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I love playing the vamp, and I get sent out for a lot of that stuff, maybe because I do it well.

quote by Jamie Luner
Added by Lucian Velea
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Give and Free It Up On The Rough Stuff

When I was hard,
It wasn't enough.
The sensitive and warm nice guy,
I had to give with no hint of the tough stuff.

I was the one who supplied the tenderness,
With touches.
Supplied I did the sweet kisses too!
You want it tough and rough and ready,
Through the weekends.
And all week until we get through too!

The sensitive and warm nice guy,
I had to be with no hint of the tough stuff.
You want it tough and rough and ready,
Through the weekends.
And all week until we get through too!

You've got to give and free it up on the rough stuff.
I like to get it and receive it with a tender touch.
I like to feel it getting heated with a whispered love.
I like to get it and receive it with a tender touch.
I like to feel it getting heated with a whispered love.
You've got to give and free it up on the rough stuff.

Free it up to give it up!
That rough stuff.
Free it up to give it up!
That rough stuff.
Free it up to give it up!
That rough stuff.
That rough stuff.
That rough stuff.

You've got to give and free it up on the rough stuff.
I like to get it and receive it with a tender touch.
I like to feel it getting heated with a whispered love.
I like to get it and receive it with a tender touch.
I like to feel it getting heated with a whispered love.
You've got to give and free it up on the rough stuff.

I was the one who supplied the tenderness,
With touches.
Supplied I did sweet kisses too!
You want it tough and rough and ready,
Through the weekends.
And all week until we get through too!

You've got to give and free it up on the rough stuff.
You've got to give and free it up on the rough stuff.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Synergy of Love

'Were you honed from poetry? '
I asked your saddened smile.
For it seems to tell a longing tale -
One of words in oratory
That speaks in languid metaphors
From lips of mind in deep despair
And solitude from inner wars
That over time has rendered life so frail.

'Were you carved from doleful prose? '
I sought to ask your gaze,
For a pain lies deep within your eyes -
One of barren territory
Where no fair heart could ever drift
And hope to venture back content
With grateful memories in a gift -
A land of your affectional demise.

'Do I hear a mournful hum? '
I wondered of your cry,
For it sings a song of deep lament -
One of quiet soliloquy
Recited on deserted strands
To waves that have no sense of song
And only wish to fight the sands -
A chant that cites emotional descent.

Do you know your face portrays
The colours of your soul?
It tells me at a single glance
Of how you burned your furnace whole
To stay the fire in our romance.

And see the prismic hues they bore!
I cherished all I ever saw:
Mauve of mystic; browns of rustic;
Reddened tones to match your blush;
Marine of passion, spending out your being,
Leaving you for ashen embers, fleeing
The dying light in hush of night.
And how you lay there empty.

So let me help re-grow the flowers
Once erect in fiery showers!
For now I've seen what love can do
When torn asunder - oh my catastrophic blunder!

But we must realise -
Our flaming want is meant to be!
We are the ocean and the sea;

[...] Read more

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Forsaking My Love

I hate you
I wish to tear you away from me
This tumor that clings to my chest
The thing that makes me ache
That haunts my dreams
And tears at my desires
You have brought me only pain
My untamed heart
That beast that gnaws at my soul
That pitifully whines
Bringing my mind into unwanted pain
Yet how can I blame you
How can I chastise you when I listen intently to your pleas
Why should I punish you for what my eyes feed upon
How can I blame my eyes for falling upon her
She who brings light to the eternal darkness of my soul
She whose eyes bring me to subjection
Whose smile leaves me in awe
How can I blame you when my ears are met with her laughter
How they submerge into her song
How they quiver at her voice
Why should I punish you for inclining my soul
Tempting it with the one sense that has been forsaken by her
How could I look over the thought of the brushing of lips
The touching of hands
The binding of the soul, mind, and body
O you wretched heart
What am I to do with this constant companion
How could I tear you away
When she is the cause of my agony
Or rather
It is the lack of her which brings me sorrow
It is the need for her that leaves my heart in pain
Yet she is not mine
She was never mine
She will never be mine
O my poor heart
How can I make you see reason
When all you do is show me the truth

love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love

[...] Read more

poem by Michael Silver
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Virginia's Story

Elizabeth Gates-Wooten is my Grand mom.

She was born in Canada with her father and brothers.
They owned a Barber Shoppe.
I don't remember exactly where in Canada.
I believe it was right over the border like Windsor or Toronto.
I never knew exactly where it was.

