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Being fit will keep you mentally sharp and people forget that.

quote by Peter Shilton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mentally Mad

[ced] with the power ammunition
[kool] bombs and hand grenades
[ced] are concealed
[kool] to blow your ? up
[ced] distort your blood vessels
[both] with treble, dissolvin human skin
Into liquid, flaming acid
As we enter your skull, cause we're mental
Mentally mad!
[ced] aiyyo keith, i know you tired of all this
("i'm tryin to tell you now!")
But tell me son, how mentally deranged are you?
[kool keith]
I'm like a sniper, when unloadin my gun
I got the suckers paranoid and they're on the run
To the next corner, while i shoot up a forest
Out of nowhere, bullets coming your way
Just duck, grab your girl and sway
I'm aimin, i'm searchin for the brain
That i need to destruct any lyric combined
As well as designed
To behold, and tell the untold
I'm crazy, destructive any radical
I love static, i got a automatic
If a sucker don't believe, touch my pocket
Padding, just feel the steel barrel
Please look out, and watch your next cookout
While i stake out, and find a person to rust
Cause i'm mental, mentally mad!
[ced gee]
Just like a timebomb, i blow up your arm
Alarm -- check it
And when a sucker ask to battle me, i'm very calm
Manipulated plans, to blow away you germs
A term, that i use like glue
To confuse, plus move you
More and more, to the level of a black hole
In space, as i, proceed to erase
And alleviate, furthermore dictate, my pace
Of pressure, which crush the human skull
Into mess, there's no contest
I'm ?, and nevertheless i'm mental
Mentally mad!
I'm mental!
Son, i'm mentally mad!
Mental!
Mentally mad!
[kool keith]
Well i'm a revolutionist, with skills to malcolm x
To improve my intellect, while another man checks

[...] Read more

song performed by Ultramagnetic Mc's
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Ghost - Book IV

Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,
Affect those pleasures to despise,
Which, merely to the eye confined,
Bring no improvement to the mind,
Rail at all pomp; they would not go
For millions to a puppet-show,
Nor can forgive the mighty crime
Of countenancing pantomime;
No, not at Covent Garden, where,
Without a head for play or player,
Or, could a head be found most fit,
Without one player to second it,
They must, obeying Folly's call,
Thrive by mere show, or not at all
With these grave fops, who, (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought,
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Insured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not (Heaven forbid it!) waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why;
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams,
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding, objects force,
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen;
When I say Wit, I Wisdom mean)
Where (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.
Not such as those, who physic twirl,
Full fraught with death, from every curl;

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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Fit In

Written by kim wilde
Fit in, fit in
Im spending nights just dreaming
And playing the music loud
Theyre banging on the ceiling
Theyre praying that Ill soon be out
I almost thought of leaving
Get away from the glares and their unfriendly stares
And now Im all alone
And the telephone teases and dares
Ill get away from them all (oh oh)
So pride comes before a fall
But Im not for giving in
Fit in, fit in
Theyre kicking up a storm in ...
Some strange place they know out of town
Why wont I go along there
Its crazy theyre all doing it now
But right now its the last place
That I wanna see - its my way to be free
And Im getting bored
Of the way they expect me to be
You gotta be, you gotta be
Ill get away from them all (oh oh)
So pride comes before a fall
But Im not for giving in
Fit in, fit in
Fit in, fit in
Im holding on so tightly
But I dont want to take any more
cos what they say just bites me
And gets to me down to the core
A ring and kids invite me
Or a house and a home
And a car and a phone
And a video
Wont they ever leave it alone
You gotta ring, you gotta ring
Ill get away from them all (oh oh)
So pride comes before a fall
But Im not for giving in
I wont fit in, fit in
I dont fit in, fit in
I dont fit in, fit in
I dont fit in, fit in
Oh no, I dont fit in, fit in

song performed by Kim Wilde
Added by Lucian Velea
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XI. Guido

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

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Give Your Heart To The Hawks

1 he apples hung until a wind at the equinox,

That heaped the beach with black weed, filled the dry grass

Under the old trees with rosy fruit.

In the morning Fayne Fraser gathered the sound ones into a

basket,

The bruised ones into a pan. One place they lay so thickly
She knelt to reach them.

