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What the people want is very simple. They want an America as good as its promise.

quote by Barbara Charline Jordan
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian

Elegiac Feelings American

1
How inseparable you and the America you saw yet was never
there to see; you and America, like the tree and the
ground, are one the same; yet how like a palm tree
in the state of Oregon. . . dead ere it blossomed,
like a snow polar loping the
Miami—
How so that which you were or hoped to be, and the
America not, the America you saw yet could
not see
So like yet unlike the ground from which you stemmed;
you stood upon America like a rootless
Hat-bottomed tree; to the squirrel there was no
divorcement in its hop of ground to its climb of
tree. . . until it saw no acorn fall, then it knew
there was no marriage between the two; how
fruitless, how useless, the sad unnaturalness
of nature; no wonder the dawn ceased being
a joy. . . for what good the earth and sun when
the tree in between is good for nothing. . . the
inseparable trinity, once dissevered, becomes a
cold fruitless meaningless thrice-marked
deathlie in its awful amputation. . . O butcher
the pork-chop is not the pig—The American
alien in America is a bitter truncation; and even
this elegy, dear Jack, shall have a butchered
tree, a tree beaten to a pulp, upon which it'll be
contained—no wonder no good news can be
written on such bad news—
How alien the natural home, aye, aye, how dies the tree when
the ground is foreign, cold, unfree—The winds
know not to blow the seed of the Redwood where
none before stood; no palm is blown to Oregon,
how wise the wind—Wise
too the senders of the prophet. . . knowing the
fertility of the designated spot where suchmeant
prophecy be announced and answerable—the
sower of wheat does not sow in the fields of cane;
for the sender of the voice did also send the ear.
And were little Liechtenstein, and not America, the
designation. . . surely then we'd the tongues of
Liechtenstein—
Was not so much our finding America as it was America finding
its voice in us; many spoke to America as though
America by land-right was theirs by law-right
legislatively acquired by materialistic coups of
wealth and inheritance; like the citizen of society
believes himself the owner of society, and what he
makes of himself he makes of America and thus when
he speaks of America he speaks of himself, and quite

[...] Read more

poem by Gregory Corso
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My version of Ginsberg's America.

Against the filthy politics found in America and against the actions of it's dispicable governments.

America tell Coloumbus to fook off, take his smallpox and Capitalism with him.
America, you've swallowed your national mythology like pancakes and syrup.
America, Land where eugenics was tried

America, Land where the native americans cried
America, Land where warmongering thrives
America, you think you're the world police.
America, you were duped by a Christian to believe he's the prince of peace and now a black man convinces you the same.
America, your obsession with religion is insane.

America, I hope your guilt drives you to suicide, having to stare into the eyes of the children of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
America, I hope the masterminds of the Manhattan Project are suffering like they should.
America, your dream is as fake as Hollywood.
America, what the hell happened in Zuccotti Park?
America, you actually have a exhibition dedicated to Noah's ark?
America, where is this democracy you're trying to spread?
America, why won't you let the poor be fed?
America, you lead the west in destroying the world and waging war.

America land of MKULTRA and CO-INTELPRO
America land of Glenn beck, Neo-cons, where gay marriage is a 'no no'.
America, you're no city on the hill.
America, you're the home of the corporate shill.
America, you're oil addiction has make the globe ill.
America, your tv channels still project cold war closed minds.
America, how is it that slaves built the white house?
America, what exactly did you mean by 'All men are born free and equal'? Terms and conditions apply?
America, what are you doing to right past wrongs?

America, where's your concern for the Navajo?
America, I would've fought with Geronimo.
America, I think you've forgotten the Treaty of Fort Laramie.
America, Pay back in blood those killed at Wounded Knee.
America, you lied about Pine Ridge and the FBI really killed Annie Mae.
America, massacring to the tune of a million dollars to catch a single man.
America, which small country will you invade next? America, I can see your eyeing up Iran.
America, You wouldn't want what happened in Diego Garcia to happen to you.
America you know a thing or two about Coup

America Bikini Atoll is still ailing.
America, Love Canal is ruined.
America, I love the Wobblies.
America, The city of Chicago can built statues but it really just needs to apologize.
America, you've poisioned us all.
America, Land of Bush, of agent orange and Monsanto
America, Trainers of the Taliban, guards of Guantanamo

[...] Read more

poem by Scott Forster
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The American Way

1
I am a great American
I am almost nationalistic about it!
I love America like a madness!
But I am afraid to return to America
I'm even afraid to go into the American Express—