When she was old enough she got married.

First, she married a man by the name of Frank Gates.
He was from Madagascar.
He fathered my mom and her brother and sister.
The boy's name was Frank Gates, Jr.
Two girls name were Anna and Agnes.

Agnes was my mother.

Frank Gates went crazy after the war
He drank a lot and died
Then grandma Elizabeth married a man by the name of Mr. Wooten.
He had a German name, but I don't think he was German.
She took his last name after they got married.

Then they moved to West Virginia in the United States.

Their son, Frank Gates Jr. Became a delegate in the democratic party.
He use to get into a lot of trouble because he liked to fight.
He was a delegate from the 1940's to 1970's.
He died of gout in the 1970's.

Anna was a maid and cook.

She baked cakes and stuff for people as a side line.
She had a hump on her back (scoliosis) .
She had to walk with a cane.
She could cook good though.
She did this kind of work all of her life, just like her mom, Elizabeth

They were both good cooks

They had a lot of money because they had these skills
Especially when people had parties.
Because they would make all of this food and then they would have left-overs.
We got to eat a lot of stuff we normally wouldn't get because of that.
When they cooked, they didn't use no measuring stuff, they would just use there hand.

My moms name was Agnes Barrie Gates.

She married James Wright and moved to Cleveland.

[...] Read more

poem by Talile Ali
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Rot Stuff

Sittin' here eatin' my heart out waitin'
Waitin' for this funeral to end
Dug up about a thousand graves lately
My tastes are what some might call
A little more then just off the wall

Lookin' for some rot stuff baby this evenin'
I need some rot stuff baby tonight
I want some rot stuff baby this evenin'
Gotta have some rot stuff
Gotta have your corpse tonight
Rot stuff
I need rot stuff
I want some rot stuff

Lookin' for a lover who's 6 feet under
Don' t want another night on my own
Wanna share my fetish with a cold blooded lover
Wanna bring a dead man back home

Gotta have some rot stuff baby this evenin'
I need some rot stuff baby tonight
I want some rot stuff baby this evenin'
Gotta have something cold
Gotta have something rotting under me tonight
I need rot stuff
Cold rot
Lookin' for cold rot

Rot, rot, rot, rot stuff
Rot, rot, rot
Rot, rot, rot, rot stuff
Rot, rot, rot

How's about some rot stuff baby this evenin'
I need some rot stuff baby tonight
Gimme a little rot stuff this evenin'
Rot stuff baby
Gonna need your corpse tonight
Rot stuff
I need something cold and rotting
Lookin' for some rot stuff
Wanna make love to a dead man tonight

Sittin' here eatin' my heart out
No more listening to this funeral march can I do
Won't waste another night or moment on my own
I've dug up about a hundred graves baby
I'm bound to find somebody as horny as I am tonight

[...] Read more

poem by Ramona Thompson
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Mary had a Little Vamp and Other Parodies after Sarah Josepha HALE

Mary had a little vamp,
whose teeth glowed white as snow,
each night from sightly vent – no cramp -
the crimson droplets flow.

Some followed her from school one day;
though stalking's 'gainst the rules;
it made goose pimples grow and stay
to see them play at ghouls.

But they were caught, their tale remains
from history well hid,
though we discovered their remains
beneath oak coffin lid.

And so blood flowed from inside out,
none dared to lingered near
when shadows shiver, hang about
until Vamps disappear.

'Why does the Vamp love Mary so? '
the eager children cry;
'Why, Mary loves the Vamp, you know, '
the teacher did reply.

Sleep-overs followed, - little Vamp
A, B, AB, O, drew
by light of Mary’s lurid lamp
new haemoglobulu.

Thus vampire Vlad made Mary glad
hark! men well-read may read,
from kid school lad to college grad, -
mark then welt's red fey bead.

He wore a scarlet cape to match
sweet Mary’s ruddy lips,
attached thereto a cup to catch
the rhesus drips he sips.

No fly-by-night awed Mary’s Vamp,
he could fear blend at need,
though sky high flight soared scary champ -
we here end batty screed.