Her husband's brother passing
Along the broken fence of the stubble-field,
His quick brown eyes took in one moving glance
A little gopher-snake at his feet flowing through the stubble
To gain the fence, and Fayne crouched after apples
With her mop of red hair like a glowing coal
Against the shadow in the garden. The small shapely reptile
Flowed into a thicket of dead thistle-stalks
Around a fence-post, but its tail was not hidden.
The young man drew it all out, and as the coil
Whipped over his wrist, smiled at it; he stepped carefully
Across the sag of the wire. When Fayne looked up
His hand was hidden; she looked over her shoulder
And twitched her sunburnt lips from small white teeth
To answer the spark of malice in his eyes, but turned
To the apples, intent again. Michael looked down
At her white neck, rarely touched by the sun,
But now the cinnabar-colored hair fell off from it;
And her shoulders in the light-blue shirt, and long legs like a boy's
Bare-ankled in blue-jean trousers, the country wear;
He stooped quietly and slipped the small cool snake
Up the blue-denim leg. Fayne screamed and writhed,
Clutching her thigh. 'Michael, you beast.' She stood up
And stroked her leg, with little sharp cries, the slender invader
Fell down her ankle.

Fayne snatched for it and missed;

Michael stood by rejoicing, his rather small

Finely cut features in a dance of delight;

Fayne with one sweep flung at his face

All the bruised and half-spoiled apples in the pan,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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A Preface

To all to whom this little book may come--
Health for yourselves and those you hold most dear!
Content abroad, and happiness at home,
And--one grand Secret in your private ear: --
Nations have passed away and left no traces,
And History gives the naked cause of it--
One single, simple reason in all cases;
They fell because their peoples were not fit.

Now, though your Body be mis-shapen, blind,
Lame, feverish, lacking substance, power or skill,
Certain it is that men can school the Mind
To school the sickliest Body, to her will--
As many have done, whose glory blazes still
Like mighty flames in meanest lanterns lit:
Wherefore, we pray the crippled, weak and ill--
Be fit--be fit! In mind at first be fit!

And, though your Spirit seem uncouth or small,
Stubborn as clay or shifting as the sand,
Strengthen the Body, and the Body shall
Strengthen the Spirit till she take command;
As a bold rider brings his horse in hand
At the tall fence, with voice and heel and bit,
And leaps while all the field are at a stand.
Be fit--be fit! In body next be fit!

Nothing on earth--no Arts, no Gifts, no Graces--
No Fame, no Wealth--outweighs the wont of it.
This is the Law which every law embraces--
Be fit--be fit! In mind and body be fit!

The even heart that seldom slurs its beat--
The cool head weighing what that heart desires--
The measuring eye that guides the hands and feet--
The Soul unbroken when the Body tires--
These are the things our weary world requires
Far more than superfluities of wit;
Wherefore we pray you, sons of generous sires,
Be fit--be fit! For Honour's sake be fit.

There is one lesson at all Times and Places--
One changeless Truth on all things changing writ,
For boys and girls, men, women, nations, races--
Be fit -- be fit! And once again, be fit!

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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I can't forget

I can't forget your smile
I can't forget your laughing eyes
Your kindness causes me to cry

I ask.
I ask.
I ask myself why

Are you s much apart of my life
Our midnight conversations rang in the back of my mind.

Time after Time

I crave for your company

I cry out at night for your warmth
I can't forget the woman you are.
I can't forget you are my friend

As well as my lover.
I can't forget you waiting outside my J.O.B.

To bring me home
I can't forget your tears
When I was laid off.

I can't forget, I just can't

I can't forget the first time I saw you.
Radiant and full of life/ you are.
Your voice low and sweet,

Eyes glued to mine as we speak
I just can't forget
I can't forget how myself esteem grew
While with you.

I can't forget
The long walks and talks of encouragement
You are...You are...You are!

UN_FOR_GET_TABLE!

You are my life line
You are my door to time
I can't forget

[...] Read more

poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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S[t]alking Mirror Sestina - CV in hand

CV in hand through contest I would stalk,
ILLEgitimate undertaking I admit,
Lightly through the rhyme scheme let me walk,
I subtle sense within sestina fit,
Stalking pseudo is not hard to talk,
Away for those with golden goblet lit

CV of charming nymph will o’ wisp lit
ILLEgible to most seems simple stalk,
Lightly pen traces, hears the table talk,
I see the comments – praises all admit,
Stalking may be fun - together fit,
Away from prying eyes will life-lines walk.

CV few APe, divine, her verse I’d walk
ILLEgal act for gaol or goal bright lit?
Lightly linking her name to my fit
I root acrostic in sestina stalk,
Stalking talking balking not – admit,
Away with critics and their jealous talk.