2
They are frankensteining Christ in America
in their Sunday campaigns
They are putting the fear of Christ in America
under their tents in their Sunday campaigns
They are driving old ladies mad with Christ in America
They are televising the gift of healing and the fear of hell
in America under their tents in their Sunday
campaigns
They are leaving their tents and are bringing their Christ
to the stadiums of America in their Sunday
campaigns
They are asking for a full house an all get out
for their Christ in the stadiums of America
They are getting them in their Sunday and Saturday
campaigns
They are asking them to come forward and fall on their
knees
because they are all guilty and they are coming
forward
in guilt and are falling on their knees weeping their
guilt
begging to be saved O Lord O Lord in their Monday
Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday
and Sunday campaigns

3
It is a time in which no man is extremely wondrous
It is a time in which rock stupidity
outsteps the 5th Column as the sole enemy in America
It is a time in which ignorance is a good Ameri-cun
ignorance is excused only where it is so
it is not so in America
Man is not guilty Christ is not to be feared
I am telling you the American Way is a hideous monster
eating Christ making Him into Oreos and Dr. Pepper
the sacrament of its foul mouth
I am telling you the devil is impersonating Christ in America
America's educators & preachers are the mental-dictators
of false intelligence they will not allow America
to be smart
they will only allow death to make America smart

[...] Read more

poem by Gregory Corso
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America

Walkin' 2 the corner of Main Street, USA
Look at the good people, hear what they gotta say-uh-huh
All right
See a sexy girl with her long black hair
See a preacher man sporting Abercrombie wear-uh-huh
All right
Walk into a corner store
A man says, "This is what I'm fighting for"
[CHORUS]
We are living in America
We're giving in America
We're tripping in America
Everywhere I go, seems like Bush is on TV
We shed blood in the name of liberty-uh-huh
All right
The circus tents are dead, but the sideshow is doing well
The Osbournes and Anna Nicole are too freaky 2 tell-uh-huh
All right
Take the bad with the good
I wanna change it, but I wouldn't leave it if I could
We are trying in America
We're spying in America
Getting high in America
We are laughing in America
We're crying in America
We're dying in America
We are trucking in America
We are f**king in America
We are lucky in America
We are breaking ground in America
Just another town in America
We are breaking down in America
Take the bad with the good
I wanna change it, but I wouldn't leave it if I could
[CHORUS]
We are trying in America
We're spying in America
We're getting high in America
We are getting tan in America
We love Spam in America
Polanski's banned from America
10 million served in America
Have u heard in America?
We're crying in America
We're laughing in America
We're living in America

song performed by Jewel
Added by Lucian Velea
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America

(Francis Scott Key)
Oh, say, can you see
By the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed
At the twilight's last gleaming
Whose broad stripes and bright stars
Through the perilous fight
O'er the ramparts we watched were so
Gallantly streaming?
America, America, America
America, America, America
And the rocket's red glare
The bombs bursting in air
Gave proof through the night
That our flag was still there
Oh, say, does that star
Spangled banner yet wave
Over the land of the free
And the home of the brave!
America, America, America
America, America, America
America, America, America
America, America, America
America, America, America
America, America
ooohhh

song performed by Lou Reed
Added by Lucian Velea
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Atomic Insanity Bomb

America, we're drained of enthusiasm for you
America, why this meaningless war?
America, you are no longer beautiful
America, when will you see the light?
When will you call peace and dance and sing
When will you look in the mirror
and see the menace you have become?
When will you read the philosophies of God
that say Thou Shalt Not Kill?
America, when will you open your eyes?
America, why do you dye the shores red?
Why are the guns loaded with skulls?
Why do you leave your brothers behind
To charge bull-like at a cloth too large for you?
America, why are you putting a gun to your head?
America, stop killing me I'm not
Innocent, not Guilty
AMERICA STOP PUSHING!
America don't liberate me I'm already independent.
America I refuse to give up my rights
I refuse to give up others' rights
America don't reject your own
America the HATE is growing
They're rising up growing
America, let the prisoners go
The scholars of war in peace in hate in freedom
The Ginsbergs and Kerouacs and Dickesons and Whitmans
Of generations past
Free the ones whose philosophies peace it together
America your war is at home
America what is your motto?
Mission is not accomplished
It has just started.
America you have life to give,
not take away.
America, you deserve this war
America, my love for you is gone
America, monster, stop your screaming slashing rage
Look into your past
America LEARN from your mistakes
America, make it continue
AMERICA MAKE IT STOP

poem by Lex Newman
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Black America (The Story Of Pain And Glory)

