty pretty pretty Pollyanna,
Pretty Polly Garter
I think that pretty Polly should have stayed at home.

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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Armenian Folk-Song--The Partridge

As beats the sun from mountain crest,
With 'pretty, pretty',
Cometh the partridge from her nest;
The flowers threw kisses sweet to her
(For all the flowers that bloomed knew her);
Yet hasteneth she to mine and me--
Ah! pretty, pretty;
Ah! dear little partridge!

And when I hear the partridge cry
So pretty, pretty,
Upon the house-top, breakfast I;
She comes a-chirping far and wide,
And swinging from the mountain side--
I see and hear the dainty dear!
Ah! pretty, pretty;
Ah! dear little partridge!

Thy nest's inlaid with posies rare.
And pretty, pretty
Bloom violet, rose, and lily there;
The place is full of balmy dew
(The tears of flowers in love with you!)
And one and all impassioned call;
'O pretty, pretty--
O dear little partridge!'

Thy feathers they are soft and sleek--
So pretty, pretty!
Long is thy neck and small thy breast;
The color of thy plumage far
More bright than rainbow colors are!
Sweeter than dove is she I love--
My pretty, pretty--
My dear little partridge!

When comes the partridge from the tree,
So pretty, pretty!
And sings her little hymn to me,
Why, all the world is cheered thereby--
The heart leaps up into the eye,
And echo then gives back again
Our 'Pretty, pretty,'
Our 'Dear little partridge!'

Admitting the most blest of all
And pretty, pretty,
The birds come with thee at thy call;
In flocks they come and round they play,
And this is what they seem to say--

[...] Read more

poem by Eugene Field
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I'm April the seventh

it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
with drops of rain beating my heart away
with drops of wine dried in my mouth
and tango I've just danced

it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
sitting in the dark room
after a head over heal night
and the tango I've just danced

it's April the seventh
I'm April the seventh
Lazarus's Saturday and children's bells
all tinkling across my street
all tinkling across my heart

it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
with a scarf around my neck
and high heels on my feet
and the tango I've just danced

it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
with a book I'm about to read
a cigarette I am about to smoke
and the tango I've just danced

it's April the seventh
I'm April the seventh
Lazarus's Saturday and children's bells
all tinkling across my street
all tinkling across my heart

it's April the seventh
and I'm April the seventh
with a kiss left on my left hand
feet shuffling all along the floor
and the tango I've just danced
all tinkling across my heart

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Apple Tree Greed

he has an apple a green apple
he is the only person in this room
with a green apple
suppose suppose NOW
he has MORE of those at home
WHY he has a GREEN APPLE tree
In his backyard no WAIT
He has a vineyard behind his chapeau
And he makes green apple wine
And he sells it to the BOONES FARM people
And they make BOONES FARM green apple wine
And the whole city is soon sick
The children ralf and barf and ralf again
There is no more end to the men
Drinking all the green apple wine
To make this ONE person rich
He never offered me any of his wine
Eyes never drink of alcoholic beverage
Eye have juices and tea and a soda please
I'm just full of good intentions
Picking green apples in my mind and eating way too many
Having a green apple with mye lunch of poetical decay
WAIT he left and YES he took the green apple core with him
Not leaving me a bite not wanting me to taste the pleasure
of his mite. Why eye understand him greedy is his name
the green apple hoarder has so many apples now his wine cellar is so full and his larders aer so rich he does save the stems and seeds to plant again in ground so rich and he chews on this green apple while he watches MTV in selfish hedonistacal revenge while eye have no green apple stuck between my teeth OH bliss oh strang decay my teeth at least aer happier today he took the core away he left me all alone im appleless today im happier to say no song is being sung of little apples of the green variety been hung oh see the tree how big its grown the apples have been lost too long and they fall in misery from branches of decay to rot to rot to rot upon the vineyard floor there is no apple wine no more the green variety is gone they drink it only read and red is the color of the wine in cups so full of color there in plates so heaped of agony with applesauces vailiantly piled higher then the sky.