© Jonathan Robin parody written 3 May 2007 revised 3 September 2008 - for previous version see below

Mary had a little vamp,
whose teeth were white as snow,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Luv Your Stuff

(myles goodwyn)
Published by mfg sing sing music/socan - ascap
Everytime I get restless, I see my hand knockin on your door
And everytime Im in a fix baby, I start actin like I need you more
Well Ive been lookin for someone to talk to
And Ive been searchin for a better way
And Ive been runnin all over town, girl
Ive been lookin each and every way, yeah
But you got somethin special
And Im bein on the level with you
You got that thing that moves me, yeah
(great stuff, luv your stuff), mmm, I luv your stuff
(great stuff, luv your stuff), at five oclock in the morning
(great stuff, luv your stuff), still cant get enough
(great stuff, luv your stuff)
Livin like a fool in flames
You know that I been usin you, girl
And Im the one to blame
But babe, I got my cupboards all stocked and ready
What you get girl, is what you see
And youve been lookin inside my head now
And you got your arms wrapped around me, mmm
I got no thing for our candy
Its your lovin girl, that gets me down
You got that thing that moves me, yeah
(great stuff, luv your stuff), ooh, I luv your stuff
(great stuff, luv your stuff), send the bill in the morning
(great stuff, luv your stuff), I luv your stuff
(great stuff, luv your stuff), get busy
I got no sense of reason, I know I gotta make a deal
Its all comin down to somethin baby, its tellin me I got to get real, huh
I got my senses in a tuft, Im all mixed up, my temperatures starting to rise
And I cant seem to stay away from you, girl, I think its more than we realized, yeah
Wont you look what its doin
Its your lovin girl, that gets me down
You got that thing that moves me, yeah
(great stuff, luv your stuff), ooh, I luv your stuff
(great stuff, luv your stuff), Ill pay the price in the morning
(great stuff, luv your stuff), ooh, I luv your stuff
(great stuff, luv your stuff)

song performed by April Wine
Added by Lucian Velea
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Her...

I can never get my mind off her,
I wonder if she'd mind if i'd,
make her my own,
and never let her go,
hug her tight,
treat her right,
act all polite,
take her on a date,
make sure i'm never late,
kiss her on her lips,
talk about our kids,
Make her feel like princess,
living in a castle,
hope that is not too much hassle,
But i am so blessed,
hope i can be the best,
hold you tight,
have your BR3A$t,
on my chest,
pass the test,
NOW YOUR MINE!

sorry for word spamming: (

love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love love

poem by Jordan Moore
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Hot Stuff

(coverdale)
Im ready for you,
Are you ready for me
Ive got a burning heart,
It wont let me be
I feel the hunger, my spirit yearns,
Ive got to feed the fever
Of a love that burns
I walk the street round midnight,
Looking for a little hot stuff,
I cant get enuff,
I just cant get enuff, hot stuff,
Hot stuff, hot stuff
Im hard to handle,
Too hot to hold
I cant seem to satisfy
My heart an soul
I need a woman to set me free,
A little miss understanding
To feel the need in me
I walk the street round midnight,
Looking for a little hot stuff,
I cant get enuff,
I just cant get enuff, hot stuff,
Cant get enuff, hot stuff,
I just cant get enuff, hot stuff,
Cant get enuff
Im ready for you,
Are you ready for me
Ive got a burning heart,
It wont let me be
I feel the hunger, my spirit yearns,
Ive got to feed the fever
Of a love that burns
I walk the street round midnight
Looking for a little hot stuff,
I cant get enuff,
I just cant get enuff, hot stuff,
Cant get enuff, hot stuff,
Cant get enuff, hot stuff,
Hot stuff, hot stuff,
Hot stuff, hot stuff,
Hot stuff, hot stuff,
Hot stuff, hot stuff,
I just cant get enuff, hot stuff,
I just cant get enuff, hot stuff,
Cant get enuff, hot stuff,
I just cant get enuff, hot stuff
Hot stuff, cant get enuff hot stuff...

song performed by Whitesnake
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ruffled Up

I'm gonna beat this stuff.
This stuff that's got me ruffled up!

I'm gonna beat this stuff.
Because I'm tough enough.

I'm gonna beat this stuff.
This stuff that's got me ruffled up!

I'm gotta beat it.
Since I can't leave it.
To grieve over weeping.
And compare my pains.

I'm gonna beat this stuff.
This stuff that's got me ruffled up!

I'm gonna beat this stuff.
Yes!
I'm gonna beat this stuff.
Yes!

I'm gonna beat this stuff.
This stuff that's got me ruffled up!