From the rich land of Africa where we were King's of our soil dripped in gold brought to you beaten, battered, and sold.America, we sailed across your rippling seas against our will as we sought survival while thousands of us lay desolate, demoralized, and dead before arrival.America, finally here where we forced to work without pay as our blood, sweat, and tears trickled against our brown skin from sun up till the break of day.America, to pass the crawling time spent on our ragged heels we let our voices ring out across the cotton fields. America, we sang, oh yes! we sang. About our captivity as well as are spirituality. America, song expressed our inner hope and sorrow for yesterday, today, and even tomorrow. America, your Constitution states that all men are created equal as we stood chained and lacerated from the leather, so tell me what holds more weight the Constitution or a feather? America, One nation under God indivisible with liberty and justice for all that's what we were taught. One nation under God indivisible with liberty and justice for y'all that's what we thought. America, your sun didn't shine so bright or fast while our fight we just had to outlast. And the struggle poured like Seattle rain, but 1863 finally free of those chains. America, but you didn't stop your hatred while many fled to the North where we felt the safest. In these days we still couldn't progress just an inch, it felt like a bad dream only we couldn't be pinched, as every waking morning the news read 'Another Negro Lynched'. America, throughout all the hardships we always had the music, music which bled through the depths of our souls, from the early spirituals of our ancestors singing 'Wade in the Water' to the muddy banks of the Mississippi where Men like Son House, Charley Patton, Muddy Waters, and Howlin' Wolf were playing all night in Juke Joints as liquor spilled, smoke rose, and sweat poured to the heartbeat of the Blues. Robert Johnson...ahhh...Robert Johnson the incomparable Blues-man who howled at the dusty moon! Broken ax slung over his shoulder, voice trembling at the crossroads as he wrapped his spider-like fingers around his guitar, picking with fury, singing 'I'm a steady rollin' man, I roll both night and day but I don't have no sweet woman to be rollin' this-a-way'. These Blues which began in the cotton fields and the Delta South made their way to the concrete jungle, the rhythm pulsating streets of Harlem where cool cats like Thelonious Monk, Dizzy Gillespie, and Charlie Parker were composing the wild and mystical sounds of Bop, (Be-Bop Be-Bop) Miles...ahhh...Miles Davis, the epitome of hip- dark shades, golden trumpet blowing in the streets of eternity, sweat dripping, veins screaming, his look- brooding and low externally blowing internal blues, his melody- colorful and vibrant as the most perfect hue, his notes- which would bend at his very will, his sound- captured and momentarily made still. And, the music well it's still something I can't quite explain, something that stabs you in the heart but feels so good! America, why all the suffering, why all the pain? here it is 1963 and your still the same. Segregated laws, segregated halls, man we couldn't catch a break even segregated stalls. Soon enough leaders for a new change arose out of the ashes of bigotry and etched there names into the walls of history. Huey P. Newton, Rosa Parks, Malcolm X illuminated the spirit of our youth and aged alike. Dr. King...ahhh...Martin Luther King Jr. our own worldly king of peace. Pah, Pah, ! two bullets cut across the Memphis sky, dream deceased. America, why when a King emerges you dethrone them? Is it because when the people don't have a voice you know you can control them? 1968 the years progressed tension rose creating stress, buildings burned as the country turned to a blank page of restless and un-godly rage. America, you killed our leaders but you could never kill our spirit.1975- we came to a period of self-empowerment and once again the music shined through us emphasizing the way we spoke and acted. 'Say it loud I'm Black and I'm proud' rang out through the inner city where poverty whispered around every corner. Gil-Scott Heron, Parliament Funkadelic, Curtis Mayfield, and Issac Hayes gave us a sense of belonging with their soul-stirring words and rhythm. The Godfather of soul...ahhh...James Brown the funkiest man in America, who grooved and shuffled across the stage, cape flowing across his back singing: 'It's a mans world oh but it wouldn't be nothing, nothing without a Woman or a girl' The black woman- Mother of Earth, nurturer of child, teacher of love, where would our story be without you? 1994- The times they were a-changin' (as Dylan's prophecy read) the inner city, well the poverty wasn't whispering anymore rather howling through the street corners and the music reflected the times. Big Daddy Kane, Rakim, Run DMC, and Tupac rapped the images they seen in their everyday existence. Christopher Wallace...ahhh... The Notorious B.I.G. rapped from the depths of his belly providing us with imagery and story which have yet to be rivaled. 'It was all a dream I used to read word up magazine salt n pepa and Heavy D up in the limousine' pah! pah! two bullets cut across the L.A. sky dream deceased. America, it hasn't been a dream rather a nightmare. America we can forgive but we can't forget. It's been nearly 600 years since you brought us here, men and women driven away from our family and peers.2012- America, look how far we've come from Kings to shackles back to Kings. America, your root of existence is planted by our seed and finally it's beginning to sprout. For so many years we were looked at as just an un-worthy resident, now look at us Barack Obama first Black president. America I am you, America we are you, America we are your story- Black America pain and glory.