poem by Parme Hice
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Pretty Thing

Think about the good things
Think about the bad things
Think about a reason to see you tonight
Something getting hard when you rock it up
Something getting hot when you rock it up
Pretty little girl let your sweet thing sway
Never gonna treat you wrong
Tie you down pretend youre madonna
Never gonna treat you wrong
Oh you pretty thing
Shake your pretty thing
Gimmee that pretty thing
Think about the love thing
Think about the sex thing
Think about you holding me, taking me down
Something getting hard when you rock it up
Something getting hot when you rock it up
Pretty little girl let your sweet thing sway
Never gonna do you wrong
Strip you down and take you to pieces
Always gonna love this song
Oh you pretty thing
Feel that pretty thing
Suck that pretty thing
Pretty pretty pretty girl
La la la la la la la
Hey hey
Gimmie love
Pretty girl
Oh you pretty thing
Shake that pretty thing
Give me that pretty thing
Oh pretty thing
Give me that pretty thing
Shake that pretty thing
Give me that pretty thing
Oh you pretty thing
Shake that pretty thing
Heal that pretty thing

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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Apple Cobbler

Track: Apple Cobbler
Artist: LL Cool J
Guest Artists:
Album: The DEFinition
------------------------------------------------------
Lyrics:
INTRO
Uh
Uh
Uh
Uh huh
Uh
Uh
That joint is hot baby
VERSE 1
Lights, Camera, Action hold up
You know my style I been blowed up
Paper was young now it is growed up
Stack so big its hard to fold up
Yo D find another rubber band in the truck
Count up the money Ima stand in the cut
Stroll in the party I toast cris up
Tell Vladmir hook the guest list up
Shake that cookie like what like what
Toss me rapper like lightning struck
Look at that apple cobbler butt
What you wanna do
What you think wont cut
NBA Live in my truck
Parking lot like all jammed up
If theres beef its best you duck
Im gonna eat it Im fulled up
HOOK
Give it to me
That Apple Cobbler
Better yet
Can I see
That Apple Pie
Give it to me
That apple cobbler
Better yet
Can I get
Can I get it deep fried
VERSE 2
So much sugar is making my head rush
Tell me what the recipe is for that stuff
Break me off a piece of crust
Im so full Im bout to bust
Just one slice is not enough
Dang that thing tight like handcuffs

[...] Read more

song performed by LL Cool J
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pretty Girls

Here she comes just a-walk just just a-walkin down the street
Singin down do be do do wop a do do wop
Singin down do be do do wop a do do wop
See the pretty pretty pretty girls in the street
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
See them walkin with their pretty shoes on their feet
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
I took a walk round the market down town
Taking it easy just to see what I could find
I found the girls there, long legs and blond hair
All getting set to make a mess out of my mind
Hey! eyes left!
See the pretty pretty pretty girls in the street
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
See them walkin with their pretty shoes on their feet
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
I got my heart burnt, you know where I hurt
They say the miniskirt is coming back in style
I say its not fair but what do they care
When youve got power then you use it for a while
Hey! eyes right!
See the pretty pretty pretty girls in the street
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
See them walkin with their pretty shoes on their feet
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
God, if youre up there, listen to my prayer
In future man should have a different design
Give him a switch so he can turn off his libido now
Give him a tranquilizer built into his mind
Hey! eyes right!
See the pretty pretty pretty girls in the street
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
See them walkin with their pretty shoes on their feet
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
Dont talk to me about womens liberation
They already got their right just where it hurts
Now here she comes just a-walk just a-walkin down the street
Singin down do be do do wop a do do wop
Singin down do be do do wop a do do wop
See the pretty pretty pretty girls in the street
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
See them walkin with their pretty shoes on their feet
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop

song performed by Joe Jackson
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Shadows Fell

April was a lovely girl, her warmth was in her eyes
And she and I would walk within the calm of clear blue skies
Too short our time together, and what time consisted of
I knew her well, the shadows fell
See, April was my love...

A young man then, I knew the things a young man knows
But somehow lost it all with age, I guess that's how it goes
But April understood, and in time revealed to me
Reflection, my direction
And what April was to be...