CV masks beauty more than my trite talk.
ILLEcebrous attractive and alluring walk,
Lightly stroking peerless miss admit,
I find no other muse as charming lit,
Stalk king if she queen Stork to nest add stalk
A way I’d find to offer homage fit.

CV seems perfect. Could another fit?
ILLEcebrum around swan neck would talk
Lightly of love I bear for stem and stalk,
I cannot stem, so, in pursuit I walk,
Stalking close by inspiration lit,
Away she’ll never slip all must admit.

CV in hand my errors I’ll admit
ILLEist I’m never, should hat fit,
Lightly I’d wear it, with her smile love-lit,
I vaunt her emblem, on none else would talk,
Stalking kitten purring I, cat, walk,
Away from idols past – she bloom, I stalk!

All here admit one Muse should stalk,
a perfect fit, eyes lovely lit,
Her praise I talk, with trophy walk.

.............................

Her praise I talk, with trophy walk,
a perfect fit, eyes lovely lit,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Shepherd's Week : Thursday; or, The Spell

Hobnelia.
Hobnelia, seated in a dreary vale,
In pensive mood rehears'd her piteous tale,
Her piteous tale the wind in sighs bemoan,
And pining echo answers groan for groan.
I rue the day, a rueful day I trow,
The woful day, a day indeed of wo!
When Lubberkin to town his cattle drove,
A maiden fine bedight he hap'd to love;
The maiden fine bedight his love retains,
And for the village he forsakes the plains.
Return, my Lubberkin, these ditties hear;
Spells will I try, and spells shall ease my care.
'With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground,
And turn me thrice around, around, around.'
When first the year, I heard the cuckoo sing,
And call with welcome note the budding spring,
I straightway set a running with such haste,
Deborah that won the smock scarce ran so fast.
'Till spent for lack of breath quite weary grown,
Upon a rising bank I sat adown,
Then doff'd my shoe, and by my troth I swear,
Therein I spy'd this yellow frizzled hair,
As like to Lubberkin's in curl and hue,
As if upon his comely pate it grew.
'With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground,
And turn me thrice around, around, around.'
At eve last midsummer no sleep I sought,
But to the field a bag of hemp-seed brought,
I scatter'd round the seed on every side,
And three times in a trembling accent cried,
'This hemp-seed with my virgin hand I sow,
Who shall my true-love be, the crop shall mow.'
I straight look'd back, and if my eyes speak truth,
With his keen scythe behind me came the youth.
'With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground,
And turn me thrice around, around, around.'
Last Valentine, the day when birds of kind
Their paramours with mutual chirpings find;
I rearly rose, just at the break of day,
Before the sun had chas'd the stars away,
A-field I went, amid the morning dew,
To milk my kine (for so should huswifes do)
Thee first I spy'd, and the first swain we see,
In spite of fortune shall our true-love be;
See, Lubberkin, each bird his partner take,
And canst thou then thy sweet-hear dear forsake?
'With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground,
And turn me thrice around, around, around.'
Last May-day fair I search'd to find a snail

[...] Read more

poem by John Gay
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Canto the First

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

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

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

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

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

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Absalom and Achitophel

In pious times, e'er Priest-craft did begin,
Before Polygamy was made a sin;
When man, on many, multiply'd his kind,
E'r one to one was, cursedly, confind:
When Nature prompted, and no law deny'd
Promiscuous use of Concubine and Bride;
Then, Israel's monarch, after Heaven's own heart,
His vigorous warmth did, variously, impart
To Wives and Slaves; And, wide as his Command,
Scatter'd his Maker's Image through the Land.
Michal, of Royal blood, the Crown did wear,
A Soyl ungratefull to the Tiller's care;
Not so the rest; for several Mothers bore
To Godlike David, several Sons before.
But since like slaves his bed they did ascend,
No True Succession could their seed attend.
Of all this Numerous Progeny was none
So Beautifull, so brave as Absalon:
Whether, inspir'd by some diviner Lust,
His father got him with a greater Gust;
Or that his Conscious destiny made way
By manly beauty to Imperiall sway.
Early in Foreign fields he won Renown,
With Kings and States ally'd to Israel's Crown
In Peace the thoughts of War he could remove,
And seem'd as he were only born for love.
What e'er he did was done with so much ease,
In him alone, 'twas Natural to please.
His motions all accompanied with grace;
And Paradise was open'd in his face.
With secret Joy, indulgent David view'd
His Youthfull Image in his Son renew'd:
To all his wishes Nothing he deny'd,
And made the Charming Annabel his Bride.
What faults he had (for who from faults is free?)
His Father could not, or he would not see.
Some warm excesses, which the Law forbore,
Were constru'd Youth that purg'd by boyling o'r:
And Amnon's Murther, by a specious Name,
Was call'd a Just Revenge for injur'd Fame.
Thus Prais'd, and Lov'd, the Noble Youth remain'd,
While David, undisturb'd, in Sion raign'd.
But Life can never be sincerely blest:
Heaven punishes the bad, and proves the best.
The Jews, a Headstrong, Moody, Murmuring race,
As ever try'd th' extent and stretch of grace;
God's pamper'd people whom, debauch'd with ease,
No King could govern, nor no God could please;
(Gods they had tri'd of every shape and size
That Gods-smiths could produce, or Priests devise.)