poem by Electric Hipster
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Tom Zart's 52 Best Of The Rest America At War Poems

SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF WORLD WAR III

The White House
Washington
Tom Zart's Poems

March 16,2007
Ms. Lillian Cauldwell
President and Chief Executive Officer
Passionate Internet Voices Radio
Ann Arbor Michigan

Dear Lillian:
Number 41 passed on the CDs from Tom Zart. Thank you for thinking of me. I am thankful for your efforts to honor our brave military personnel and their families. America owes these courageous men and women a debt of gratitude, and I am honored to be the commander in chief of the greatest force for freedom in the history of the world.
Best Wishes.

Sincerely,

George W. Bush

SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF WORLD WAR III

Our sons and daughters serve in harm's way
To defend our way of life.
Some are students, some grandparents
Many a husband or wife.

They face great odds without complaint
Gambling life and limb for little pay.
So far away from all they love
Fight our soldiers for whom we pray.

The plotters and planners of America's doom
Pledge to murder and maim all they can.
From early childhood they are taught
To kill is to become a man.

They exploit their young as weapons of choice
Teaching in heaven, virgins will await.
Destroying lives along with their own
To learn of their falsehoods too late.

The fearful cry we must submit
And find a way to soothe them.
Where defenders worry if we stand down
The future for America is grim.

[...] Read more

poem by Tom Zart
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A Roosevelt

Es con voz de la Biblia, o verso de Walt Whitman,
que habría que llegar hasta ti, Cazador!
Primitivo y moderno, sencillo y complicado,
con un algo de Washington y cuatro de Nemrod.
Eres los Estados Unidos,
eres el futuro invasor
de la América ingenua que tiene sangre indígena,
que aún reza a Jesucristo y aún habla en español.

Eres soberbio y fuerte ejemplar de tu raza;
eres culto, eres hábil; te opones a Tolstoy.
Y domando caballos, o asesinando tigres,
eres un Alejandro-Nabucodonosor.
(Eres un profesor de energía,
como dicen los locos de hoy.)
Crees que la vida es incendio,
que el progreso es erupción;
en donde pones la bala
el porvenir pones.
No.

Los Estados Unidos son potentes y grandes.
Cuando ellos se estremecen hay un hondo temblor
que pasa por las vértebras enormes de los Andes.
Si clamáis, se oye como el rugir del león.
Ya Hugo a Grant le dijo: «Las estrellas son vuestras».
(Apenas brilla, alzándose, el argentino sol
y la estrella chilena se levanta...) Sois ricos.
Juntáis al culto de Hércules el culto de Mammón;
y alumbrando el camino de la fácil conquista,
la Libertad levanta su antorcha en Nueva York.

Mas la América nuestra, que tenía poetas
desde los viejos tiempos de Netzahualcoyotl,
que ha guardado las huellas de los pies del gran Baco,
que el alfabeto pánico en un tiempo aprendió;
que consultó los astros, que conoció la Atlántida,
cuyo nombre nos llega resonando en Platón,
que desde los remotos momentos de su vida
vive de luz, de fuego, de perfume, de amor,
la América del gran Moctezuma, del Inca,
la América fragante de Cristóbal Colón,
la América católica, la América española,
la América en que dijo el noble Guatemoc:
«Yo no estoy en un lecho de rosas»; esa América
que tiembla de huracanes y que vive de Amor,
hombres de ojos sajones y alma bárbara, vive.
Y sueña. Y ama, y vibra; y es la hija del Sol.
Tened cuidado. ¡Vive la América española!
Hay mil cachorros sueltos del León Español.

[...] Read more

poem by Ruben Dario
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As I Sat Alone By Blue Ontario's Shores

AS I sat alone, by blue Ontario's shore,
As I mused of these mighty days, and of peace return'd, and the dead
that return no more,
A Phantom, gigantic, superb, with stern visage, accosted me;
Chant me the poem, it said, that comes from the soul of America--
chant me the carol of victory;
And strike up the marches of Libertad--marches more powerful yet;
And sing me before you go, the song of the throes of Democracy.