She became to me the way to love's soothing caress
The answers to all questions, life and love, were met with yes
All that April showed to me, my heart still now believes
To take her place, her smiling face
April love, my heart still grieves...

Our time together had the look, forever on it's face
The hands of time stood still for us, in arm, and sweet embrace
It wasn't meant to be for us, nor I to have the sound
But she was singing, bells were ringing
As she felt the darkened ground...

Too soon my April left me, to some higher plane I'm sure
To wait for me to come someday, and reminisce with her
To tell me why each tear was lost, each April that I cried
As love turned to loss, inside the cross
When my April died...

Winter's breath blows hard upon her memory now
But I remember April, springtime love and lifetime vow
Sometimes I can feel her touch, and feel the gentle breeze
The days and nights, the wrongs the rights
There are many thoughts of these...

Many years ago now, April's love had held my heart
Too many days, and nights spent now without, but not apart
And I would trade my todays, for yesterday to be...
With April once again, and back to when
April was my love, you see.......

poem by Dino Evans
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Sweet Sour Apple Bites

Orchard of apple and variety
Here you come, the apples lover
Come sing and praise like always
'Shining around the skin
Your colour is my favorite apple
The fresh one
So is your taste'

Apples smile and sing
'If i am green
A sweet sour love
Bite one, bite two
Bite still
Taste me my apples lover
Taste my sweet sour love
I'm green and sour
Pluck me bite me my lover'

The hunter replies
Bite one and some
Tasted your sour love
Bite still because i am the apple lover'

Apples smile continue the song
'If i am red apple
Sweet and moist
Bite one, then two
Bite more
Taste my sweet life
I'm red and taste nice
Bite one bite some
Taste me sweet you will like it'

'Green or Red
Bite sweet or bite sour
I must love you my apples
simply because...
I am the true apple lover'
Explained hunter

Sweet red or sour green
Sugar rich energy will reach your heart sooner
Running in your blood and pump the beat so dear
'O apples my dear i grow you in orchard to be with me so near'
Confessed by gardener, before apple answered
'You work hard and love so sincere, will fruit you love every year'

Bite one, sweet or sour everyday
Promise keeps you away from doctor
Bite one Bite some Bite all say the lover

[...] Read more

poem by Unwritten Soul
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Woman Is Fire

There was a time when Woman went out of house, house of wax was left by Woman, Woman with waxen complexion I was, I was fiery Woman, Woman's body was a wax, Woman's eyes a flammable paraffin, what Woman's mouth was: withered red apples when Woman was fired out of house. House was invisible when Woman took a fire lamp and went to cheer in the smell of fallen apples, scattered around house, our moldy house. In the cold night Woman molded her body in a candle mould to revive old fire and saw Man that gathered apple stalks from moldy apple trees. It was a lonely man, Man that made a fire with waxed paper and moldering apple stalks. Man that sat outdoors on a moldy wooden bench by that fire and drunk applejack.
Woman saw Man, Man that felt Woman's looks through apple shaped embers bursting out of fire when wet apple leaves dried. Fire was a necessity for Man, for Man made his living being a fire-eater. The fire-eater wanted fire that gives birth, of fireworks, exploding fire. Man moved a long green apple stalk through fire to burn fire more. Man took a dropp and swallowed it. Man took another dropp and spat it into the fire. Suddenly Man realized what he needed and waxed on a piece of paper: fire must drink applejack for fire is becoming moldy, and he spat what he drunk mingled with apple-tasting spit. House is moldy too, Woman remembered and woman's heart became a rotten apple.. Fire was quenching as Woman closed her eyelids, apple peels, longing for house. House may be moldy, but house is not empty. Woman molded house the like, house full of candle lights and fireflies. Woman left Man's fire quenched and remained an apple scented candle. House melts easily and hardens quickly, Woman too. Woman abandoned Man not to be melt. That is old fire in Woman, as she stalks on apple waxed earth toward house.

poem by Afrodita Nikolova
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