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
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Forget Me Not

Forget me not
Baby baby
As I rock you gently
Right here in my arms
I promise to always
Be here for you
Keep you safe and warm
Sometimes in the middle of the night
I wake up cryin when I think of how long
It took to find you
And now that I have I wont be movin on
Nothing can ever separate us
We know where we belong
All Im asking you
All Im asking
Before this moments gone
Forget me not
Dont forget what we got
Every day is surely but a dream
I found the sweetest of all things
For all my life
Youll be my light
With every beat thats in your heart
Oh baby please remember to
Forget me not
Time is funny
Time can fly
Thats one thing for sure
Ill wake tomorrow
Blink my eyes
See you standin at that door
And Ill be lookin at you
See the wonder of what love can be
Someday I might have to let you go
And thats just so hard to believe
And if I do youll know just
How much you mean to me
And all Ill ask of you
All Ill ask you
Before I set you free
Forget me not
Dont forget what we got
Every day is surely but a dream
I found the sweetest of all things
For all my life
Youll be my light
With every beat thats in your heart
Oh baby please remember to
Forget me not
Forget me not

[...] Read more

song performed by Celine Dion
Added by Lucian Velea
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If I Ever Forget You

If i ever forget you,
the sun would forget
to shine nor the moon
at night.

If i ever forget you,
ants would forget to gather
food and the fish would
forget how to swim.

If i ever forget you,
the river would forget the
sea and the sunflower would
forget to gaze at the sun.

If i ever forget you,
babies would forget how
to crawl and cock would
forget how to crow.

If i ever forget you,
farmers would forget there
path and humans would forget
there name.

If i ever forget you,
the tree would forget to
bear fruit and demons would
forget to do evil.

If i ever forget you.
i will never forget you.

poem by Enebeli Ifyprada
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Deepness In The Throat

Like a deepness in your throat
I'm here to make you choke.
A miss step to the abiding course
Scream of the divorce of those of fantasy and the real.
No concept is ever a far cry from the from the truth.
Of the abused
Mentally used
Confused
Bitter
Sour
Anger
Ha te
In everything we relate
So do not agitate

Look at yourself making so many miscalculations
In your proclamations
As am I
We speak, we learn
We follow through
Like an oppression upon the chest
Looky their its sitting on that shelf
Just reach for it.

Like a deepness in your throat
I'm here to make you choke.
A miss step to the abiding course
Scream of the divorce of those of fantasy and the real.
No concept is ever a far cry from the from the truth.
Of the abused
Mentally used
Confused
Bitter
Sour
Anger
Ha te
In everything we relate
So do not agitate

Bang bang the drugs take effect
Are you hallucinating yet.
Don't fret
You'll be soon enough
Think you got it rough
Come on now be tough
Stand up for yourself
Emotional distrust

Like a deepness in your throat
I'm here to make you choke.

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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People Puttin People Down

People who are sad - sometimes they wear a frown
And people who are kings - sometimes they wear a crown
But all the people who dont fit
Get the only fun they get
From people puttin people down
People puttin people down
People without love - sometimes build a fence around
The garden up above - that makes the whole world go round
But all the people who dont fit
Get the only fun they get
From people puttin people down
People puttin people down
So cold, sometimes it gets so cold
You may love your wife - you may lose your family
You may lose you mind - just to keep your sanity
But the people who dont fit
Get the only fun they get
From people puttin people down
People puttin people down
People that are glad - sometimes they wear a smile
And people without dreams they walk the extra mile
But all the people who dont fit
Get the only fun they get
From people puttin people down
People puttin people dwn
From people puttin people down
People puttin people down
So cold, sometimes it gets so cold

song performed by John Prine
Added by Lucian Velea
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Joshua Fit The Battle