I'm gonna beat this stuff.
Yes!
I'm gonna beat this stuff.
Yes!
I'm gonna beat this stuff.
That's got me ruffled up!

I've had it,
With this stuff.
Too many,
Suffer enough.
And too much stuff that corrupts...
Is,
Enough!

I've had it,
With this stuff.
Too many,
Suffer enough.
And too much stuff that corrupts...
Is,
Enough!

I'm gonna beat this stuff.
Yes!

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bitter Blow of Love

Love! you dealt a bitter blow –
You lay me cross the mortal plains,
Bedewed, bedimmed amongst a show
Of tearful clouds: eternal rains
To weep at my enduring foe

Of harsh reality – searing pains of
Destiny: dependable propensity
To fool myself repeatedly
That I could ever triumph over love!

Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009

[...] Read more

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Hard Hearted Hannah

In old Savannah
I said Savannah
The weather there is nice and warm
The climate's of a southern brand
But here's what I don't understand
They've got a gal there
A pretty gal there
Who's colder than an artic storm
Got a heart just like a stone
Even nice men leave her alone
They call her "hard hearted Hannah"
The vamp of Savannah
The meanest gal in town
Leather is tough, but Hannah's heart is tougher
She's a gal who loves to see men suffer
To tease them and thrill 'em
To torture and kill 'em
Is her delight they say
I saw her at the seashore with a great big pan
There was Hannah pourin' water on a drownin' man
She's hard hearted Hannah
The vamp of Savannah, G-A
The call her "hard hearted Hannah"
The vamp of Savannah
The meanest gal in town
Talk of your cold, refridgerating mamas
Brotha she's a polar bear's pajamas
To tease them and thrill 'em
To torture and kill 'em
Is her delight they say
An evening spent with Hannah sitting on your knees
Is like travelin' through Alaska in your BVDs
She's hard hearted Hannah
The vamp of Savannah, G-A
Can you imagine a woman as cold as Hannah?
She's got the right name "the vamp of Savannah"
Anytime a woman can take a great big pan
Start pourin' water on a drownin' man
She's hard hearted Hannah
The vamp of Savannah, G-A
Spoken: Ooh! She's sweet as sour milk.

song performed by Ella Fitzgerald
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dumb Stuff

A flop I did do!
I was a rookie when I hooked up,
To the dumb stuff.
I was a rookie when I hooked up,
To the dumb stuff.
I was a rookie when I hooked up,
To the dumb stuff.
With a giving as much of it up!

I let it done to overcome,
All the dumb stuff.
I let it done to overcome,
All the dumb stuff.
I let it done to overcome,
All the dumb stuff.
With a giving as much of it up!

A flop I did do.
At times I hated when I found out,
It was dumb stuff.
At times I hated when I found out,
It was dumb stuff.
At times I hated when I found out,
It was dumb stuff.
With a giving as much of it up!

A flop I did do,
To help improve my movements.
Yes a flop I did do.
A flop I did do.

Oh yes a flop I did do.
To help improve my movements.
Yes a flop I did do.
A flop I did do.

I was a rookie when I hooked up,
To the dumb stuff.
I let it done to overcome,
All the dumb stuff.
At times I hated when I found out,
It was dumb stuff.
But that dumb stuff finally helped me wake up!

All the dumb stuff,
That I did I chose to give up!
All the dumb stuff,
That I did I chose to give up!
And it was dumb stuff...
That I did I chose to give up!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Gareth And Lynette

The last tall son of Lot and Bellicent,
And tallest, Gareth, in a showerful spring
Stared at the spate. A slender-shafted Pine
Lost footing, fell, and so was whirled away.
'How he went down,' said Gareth, 'as a false knight
Or evil king before my lance if lance
Were mine to use--O senseless cataract,
Bearing all down in thy precipitancy--
And yet thou art but swollen with cold snows
And mine is living blood: thou dost His will,
The Maker's, and not knowest, and I that know,
Have strength and wit, in my good mother's hall
Linger with vacillating obedience,
Prisoned, and kept and coaxed and whistled to--
Since the good mother holds me still a child!
Good mother is bad mother unto me!
A worse were better; yet no worse would I.
Heaven yield her for it, but in me put force
To weary her ears with one continuous prayer,
Until she let me fly discaged to sweep
In ever-highering eagle-circles up
To the great Sun of Glory, and thence swoop
Down upon all things base, and dash them dead,
A knight of Arthur, working out his will,
To cleanse the world. Why, Gawain, when he came
With Modred hither in the summertime,
Asked me to tilt with him, the proven knight.
Modred for want of worthier was the judge.
Then I so shook him in the saddle, he said,
"Thou hast half prevailed against me," said so--he--
Though Modred biting his thin lips was mute,
For he is alway sullen: what care I?'