(Democracy--the destin'd conqueror--yet treacherous lip-smiles
everywhere,
And Death and infidelity at every step.)

A Nation announcing itself,
I myself make the only growth by which I can be appreciated, 10
I reject none, accept all, then reproduce all in my own forms.

A breed whose proof is in time and deeds;
What we are, we are--nativity is answer enough to objections;
We wield ourselves as a weapon is wielded,
We are powerful and tremendous in ourselves,
We are executive in ourselves--We are sufficient in the variety of
ourselves,
We are the most beautiful to ourselves, and in ourselves;
We stand self-pois'd in the middle, branching thence over the world;
From Missouri, Nebraska, or Kansas, laughing attacks to scorn.

Nothing is sinful to us outside of ourselves, 20
Whatever appears, whatever does not appear, we are beautiful or
sinful in ourselves only.

(O mother! O sisters dear!
If we are lost, no victor else has destroy'd us;
It is by ourselves we go down to eternal night.)

Have you thought there could be but a single Supreme?
There can be any number of Supremes--One does not countervail
another, any more than one eyesight countervails another, or
one life countervails another.

All is eligible to all,
All is for individuals--All is for you,
No condition is prohibited--not God's, or any.

All comes by the body--only health puts you rapport with the
universe. 30

Produce great persons, the rest follows.

[...] Read more

poem by Walt Whitman
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America, So Beautiful.

Why is America the beautiful,
So beautiful?
It's because of German Polkas, and beer.
It's because of Irish corned beef, and potatoes.
It's because of French wines, and escargot.
It's because of soul food, from the hood,
The kind you find in Big Momma's,
In Cathedral City California.
It's because of Mexican food,
And the Mariachi's that accompany it.
It's because of the Hawaiian Poi,
And the Alaskan, fish ice cream.
It's because of the Italian Operas,
And spaghetti and meat balls.
It's because of the English language,
Brought to America,
By the subjects of the king.
America is blue eyes,
America is green eyes,
America is black eyes,
America is brown eyes,
America is blond hair,
America is red hair,
America is black hair,
And my all time favorite,
America is brown hair.
America is Japanese sushi,
America is Chinese hot and spicy soup.
America is mountains,
Beautiful snow covered mountains,
Shining in the sun.
America is deserts,
Hot arid and unforgiving,
And filled with life.
America is forests,
That extend,
'From sea to shining sea.'
America is ingenuity,
Great minds, from all over the world,
Reach their great fruition,
In America.
Where they are free.
Why is America the beautiful,
So beautiful?
It's because America is a rainbow,
Red, white, black, yellow, brown,
And all the myriads of colors,
These main colors produce.
It's so cliche to say,
We are a melting pot.

[...] Read more

poem by Juan Olivarez
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Little Miss America

Sha da da da da da ooh yeah yeah) (my Miss America)
(Sha da da da da da ooh hey hey) (my Miss America)
(Sha da da da da da ooh yeah yeah) (my Miss America)
(Sha da da da da da ooh hey hey) (my Miss America)
Little girl just in your teens (you're my Miss America)
Little girl you're in my dreams (you're my Miss America)
You're so sweet, you're so fine
Dear won't you be mine
Everybody knows it
(Sha da da da da da ooh yeah yeah) (my Miss America)
(Sha da da da da da ooh hey hey) (my Miss America)
(Sha da da da da da ooh yeah yeah) (my Miss America)
(Sha da da da da da ooh hey hey)
Blue eyes, blond hair
Lips like a movie star
Little girl with heart of gold (you're my Miss America)
Little girl with lips untold (you're my Miss America)
You're so sweet, you're so fine
Hey, won't you be mine
Everybody knows it
(Sha da da da da da ooh yeah yeah) (my Miss America)
(Sha da da da da da ooh hey hey) (my Miss America)
(Sha da da da da da ooh yeah yeah) (my Miss America)
(Sha da da da da da ooh hey hey)
Blue eyes, blond hair
Lips like a movie star
Little girl with heart of gold (you're my Miss America)
Little girl with lips untold (you're my Miss America)
You're so sweet, you're so fine
Hey, won't you be mine
Everybody knows it
(Sha da da da da da ooh yeah yeah) (my Miss America)
(Sha da da da da da ooh hey hey) (my Miss America)
(Sha da da da da da ooh yeah yeah) (my Miss America)
(Sha da da da da da ooh hey hey