(arranged and adapted by elvis presley)
Joshua fit the battle of jericho
Jericho jericho
Joshua fit the battle of jericho
And the walls come tumbling down
God knows that
Joshua fit the battle of jericho
Jericho jericho
Joshua fit the battle of jericho
And the walls come tumbling down
Good morning sister mary
Good morning brother john
Well I wanna stop and talk with you
Wanna tell you how I come along
I know youve heard about joshua
He was the son of nun
He never stopped his work until
Until the work was done
God knows that
Joshua fit the battle of jericho
Jericho jericho
Joshua fit the battle of jericho
And the walls come tumbling down
You may talk about your men of gideon
You may brag about your men of saul
Theres none like good old joshua
At the battle of jericho
Up to the walls of jericho
He marched with spear in hand
Go blow them ram horns, joshua cried
cause the battle is in my hands
God knows that
Joshua fit the battle of jericho
Jericho jericho
Joshua fit the battle of jericho
And the walls come tumbling down
You may talk about your men of gideon
You may brag about your king of saul
There none like joshua
At the battle of jericho
They tell me, great God that joshuas spear
Was well nigh twelve feet long
And upon his hip was a double edged sword
And his mouth was a gospel horn
Yet bold and brave he stood
Salvation in his hand
Go blow them ram horns joshua cried
cause the devil cant do you no harm
Joshua fit the battle of jericho
Jericho jericho

[...] Read more

song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Joshua Fit The Battle (take 1)

Joshua fit the battle of Jericho
Jericho Jericho
Joshua fit the battle of Jericho
And the walls come tumbling down
God knows that
Joshua fit the battle of Jericho
Jericho Jericho
Joshua fit the battle of Jericho
And the walls come tumbling down
Good morning sister Mary
Good morning brother John
Well I wanna stop and talk with you
Wanna tell you how I come along
I know you've heard about Joshua
He was the son of Nun
He never stopped his work until
Until the work was done
God knows that
Joshua fit the battle of Jericho
Jericho Jericho
Joshua fit the battle of Jericho
And the walls come tumbling down
You may talk about your men of Gideon
You may brag about your men of Saul
There's none like good old Joshua
At the battle of Jericho
Up to the walls of Jericho
He marched with spear in hand
Go blow them ram horns, Joshua cried
'Cause the battle is in my hands
God knows that
Joshua fit the battle of Jericho
Jericho Jericho
Joshua fit the battle of Jericho
And the walls come tumbling down
You may talk about your men of Gideon
You may brag about your king of Saul
There none like Joshua
At the battle of Jericho
They tell me, great God that Joshuas spear
Was well nigh twelve feet long
And upon his hip was a double edged sword
And his mouth was a gospel horn
Yet bold and brave he stood
Salvation in his hand
Go blow them ram horns Joshua cried
'Cause the devil can't do you no harm
Joshua fit the battle of Jericho
Jericho Jericho
Joshua fit the battle of Jericho

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song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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All Different, But Still The Same

Some people have short hair, some have long.
Some people have thick hair; some people’s hair is all gone.

Some people have black hair, some have gray.
Some people have brown hair, some blonde, some red.
Some people’s hair a color unsaid.

Some people are short, some people are tall.
Some people will love you; some won’t like you at all.

Some people like hot weather, some like cold.
Some people are timid, some people are bold.
Some people have dark skin, some people have light.
Some people have black skin, some people have white.

Some people eat meat; some won’t touch it at all.
Some people have a good memory, some can’t recall.
Some people accept Christ, some never will.
Some people are stingy, some people give.

Some people like school, some people don’t.
Some people will excel, some people won’t.
Some people smoke cigarettes, some never will.
Some people are honest, some people steal.

Some people have book knowledge;
But don’t know the Holy Book.
Some people burn food, some people can cook.

Some people are old, some people are young.
Some people do smart things, some people do dumb.

Some people just have a diploma
Some people have degrees.
Some people do things slow, some with a breeze.
Some people are complainers, some easy to please.

Some people hate shopping, some stay in the mall.
Some people hate God, but God loves us all.

We are all different, but still the same.

When I get cut, I bleed red;
You get cut, red blood you’ll shed.

Some people are plump, some people are thin.
But we are all the same, we’re all human being.