And Gareth went, and hovering round her chair
Asked, 'Mother, though ye count me still the child,
Sweet mother, do ye love the child?' She laughed,
'Thou art but a wild-goose to question it.'
'Then, mother, an ye love the child,' he said,
'Being a goose and rather tame than wild,
Hear the child's story.' 'Yea, my well-beloved,
An 'twere but of the goose and golden eggs.'

And Gareth answered her with kindling eyes,
'Nay, nay, good mother, but this egg of mine
Was finer gold than any goose can lay;
For this an Eagle, a royal Eagle, laid
Almost beyond eye-reach, on such a palm
As glitters gilded in thy Book of Hours.
And there was ever haunting round the palm
A lusty youth, but poor, who often saw

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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True Confession

1
Today, recovering from influenza,
I begin, having nothing worse to do,
This autobiography that ends a
Half of my life I'm glad I'm through.
O Love, what a bloody hullaballoo
I look back at, shaken and sober,
When that intemperate life I view
From this temperate October.
To nineteen hundred and forty-seven
I pay the deepest of respects,
For during this year I was given
Some insight into the other sex.
I was a victim, till forty-six,
Of the rosy bed with bitches in it;
But now, in spite of all pretexts,
I never sleep a single minute.

O fellow sailor on the tossing sea,
O fleeting virgin in the night,
O privates, general in lechery,
Shun, shun the bedroom like a blight:
Evade, O amorous acolyte,
That pillow where your heart can bury -
For if the thing was stood upright
It would become a cemetery.

I start with this apostrophe
To all apostles of true love:
With your devotion visit me,
Give me the glory of the dove
That dies of dereliction. Give
True love to me, true love to me,
And in two shakes I will prove
It's false to you and false to me.

Bright spawner, on your sandbank dwell
Coldblooded as a plumber's pipe -
The procreatory ocean swell
Warming, till they're over ripe,
The cockles of your cold heart, will
Teach us true love can instil
Temperature into any type.

Does not the oyster in its bed
Open a yearning yoni when
The full moon passes overhead
Feeling for pearls? O nothing, then,
Too low a form of life is, when
Love, abandoning the cloister,

[...] Read more

poem by George Barker
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Thanks A Lot, Mom

Thanks a Lot, Mom

Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for loving me to no end.
Thanks for being my loving mother.
Thanks for being my thoughtful friend.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for feeding me and giving me a home.
Thanks for clothing me and holding me tight.
Thanks for caring when I felt alone.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for always making me smile.
Thanks for giving me the extra push.
Thanks for going that extra mile.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for living with no regrets.
Thanks for being the life of the party.
Thanks for going all in on bets.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for being my inspiration.
Thanks for helping me with my homework.
Thanks for giving me motivation.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for treating me with respect.
Thanks for knowing I'm growing up.
Thanks for knowing what to expect.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for kicking me while I was down.
Thanks for telling me I'm a liar.
Thanks for knowing what comes around.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for giving me my many scars.
Thanks for making me feel at home.
Thanks for breaking my aching heart.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for taking away my friends.
Thanks for taking away my family.
Thanks for not having to pretend.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for kicking me out of my home.
Thanks for calling me cheap and attention-seeking.
Thanks for putting me out on my own.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for ripping away my Brett.
Thanks for saying you don't remember.
Thanks for saying I should forget.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for believing your husband over your kid.
Thanks for rewarding him for a crime.
Thanks for punishing me for what he did.

[...] Read more

poem by Rebecca Paul
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Machismo

Sampled:
He's into that, that spiritual stuff
My brother's into, my brother's into
He's into that, that spiritual stuff
He's into that, that spiritual stuff
He's into that, that spiritual stuff
It's serious, man
He's into that, that spiritual stuff
He's into that, that spiritual stuff
He's into that, that spiritual stuff
It's serious, man
I seen a movie on it
He's into that, that spiritual stuff
Gomez:
Come around my way, toast the angels
He don't do what it's from, dat ain't right
Sampled:
He's into that, that spiritual stuff
He's into that, that spiritual stuff
He's into that, that spiritual stuff
It's serious, man
He's into that, that spiritual stuff
He's into that, that spiritual stuff
He's into that, that spiritual stuff
It's serious, man
I seen a movie on it
He's into that, that spiritual stuff
Gomez:
Come around my way, toast the angels
He don't do what it from, dat ain't right
Come around my way, toast the angels
He don't do what it from, and dat ain't right
He don't do what it from, and dat ain't right
So come around my way, toast the angels
He don't do what it from, and dat ain't right
He don't do what it from, and dat ain't right

song performed by Gomez
Added by Lucian Velea
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Shudder/king Of Snake