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Thats The Way

I know you see me watchin
Although youre tryin to play it
Like you dont
When I know you do
Youve got the every want thing
That kind of every need thing
Youre what I want
So come give it up
Yeah I wont stop til I get what I want
So what am I to do
cause what I want is you
Baby, stop and think
What you and I could be
Together I know we
Can be perfectly complete
Baby, I can give you anything
If you promise to be with me
I promise I can make you happy
Thats the way our love should be
No one could love you better anyway
Youll never find another close to me
I promise I can make you happy
And thats the way our love should be
Why are you tryin to deny
Me of the lovin thats mine
Just let it go
Let me take control
Boy, I got just what you want
And all the love you need
Once you grab a hold
You wont let me go
I wont stop til I get what I want
So what am I to do
cause what I want is you
Baby, stop and think
What you and I could be
Together I know we
Can be perfectly complete
Baby, I can give you anything
If you promise to be with me
I promise I can make you happy
Thats the way our love should be
No one could love you better anyway
Youll never find another close to me
I promise I can make you happy
And thats the way our love should be
Baby, I can give you anything
If you promise to be with me
I promise I can make you happy
Thats the way our love should be

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song performed by Jennifer Lopez
Added by Lucian Velea
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Face To Face

Anderson/squire/howe/white/sherwood/khoroshev
Here we are trying to mend all the broken hearts
In a world where the pain is the fear
Aint no doubt theres a method to madness here
Set your clock to the start of a brand new year
Shine your heart to the universe and get the news
Not alone never have been, never will be
See the truth, not to mention the promise made
See them all, see them all high on judar rhythm
We began at the very first spring
How the promise will come when the promise is made
We will sing at the very first spring
That the promise will come when the promise is made
Promise is made, promise is made
Shake me up, take me up
Face to face
Lift me up, shake me up
Face to face
Make me real, make me longing to see you smile
Shall we dancing, shall we be the dancing down under
In this life of lives, are we ready to take the chance
Moving to the rhythm, here at last to
Believe
To believe
We began at the first real spring
How the promise will come when the promise is made
We will sing at the very first spring
That the promise will come when the promise is made
We began at the first real spring - ya
We will sing at the very first spring - ya
We began at the first real spring
We will sing at the very first spring
How the promise will come when the promise is made
Promise is made, promise is made
We began at the first real spring
That the promise will come when the promise is made
We will sing at the very first spring
That the promise will come when the promise is made
Promise is made, promise is made
Shake it up, take me up
Face to face
Face to face
Face to face

song performed by Yes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Face To Face

Anderson/squire/howe/white/sherwood/khoroshev
Here we are trying to mend all the broken hearts
In a world where the pain is the fear
Aint no doubt theres a method to madness here
Set your clock to the start of a brand new year
Shine your heart to the universe and get the news
Not alone never have been, never will be
See the truth, not to mention the promise made
See them all, see them all high on judar rhythm
We began at the very first spring
How the promise will come when the promise is made
We will sing at the very first spring
That the promise will come when the promise is made
Promise is made, promise is made
Shake me up, take me up
Face to face
Lift me up, shake me up
Face to face
Make me real, make me longing to see you smile
Shall we dancing, shall we be the dancing down under
In this life of lives, are we ready to take the chance
Moving to the rhythm, here at last to
Believe
To believe
We began at the first real spring
How the promise will come when the promise is made
We will sing at the very first spring
That the promise will come when the promise is made
We began at the first real spring - ya
We will sing at the very first spring - ya
We began at the first real spring
We will sing at the very first spring
How the promise will come when the promise is made
Promise is made, promise is made
We began at the first real spring
That the promise will come when the promise is made
We will sing at the very first spring
That the promise will come when the promise is made
Promise is made, promise is made
Shake it up, take me up
Face to face
Face to face
Face to face

song performed by Yes
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

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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VII. Pompilia

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

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

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

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Spirit Of America

Spirit of america
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
The bonneville salt flats had seen some strange things
But the strangest thing yet was a jet without wings
Once as a jet it played in the stars
But now on the ground its the king of our cars
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
An airplane an auto now famous worldwide
The spirit of america, the name on the side
The man who would drive her craig breedlove by name
A daring young man played a dangerous game
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
With a j-47, a jet for his power
Craig breedlove had averaged four-o-seven per hour
Both man and machine had given fair warn
Theyd set a new record on that warm august morn.
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
Spirit of america
Spirit of america

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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