Copyright © 2010-Phyllis Strong

poem by Phyllis Strong
Added by Poetry Lover
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That Little Hole

Some people keep their love in a safe, then forget the combination
Some people think life's a masquerade ball, keeping up with the latest fashion
Some people sell dreams like rag magazines, on the busy fast food city street corners
Some people give, some people take, Some people share, some people fake
And they all believe their mouths to be religion, I ask you who puts their faith in that little hole

Me, I’m happy to be breathing
with both feet on the ground

Some people hide from the world and it’s charms, others flee from its tragedy
Some people wish for a place to call home while they kill off every living thing they see
Some people await the rapture and fate, others are simply looking for the cure
Some people lead some people follow, some people spit, some people swallow
And they all believe their mouths to be religion, I ask you who puts their faith in that little hole

Me, I’m happy to be breathing

Some people search for Utopia and peace, but never seem to laugh
Some people forgot what it’s like to be young, having grown up much to fast
Some people preach salvation and hope to anyone willing to pay
Some people judge to quick, some never judge at all, some people climb, some are simply happy to fall
And they all believe their mouths to be religion, I ask you who puts their faith in that little hole

Me, I’m happy to be breathing
with both feet on the ground

Some people feel the mirror holds the key, to their tomorrows and prosperity
Some people are sealed off from the world by their hearts, their leaders, or their personality
Some people are like cannibals, they devour what they need and move on
Some people are criminals trying to make ends meet, steeling from others trying to make ends meet
And they all believe their mouths to be religion, I ask you who puts their faith in that little hole

Me, I’m happy to be breathing
with both feet on the ground

Some people feel its much more real, to chase rainbows on canvass painted skies
Some people think their shit don’t stink, some have the trust of a saint and tell lies
Some people’s minds react like a nuclear bomb, some people are one with the galaxy
Some people die as they lived, others live as they die, some never give up hope, others don’t even try
And they all believe their mouths to be religion, I ask you who puts their faith in that little hole

Some people wear their hearts on their sleeve, others forget what it means to be free
Some people speak of friendships and love, but don’t know what it means to be a friend
Some people search for enlightenment in the stars, in tea leaves, other find it floating in a glass
Some people smile, some people cry, some people live, some people try
And they all believe their mouths to be religion, I ask you who puts their faith in that little hole

Some people are afraid to take risks, or to be anything they wish until they die
Some people love the sound of their voice, some talk more than they listen
Some people don’t suffer fools only to find the jokes on them

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poem by Colin Coplin
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Two Dreams

I WILL that if I say a heavy thing
Your tongues forgive me; seeing ye know that spring
Has flecks and fits of pain to keep her sweet,
And walks somewhile with winter-bitten feet.
Moreover it sounds often well to let
One string, when ye play music, keep at fret
The whole song through; one petal that is dead
Confirms the roses, be they white or red;
Dead sorrow is not sorrowful to hear
As the thick noise that breaks mid weeping were;
The sick sound aching in a lifted throat
Turns to sharp silver of a perfect note;
And though the rain falls often, and with rain
Late autumn falls on the old red leaves like pain,
I deem that God is not disquieted.
Also while men are fed with wine and bread,
They shall be fed with sorrow at his hand.

There grew a rose-garden in Florence land
More fair than many; all red summers through
The leaves smelt sweet and sharp of rain, and blew
Sideways with tender wind; and therein fell
Sweet sound wherewith the green waxed audible,
As a bird’s will to sing disturbed his throat
And set the sharp wings forward like a boat
Pushed through soft water, moving his brown side
Smooth-shapen as a maid’s, and shook with pride
His deep warm bosom, till the heavy sun’s
Set face of heat stopped all the songs at once.
The ways were clean to walk and delicate;
And when the windy white of March grew late,
Before the trees took heart to face the sun
With ravelled raiment of lean winter on,
The roots were thick and hot with hollow grass.

Some roods away a lordly house there was,
Cool with broad courts and latticed passage wet
From rush-flowers and lilies ripe to set,
Sown close among the strewings of the floor;
And either wall of the slow corridor
Was dim with deep device of gracious things;
Some angel’s steady mouth and weight of wings
Shut to the side; or Peter with straight stole
And beard cut black against the aureole
That spanned his head from nape to crown; thereby
Mary’s gold hair, thick to the girdle-tie
Wherein was bound a child with tender feet;
Or the broad cross with blood nigh brown on it.

Within this house a righteous lord abode,

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poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Added by Poetry Lover
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