Kkking of snake
King of snake
Kkking of snake
Kkking of snake
Kkking of snake
Kkking of snake
Snake
Snake
Snake
Snake
24 hours with the king of snake
Kkking of snake
Dogman and the king of snake
Im on a boast and the king of snake
Dogman and the king of snake
King of snake race
Im on a boast and the king of snake
Dogman and the king of snake
Im on a boast and the king of snake
24 hours with the king of snake
Daily daily daily daily to dream like
Tom and jerry thing
And drink drink drink
And you go ping
Daily daily daily daily to dream like
Tom and jerry thing
And drink drink drink drink
And you go ping
Heat that stuff enough
Right
That stuff enough
Right
That stuff enough
Right [x4]
That stuff enough
Snake
Drink that stuff enough
Right
That stuff enough
Right
That stuff enougha
Right [x4]
That stuff enough
Right
Daily daily daily daily to dream like
Tom and jerry thing
And drink drink drink
And you go ping
Daily daily daily daily to dream like
Tom and jerry thing

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song performed by Underworld
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Victories Of Love. Book II

I
From Jane To Her Mother

Thank Heaven, the burthens on the heart
Are not half known till they depart!
Although I long'd, for many a year,
To love with love that casts out fear,
My Frederick's kindness frighten'd me,
And heaven seem'd less far off than he;
And in my fancy I would trace
A lady with an angel's face,
That made devotion simply debt,
Till sick with envy and regret,
And wicked grief that God should e'er
Make women, and not make them fair.
That he might love me more because
Another in his memory was,
And that my indigence might be
To him what Baby's was to me,
The chief of charms, who could have thought?
But God's wise way is to give nought
Till we with asking it are tired;
And when, indeed, the change desired
Comes, lest we give ourselves the praise,
It comes by Providence, not Grace;
And mostly our thanks for granted pray'rs
Are groans at unexpected cares.
First Baby went to heaven, you know,
And, five weeks after, Grace went, too.
Then he became more talkative,
And, stooping to my heart, would give
Signs of his love, which pleased me more
Than all the proofs he gave before;
And, in that time of our great grief,
We talk'd religion for relief;
For, though we very seldom name
Religion, we now think the same!
Oh, what a bar is thus removed
To loving and to being loved!
For no agreement really is
In anything when none's in this.
Why, Mother, once, if Frederick press'd
His wife against his hearty breast,
The interior difference seem'd to tear
My own, until I could not bear
The trouble. 'Twas a dreadful strife,
And show'd, indeed, that faith is life.
He never felt this. If he did,
I'm sure it could not have been hid;
For wives, I need not say to you,

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poem by Coventry Patmore
Added by Poetry Lover
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Trouble With The Sweet Stuff

(wanna give it up
Gotta give it up
Cant give it up)
Oh mama oh oh
The moneys run out
And Im a hungry man
Oh mama oooo
You see
I--Im a--hurtin man
I was just a boy
When they told me
God love ya
Youre insane
Here I am
Pistol in my hand
Judge and jury
One the same
I got
Trouble with the sweet stuff oh yeah
I got
Trouble with the sweet stuff oh yeah
And Im never ever gonna shake it
Shake it
Trouble with the sweet stuff
Trouble with the sweet stuff
Bang bang
They shot me down
Caught me
Robbing the bank again
Say Im crazy
Im a desperate man
Nah right (cmon)
Daddys in the junk shop
Alley babe
Tryin to some that stuff
I said
I cant believe it (ooh give it up)
Trouble with the sweet stuff oh yeah
I got
Trouble with the sweet stuff
And Im never
Ever gonna shake it
Shake it
Dont wanna give it up
Dont wanna give it up
Yeah
Shake it
Gotta give it up
Dont wanna give it up
Dont wanna give it up

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song performed by Billy Idol
Added by Lucian Velea
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